drejerwerner1-blog

[isa-ah]

god okay we got a sling, a new brace, and a few supplements to help my tendon/muscle heal so. here's to hoping

[pampushky]

ive been watching him for my entire life

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader - chapter 1 - 6.1k

TW: Scene of attempted SA, and the abuser never referred to by name. Sexism (but in the A/B/O sense). Self-harm and depressive episodes.

Themes: Exploration of what disabilities, PTSD, and chronic pain look like in the A/B/O world. If you have input about what that may look like, dm me. Slow burn. So much so you're not sure if it's even burning at times.

also yeah Loscar is canon it's my au I can do what I fucking want

Leave your feedback in the comments/feel free to dm me about that shit if you don't feel comfy dropping an anon or comment.

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Mid January. 2024 Paris.

The hallway outside the trial room in the FIA headquarters is deceptively calm. Silent, save for the voices in the room behind you. You’d given your statement. Explained everything that had happened during your past two years at Williams, first with Nicholas Latifi, and then with Logan. Trying to do something with a car that was, in the kindest words, a tractor. Logan sits beside you, with a similar thousand-yard stare, just disassociating into space. Trying to trace the pattern of the carpet. 

“I should have been more— more perceptive,” Logan croaks, and you squeeze his hand, and shake your head. “Jesus. I— I tried to tell them everything. Everything I remembered from before–-”

“Thank you,” your voice is faint. Weak. Unlike you.

“Of course,” Logan squeezes your hand. You squeeze it back. “Always.”

You still remember the pit wall. Having to brush against his elbows occasionally. Knowing he did it on purpose some days, trying to provoke you. Going so far as to send you things coated in his scent when you were in heat, to try and provoke a bond sickness. Saved only by your brothers, curled close to you, letting you sleep in their arms as your fever raged. You were lucky your heats weren’t— weren’t consistently like that. More so just like a terrible fever and migraine, thanks to your medication. 

One pill to keep you from entering a real heat, morning. Two pills to help ease the brain fog from your head injury, morning and night. Another single pill to be taken whenever the pain gets too bad for you to function, any time of day. Anxiety medication, morning. Hormonal amplifiers to make up for the scent glands damaged by the fire all those years ago, morning and night. Scent blockers to mask your scent, morning. In total eight pills a day at your worst, perhaps nine.  

You croon nervously, despite knowing you’re safe here. That just inside the room behind you, past the heavy oak doors, are your grandfather and your uncles brothers. They’d never let anything happen to you. Not again. 

His elbow brushing against yours during the last lap of the race, encouraging Alex, despite his pace and his spot on the grid. Logan thanking you for being his engineer and friend during everything. You sit along the pit wall, silently, as celebrations rock the grid, and he appears in front of you, trying to make small talk, before following as you try to escape it, not wanting to talk to him, even as he looms behind you. His grip on the back of your neck, smothering the only bond you had, to Niki, to your pack. 

The near-toxic scent smothers you because of how close he is. Pushing you behind a stack of tires as you try to fight back, baring your teeth and thrashing while he manages to shove a need into your upper thigh, right through your pants. You yelp, and kick, trying to get any attention towards you, while most of the garage is empty. You feel him tearing at the collar of your shirt, ripping at it, pushing you into the tires. You bring your head into his nose, feeling the gush of blood against your face as he squeals and falls backward a few steps. 

You can’t smell anything besides his blood on your face, the metallic scent making you gag. When he turns to look at you, his face stained red, you growl, your lips drawn back over your teeth, trying to edge along the wall to get away from him. 

With a snarl, he leaps at you, pinning you to the wall, both hands wrapped around your neck, cutting off your airway. You thrash, and just as you think you’re going to pass out, the weight of his hands disappears from your neck. You stay where you are, leaning against the wall. Watching as Logan snarls furiously, pinning the other Alpha to the ground with ease, his long canines bared and coming close to the man’s neck, threatening to tear and rip and end whatever pathetic life he lived—

“I should have done more,” Logan leans down, his head in his hands. 

“You almost killed him,” you whisper, and that seems to startle the driver even more. “You almost killed him. I think that’s enough.”

The two of you sit in silence until Logan’s lawyer and his manager leave the room, closing the door softly behind them. For the brief moment that the doors are open, you hear him screaming his voice hoarse as the judgment comes ever closer. 

“The FIA won’t be pressing any charges,” The lawyer says softly while Logan continues to keep his head down. “Neither will—”

“Don’t say his name,” Logan looks up, interrupting the lawyer before he can even say something. There’s a fire in his words, a rare fury. “Don’t. I don’t— she doesn’t—”

“I apologize, I forgot about that.” The lawyer says, glancing over to look at you. You look presentable now. Nothing like the blurry images the paparazzi had gotten of you without any of your makeup to hide all the burns. Your skin looks more even, the uneven bumps and indents from the mottled scarring across your jaw partially hidden by concealer and foundation. The scars get more severe as they cross your upper cheek and the top of your nose. That’s the only part that’s harder to hide, even when you’ve covered it fully in makeup. 

“It’s time to go, Logan,” 

He looks at you with uncharacteristic panic. He’s the opposite of most alpha stereotypes. You’re glad Oscar’s found his way back to him, and that you’ve gotten to witness the sweet courtship start. He pulls you into a tight hug, and that’s when you finally crumble.

“You’re gonna be okay without me,” You whisper, voice shaking. “You’re gonna be fucking fantastic, Lo.”

“I’m so sorry,” Is all he can murmur, practically folding over you and holding you closer. “Maybe if I—”

“It’s okay. I’ll still be on the grid.”

“But it won’t be the same,”

“No. It won’t,” You choke out, as Logan pulls away. Both of you newly aged by the experience. You won’t be there to defend Logan from James. Logan won’t be there to understand the odd homesickness for a country you only partially remember, stuck between European and American. 

You feel small as Logan is led away by his manager and lawyer. His scent fading as the seconds turn to minutes, and then suddenly an hour has passed. Leaving you alone in the hallway until your brothers can get there. By the time they do arrive (two hours later), you’ve been chewing on your fingers and palms enough to make them bleed. Mathias and Lukas know you well enough to have already brought bandages and towels to help clean and treat the new wounds. Before this, you’d not been chewing or clawing at yourself for nearly a year and a half. Your therapist had looked devastated when you’d turned in the little chip she’d given you for not self-harming. 

There’s screaming from inside the room, before Niki bursts out, snarling a remark over his shoulder before he catches your eye, and softens. Your sire, despite his age, despite the fact that he has been told by his doctor many times that he needs to calm down, to be kinder to his aging body and new kidney, despite everything that should be holding him back, bends to knock his forehead against yours. One of his hands comes to the nape of your neck, softly rubbing the paternal bond he’d left there, claiming you as his child rather than a descendant. 

“Maus,” The feel of his scarred hands is familiar, comforting. His scent is even more so. Like spruce trees and slightly burnt sugar. Looking at you with red-rimmed irises that show his designation, his secondary sex, while he looms over you protectively. He sees the new bandages around your hands and the new bulkiness of your sleeves. 

“Oh, Maus…” Niki leans down, and croons 

If he wasn’t in active recovery from the kidney transplant, he’d likely be curling around you in his wolf form, just as he had done when you were little and first placed in his care after—

“You’re safe here. You’re safe.” 

It’s moments like this that you’re glad that your sense of smell was so destroyed after the fire. You’re grateful that you could only catch the faint scent of those within a small area around you. Because all you can smell is your father, your sire, who would burn the world down for you if it meant making you smile. That Mathias and Lukas— your brothers, not uncles, never uncles, too close to be considered just uncles to you— mark a silent guard beside you, Lukas in canine form, letting you hide your face in his dusty blond-brown fur. Mathias stands silently beside you, but with his hand held tightly in yours.

Memories of your first moments with them. The terror. Sleeping in the pillow forts and nests you’d built up until this very point in time. Always your guardians. Always by your side. In the hospital and beyond. 

You’re chewing on your thumbnail, claw extended, and Niki looks at you with a worried gaze, before softly reaching over and squeezing your shoulder.

The door opens again, and you hear shouting in a voice that haunted your dreams from within the room and then more of it, very quickly coming in your direction. Not the exit that you’d been told he would be made to use when the judgment was finally placed. 

You can just barely catch a whiff of the scent— overpowering and choking you as you tried to work, tried to examine all of the strategies that could help Logan succeed in last year’s car while the scent makes it hard to think, to breathe— before it’s nearly upon you entirely, with the Alpha who had made your past two years with Williams utter hell staring down at you, enraged, trying to push past your brothers to get to you, snarling and snapping at you as Niki shoves you forcefully behind him. 

“Tell them— tell them you accepted my courtship! You wanted this—”

Two officials start to drag him away. But you can still remember his scent. How weak he’d made you feel when you were trying to work on the car. Hating how he had purred and crooned with your every movement. Making sure you were always choking on his scent. Lukas rumbles in anger beside you, rising to stare down the man, hiding you from further view with his giant body. But of course he continues. 

“You accepted my gifts! You wanted this—”

No. You hadn’t wanted any of this. You’d just wanted to work on the cars. To help your friend grow and achieve. 

“As if anyone else would have you—”

Mathias snarls, and you can only pray that your grip on his hand is enough to stop him from lunging at the offending man.

“— you useless, crippled omega—”

Niki lunges this time, snarling, the old man’s frankly colossal canine form pining him to the ground with ease. Your sire's teeth just millimeters from tearing his throat out, stopped only by your panicked whine. Such a rare noise from you. You won’t have those you care about kill this man, this weak excuse for an Alpha. You don’t want to think of the heavy scent of his blood when you’re near them, seeking comfort from your family.

“Get him out of my sight,” Niki groans, when just a second later, court officers charge from the room. His canine form melts away, and he huffs, sitting down in one of the stiff chairs with a wince that you are hyper-aware of. Mathias looks at you with deep worry in his eyes. But you’re numb. Watching him get dragged away. Your thigh twinges from where he’d stabbed you with the needle. Part of it had broken off inside of you, removed at the hospital while the FIA officials tried to smooth things over. 

It twinges again when the verdict is read as you’re gently shuffled back into the room. He’s not allowed back in. It’s been shown he can’t control himself. 

“—Guilty on all counts, and shall be henceforth blacklisted from employment by all motorsports under the jurisdiction of the FIA. Omega Lauda shall be awarded a sum off—”

All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears as you hold your arms tightly. Claws slowly sinking into the fresh bandages and redoing all the damage your brothers had worked so hard to fix.

Early February 2024. Woking. 

Lando knows he’s a big deal. He’s one of the most popular drivers, with a rabid fanbase that was willing to go to bat for him for just about anything, even when he was the one at fault. Edits were made when he so much as breathed. All that he doesn’t have is that elusive first win, but he has a feeling this season will be different. Be it how refreshed he feels after spending some time back in his childhood home with his parents and siblings, just to spend time as a pack for the first time in several years, all six of them together. 

His family is perfect. An alpha and omega set of parents, with two alphas and two omegas for pups, all rather successful. His brother, a former world champion in kart racing, now with a loving mate and the cutest pup in the world. His sister, a showjumper quickly rising through the ranks. All successful and perfect and beautiful. Lando can’t help but puff his chest out a bit, because that’s his pack. 

There’s an odd buzz in the air when he arrives, and through the giant glass windows, he can see how many people are gathered in the building, all wearing bright orange. As he comes closer, the overflowed parking has been filled. He parks his car in his specific spot, right next to Oscar, who’s already there, just not by his car. He’s just about ready to head to the on-site cafe when Andrea pops out of nowhere to drag him by his arm somewhere, cursing slightly.

“Mate— what’s got you in such a mood—” Lando whines, already feeling like the team principal is doing way too much this early in the morning. 

“Did you not read any of your emails or texts?” Andrea hisses, the Beta turning on his heels to grab Lando by both his shoulders, looking straight into the young driver’s eyes with a fury only seen when he’d been messing around in the garage and nearly broke the experimental back wing during testing in the summer. “Lando Norris, I could gut you right now—”

“What did I do?” Lando whines again, high-pitched and childish, and Andrea runs his hands down his face, cursing fluently in Italian, while also asking the Virgin Mary for patience, based on how many times he hears a hail mary tumble past the team principal’s lips. 

“You’re late. An hour late. Oscar, Zak, and I have been calling you for nearly that entire time and you’ve been silent.”

“...Late for what?” Lando utters. His phone had been dead, constantly forgotten to get plugged into the charger. Today had been no different. 

“O Maria, dammi la pazienza e la forza— your new race engineer is being introduced? Today?”

“What?! But I don’t even know who he is—”

“It’s a she, first of all, and maybe you’d know if you checked your emails—”

The conversation must be attracting attention, because soon, Oscar is also by his side, looking mildly disappointed in the older man. The omega’s scent has just the hint of rotting oranges, but other than that, it’s normal, like seasoned salt, charcoal, and oranges. 

“Wonderful first impression, really. She’s already thrilled to not have gotten to talk to you yet,” Oscar chimes in, and Lando groans, sending a withering glare in his direction that just bounces off of the Australian. “Now you just get to improvise your way through a panel about how excited you are to be working with her.”

“I don’t even know who she is!” Lando finally barks, his scent turning a bit panicked. It’s like a thunderstorm and a hot, dry heat, smelling how burnt food tastes.

“Mate, you’re fucking kidding me—,” Oscar starts, only to be interrupted by a polite cough behind Lando. 

“She is right behind you, Mr. Norris,” The voice is monotone. Icy. Damn near robotic. And he knows it immediately because you’re the current star of most engineering circles around the grid and the damn talk of every single person they’d interviewed to replace Will when it became clear Lando needed a change. You’d managed to pull decency and consistent points into Williams of all teams. It baffles him, honestly. How you’d managed that, he has no idea, but he assumes it’s through pure spite and fury.

