#first and only woman automobile engineer
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View of woman engineer, at drafting table, drawing an automobile body with pencil and drafting triangle. Stamped on back: "Photo by N. Lazarnick, 244-6-8 W. 42nd St., New York. Tel. 594 Bryant." Handwritten on back: "First and only woman automobile engineer."
National Automotive History Collection, Detroit Public Library
#first and only woman automobile engineer#only#first#first and only#women#history#engineers#lazarnick#drafting table#women's history#vintage#detroit public library
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By an act of fate Charles Evenson finds himself in Ashland, Wisconsin searching for his missing wife.
cw: references to domestic abuse and infant death.
on ao3 here.
Saturday, February 19, 1921. 6:07 PM.
Washburn, Wisconsin.
“Edward, no.”
The car engine roared to life before the front door had a chance to slam shut.
“Edward, please.”
Within seconds the coupe was speeding down the dirt road, leaving a cloud in its wake.
“Edward, don’t.”
The woman was still pleading long after the woods had swallowed the view of the automobile. Her cries were heard by no one but a confused, but sympathetic, doctor.
__________________________________
Saturday, February 19, 1921. 9:01 AM.
Union Depot. Ashland, Wisconsin.
A steam whistle pierced the air as Charles Evenson’s train lurched out of the station, without him.
He skidded to a halt at the edge of the depot. He desperately bent over to catch his breath, his knees cracking as they moved. Between the bullet in his hip and his age, the sprint across the station had his irregular pulse pounding against his skull. He grimaced as a toddler waved at him from the train window, pointing at him and then getting his mother’s attention. Charles lazily waved at the young woman gaping at him through the moving window, sneer never leaving his face. She caught his gaze, quickly looking away, pulling her son from the window in what seemed to be a mix of guilt for catching the train and… fear.
“Excuse me, sir,” a shrill woman’s voice said behind him. He took a deep breath, attempting to wipe the irritation off his face, and turned to face the voice. An older, stout woman was standing in front of him, holding his wallet and cane in her hands. “I believe, you dropped these.