You’re styled elegantly, with a tailored set of pleated, pale gray slacks and a cozy-looking, chunky knit black sweater, tucked into the top of your pants. Black dress shoes. Somehow, the slacks don’t even look bulky, cinching high on your waist, and it’s flattering how slimming the entire outfit is, despite all the known laws of fashion saying that this shouldn’t be such a flattering look. The neck of the sweater is in a mock style, clearly giving the statement of a private individual, hiding any possible claiming bonds. Your hair is in a perfectly messy but neat braid down your back, with two long pieces pulled from the top to slightly frame your face. 

So plain. But elegant.

Everything about you sets Lando off a bit. And he doesn’t know why. But you just tilt your head at him. As if he’s some puzzle for you to fix. It doesn’t help that he can’t get even a trace of your scent. Only the sterile odor that came with cleaning supplies and medicine. Almost like you’re on heavy medications or that you sleep in a hospital. It unnerves him. Lando’s heard a few rumors that you’re an alpha, and that you simply want to smell that way so as to not be assigned a certain stereotype or intimidate anyone.

After all, word on the grid was you left Williams because of how they’d handled the situation between the other race engineer and the anonymous omega colleague who’d been assaulted. 

So you at least had morals. 

“Oscar had mentioned you were…. A bit lax.” You murmur, icy eyes flicking up and down his form, your tone impassive and your stance closed off. “I hadn’t imagined you would be this bad, though.” 

“I’m actually quite good, normally.” 

“About checking your email and phone? Or should I put a tracker on you?” 

“Hilarious.” 

“I’m aware I am.” You say so dryly, so bluntly, that Lando feels one of his eyes twitch as a stylist manages to help pull him together to look somewhat presentable using the wardrobes saved. You just talk softly with Oscar the entire time, a fond look in your eyes as you talk to the Omega driver. 

Right. Logan. Oscar. You’d been Logan’s engineer before. You’d probably gotten to know Oscar through that. When Lando’s finally presentable enough, the stylist makes a final adjustment to your outfit by quickly weaving an orange ribbon around the end of your braid. 

“...I will not be wearing this when I am working,” you examine the ribbon, frowning. “You’re lucky to have me in this now.”

“What, don’t like papaya?”

“No. Red is better.” You just murmur, still frowning at the ribbon, before letting it go. “Vati won in red. All three times.”

“Well, change is inevitable,” Lando fakes a sigh, and this makes you scowl. “I like the orange better, anyway.”

“You’ve yet to win, anyway,” You dismiss his comment with a simple wave of your hand, and go to follow Zak out onto the stage, leaving Lando a bit baffled. Oscar just snickers, patting him on the back and leaving the Brit scrambling to follow the both of you. 

The press conference goes immaculately. You’re the darling of the media, who seem to love how dry you are with every single answer. Just like Niki had been, even when you border on insulting most of the journalists asking the question. You look about ready to choke yourself with the wire of the microphone in front of you when someone asks you your opinion on Rush. 

“She thinks McLaren looked better in red,” Lando grins, looking at you with a mischievous grin. 

“McLaren had more wins in red.” You say bluntly, causing laughter to erupt. Lando’s ears turn pink. “We shall see if that is to change.”

He’s quiet for the rest of the press conference, until…

“Any statement on why you left Williams?”

You go rigid. Just for a second. And from where you sit beside him, Lando catches just the tiniest scent of anxiety on you, under all the sterile, medicinal odor that permeates the air around you. 

“....I thought that was obvious,” You mumble into the mic, before clearing your throat. “I, ah, don’t take kindly to anyone— especially someone who was considered my partner— trying to take advantage of someone. So.” 

There’s a tremor to your voice, barely detectable. And under the table, you’re squeezing your knee. Your hand shakes as the question repeats in your mind. Any statement on why you left Williams? The crowd is suddenly not safe. As he looks at you from every face, every set of eyes now staring at you, even when you know he’s not there. There’d been heightened security, Andrea and Zak had promised that. Oscar was here, already with a nest in his private suite at the factory, prepared for you to crash in when the press conference was over. You try to speak, to play the part of the stoic Alpha the grid has assigned to you, but your tongue is dry in your mouth. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see movement in the back of the crowd. Your hindbrain croons, and you feel yourself fighting off the urge to turn canine, to simply burst from the stage and run towards where you know is safe. He’s not there, Zak promised. He will never be anywhere near you again. 

You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe—

“What a stupid fucking question,” Lando blurts out, a snarl in his voice. “It’s obvious why she left. She has morals and doesn’t tolerate that kind of shit. Ask a proper question or fuck off,” 

Zak calls an end to the press conference quickly after, and you make your way off stage quickly, retching into a trashcan the moment you’re hidden from the cameras and watching eyes. Oscar is beside you, stroking your back, trying to comfort you, as he had that first night, curled beside you in your own nest while Logan sits on guard at the entrance to the room. Making sure that he won’t be there to find you. Even when he is being held by the FIA and local authorities for investigation, and Niki is already on a private jet to make sure you’re okay. You’re not in the hotel room in the UAE, you’re in Woking. 

“Fucking stupid twats,” Lando spits, as he walks off stage, and nearly misses the fact that you’re puking. It’s almost comical how he does a double take, and scrambles over to you. “Shit, are you good?”

“No,” you say dryly, head still in the trash can. “But— thank you, for your defense.” 

“Yeah— I— I’m assuming you knew, the omega. The one affected, I mean.” Lando babbles, and it dawns on you briefly that Lando doesn’t know. 

The only people who do know are just Zak and Andrea— it’d been a big part of the negotiations around you being hired— and of course, Oscar, who you’d called the first night after presenting. You’re partially thankful for that, because then it means that even fewer know your designation. He really hadn’t checked any of his emails. 

“You could say that.” You mumble, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Oscar’s partially frozen, until he just continues to comfort you, wordlessly understanding that you don’t want to tell Lando. “We— we were close.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Please pass the message on that what they experienced— fuck, man, it’s fucking inexcusable—” Lando runs a hand through his curls, clearly stressed by the entire incident that had just happened at the press conference. So you keep your mouth shut, and clap him on the shoulder. Trying to act like the Beta or Alpha he thinks you are. 

“Enough about that. They’re— they got rewarded enough money to retire. They’re doing fine. Good therapist. Good house. Service dog to keep them safe.”

Your voice sounds so empty, but it’s not a lie. You’d been given enough money to quit nearly three times over. And you’d used it to start the search for a service dog that could help you with deep pressure therapy and watch your back in the garage. You’d needed a new one anyway, after your old dog had to be retired around a year ago. You’d needed one, doctor’s orders, to help you with you nearly-destroyed sense of smell, and the fact that you’re now deaf in one ear. 

“That’s—that’s good, at least,” Lando mumbles, but he doesn’t look convinced. 

An awkward silence stretches between you and the driver for what feels like hours, but is likely only seconds. He’s unconvinced. You know it. Oscar knows it. But frankly, Lando seemed to understand that questioning you right now is the least of his concerns. 

“What about a tour of the factory?” Oscar buts in, killing the silence just when you feel like you have to say something. Always the peacekeeper. Always the savior. “It could— could give you time to get to know each other.”

“No time for that, unfortunately,” Zak interrupts softly, uncharacteristic of his normal behavior. He refrains from touching you at all. Which you can’t help but be thankful for— already so different from Williams, and the disconnected behavior of the board. 

Had he heard the conversation? Did he understand what you were trying to pass off to Lando, at least for the time being? A glance in his direction as you brush yourself off reveals nothing. 

“Time for… a quick meeting. Just to get to know everyone better.” 

“I want to be there,” Oscar looks at the CEO, just as Andrea rejoins the group, looking a bit exhausted, after dealing with what would likely be a bit of a PR issue. 

“You were going to anyway.” Andrea sighs, rubbing his temple. “Shall we?” And you're whisked into a spacious conference room, decorated with the portraits of champions and drivers all around you.

McLaren is…. Interesting. Leagues different from Williams, as you’ve come to realize. It seems that every step further into the orange-hued team leads you further to this conclusion. It’s mostly discussions of the next month’s schedule, as it heads into the new year of testing before the season starts. You look at the calendar, making notes varying from calling Lando to be sure he’s awake at least two hours before anything starts, to avoid any issue like today happening, to then buying a mini fridge for your office to keep your food. 

“And about this morning,” Lando says bashfully, smiling at you in a way that shows he’s used to getting away with things like that, “Won’t happen again. My phone was dead, and—”

“Correct, it won’t happen again.” You say bluntly, and look at him over your laptop, before closing it. Inadvertently, your claws come out, and you start to pick at the edge of the table. An old nervous tick you've never gotten rid of. “It was unacceptable, and shows a severe lack of discipline on your part.” 

The table goes silent. Oscar is clearly trying not to laugh. Andrea and Zak look surprised by your chilly tone. 

“I mean, I suppose,” Lando says, frowning a bit at how blunt you are. 

“There is no ‘I suppose’, there is the truth.” You lean forward over the table to look at him. “Do you want to be a world champion, Lando Norris?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then start acting like it. You’re not the youngest on the grid anymore.” Your claw scratches against the edge of the table again, leaving a faint mark. “I’ll talk to your trainer after this. You’re going to do extra conditioning for every tardy arrival to a meeting, practice, whatever, starting with this morning.”

“That seems a bit much,” Andrea starts, but Zak lets out a low whistle. Almost impressed. 

“You’re treating him like a football coach would.”

“I’m treating him as he should be. He is an athlete. He represents a team. Such actions can reflect poorly.”

“It was one time!” Lando protests.

“Was it?” You challenge, raising an eyebrow. Lando has to stop himself from growling, reminding himself he must be civil. “Was it just a one-time occurrence last season, Andrea?”

Lando bites his lower lip. You’re much stricter than Will had ever been. Andrea just holds up his hands, looking back at him with an apologetic gaze while you prompt him to answer. 

“I admit… things have been a bit relaxed as of late,” The team principal scratches the back of his head, and you make a little tutting noise, before turning to look at Lando again. 

“Then we’re fixing it.” 

A long pause settles. And you start again.

“I do have… issues, with the way you run things here,” you scratch your claw into the wood of the table, a low rumble in your throat. The scent blockers you have on are distracting to Lando. He wonders, briefly, what your scent is like when it’s not so medicinal. “You need more discipline. Less media. It makes you seem… soft.”

“Soft?” Lando leans forward, tilting his head. You look back at him with your constantly blank stare, a slight frown on your lips, and icy eyes that challenge even the famous death stare of your sire. “What do you mean?”

You hesitate, looking to Zak and Andrea, who both gesture for you to continue. You then look at Oscar, who bites his lip and makes eye contact with you, and shrugs softly, as if permitting you to say what you were going to say.

“....you will take offense to what I’m about to say, I’m warning you.”

“Please, I’ll be fine,” Lando waves it off, grinning lazily. His nose twitches. The medicinal smell of your scent blockers is getting to him. Do you truly need to cover your scent that much? Are you worried that he’ll act aggressively because you’re also an Alpha?

“.... no. You won’t. I’ve seen your interviews.” You say dryly, and fold your arms. Lando balks. 

“I beg you pardon?”

“You don’t take criticism well.”

“I take it just fine!” Lando shoots back, feeling himself starting to get frustrated. Why did you have to wear them? Even if you are an Alpha, the medication provided by the FIA should be more than enough to keep anyone’s tempers from flaring.

“Then you won’t throw a hissyfit when I list out all my problems with the way you work?” 

Your tone is icy. Even. Perfectly calculated. 

“Oh, you know I want to hear about your issues with me,” Lando slams his hands down onto the table, and you just raise an eyebrow at him. He’s down to his undershirt, his fireproofs hanging at his waist as you stare at him. “So say it! Don’t hold back!”

Andrea just massages his temples as Zak looks like he wants to be anywhere else. 

“Only if you don’t throw a tantrum when I’m right.” You state, examining your nails from where you sit, as though this is boring for you. Monotonous and icily calm. 

Lando hates your voice. Specifically how robotic and monotone it sounds. What little he knows about you— which is as much as the rest of the world, with how private the Lauda family is— is that you apparently have some vocal chord and brain damage. Nothing substantial enough to impede your thought process or speaking to make you mute, but enough to have caused the monotonous way you speak. A small enough problem that Lando doesn’t feel like a total dick for what he’s about to say.

“Oh, just fucking say it, you robotic bitch!”

That gets your attention. You pause, slowly bring your hand down, and look at him. With that classic, terrifying Lauda glare. Your eyes pierce his soul, and for a second, just a second, Lando considers apologizing. Tucking his tail between his legs, his ears folded back. But then, he remembers who he is, and he meets your glare with his own, lips drawn back to bare his teeth. 

“Fine then.”

You push yourself up easily, and stand, looking down at him. 

“Firstly, you are incredibly arrogant. You take risks without properly considering the chances of failure. Whenever you do inevitably end up in a lower place than your high-and-mighty ass thinks you deserve, you then take it out on everyone but yourself, when it’s solely your own decisions getting you there.”

You take a deep breath in, and he can hear the rattle of it in your throat as you start to walk around the table towards him as if you’re stalking your prey. Glaring all the while. Eyes glowing in the light. Andrea has his head in his hands behind you.

“Furthermore, you’ve yet to win a single race. Just one. You are not a world champion because you’re a fan favorite and show extreme promise. Everyone is here because they showed promise at one point or another. You’re a brat of a driver with an ego boosted by all of the people who want to get into your pants and the fact that these fuckers,” You snarl when you whip your hand out to point to Zak and Andrea, who at least have the decency to look a bit ashamed, “…don’t discipline you enough.”

And then you stop, and pull him up by the collar so fast that he gets whiplash, looking you right in your eyes, and can see the angry, mottled skin of severe scarring just hidden under the concealer on your face. Zak still seems to be reeling from the comment you made about how soft they are on Lando, and the way that you’re bristling for a fight.

“Thirdly. You’re a fucking jackass who’s mad someone got called over here to stop your ass from having another hissyfit while being interviewed. I hope the food from the races this year gives you explosive diarrhea from all the spices.”

With that, you let go of his collar and storm out of the room, screaming in German the entire way out, while slamming the door behind you.

Andrea only groans, looking at Lando from between his fingers, while Zak has his head against the table. Oscar has his hands tightly threaded in his hair. But then you come storming back in, with something in your hand. Lando just barely manages to swat it out of the way, and listens to it hit the ground, sounding like an empty can.

And you throw your hands in the air. “Oh, so you can react when a Red Bull is suddenly coming at you! Now do it with the fucking car, dipshit!”

Lando feels his eye twitch once. Twice. And then he’s throwing the crinkled can right back at you, the two of you screaming at each other in two separate languages while Andrea pushes himself between you two, with Zak trying his best to mediate the situation. Oscar looks like he would rather be anywhere else than between the two of you, eyes straight to the center of the table when you’re both finally separated. His scent is sour and awkward. Lando’s smells of burnt rubber. Your teeth are still bared, scent hidden. And that somehow makes Lando angrier.

“Never insult my voice again,” You hiss at Lando, eyes burning as the Brit sits in the chair while you stay standing. Oscar is holding tightly to his shoulder, the omega’s fingers digging into his skin. “I’ll gut you like a fucking fish if you do.” 

The faintest trace of an American accent makes Lando’s head spin, as he watches you leave, stalking out of the room. And Zak looks at Lando, jaw hanging loose. “Uh. I think… I think we need a five-minute break.” Zak mumbles, looking a bit disturbed, before leaving to go talk to you. Lando just stands there, feeling his anger fade as Oscar slowly approaches him. Andrea has gone after Zak.

"Mate," The omega's voice trembles, with shock or rage, he isn't entirely sure which one, "What the fuck?"

tags: @the-holy-trinity-l @laura-naruto-fan1998 @amalialeclerc @st0rmzi3

[arioloyal]

[[Sepandarmazgan]](King baldwin iv x reader)])

Part2

[Jerusalem- 1182]

Sibylla's pov:

I wasn't there the day that the young traveler appeared on my brother's path with her long hair and strange black clothes. I had gone outside Jerusalem with some of my companions to meet balian. When I came back, I realized that the story of my younger brother's acquaintance with that stranger has become a new topic for any conversation.

All the people were asking one thing: who is this girl who is not known where she came from?, what is her origin?, how come the king of the holy land took her seriously and almost bowed to her?...

Since I have been used to seeing everyone bow to my brother since childhood, I never thought that one day he would bow to someone as a sign of respect. He only bowed in supplication before the statue of Jesus during worship, not before lesser and ordinary persons. That's why I didn't believe what I heard. But when I returned, Raymond confirmed the matter, and as I've never heard such a loyal person tell a lie till this day, I was forced to believe that Baldwin had kissed the stranger's hand at court, in front of everyone.

Besides, as Tiberias said, this uninvited guest who seems to be y/n of Persia, is destined to stay with us from now on.

Who is this stranger who suddenly came down from the heaven with a basket and just appeared in front of him? I wanted to look for her and see her with my own eyes. As soon as I saw Tiberias, I asked him: "Then why can't this girl be found?"

Tiberias silenced me by whispering: "Shh...his majesty and Lady y/n have gone to that bedchamber and closed all the doors."

From a distance, their voices sounded like whispers, but it was impossible to understand what they were saying. I was going that way when Tiberias stopped me again.

:"You better wait Sibylla, they don't want to be disturbed."

Guy de lusignan's pov:

...the long days in Jerusalem are not easily over. But they did not come out, the next day was the same, the next day again...how many words did they already have to talk to each other? What could the king of Jerusalem have in common with an ordinary person?

...One week passed, another week was the same... The servants and physicians lined up behind together every day and left the that leper's medicine , fresh bandages and food behind it and left. Although every day more delicious food was cooked than the day before, baldwin and y/n seemed to eat nothing but a piece of wheat bread and a bowl of milk and left the rest behind the door.

The order of the court was messed up. Every day that passed, I became more nervous and curious; I'm always calm, but this time it was different. At different hours of the day, I would stick my eyes to the door and look inside the room. I eavesdropped tirelessly every day. What if this girl knows about the caravan that Reynald and I robbed? as that orange-colored traitor said: "You should be afraid of famous people"...

But in any case, I did not see anything special. The curtains were drawn halfway. Except for the few words I stole in the air, the only thing I could hear was endless whispers. When there is nothing to see or hear, a person starts to fantasize in his mind. Maybe something has happened to the girl...

Once, Sibylla surprised me while I was listening to the door. she was angry and surprised. I think she also came here out of curiosity and wanted to know what kind of long story this is. Honestly, women are naturally curious. they can't help it.

My princess's eyes became like wild cats and she whispered her words in my face angrily.

:"You have no right to eavesdrop here. Since when did you worry about your king? You are not even allowed to enter this corridor."

Thank God I always keep my excuses in my pockets already: "Your lover now has the support of your brother. I have thousands of Knights and Templars at my disposal, and I have the power to do anything without his permission, but before that, I must remind the king that I am asking for your hand in marriage, otherwise your son's rule will be nothing but destruction... I came to talk to him, but it seems he has a beloved guest who never gets tired of being with her almost a month everyday..." I don't know why, but suddenly I laughed at the thought of it. wondering what just happened there...

(To be continued...)

[freakenomenon]

i really really want to expand on ellens design considering most people in the fandom have their own personal designs for the survivors outside of the game ones. but oh my god I physically can't bring myself to detach from the game design

i just can't imagine a different face at all ... i mean she looks like she's in a perpetual state of sneezing sure but it's fitting considering that sounds. absolutely abhorrent

this is the same reason I simply. don't like the comic desi[CAR CRASH] [BUILDINGS FALLING] “GOOD GOD” [EXPLOSION] BABY CRYING “WAAAH” “WAAA” [YELLING] [POLICE SIRENS] WEEE WOOO WEEE WOOO [HELICOPTERS AND NEWS TRUCKS] “...WE’RE REPORTING LIVE FROM THE SCENE-“ [BANG] “MY LEG....MY LEG...” [LOUD COMMOTI

OKAY OKAY guys. I JUST. I JUST CANT DO IT. im a fan of the hair it's cute and there's nothing wrong with the design ITSELF ive drawn it before and she looks fine i ENJOYED drawing that but. I just. Don't like. The style of the comic. Which thus. Makes me dislike. Ellens design in it.

it also might be the fact she lowkey flashed me when i was first reading it and i was never the same jesus christ harlan ellison did you make the decision to have her nipples on display before or after deciding to make nimdok look like butcher from the boys comics. but that's neither here nor there.

also her face shape is inconsistent at least in my eyes and for the love of god i can barely get over what the hell is going on with ellens manic panic mario chomper bangs i am not about to get into her looking likef someone threw 4C hair on a PEANUT in the comics.

whatever. ill probably get over my attachment to the game design pixel by pixel eventually. maybe. hopefully.

[bikingintheround]

I found u on instagram and was sad u stopped posting ur poetry snippets n stuff there BUT!! I hav a tumblr now so all is well. Any new poetry u really like rn? (Or an old one in ur recs that just hits different atm?)

hi there. you sent this ask in about a year ago. ive been thinking about what poems to share ever since.

lately, ive been drawn to what it looks like to us and the words we use (ada limón). ive been weeping over my perimenopausal body cistern disappointing how surprising (gabrielle calvocoressi). ive been craddling what resembles the grave but isn't (anne boyer) and hammond b3 organ cistern (gabrielle calvocoressi, again). ive been dreaming about manifesto in an unknown language (rhiannon mcgavin). i find myself continually coming back to meditations in an emergency (cameron awkward-rich), when we were 13, jeff's father left the needle down on a journey record before leaving the house one morning and never coming back (hanif abdurraqib, read by pádraig ó tuama, especially the final reading at the end of the episode when the music comes in, euphoric and tender and aching), hymn of our jesus and the holy tow truck (ashley m. jones), elegy for the four chambers of my brother's heart (steven espada dawson), and peaceful transition (tony hoagland). im dancing around from blossoms (li-young lee). im longing for all the poems i cant list here. there's so many.

thank you for your patience, and sorry for waiting so long to respond to this that im sure you've forgotten you ever sent it in.

[solardick]

Happy BS day. Its valentines. I’m not allowed knowing love. Because god’s an asshole. And enjoys fucken with me. And it’s always ever going to be just me. And know that in dying. I dont care anymore. That stupid girl they always talking about is going to be there. Today, yay! My lung hurts. Smoke another ciggarette.

Wonder whys the dovstor arw going to say when i ask to be euthanized. Just send me a guy already so i can spend the rest of my short life being fucked. Like i have been since my first memory. And Since im never going to add anything to life. And for the first tome this year theres the semblance of winter. Its only ten degrees warmer than it should be today and not 20.

Oh and the girl is gone. Wonder who’s gonna replace her.

Yay for being punished all fucken day. Get the fuck out of my way.

And fuck tarot im done. All y’all fo id give me the oppositre of what i create and my intent. Fuck this rapist culture. Soend tbe rest of my short life gaming and hetting drunk. An dmy dragon image in now trash.

Not allowed being healthy others control my life. Wonder what having independance from malicious influences. Something id like to experiemce before i die. Ive never been. Maybe one day. Ill go. Lol.

I nailed it in that dragon image though. My perfect reflection. And the tower crumbles. Everytime.

Mmmnn i can feel it. Serpent. Its stirring. And after fetting hit in the face with a box. Fuck this. Im done. Fuck all of you. Go sit in the corner and wait.

Souffy, fuck off pls.

And… uh, maybe she realized she was in love with me. And could no longer stay. It was a nice two step dance we did though. Was fun. Bye luv. Maybe one day.

It’s always sexual. I have a very lovable image. I just be me. I always get fucked over. But circumstances won’t allow. Im locked down. Man. And they won’t leave me be. I left my family what eight years ago now. Haven’t had any peace pressence has always been there. … born in hell. I dint know what else to say.

Well you know what they say. Gotta poor your sexuality into something else. Like making love to god. Or jesus. Or blogging indiscriminately, unfiltered. It has to be raw. Or. Not at all. When uou have nothign good to say you sys nothing at all. Maybe in. Fairy tail ‘bout being saved by thee glorious father.

Maybe her boifriend, will show up and beat me up. Because she flirted to spite. Spite. Yeah, yeah. That word, works well. Think im being framed up again? Probably.

Hahah. Ugh. I mean. Im pretty celibate. So its usually from the opposing parties. Thats how it started. Even down near 6-8 yr’old. If its coming from women, its either a good desire that would play out right if present corcumstnaves werent treating me lije a marionnette or there wasn’t amole amounts of violent carnage preventing any act forward. Or its a dirty desire. And im turned off. And do the morally good thing. Ethically may be skitchy. The couple times it did. Treatment and marionnette and all that. Not in a healthy state of being. And thats beside the while line up of scripted ones. There to be serpents. Other people serpents. The white ones with the crow.

Where do you want me to step? Here?

Uh, ok. The added script. Strength from mother to the “king” the child as self. Mother to child. Leo. And death. A parental bond with mother. One showing trust and support. Missing piece to the script. My own, fuck her. Man. I cant do it. There’s nothing there. And for as long as im nothing but tred, i couldn’t afford to care even if i wanted to.

Now to see of i camt find something to watch that isnt predomiantly gay, or gradually drawn into being. Risky stuff. I live dangerously.

Like tomorrow war, where the threat is actually the russians. With there symbolic connection to man and the machine vs. Women and temptation. Gotta fight the good fight. It had monsters and russians in it. I should have known better. In godzilla it was what the Chinese? God sake. Gotta keep my uranus in sag occupied. Uh?

I soent what 20 years in a hole. Not being a part of the system. And then as soon as i do. “Covid”happens. Yeah, ok? Where the real world? I dont think ive met it yet.

Anyway. Crazy bs aside. Im grateful she left. Better pay, closer to home. Can’t go wrong. Even though she hurt me in two ways. Knowing that she wasn’t there to get in my way today. Was awesome. And the good feeling remains. The Dove and the Dragon. The dove, a portent to positive experience. This land is populates by too many crows though. The most dominate species here. Only in the spring and summer are they mostly chased away. Creating a loop of conditional experience. That of using the the functioning increases of solar energy to overcoming the negative association to growth. Its not at all different that the tv. Of fighting monsters and such. Except that there’s not an overlaying fabricated script over nature. And this function is towards the means of reproduction and establishing a suitable nesting home.

In high populated city zones, the natural is all but lacking. Amd the mass lives within a bubble of conditioning. Which cost millions of lives to make possible. While claiming peace on earth. Though millions of lives doesn’t seem so consequential considering the what now, eight billion?

Twisted metal does seem promising. Thanks justin.

No, it’s just sneaky. It hook punches you.

Well guess im goving up media. And going back to the wind.

Well y’all could give some hearts if your going to stock me anonymously. But no. Only the bad stuff.

[ithisatanytime]

サカナクション - 夜の踊り子（MUSIC VIDEO） -BEST ALBUM「魚図鑑」(3/28release)-

   remember when jesus commanded his followers to send their children off to factory like soul destruction camps for a thirty or so hour week? yeah neither do i, and they will lie, “Jesus studied the torah as a child” no one pre “enlightenment” era saw anything even close to what kids are subjected to, its insane, and back when it was devised it was NOTHING like it is now as the time and workload and insanity has just been slowly ratcheted up over a few short centuries. i have mentioned this before but it bears repeating, ive already said this is the REAL significance to be drawn from calhouns rat utopia experiment, schools are a recreation of those cramped conditions which was the focus of the experiment in the first place it was never any utopia it was to show that in densely crowded environments animals structure themselves in a rigid self destructive hierarchies, this glosses over the REAL psychological impact this had on the rats, but what i really want to mention again is the famous study on wolves which coined the term “alpha male” that was quickly applied to human social structures and is still widely memed about to this day, the author of that study famously recanted his findings, sighting that the brutal hierarchal wolf pack he used to do the study were not at all representative of how wolves typically structure themselves socially in their natural environment. instead of alpha males and beta males, what he found typically of “packs” that were just families, a father with is mate and their kids. it was only in the crowded unnatural environment of i forget if it was a zoo or just some weird wolf enclosure, could have been a rescue, but the point was these were unrelated wolves thrown into cramped space, not unlike a prison, or in my view, modern public schools. further i think that this “socialization” is the true purpose of these places if not always especially now, and that maybe what once were proofs of intelligence now serve as social proofs, and diplomas certificates of how socialized one is. i dont think this socialization is beneficial and i never consented to it. we all know that our time was not utlized in anything resembling an efficient manner, they ended child labor and enacted child slavory, where nothing is produced but broken people. 

[topquark]

sunday 19th june & monday 20th june ★ 5&6/100

spent sunday running between genevas museums in 35°+ heat. photos of objects created by prisoners (red cross museum) and of a drawing of jesus based on a verse from relevelations (history of art museum, forgot to write down the artist). theres a lot of amazing stuff that we didnt have time for and a lot are free so i will definitely go back by myself soon

today i had a call to check in with the summer placement students, dropped my friend off at the airport, attended some seminars on plans for the next LHC run that honestly were too niche and technical for me to follow, and caught up with laundry

[neil-gaiman]

How Did you come up with the first eve in the story about adams wives? I haven’t been able to find anything about her after I read it and I want to know if she’s an actual biblical character or just someone you made

She's from the Midrash. I learned about her as a 12 year old, from my barmitzvah teacher. There was a point in there, long after I'd put her into Sandman, where I was starting to think I'd imagined her, when I ran across her in Robert Graves's Hebrew Myths....

Excerpt from: The Hebrew Myths by Robert Graves and Raphael Patai (New York:  Doubleday, 1964), pp 65-69

Chapter 10: Adam's Helpmeets

(a) Having decided to give Adam a helpmeet lest he should be alone of his kind, God put him into a deep sleep, removed one of his ribs, formed it into a woman, and closed up the wound, Adam awoke and said: 'This being shall be named "Woman", because she has been taken out of man. A man and a woman shall be one flesh.' The title he gave her was Eve, 'the Mother of All Living''. [1]

(b) Some say that God created man and woman in His own image on the Sixth Day, giving them charge over the world; [2]  but that Eve did not yet exist. Now, God had set Adam to name every beast, bird and other living thing. When they passed before him in pairs, male and female, Adam-being already like a twenty-year-old man-felt jealous of their loves, and though he tried coupling with each female in turn, found no satisfaction in the act. He therefore cried: 'Every creature but I has a proper mate', and prayed God would remedy this injustice. [3]

(c) God then formed Lilith, the first woman, just as He had formed Adam, except that He used filth and sediment instead of pure dust. From Adam's union with this demoness, and with another like her named Naamah, Tubal Cain's sister, sprang Asmodeus and innumerable demons that still plague mankind. Many generations later, Lilith and Naamah came to Solomon's judgement seat, disguised as harlots of Jerusalem'. [4]

(d) Adam and Lilith never found peace together; for when he wished to lie with her, she took offence at the recumbent posture he demanded. 'Why must I lie beneath you?' she asked. 'I also was made from dust, and am therefore your equal.' Because Adam tried to compel her obedience by force, Lilith, in a rage, uttered the magic name of God, rose into the air and left him.

Adam complained to God: 'I have been deserted by my helpmeet' God at once sent the angels Senoy, Sansenoy and Semangelof to fetch Lilith back. They found her beside the Red Sea, a region abounding in lascivious demons, to whom she bore lilim at the rate of more than one hundred a day. 'Return to Adam without delay,' the angels said, `or we will drown you!' Lilith asked: `How can I return to Adam and live like an honest housewife, after my stay beside the Red Sea?? 'It will be death to refuse!' they answered. `How can I die,' Lilith asked again, `when God has ordered me to take charge of all newborn children: boys up to the eighth day of life, that of circumcision; girls up to the twentieth day. None the less, if ever I see your three names or likenesses displayed in an amulet above a newborn child, I promise to spare it.' To this they agreed; but God punished Lilith by making one hundred of her demon children perish daily; [5] and if she could not destroy a human infant, because of the angelic amulet, she would spitefully turn against her own. [6]

(e) Some say that Lilith ruled as queen in Zmargad, and again in Sheba; and was the demoness who destroyed job's sons. [7] Yet she escaped the curse of death which overtook Adam, since they had parted long before the Fall. Lilith and Naamah not only strangle infants but also seduce dreaming men, any one of whom, sleeping alone, may become their victim. [8]

(f) Undismayed by His failure to give Adam a suitable helpmeet, God tried again, and let him watch while he built up a woman's anatomy: using bones, tissues, muscles, blood and glandular secretions, then covering the whole with skin and adding tufts of hair in places. The sight caused Adam such disgust that even when this woman, the First Eve, stood there in her full beauty, he felt an invincible repugnance. God knew that He had failed once more, and took the First Eve away. Where she went, nobody knows for certain. [9]

(g) God tried a third time, and acted more circumspectly. Having taken a rib from Adam's side in his sleep, He formed it into a woman; then plaited her hair and adorned her, like a bride, with twenty-four pieces of jewellery, before waking him. Adam was entranced. [10]

(h) Some say that God created Eve not from Adam's rib, but from a tail ending in a sting which had been part of his body. God cut this off, and the stump-now a useless coccyx-is still carried by Adam's descendants. [11]

(i) Others say that God's original thought had been to create two human beings, male and female; but instead He designed a single one with a male face looking forward, and a female face looking back. Again He changed His mind, removed Adam's backward-looking face, and built a woman's body for it. [12]

(j) Still others hold that Adam was originally created as an androgyne of male and female bodies joined back to back. Since this posture made locomotion difficult, and conversation awkward, God divided the androgyne and gave each half a new rear. These separate beings He placed in Eden, forbidding them to couple. [13]

Notes on sources:

1. Genesis II. 18-25; III. 20.

2. Genesis I. 26-28.

3. Gen. Rab. 17.4; B. Yebamot 632.

4. Yalqut Reubeni ad. Gen. II. 21; IV. 8.

5. Alpha Beta diBen Sira, 47; Gaster, MGWJ, 29 (1880), 553 ff.

6. Num. Rab. 16.25.

7. Targum ad job 1. 15.

8. B. Shabbat 151b; Ginzberg, LJ, V. 147-48.

9. Gen. Rab. 158, 163-64; Mid. Abkir 133, 135; Abot diR. Nathan 24; B. Sanhedrin 39a.

10. Gen. II. 21-22; Gen. Rab. 161.

11. Gen. Rab. 134; B. Erubin 18a.

12. B. Erubin 18a.

13. Gen. Rab. 55; Lev. Rab. 14.1: Abot diR. Nathan 1.8; B. Berakhot 61a; B. Erubin 18a; Tanhuma Tazri'a 1; Yalchut Gen. 20; Tanh. Buber iii.33; Mid. Tehillim 139, 529.

Authors’ Comments on the Myth:

1. The tradition that man's first sexual intercourse was with animals, not women, may be due to the widely spread practice of bestiality among herdsmen of the Middle East, which is still condoned by custom, although figuring three times in the Pentateuch as a capital crime. In the Akkadian Gilgamesh Epic, Enkidu is said to have lived with gazelles and jostled other wild beasts at the watering place, until civilized by Aruru's priestess. Having enjoyed her embraces for six days and seven nights, he wished to rejoin the wild beasts but, to his surprise, they fled from him. Enkidu then knew that he had gained understanding, and the priestess said: 'Thou art wise, Enkidu, like unto a godl'

2. Primeval man was held by the Babylonians to have been androgynous. Thus the Gilgamesh Epic gives Enkidu androgynous features: `the hair of his head like a woman's, with locks that sprout like those of Nisaba, the Grain-goddess.' The Hebrew tradition evidently derives from Greek sources, because both terms used in a Tannaitic midrash to describe the bisexual Adam are Greek: androgynos, 'man-woman', and diprosopon, 'twofaced'. Philo of Alexandria, the Hellenistic philosopher and commentator on the Bible, contemporary with Jesus, held that man was at first bisexual; so did the Gnostics. This belief is clearly borrowed from Plato. Yet the myth of two bodies placed back to back may well have been founded on observation of Siamese twins, which are sometimes joined in this awkward manner. The two-faced Adam appears to be a fancy derived from coins or statues of Janus, the Roman New Year god.

3. Divergences between the Creation myths of Genesis r and n, which allow Lilith to be presumed as Adam's first mate, result from a careless weaving together of an early Judaean and a late priestly tradition. The older version contains the rib incident. Lilith typifies the Anath-worshipping Canaanite women, who were permitted pre-nuptial promiscuity. Time after time the prophets denounced Israelite women for following Canaanite practices; at first, apparently, with the priests' approval-since their habit of dedicating to God the fees thus earned is expressly forbidden in Deuteronomy xxIII. I8. Lilith's flight to the Red Sea recalls the ancient Hebrew view that water attracts demons. 'Tortured and rebellious demons' also found safe harbourage in Egypt. Thus Asmodeus, who had strangled Sarah's first six husbands, fled 'to the uttermost parts of Egypt' (Tobit viii. 3), when Tobias burned the heart and liver of a fish on their wedding night.

4. Lilith's bargain with the angels has its ritual counterpart in an apotropaic rite once performed in many Jewish communities. To protect the newborn child against Lilith-and especially a male, until he could be permanently safeguarded by circumcision-a ring was drawn with natron, or charcoal, on the wall of the birthroom, and inside it were written the words: 'Adam and Eve. Out, Lilith!' Also the names Senoy, Sansenoy and Semangelof (meanings uncertain) were inscribed on the door. If Lilith nevertheless succeeded in approaching the child and fondling him, he would laugh in his sleep. To avert danger, it was held wise to strike the sleeping child's lips with one finger-whereupon Lilith would vanish.

5. 'Lilith' is usually derived from the Babylonian-Assyrian word lilitu, ,a female demon, or wind-spirit'-one of a triad mentioned in Babylonian spells. But she appears earlier as 'Lillake' on a 2000 B.G. Sumerian tablet from Ur containing the tale of Gilgamesh and the Willow Tree. There she is a demoness dwelling in the trunk of a willow-tree tended by the Goddess Inanna (Anath) on the banks of the Euphrates. Popular Hebrew etymology seems to have derived 'Lilith' from layil, 'night'; and she therefore often appears as a hairy night-monster, as she also does in Arabian folklore. Solomon suspected the Queen of Sheba of being Lilith, because she had hairy legs. His judgement on the two harlots is recorded in I Kings III. 16 ff. According to Isaiah xxxiv. I4-I5, Lilith dwells among the desolate ruins in the Edomite Desert where satyrs (se'ir), reems, pelicans, owls, jackals, ostriches, arrow-snakes and kites keep her company.

6. Lilith's children are called lilim. In the Targum Yerushalmi, the priestly blessing of Numbers vi. 26 becomes: 'The Lord bless thee in all thy doings, and preserve thee from the Lilim!' The fourth-century A.D. commentator Hieronymus identified Lilith with the Greek Lamia, a Libyan queen deserted by Zeus, whom his wife Hera robbed of her children. She took revenge by robbing other women of theirs.

7. The Lamiae, who seduced sleeping men, sucked their blood and ate their flesh, as Lilith and her fellow-demonesses did, were also known as Empusae, 'forcers-in'; or Mormolyceia, 'frightening wolves'; and described as 'Children of Hecate'. A Hellenistic relief shows a naked Lamia straddling a traveller asleep on his back. It is characteristic of civilizations where women are treated as chattels that they must adopt the recumbent posture during intercourse, which Lilith refused. That Greek witches who worshipped Hecate favoured the superior posture, we know from Apuleius; and it occurs in early Sumerian representations of the sexual act, though not in the Hittite. Malinowski writes that Melanesian girls ridicule what they call `the missionary position', which demands that they should lie passive and recumbent.

8. Naamah, 'pleasant', is explained as meaning that 'the demoness sang pleasant songs to idols'. Zmargad suggest smaragdos, the semi-precious aquamarine; and may therefore be her submarine dwelling. A demon named Smaragos occurs in the Homeric Epigrams.

9. Eve's creation by God from Adam's rib-a myth establishing male supremacy and disguising Eve's divinity-lacks parallels in Mediterranean or early Middle-Eastern myth. The story perhaps derives iconotropically from an ancient relief, or painting, which showed the naked Goddess Anath poised in the air, watching her lover Mot murder his twin Aliyan; Mot (mistaken by the mythographer for Yahweh) was driving a curved dagger under Aliyan's fifth rib, not removing a sixth one. The familiar story is helped by a hidden pun on tsela, the Hebrew for 'rib': Eve, though designed to be Adam's helpmeet, proved to be a tsela, a 'stumbling', or 'misfortune'. Eve's formation from Adam's tail is an even more damaging myth; perhaps suggested by the birth of a child with a vestigial tail instead of a coccyx-a not infrequent occurrence.

10. The story of Lilith's escape to the East and of Adam's subsequent marriage to Eve may, however, record an early historical incident: nomad herdsmen, admitted into Lilith's Canaanite queendom as guests (see 16. 1), suddenly seize power and, when the royal household thereupon flees, occupy a second queendom which owes allegiance to the Hittite Goddess Heba.

The meaning of 'Eve' is disputed. Hawwah is explained in Genesis III. 20 as 'mother of all living'; but this may well be a Hebraicized form of the divine name Heba, Hebat, Khebat or Khiba. This goddess, wife of the Hittite Storm-god, is shown riding a lion in a rock-sculpture at Hattusaswhich equates her with Anath-and appears as a form of Ishtar in Hurrian texts. She was worshipped at Jerusalem (see 27. 6). Her Greek name was Hebe, Heracles's goddess-wife.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (iv)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, guns, mention of war, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: good evening i’ve never been to any of the places i mention in this series so dont come @ me

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He spends the weekend doing nothing. It’s supposed to be relaxing. He finds it nauseatingly boring.

“No mini mission this week?” Steve asks him from across the couch. 

They’re supposed to be catching up on Star Wars but two prequels in and Bucky could feel himself lose his sanity. Anyone could present him with a random assortment of alphabets, call it a Star Wars species and he would have no reason not to believe them.

It’s not like he doesn’t like space. It’s just that he’s had enough of it and everything and everyone who came from it for the foreseeable future.

“No. Someone else is taking care of it.”

“Didn’t you volunteer for this?”

“I pulled myself out of the case.”

“I thought you were having fun.” 

Bucky’s head slowly turns to look at him. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Looked like you were.”

Well, he wasn’t. He likes it here at home, glued to the TV. Popcorn beside him, sweatpants on. Refreshing, calming, slow, mundane, and Jesus Christ, so fucking boring-

His spiralling is interrupted by the dinging of the elevator to the common floor. No one was allowed up there unless it was extremely urgent. Guests were barely allowed into the Tower as it was. 

It reveals the receptionist from downstairs, Marie. She’s always a little reserved, a little shy. But Bucky had seen her chew and spit out trespassers or anyone who dared to get on her nerve. He adores her.

“Hey, Marie,” Steve says while Bucky sends her a friendly wave in greeting. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a hostage situation downtown,” she informs them. 

“Okay...” Steve drawls, waiting for a reason why this was an Avengers level threat.

“They’ve asked for Mr. Barnes by name.” She makes a mention towards him.

Bucky sits up straight. Bits of popcorn fall off his chest. 

“What?”

“They said, and I quote-” she looks down at her notepad. “‘Tell that grumpy motherfucker that I’m waiting for him and that he’s not getting out of this so easily because we have come too far.’ End quote. They’ve also told me to include a kissing emoji. And a skull.”

Steve and he look at each other.

“Well?” Steve prods. 

Bucky sighs and gets up to go get ready.

The entrance of Chuck E. Cheese is more crowded than he’d ever seen. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen people in the store before. If there were, they probably only came up till his waist. 

There are a few journalists, a few policemen standing together outside. Whispers of confusion and curiosity reigned free. 

Bucky gently pushes his way to the front. He gets a nod from a police officer who opens the door for him after a quick briefing. 

The place is darker than it usually would be. A trademark, it seemed. The blinds are drawn shut and most of the light is coming through whatever sneaks in through the crack. 

“Hey, Barnes.” Your voice is muffled by a mask that looks suspiciously like it was made out of classroom craft supplies.

There’s a person in a loose chokehold in your hand with a gun pressed against his head. Once again it looks straight out of a cartoon, purple with round disks lining its barrel. 

“What’s all this now?” He gestures around monotonously. 

“A hostage situation. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Got that part down, genius,” he bites back. “But why?”

“Fucker kept harassing me when I was walkin’ down the street.” 

The guy’s helpless gaze met Bucky. 

“Catcalling me, stalking me.” You tighten the grip you have on him. “Call me darlin’ one more time, you son of a bitch. I dare you.”

He wasn’t impressed with his pleading eyes. He kinda felt like he deserved it. 

“Why’d you do it here?” The bright colours were starting to give him a heading. “And where are the staff?”

“It’s symbolic, Bucky,” you emphasise, “He deserves to be among other rat bastards.”

Of course.

“The staff?” he asks again. 

“Gave them thirty bucks and told them to leave. I’m not a monster.”

“Right.” He doesn’t bother refuting you. “Why’d you call me here?”

“Dunno.” You shrug. “Thought it’d be fun. You having fun yet?”

You shake the guy you’re holding. He gives a small whimper. 

Bucky doesn’t want to stop you. He had chugged enough Respect Juice in his lifetime to know that this guy probably deserved a threat or two.

Hell, he’d even help but you were more than capable of handling this on your own.

“Listen,” he sighed. “As much as I’m sure he deserves it, this is technically illegal and I’m required to stop you.”

“Sorry sarge, I thought you weren’t interested in playing this stupid game with me,” you mock, voice dropping to imitate him.

“I’m not.” It wasn’t entirely true. One Saturday with Jar Jar Binks had convinced him otherwise.

“Okay, so before you leave, do me a favour and call Hawkeye. I hear he looks mighty fine when he’s annoyed.”

His face involuntarily scrunched up. You were going to replace him with Clint? Clint?

He probably took it more as an insult than he should have.

“I’m not doing that.” Bless his foul mouthed friend, but he was a little shit who was too sarcastic for his own good. At least twice a week he’d say something stupid to Bucky and then take out his hearing aids when he tried to argue back. 

“You’re leavin’ me with no options here,” you groaned, using your thumb to flip a switch. The gun looks like it powered up, lights along the side turning red.

If he let you have this, it’d be a bad look for the Avengers.

New York man dies in Chuck E. Cheese lone hostage situation, unable to be saved by same superhero who tried to fight Thanos with a machine gun.

“Tell ya what,” he says instead, “If you kill him, there won’t even be a slight chance that you’ll see me again.”

Your grip on the gun falters.

“If I let him go...”

“I might consider coming back next week.” He’s trying to spin it, make it look like he’s the one with the upper hand here. “But you gotta let him go.”

You search his face for any signs of dishonesty.

“Let him go or you’ll never see me again.” It sounds too much like Clint’s arguments with his dog who brought a live squirrel into the house. 

“Fine,” you relent, a glint in your eye. “but say goodbye to this fuckface.”

Before Bucky can open his mouth to shout in protest, you pull the trigger. The man clenches his eyes shut, face red.

He expects blood to be splatter across his face.

Nothing happens.

A barrage of bubbles floats into the room.

“I meant it literally,” you say, pushing him off you. “Say goodbye. He’s leaving.”

The man stumbles to the ground and Bucky doesn’t make any attempt to catch him. He scrambles to his knees, picking himself up and scurrying out the door to a hoard of reporters.

The door shuts behind him with the chime of a bell.

“You’re annoying,” Bucky states, giving a small sigh.

“I’m well aware of that.” You pull off the mask, wiping the sweat off your brow.

“Where is the agent assigned to your case?” 

“Dunno. Last I saw he was crying on the driveway of my lair. I just figured he’d pick himself up later so I left him there.”

Bucky’s nose twitches. 

“You weren’t actually going to kill him, were you.” He shrugs with his shoulder towards the door. It wasn’t a question, more a statement. He knew you wouldn’t. 

“I could have.”

“But you weren’t going to,” he repeats. 

“No,” you admit. “I wasn’t. But I’m glad to see you showed up.”

“You held someone hostage as leverage.”

“No, no. I held someone hostage and then asked to see you. They were completely unrelated.”

“You’re evil.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you point out. “Would you like a trampoline next time? Maybe a pogo stick, you clown?”

He has a very real gun in his holster. His very real metal death arm aches to use it. 

“No one else agreed to come,” he deflects. 

“We both know that’s a lie. You were going to come back anyway.” You stuff the bubble gun back into the bag. “I’m deliciously irresistible.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg.” You give him a smirk and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, you win this round, sarge.”

He doesn’t say anything. He watches you remove your heist gear, revealing normal civilian clothes underneath.

You walk casually to the kitchen, intending to leave through the back door.

“But I can’t say I lost either.” You send him a wink before swiftly pushing open the door and leaving him behind.

He only watches you leave.

It doesn’t hit him until a few seconds later that he let a criminal out of his hands when there were several policemen and journalists outside.

He entertains the idea of chasing you down and handing you over. 

It takes him only a few seconds to decide that if they wanted you, they’d have to try themselves.

Next part 

[izepeche]

I am new to the strange obsession, but oh my gosh your works are amazing. I just want sinister strange to do whatever he wants and for me to say thanks afterwards.

I dunno what to say omg thank you thank you thank you love 🥺✨ im honestly surprised ppl still show up on my blog lol

I have so many things I wanna do but with my condition i can’t do much but i should be fully cleared to go home by tuesday ✨

but i agree. i was never really into Strange until this movie. i mean i love his design and ive drawn him many times before but idk he just didnt speak to me before now.

i have the filthiest shit to write and draw i am so vile and feral because of it but so is he. they knew exactly what they were doing when then designed him omfg. i have a HC that he’s really into bondage (including self bondage) and its killing me. its killing me that i cant write it all rn.

you did not ask for this, so i apologize in advance. but ive had this little thing rolling in my head so -

Sinister seems like he used to be a professor and its driving me crazy thinking about him in a AU being the low toned sort of teacher who everyone respects. never raises his voice (and doesnt have to) to get his pupils to behave because he’s also silently terrifying. you can hear a pin drop in his class, even when its a study period and he’s sipping his coffee and reading a book. could probably make a student cry without even trying, without even looking at them (tho he will glance to see the tears) and would secretly enjoy it because he’s a bloody bastard. takes no shit and is clearly passionate about teaching and I just wanna see him in glasses and at a desk fiddling with papers? like look-

In this Professor Sinister! AU id say he definitely smells like dark roast coffee and old books. wears a sort of musky, old timey smelling cologne with spicy citrus notes. keeps to himself, doesn’t really interact with the other professors, but may strike up a short conversation with maintenance or the cleaning staff in the evening. even though he’s a strict man he sports a more casual appearance than one would think. im thinking just regular slacks n shoes, rolled up sleeves to his forearms, usually wears a black turtleneck or dark button down shirt with a few too many buttons open if the AC is busted (again), thick salt and pepper hair slightly tussled as its been run through by his fingers because these fucking kids can’t even double space their essays how did they pass high-school.

crystal eyes lingering a bit too long on an unsuspecting pupil who is always well behaved and attentive. openly teases them to the point of hot embarrassment when they ask to be excused to the restroom, even though they asked so nicely and they really have to go. but ,” ah, ah, not until i say so.” “you know you just went 10 minutes ago” “you took too long last time”

purposefully writes comments on their papers ‘see me after class’, even if its the most well-written dissertation he’s read all year. he’s rather knowledgeable and will always find something to offer correction on. as ‘punishment’, he tells them to help him prepare for the next class by writing what he tells them on the chalkboard. this is when his usual low key tone, shifts to something else.

The professor not so subtly stares at them, scrutinizing their handwriting and how their dainty wrists move under his command. no, Professor Strange definitely does not get off to how they struggle when he asks them to write higher, up on their tip toes and a bit wobbly. he’ll make them erase a whole line if they make a single mistake in their penmanship (which is easy because of how tired and cramped they are getting). he’ll cruelly mock them, “are you getting distracted?” “we can try something easier if this is too hard for you” “why are you stopping, you’re not finished yet” “i mean, Jesus, it looks awful. but i guess if that’s the best you can do-“

and if he’s feeling particularly snippy he’ll snap a ruler on his desk to startle them, possibly messing them up further, barely bothering to stop the smile dancing on his lips. he still throws in a smart ‘thank you’ when theyre done that definitely doesn’t make up for his brash behavior. its hard to tell if his harsh interactions are serious or a ploy of flirtation, but its intense enough to get under the skin every time that they are completely flustered when they gather their things to leave his room.

its wrong to be tormenting his own innocent pupil like this- many would say the poor thing doesn’t deserve it and the professor's intentions aren’t noble. but its not wrong if they keep coming back, right? not that he gives a damn, nor gives them much of a choice; he’s not exactly a model on morality. besides, a man can have a little fun, no?

i just- love him. i love him i love him

as soon as i saw him i knew it was curtains for me. he is utter perfection because sinister is just so fucking broken and deliciously unhinged and loosely disguised as a quiet gentleman. i love the fact he’s self aware enough to know he’s a filthy bastard but he just. doesnt. care. and like great! neither do i sweetheart. id beg this man to break me, and like please sir call me all the names.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 304: The Council of OFA

Previously on BnHA: Hawks and Best Jeanist were all, “what up Todofam, we are here to apply for the positions of ‘son #4’ and ‘weird uncle’, respectively,” and then proceeded to insert themselves into the family drama without waiting for an answer. Hawks briefed Endeavor on the nation’s current status of “totally fucked”, promised to help him sort that out, and then asked him about OFA. Endeavor was all, “oh do you mean One For All, the mysterious thing that my intern Deku was apparently being targeted for?” and then we cut away, presumably before Endeavor could clarify that it never occurred to him to follow up on that, and Hawks was all “no of course not, why would it occur to anyone other than me to follow up on any of this super weird and ominously important shit.” Anyway so meanwhile Bakugou was all “LET ME SCREAM AT DEKU UNTIL HE WAKES UP” and the other kids were all “NO”, and then the chapter ended with All Might being all “I wonder what the vestige!me is currently chatting with Deku about.”

Today on BnHA: Deku drops in on the Vestiges, who are all “sup Deku, how do you like our fancy chairs.” OFA II and III are all “if you need us we’ll just be standing here silently in the corner pretending to be invisible and sparking endless discourse with our mere existence.” OFA IV is all “and now I will explain to you in a very convoluted way that you being quirkless was actually a good thing, since it means that you are probably not going to suddenly drop dead at the age of twenty. But also you’re probably going to be the last user of OFA for that very same reason.” Deku is all “that is wild. I’m just gonna stand here and stare at my hand.” Nana is all “so now that that’s settled could you please do me a small favor and kill my grandson for me”, because having just one topic to discourse about this week WASN’T ENOUGH, apparently. Thanks so much Horikoshi.

(ETA: okay so just a note before I start, this week’s RHA translation was a huge mess, so I followed up this chapter by reading a couple of other translations. the main one I’m using for reference is the one by @hanashimas​, whose weekly posts I highly recommend. anyway so you’ll see a couple of ETAs in this post in places where the initial translation was off.)

how many layers of bandages did they wrap this poor kid’s fucking hand in omg

jesus Deku. are you holding onto a bouquet of flowers under that thing?? or a tennis racket??

omg yes, finally

is he reading these names off a teleprompter lol. and if so, what has Jeanist ever done to slight you, Deku? “god bless Kacchan and Aizawa-sensei and Todoroki-kun and everyone else in the whole wide world... except for Best Jeanist. fuck that guy.” actually this joke would be funnier if half of tumblr didn’t legit feel that way lol but anyway

OH MY GOD

I NEED TO HAVE A TALK TOO. ABOUT, OH, EVERYTHING

I got immediate KHR vibes from ALL OF THIS. this is seriously such a Vongola aesthetic. “let’s use the luxuriously cushioned chairs with the seat backs that are ten feet high, and arrange all of the handsome ghost people in a big circle” like come on

that said there are also some slight LoTR vibes as well. “bring forth the ring, Deku”

I like how Six is sitting there with his feet drawn up all casual, but with his arms inexplicably sticking STRAIGHT OUT IN FRONT OF HIM and dangling over his knees like he’s doing some sort of zombie walk

apparently the Fourth wasn’t a big fan of shoes huh

interesting that All Might is the only one who’s still faint/indistinct, and and that Two and Three are fully visible

(ETA: the rest of my speculation about Two and Three has been moved into a separate post, the better to focus on the shit that’s actually happening in this chapter lol.)

and lastly, interesting that all of them are talking now, except for All Might (and I guess the Second and Third as well). to the best of my knowledge Deku hasn’t unlocked the Sixth’s quirk yet, so I guess the quirks don’t really have anything to do with it

oh and it looks like Deku’s mouth is still covered. I guess that’s convenient for the vestiges since we all know it’s hard to stop Deku once he gets going. but on the other hand it’s very inconvenient for people like me who wanted to see some interaction. alas

so First says that OFA’s power has grown a lot in the last four months (i.e. since Deku unlocked Blackwhip), and now the vestiges can communicate with each other as well as Deku

so even when Deku’s not around they can all just chill with each other. this is such a weird thing to me lol. like it’s cool, don’t get me wrong, but it’s also strange as hell to know that you’ve got eight other people hanging out in your head spying on everything you do and having conversations with each other about it. it would be like if Dark Shadow had someone to hang out with other than Tokoyami. good thing you weren’t triplets, Tokoyami

First says that it’s become easier for the vestiges to interact with Deku ever since TomurAFO barged into the OFA Domain back at Jakku. huh

(ETA: apparently this is because AFO forcibly pulled out OFA’s power when he was trying to steal the quirk, so I guess that makes sense.)

okay thank you Banjou for addressing this concern which I initially brought up as a joke, but which was apparently real enough for you to reassure Deku about

“don’t worry, even though we’re awake and hanging out inside of you at all times, we’re definitely not secretly watching and making fun of every single thing you do” hmmmmm

(ETA: “not that you could do anything about it even if we were, since you’re probably going to be the last OFA holder ever!” I don’t trust anything this asshole says lmao.)

OH SHIT??

YESSS DEKU now you can hold them accountable for all of their bullshit! because I do not doubt that there will be bullshit lol but let’s see how that goes

oh damn

well okay then. you didn’t have to stand up and walk over to him and loom all threateningly like that but okay sir

this guy has kind of a Kimimaro vibe to him. remember? that bone-growing guy from Naruto? except I’m pretty sure he had eyebrows. and wasn’t twenty feet tall. speaking of which, that explains the chairs

why are you wearing only 3/5ths of a shirt

lol what

someone’s gonna have to explain this to me. is he just redundant or something lol, or is he strangely poetical or what

(ETA: apparently HE’S MAKING A PUN omg. I immediately gained +10 love for him lol. also it flows a lot better in Japanese. this is one of the things Caleb is usually good at, so we’ll see what he does with the wordplay.)

omg the hermit theory is true!!

“I’M NOT WEIRD, IT’S SOCIETY WHICH IS WEIRD.” lol whatever you say buddy. also love how Banjou tried to give him a big hearty slap on the back but Hermit Boy was not having it lmao

IS HE TRYING TO CAPTURE HIM WITH BLACKWHIP

AND ACTUALLY, NO, SIR, AS A MATTER OF FACT, WE ARE NOT AWARE. SO SPILL!!

?!!?

okay my first response was LOL ARE YOU SERIOUS, THAT’S THE BIG SECRET!? -- and then it hit me what the significance of “died from old age... AT AGE FORTY” meant. at which point it was like “!!!!!” and then “OH, SHIT”

(ETA: there’s also an Iida joke here somewhere but I’m just too tired to make it.)

oh my god oh my god

did he somehow get a copy of the coroner’s report or something? like how does he even know that he died from “old age” as opposed to any number of other natural causes? ??

but anyway. so this is the quirk singularity coming into play then I guess. but then how come All Might is still alive and ticking?

(ETA: so this is one example of where this week’s translation is a mess lol. apparently the Fourth explains here that he didn’t know what the fuck he died from until All Might researched it. and it turns out there actually was an autopsy lol so there you go.)

so Fourth says he held OFA for eighteen years, and since he knew he would never be strong enough to defeat AFO on his own he basically just spent all his time punching rocks in the woods and training to power the quirk up

oh shit

is he implying that his body literally fell apart?? like that’s how he got the scars on his face? -- IS THAT WHAT KEEPS HAPPENING TO TOMURA, THEN. oh shit

DUDE

so you’re telling me that this quirk actively shortens the lifespan of anyone who uses it?? and my little boy here has had it now for a year already?? fuck me, I have immediately have a TON of thoughts about all this but let me save it until he’s done with his explanation

THANK YOU, DEKU

right?? how come All Might didn’t die then. even after he got injured. please don’t tell me he actually is dying still and is just being slow about it because I SWEAR TO GOD

what does this mean??

so what you’re trying to say is you all have NO FUCKING IDEA how long Deku’s gonna be able to hold this quirk before he SUDDENLY DROPS DEAD?! five generations ago this dude was able to hold it for eighteen years, and then four generations later All Might was able to hold it for thirty-odd years or so, and now Deku has it and you all have no clue which way it’s gonna go? actually this makes it sound like it really wasn’t OFA that killed the Fourth at all and you guys are just really bad at forming hypotheses. but since you’re making a big plot point out of it I guess it must be true

and don’t think I didn’t notice the part where you said you didn’t have OFA very long and then “died while fighting”, Firsto. I want to hear more about that. specifically who you passed the quirk onto before your death

and yes, if we are agreeing that OFA was the cause of the Fourth’s death, then the conclusion on this next page is the natural one to draw

so that’s a bit of a relief then, because Deku is quirkless too. so it means he won’t be able to hold OFA forever (and will probably have to find another quirkless person to pass it on to), but at least he won’t be randomly dying out of the blue next Tuesday or something

oh my god now he’s talking about OFA and AFO and user consciousnesses and all sorts of good theory stuff but it’s so much exposition. you’re really gonna make me read all this lol

wait what. why would All Might being quirkless have anything to do with the presence of his vestige in OFA Outer Space Party Land

but Deku is also quirkless and he’s clearly visible and chatting with you guys. so what gives. like how much of this is verified fact and how much of it is you guys just shrugging and making stuff up lol

SERIOUSLY, GUYS

BUT DEKU IS ALSO -- you know what, never mind sob. none of this shit makes any sense but whatever

(ETA: seriously, this all seems like an awful lot of speculation on their part. for Deku’s sake I sure hope they’re right.)

FSSKDJFLSKLKJLKJL ALL MIGHT IS FIFTY-FIVE?!

lol that’s a full ten years past my closest estimate, wow. but this pretty much confirms his age now at last! or at least confirms it within a couple of years, because we know All Might and Nana met when he was in middle school, and he presumably had the quirk by the time he took the U.A. entrance exam. so yeah. gonna go with fifty-five

so they think that because All Might was quirkless, OFA was better able to adapt to his body and became his true quirk, as opposed to being an extra quirk that stacked on top of the one he already had and overwhelmed him. ties in back to the whole “AFO used to bend people to his will by forcing quirks on them” thing, as well as the “Noumus are all mindless because of the strain of having multiple quirks”

Two and Three are really ruining the serious vibe of this scene here lol

they look like they’re doing the counting for hide and seek

and is this Deku talking now? I was about to get mad at First for implying that quirkless people are somehow freaks, as opposed to “normal” people jdslk

so in other words, don’t go giving it to your best friend all casually for shits and giggles, Deku. even if it would make a really cool climax for a movie. well shit. maybe that’s why they were so quick to nope back into Deku’s body afterward

so First says that because quirkless people are becoming rarer and rarer, the fact that All Might just happened to stumble upon Deku is “nothing short of a miracle.” which, yeah, that was definitely a stroke of luck there. being quirkless saved his life. but being quirkless is also part of why he was chosen in the first place, and we’ve always known that much

“in other words, kiddo...”

looks like there was some hurried clone stamp usage going on here lol. but props to RHA as always for putting this scan out so fast, especially given how exposition-heavy this week’s chapter has been

“anyways, that was the main topic” ARE YOU SERIOUS. there are like ten other topics imma need you all to get to here, people

(ETA: seems like this is a mistranslation; the line should actually read something more along the lines of “and now for the main topic.”)

FFFFFFFFF

“ENJOY YOUR CLIFFHANGER THIS WEEK.” dskfalkjlkjwlgkjl you really went and dumped this discourse on us yet again. fucking...

(ETA: forgot to mention, but as several people mentioned, this seems to be another mistranslation -- rather than asking Deku to kill Tomura as though it’s doing her a personal favor, Nana is asking “will you be able to do it.” in other words more of an “are you capable of doing it” type of thing. which is a very reasonable question to ask given that Deku is, well, Deku.)

anyways, and the answer is obviously going to be “no” of course. this isn’t going to end any differently than when the previous Avatars all told Aang to kill Ozai. but I guess it means we’re in for a fun conversation next week

so Nana looks pretty grim here though (nothing at all like the person who once taught All Might the importance of saving people with a smile), and I’m wondering if this means she believes that her grandson is already beyond saving. as in killing him would be a mercy, as opposed to him continuing to live with AFO bending his mind and body to his will. except if that is the case, I think she’s underestimating Tomura’s own will. and definitely underestimating Deku’s will to save

and also, just... I’m so fucking sick of AFO screwing the Shimura family over, honestly. this is exactly what he wanted. well fuck you, guy. you don’t get to have what you want. go out there and save Tomura, Deku. for his sake and for Nana’s. give them some hope. do your thing, boy. can’t wait for your big speech all about it next chapter lol

[jenwritesstories]

Needed

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x OFC (Layla Evans)

RATING: PG-13 (cussing)

TW: Cussing, Layla has a bad day, Fluff

WORD COUNT: 1,660

SUMMARY: Layla is a nursing student who happens to be close friends with the Avengers. Bucky is head over heels for Layla and when she has a bad day he does something about it

A/N: I’m aware that in nursing school you don’t actually practice on your classmates LOL just go with it :)

To say that Bucky had a crush on Layla would be a huge understatement. Anytime she would be around him he'd get flustered and could barely speak to her. The whole team knew about his crush on her and would tease him about it after she left.

She didn't live at the tower since she isn't part of the team, but everyone loves her so she hangs out in the tower often. There were quite a few days where she'd spend the night either in Natasha or Wanda's room because they wanted to spend more time with her.

Today was no different. Layla made her way up to the Avengers floor around 3 p.m. after she finished school. She's a nursing major and today she had clinical's and it really kicked her butt.

Sam, Steve, Bucky, and Natasha were all in the kitchen standing around the counter talking when Layla walked in. Sam was the first to notice her and smirked, knowing how flustered Bucky gets.

"Layla!" Sam yelled and ran over to the small girl, engulfing her in his arms.

Eve let out a breathy laugh and returned the hug. "Hey Sam."

When he finally let her go she made her way over to where the others were and gave them a weak smile.

"Hey guys." She said.

"Tough day?" Natasha asked, noticing Layla’s demeanor.

She nodded. "I just want today to be over." She groaned as she buried her head in her hands.

"What happened?" Steve asked, leaning against the counter behind him.

Layla let out a sarcastic laugh. "What didn't happen?" She sighed. "We had to partner up to do clinical's today. I got stuck with this guy who was obviously blatantly flirting with me which made me super uncomfortable to begin with. I never flirted back so I guess that made him mad and when he tried to put an IV in my arm he kept missing the vein and I'm pretty sure he did it on purpose. Then, when I tried to take his blood pressure I couldn't hear it so I had to just guess and I was wrong. I forgot my wallet in my car and didn't have time to get it so I didn't eat lunch and in the middle of a lecture my stomach started growling and everyone heard. My phone didn't charge overnight and died around 10 a.m. And to top it all off, on my way here I stopped by Dunkin to get my favorite coffee and they said they were out of all coffee."

"Jesus." Sam said. "You really did have a rough day. Is your arm okay?"

Layla didn't reply, instead she rolled the sleeve of her shirt up and showed them. "I bruise every time I get my blood drawn or an IV. He had to poke me five times before he got it so now my arm is going to bruise so bad and it's gonna look like I shoot heroine or something."

Steve looked at Bucky and furrowed his eyebrows when he saw that Bucky looked pissed off. Natasha turned to look at Bucky when she saw Steve.

"Alright." Natasha said. "How about we get you a shower and into comfortable clothes and Sam will order pizza and we can have a movie night."

Layla looked up at Natasha with glossy eyes. "Can we get three pizzas?"

Natasha laughed and nodded. "Yes, of course. Now come on." She gently wrapped an arm around Layla’s shoulders and guided her down the hall and to her room.

About ten minutes later Natasha walked back out.

"The pizzas are ordered and should be here in about 20 minutes." Sam announced and everyone nodded.

"Buck, what's wrong? Why do you look so mad?" Steve asked.

"I want to know the guy who did that to her." Bucky said, his metal arm having a deathly tight grip on the edge of the counter.

"Woah there big guy." Natasha said, earning an eye roll. "I don't think you beating the shit out of the guy is going to help the situation. She just needs some moral support."

"You know I can't talk to her." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Dude, Layla is the nicest person ever. Even if you go in there and stumble over your words and make a complete fool of yourself she's still going to be nice and understanding." Sam said.

"I don't want to make a fool of myself though. I want to be able to say something to make her feel better and I doubt her realizing just how nervous she makes me will help her." Bucky argued.

"Listen to me and listen well, because I'm only going to say this once and it might just kill me. Layla has told me so many times that she likes being around you and how much it means to her when you say something nice. Your opinion means the world to her. As much as I hate to say it, you're probably the only man I'd really approve of her dating because I know you won't hurt her. She's been through a lot, including an extremely abusive relationship that left her in the hospital." Natasha paused to take a breath.

"I'm done seeing you be a nervous wreck around her when you could literally say the dumbest thing in the world and she'd still want you. So you're going to go into your room, grab a shirt that she can wear because it'll smell like you and make her feel safe, you're going to sit down and talk to her, and then you're going to bring her out here so we can all eat pizza and watch some movies. Do I make myself clear?"

Bucky gulped but nodded before doing as she said.

*

Bucky grabbed one of his grey t-shirts and made his way into Natasha's room where he heard the shower still running.

He noticed some clothes on the bed that Natasha left out and picked up the shirt that was laid there and put it in the closet and replaced it with his before exiting and waiting outside the room, not wanting to scare her.

It took about 10 minutes before Layla emerged from Natasha's room, causing Bucky to straighten up. He sucked in a breath when he saw her in his shirt, a blush forming on his cheeks. It was way too big on her and she had to tuck the front into the plaid pants that Natasha let her borrow. Her hair was put into a wet braid that laid over her left shoulder.

She was shocked to see Bucky but she gave him the best smile she could muster up.

"Hey." He quietly said.

"Hi." She replied softly.

"Can, uh, can we talk?" He asked, scratching the back of his neck.

She nodded and followed him further down the hall to his room. He sat down on the black couch and she followed suit.

"Is everything okay?" She asked, starting to get worried.

"I like you." He blurted out, without thinking. His eyes went wide and he realized there's no going back now, so he just continued. "I have liked you for a while. I know I never, uh, really talk to you much, but you just make me so nervous and I never wanted to say the wrong thing and embarrass myself. But I've never seen you so upset, you're usually so happy and you make all of us so happy and bring this positivity into the tower when we need it most; when I need it most. You don't realize how much you've helped me without even trying. When you said that guy from your class was flirting with you and did this on purpose," He pointed to her arm, "I wanted to rip his throat out. I still do, but Natasha said that you don't need me to do that, and that you need me to be here, so I am. I'm here. I know you don't like me back, and that's okay, but I just need you to know that no matter what, I'm here and always will be."

By the time he finished, Layla had tears running down her face. A mixture of stress tears and happy tears. She knew that if she tried to talk it'd just come out as a sob, so she just flung herself onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Bucky was definitely taken off guard, but quickly reacted and wrapped his arms around her and sat her on his lap with her legs wrapped around his waist.

After a few silent minutes she calmed down enough to reply. "I like you too."

He held her a little tighter and rubbed her back.

"I can still kill him." He offered, making her let out a loud laugh.

"As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll do it the next time we have clinical's." She said, sitting up and looking at him.

"Something tells me you might get kicked out of school if you did that." He teases, making her laugh.

She shrugs. "He made me look like a druggie." She pouted and looked at her bruising arm.

He chuckled and shook his head. "You're cute."

She looked up at him and smiled. "You're cuter."

He let out a loud laugh. "That's not the word most people use to describe me."

"Well I'm not most people." She argued. "You're the cutest cutie pie." She grinned, his face reddening.

"I'm gonna have to disagree and say that's you."

She giggled and shook her head. She noticed his gaze drifting from her eyes to her lips and took the lead and leaned in and kissed him.

Bucky immediately responded and pulled her closer, not wanting to let her go.

"You two better not be fucking in there!" Sam yelled, pounding on the door.

Both of them broke apart and laughed.

"Fucking Sam."

[marvel-heaux]

Stay (part 1) - SamBucky - warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, blood, hand wavy biology for super soldiers, hospitals

-

It wasn’t -

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“God damn it, Buck,” Sam pants, voice breaking, pressing his hand hard against the gaping fucking hole in Bucky’s chest.

It was supposed to be a simple press conference. As simple as they get, at least, when you’re Captain America. He’s not even wearing the fucking suit, for God’s sake. It was just to announce some education initiative, he can’t even remember, and now Bucky’s blood is running hot through his fingers.

“I need a medic!” Sam shouts, the chaos around them nothing but background noise to him. All he can hear is the wet rattle of Bucky’s breathing. “Medic!”

Neither of them had expected trouble - no one had. Least of all one fringe zealot nut job who was convinced Bucky was still working for Hydra and slowly taking down America from the inside.

But one nut job and sawed off shotgun bursting through a crowd is all it takes. Even super soldier healing can’t compete with a close range shot to the chest.

“Sam,” Bucky pants, hand coming up to cover Sam’s on his chest. He’s losing too much blood, the shot too close range. “Sam, look at me. It’s okay.”

The words are barely audible, dark blood leaking from the corner of Bucky’s lips. He’s going pale.

“Shut up, man,” Sam shakes his head, because he can’t. He doesn’t know when tears started burning his eyes, or when his voice got so weak, but he can’t. He can’t entertain that thought, not with so much between them unexplored. Not with so many more nights watching the sun go down in Louisiana to be had. Not when the boys will ask what happened to Uncle Bucky. Not without the mornings and nights together Sam knows they were meant to have “You’ve been a pain in my ass for this long and you’re giving up now?”

Bucky smiles, and when he lifts his hand to Sam’s face it’s shaking.

“You make me so proud,” he says, the words as broken as his breathing. Sam can tell it’s taking everything he has just to speak.

“C’mon, Buck, save it for when we’ve got you stable, alright -”

The medics are rushing over now, Sam can see them pushing through the chaos towards them.

Bucky shakes his head, lungs rattling wetly. His eyes are closing, the blood slowing beneath Sam’s palm.“If I was ever going to get old and grey, I’d want it to be with you.”

Sam makes a broken noise, barely registering the medics swarming them now.

“Then stay, Bucky, c’mon -” he pleads, feeling strong hands pull him away to make room for the medics. “Stay -”

It’s all a blur after that, Sam’s ears ringing as he sees the medics rush Bucky’s limp form into an ambulance. He tries to follow, but his knees go weak.

“- am! Sam, look at me, hey -”

It’s Torres, wide brown eyes worried as he grabs Sam’s face.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, gently tapping his cheek to get his attention.

“No,” Sam rasps. “Bucky -”

“They’re taking him to the hospital, I’ll get you there,” Torres nods, hauling Sam up as best he can. “Come on, Cap.”

-

Sam has paced the length of the hospital hallway at least a hundred times.

The poor nurses have been nothing but patient with him, despite his constant asking for updates.

Mr. Barnes is in surgery, they say. That’s all we know right now.

He talks to Sarah, reassuring her that he’s okay and hiding next to a vending machine when she asks him if he’s okay and he can’t keep it together anymore.

“There’s so much I haven’t said,” he whispers, hand over his eyes as tears roll hot down his cheeks. “Sarah, there’s so much I haven’t said to him.”

Sarah makes a soft noise. “I know, Sam. I know.”

She doesn’t tell him it’s going to be okay, because they both know she can’t promise that. But she listens, and she tells him to call her the moment he hears anything.

Hours go by. Torres brings him coffee, squeezing his shoulder and updating him on the situation at the conference - the man is in custody. Sam wants him dead.

Eventually, Torres falls asleep next to Sam in the waiting room, having adamantly refused to leave. He’s a good kid, Sam thinks. He’d probably have torn his hair out without him here.

Around 3 in the morning, an exhausted looking doctor comes out.

“Mr. Wilson,” he says. “Please come with me.”

Sam is up like a shot, heart pounding as he follows the doctor down the hallway.

“Is he -” he starts, voice catching brokenly before he can finish the sentence.

“He’s alive,” the doctor says, giving Sam a tired smile. “He’s a fighter.”

Sam feels like he might fall down, the sheer relief nearly bringing him to his knees. The doctor steadies him gently, giving him a moment to catch himself before they continue walking.

“His healing factor made the surgery incredibly difficult,” the doctor starts to explain. “Once we gave him transfusions and stabilized the blood loss, his body started metabolizing any anaesthetic we gave him. We couldn’t keep him under long enough to get the shrapnel out without him coming to. Eventually -”

He sighs, looking truly exhausted. Haunted, even.

“Eventually we just had to do it and try to keep him as comfortable as possible. We couldn’t allow him to heal around the shrapnel.”

Sam feels sick, the thought of Bucky awake and in searing pain during surgery as the doctors tried to save his life making him want to throw up or cry.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, scrubbing a hand down his face.

They come to a stop on a quiet ward, the door in front of them closed and the blinds drawn.

“He’s stable now, and lucid,” the doctor says. He sighs. “He’s been refusing any more medication. But he’s going to be okay.”

“Thank you,” Sam shakes the doctor’s hand, trying to pour every ounce of gratitude he has into it. The doctor nods, clapping Sam on the shoulder before heading back down the hallway.

Sam let’s out a shaking breath before opening the door to the room. The lighting is soft and dim, the air cool. Bucky is -

Bucky is there, alive and whole, covered in blankets and IV lines. He’s pale and looks like shit, and Sam’s never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire fucking life.

“Took you long enough,” Bucky croaks, eyes barely open. “Had other people to visit?”

Sam can’t even bring himself to say anything, a wet laugh leaving his lips as he strides over to the bed. He sits carefully on the edge next to Bucky, hands hovering above his chest, his arms, his face. He doesn’t know where to start, what to touch, how to make sure this is real and Bucky is alive.

“Know I said I wanted you to talk less, but I didn’t mean it,” Bucky murmurs, grey blue eyes opening a bit more to look at Sam properly.

“You’re such an asshole,” Sam whispers, tears running into his smile. He runs his fingers gently through Bucky’s hair. “If you ever do that to me again, I’m going to kill you myself.”

Bucky smiles, carefully extricating his hand to grip Sam’s.

“Nah,” he murmurs, and it’s easy to see he’s exhausted, body worn out from healing. But he’s still smiling, eyes half lidded and looking up at Sam. “You love me.”

Sam huffs a laugh, shaking his head. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to Bucky’s forehead.

“God help me, I do,” he whispers, letting their foreheads rest together. “Now go to sleep. I’ll be here. Ain’t going nowhere.”

Bucky barely nods before he’s out, hand still in Sam’s and breathing steady.

Sam doesn’t move, just watches the steady rise and fall of Bucky’s chest. The sun eventually begins to rise, and Sam has never felt so damn lucky.

[rrickgrrimes8]

Can I get rick grimes x gender neutral reader

The reader was an elite solider in the U.S army when the virus happened. They been traveling the South for five ½ years alone. So now they landed in Georgia when the Saviors and Rick Group are at war. One day Rick is attacked by the Saviors, but the reader saves Rick from the Saviors with a rifle but escapes before Rick ever notices. Days later the reader meets Rick (like how Jesus met Rick.) But Rick captures the reader and interrogates him. In the end Reader reveals how he saved Rick. Rick then forces the reader work/live with the group even though the real.

A Soldier ~ Rick Grimes imagine

hey sorry for the delay ive been super busy coz i just started school back after isolating and i’ve been doing exams all week

also for anyone else who requested i’ll try and complete them soon really sorry please remember i haven’t forgotten about yall i’m just busy

anyways @iawaythrown hope you like this thank you for requesting

let me know if there’s any mistakes so i can fix it thank you x

masterlist

request guidelines

request are open

The sun had set hours earlier but that didn’t stop you. Unrelenting you continued through the heat and the exhaustion. You couldn’t stop. Not now. Not after everything you had gone through. Even before this, you wouldn’t allow yourself to stop. Being one of America’s pride and joys serving as a respected sergeant. You had served 10 years before the world went to shit and it made you laugh now. You always thought that the meaning of your life - the purpose - was to protect and serve against threats to the U.S.A. If only you knew that your greatest threat was against the dead now living. You were grateful, more than anything. You had a lot more in this world than others did. And now 5 1/2 years later you were still going. Never stopping. Not for anything.

 Except... when you caught wind of a certain curly-haired man. He was being attacked and was substantially outmanned. You thought the best use of your time was to protect people just like you had in your previous life. The man was cornered now by the time you’d made the decision to help him. Three men dressed in leather charged him with any weapon they could find. He fought against them - to the best of his ability. Which seemed to be skilled at least. You gripped your trusty rifle, aimed the scope and without hesitation fired. 

One man fell. 

Then the next. 

And then the last. 

The blue-eyed man scoured the area for you, curious about the location of the shots. You, however, were smarter than that. You didn’t know this man. You didn’t know if he deserved what those men would’ve done to him but you did know trust is to be earned in this world not given carelessly. You ducked away out of his vision. But you never strayed far from the man. 

You could say curiosity got the better of you. Naturally and from a very young age, you’d always pester, investigate, fight for answers when they really weren’t warranted. Your mom used to tell you how curiosity killed the cat but you preferred to say it saved the cat. Being curious never hurt anyone and it certainly came as an advantage to you. When meeting people you knew how to hide, how to watch. And yes it may be creepy but it was necessary. You weren’t stupid, far from it, so why stop your ways now? 

The man didn’t return back to a camp after the attack - one that you knew he had due to his clean and well-presented appearance. He continued through the area, meeting up with a tall brooding man accompanied with a crossbow. The two seemed close. Although despite how few words conversed between them, you knew they were. If either of them fell into some trouble the other protected. They were family - maybe not blood - but no doubt in your mind we’re they like brothers. 

It had been days now and these men were still on their run. By this time you were even doubting if this was worth it but you shook off the thoughts and continued. It wasn’t your intention to draw attention to yourself. Hell, it was something you were taught against. But it happened. You, rather carelessly, stumbled across them. It all happened so fast. You saw someone in the woods - walker maybe. But at that moment you decided against your inner workings and ran. Stupidly you ran straight into this man. 

“Watch it,” He growled pushing you back slightly. They glared at you threateningly, guns were drawn. 

“Wha’ ta hell ya doin’?” The crossbowman snapped. His deep southern accent growing darker through his words. He was on edge. It being clear that interactions like this hadn’t always been a blessing. 

“Was just passing through. Calm yourself, alrigh’?” 

Unimpressed he looked to the blue-eyed man who was fixed on your stance. “You looked in a hurry. Trouble heading this way?” The man inquired warily. 

“Nah not really,” You paused looking back to the area, “Well maybe I'm not sure.” 

“Not sure? What's back there?” He looked at you suspiciously hand still grasped around his colt python. You didn't say anything to them as a sound overcame the atmosphere. It sounded like a twig, perhaps just a wondering dead but they didn't see the rational side. "Who are you? Who are you with?" The blue-eyed man barked edging the pistol closer to your face. 

"Hey, chill man. My names y/n, alright? And I'm not with anyone. I'm on my own, okay?" The men shared a look before turning back to you unbelievingly. You opened your mouth to justify your case but was interrupted by a smack to the side of your head. You fell to the ground, gazing at the two men still.

And then... nothing.

~

Hours later your eyes snapped open. Alert, you searched through the room. It was a cell. A traditional one with an iron gate. One you knew from past experience weren't the easiest to break out of. Especially after spotting a man floating around the exit. "Hello?" Your head burned as you spoke likely due to a concussion but you powered through it. The man stopped pacing and glared at you. He was a dark-skinned man, holding what looked like a stick. But the main thing was that he was clean. You had noticed earlier how the two men didn't look as ragged and dirty as you did. Telling you they had a home. Now seeing him proved it. 

"Hello," He said back, "Names Morgan, yours?" Your rational side shut your mouth for you. You didn't know these people. Hell, they kidnapped you. They didn't deserve your name. And you resented how you caved earlier and told those people. "Not much of a speaker, huh?" Again silence, "You didn't have to be afraid of me. I won't hurt you." 

Begrudgingly you responded, "I'm not afraid of you." "Your not?" "No, I'm not. Not of you. Not of those men who brought me here. Not of anyone," Morgan almost laughed at your response. 

"You're quite brave, aren’t you?" You shrugged etching a smile on his face, "you'll fit right in here." 

"Who says I want to stay?" You countered. "I have a feeling," He smirked before another person entered the room. 

"They awake?" Morgan nodded and exited. 

The blue-eyed man from earlier entered your view. No words were exchanged between the two of you. You understood he still perceived you as a threat, which you knew you very well could be. You'd do what you have to. That's what you told yourself. After years of service to the army that swam around your mind like a mantra. You'd done some horrific things for your country now and before but you didn't let it rot you to the core like your comrades. You did what you had to. There was never an exception. So if these people decided to try something you'd do what you have to. 

"Who are you?" He interrogated swiftly. Telling you that this wasn't his first rodeo. He was a cop or maybe even in the army like you. 

"I already told you," Coldly you returned. 

"Yeah well, I don't believe you," He persisted. 

"I don't entirely know what you want me to do with that," you scoffed, "I can't force you to believe me. But I know my name. I know I'm alone. I know I don't mean to bring harm to your people unless I have to." 

The man grunted. He hated how he began to believe you slightly. "Why were you running then?" 

You sighed, "I was following you." 

"You were following us?" He growled, "Why?" 

"You were attacked. Those men I killed them," You revealed, "I was curious. So I followed you. I saw a walker or maybe it was a person... I don't know. I ran and bumped into you. That's all. I have no ulterior motive." 

"Just because you tell me you have no ulterior motive doesn't make me inclined to believe you," He let out a harsh breath. 

"What more do you want, huh? Want me to do a polygraph?" 

He chuckled, "No. Of course not. But I don't trust you." 

"So let me go," You promoted. 

"I can't do that," he shook his head erratically. 

"Why not?" 

"You're valuable. If what you say is true that you did save me. Then I... we can't let that go, alright?" 

You gaped at his confession, "So you're gonna force me to stay here?" 

"Not exactly... we'd prefer if you did from your own will but if we have to," He quirked his eyebrow at you, "What do you say?" 

Sarcastically you laughed at his proposition, "You're crazy." 

"No, I'm Rick. Rick Grimes. And this," Rick gestured to your surroundings, "is Alexandria. Hopefully your new home." 

"How do you know I'm not gonna kill you all in your sleep?" You furrowed your eyebrows at his naivety. 

"I have faith that you won't. I searched you when you were out," He went into his pocket pulling out a medal you had gotten for serving in Iraq, "A soldier? I was a sheriffs deputy myself and I know I wouldn't have it in me to kill all the people in here - the children. I know you wouldn't either." 

"You're right I wouldn't but... but we're not the same, Rick. We never will be," Rick tilted his head. 

"I know," He spoke honestly, "But I feel like we're similar. You'd do a lot to save someone you'd never met. That's someone we'd like in Alexandria. Y/n you saved me. And I know you can save a lot more. So what do you say?" 

You sighed moving closer to the cell door, "Okay."

[havin-a-wee]

Stars Align

pairing: harry styles x y/n

warnings: fluff, ig you could consider it angst but its really just mysterious

word count: 2k

hello! i apologize for kind of disappearing, my fic rec account has kind of blown up and ive been super busy with that.

this is my entry for @sweetlygolden 's Harry On Holiday Challenge! i chose strangers in the same city, and the line prompt “That is the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen.” i honestly already have a part 2 planned out but we'll see how it goes!

“How much longer are you going to stare at that pretending like it’s interesting.”

Her soft voice surprised him, and he whipped his head around to see who had been speaking to him.

For the first time in a while, Harry was able to get away for a little. Of course, he travels a lot for work, but this was the first vacation since he can remember where he was alone, doing whatever he pleases. He chose Italy for this special occasion, because it’s always been one of his favorite places, and he missed the freedom of wandering around the boot shaped country without a care in the world.

The day's adventures had brought him to La Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea, which is a museum that he's been wanting to see for quite some time. He started the day off by getting a cappuccino and a crespelle from a wonderful little cafe down the street from his hotel.

Right afterwards he walked to the museum, taking in the sights around him on the 20 minute trek to his destination. Before the woman behind him snatched his attention, he was staring at a painting of an abstract house. The house was only painted in blue, and the artist had used the different shades and tones of the color to create the details in the painting.

He had been staring at it for a good amount of time, which he assumed is what prompted the stranger to talk to him.

It’s his 3rd day on the trip, leaving him 4 more until he has to be back in L.A. for work. He has no plans, no schedules, no job to do. It’s just him and the world. At least, that’s what he assumed it would be. The vacation is supposed to be a solo one, however, he’s currently staring at a stranger that decided to speak to him. And for some reason, he is drawn to her. Compelled to spend time with her after just a simple sentence was spoken between the two of them.

When he fully turns around she jumped, a bit startled by his bright red complexion. “That is the worst sunburn I have ever seen!”

It was true, Harry had managed to get himself a nasty burn on the first day in Italy. He usually tans instead of getting a sunburn, but when you’re used to the dreary weather of the UK, it can be hard to forget how strong the sun is in other places.

So he had laid out on the beach and fell asleep, waking up a few hours later with tomato red skin and a burning sensation covering the exposed skin.

“That’s what happens when y’fall asleep on a beach in Rome,” he chuckled, smiling awkwardly at the woman before him.

She’s beautiful, there is absolutely no denying that. She was wearing a simple spaghetti-strap black dress that cut off right at the knee. There were no designs, no embellishments, just a black dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Her lips have a deep red lipstick smeared across them, and he couldn’t help but notice how the color complimented her skin tone. Her simple black pumps completed the outfit, and her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, with a few of the front strands falling out of the hair tie and framing her face.

“I’d assume so.” Her demeanor is serious, even though there's a smile on her face. She’s…..intimidating?

Harry hasn’t been intimidated by anything since he was a teenager. Once you perform in front of thousands of screaming people, who also happen to idolize you, things don’t tend to phase a person anymore.

But for some reason, her presence caused butterflies to fly around in his stomach, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. He actually enjoyed the feeling, it reminded him of when everything was normal.

What also reminded him of normality was the fact that she seems to not have the slightest clue of who he is. If she does, she’s sure as hell good at hiding it.

“You’ve been looking at the same painting for 10 minutes, just wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen asleep.” A small laugh escaped her lips, and the noise agitated the fluttering butterflies residing in his tummy. Her voice is mesmerizing, and she sounds like what Harry imagines an angel to sound like. She has an American accent, and it eased his nerves slightly that she was also a tourist.

He turned back to the painting to look at it, but it was also convenient in that she wouldn’t be able to see his undoubtedly flushed cheeks.

“Yeah m’not sure what it is ‘bout it but there’s somethin’ special with this one.”

“That’s Prismi lunari by Fortunato Depero, he was very talented.” Harry spun around once again to face her, shocked at her knowledge of the random artwork.

“You know that off of the top of your head?” He tilts his head and looks at her, furrowing his brows in confusion. He’s pretty sure there was no label for the painting, and if there was it was way too small for her to see from where she’s standing.

“I know a lot of things.”

The statement was simple, but Harry wondered if her words paired with the smirk on her face are code for something else. “How long have you been here?” Her question snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at her and smiled. He flicks his wrist and directs his attention to it, reading the Gucci watch adorning his wrist.

“Well I got here at 11, so about 5 hours.” It honestly surprised him when he realized it was 4 o’clock, but he knows how wrapped up he gets in artwork so he must have lost track of time.

“Jesus christ! I can barely stand to walk around a museum for an hour!” She blows out a puff of air, mocking being out of breath. They both laugh at her comment, Harry laughing a bit harder than her. “What’s your name?”

“Oh! M’Harry, s’nice to meet you.” He stuck out his ring-clad hand, and her delicate fingers wrapped around his as she shook it.

“Well Harry, wanna get out of here and walk around with someone who knows the city?” She points at herself, and the small smile she gave him earlier transformed into a silly grin.

“Well m’not sure how well an American can know the city, but I’ll bite.” Usually he would never do this. Going off with strangers is never a good idea, especially because of his status. But there’s something about the girl that makes Harry feel safe. They had just met yet he feels like he could trust her with things he hasn’t even told his best friends.

“An American who’s been living here for a year, that is.” His eyebrows raise slightly, intrigued by her new admission. But before he can even open his mouth to speak, she grabs his wrist with her daintily manicured hand and whisks him out of the quiet museum.

The air was humid, quickly drawing beads of sweat from his forehead. He’s also quite baffled at how she was completely unphased. Not a single drop of sweat was dripping on her body, her soft skin untouched like an old porcelain doll, preserved for years in perfect condition.

“I’ll show you around a little, we can go to this wonderful little vintage store I know.” She had turned to face him, her hand moving from his wrist to cup his one hand in both of hers. “Um- at least, if you want to.” For the first time, she was nervous. Although she will never admit it, Harry makes her extremely nervous. Extremely.

When he turned around when they first met, her jump of surprise wasn’t just because of his bright sunburn. In fact, it wasn’t about that at all. It was about how fucking attractive he is. He really looks like one of the statues that was put up in the museum. His sparkling green eyes send a shiver down her spine, and the tattoos peaking through his thin white t-shirt cause a fire to build in her stomach.

Having someone to talk too while he traversed the streets of Rome is a lot more enjoyable than Harry had anticipated. He purposefully told all of his friends that he was going to be MIA while on this trip. But the fact that she is a stranger changes it in some way, in a good way.

The cobblestone streets are surprisingly smooth, and they walk next to each other in a comfortable silence for a long amount of time. The silence would only break when she would point out something in their field of vision. At one point, Harry pauses, standing still in the middle of the street with a thinking look on his face. He realizes that he doesn’t know her name, which seems ridiculous to him because they were walking around a foreign country like the best of friends. She turns to him, matching his confused look when they lock eyes. “I just realized I don’t know y’name.”

Instead of reacting like he would expect one to react when asked that question, her pupils dilated and for some reason she appears to be scared. Why would someone be scared when you ask for their name?

‘Maybe she thinks her name is embarrassing’ Harry thought, still looking at her with a confused look, but now it was laced with a bit of suspicion.

He watches her sigh, and her hand went up to her ponytail and pulled the black elastic out, her soft hair cascading down her shoulders. With another sigh she said, “Y/N. My names Y/N.”

“That’s a really beautiful name.”

“Oh! There’s the store!”

He found it odd that she was so eager to switch the subject, but goes along with it nonetheless.

The vintage store is lovely, and Harry was able to find a beautiful ring and necklace set, matching gold roses on both of them. They looked around the shop for about 15 minutes, Harry being the only one to make a purchase.

The sun had set by the time they went outside, which isn’t surprising considering that it was almost dark when they walked into the little shop. They stood, facing each other outside of this small little shop in Rome. Two strangers, who just happened to cross each other's path. Harry knows this won’t last forever, and he also knows that he wants to see her again. In a leap of faith, he pulls the gold necklace out of the small brown bag and looks up at her.

“Here, I got them so we could match.” It was bold, but Harry feels connected to this girl, and he doesn’t know it, but she feels the exact same. The smile she gave him when he handed her the necklace was bright and genuine, the creases next to her eyes proving its authenticity. He motioned for her to turn around, wrapping the necklace around her neck and clasping it while she held up her hair.

“Thank you Harry. This is the best day I’ve had in a while.”

“Likewise.”

“I hate to do this, but I have to go. Have a wonderful rest of your trip Harry.”

It was then that she placed a small, tender peck on his lips, barely lingering for a second before pulling away.

“Wait! Can I get y’number?” Her smile slanted into a smirk, and she pulled a small card and a pen out of her small black clutch. She placed the card up against the brick wall, leaning it against it and scribbling something down on the paper. When she finished writing, she pressed her lips against the card, handing it to Harry.

He looked down at it, expecting to see a series of numbers, but he was met with a simple note, scribbled on the piece of cardstock next to the red lip print she had left.

May the stars align in our favor once again. - Y/N

He looked up frantically, planning to ask her to write her number down as well, but he was met with nothing.

She had disappeared into the night, leaving as quickly as she appeared earlier that day.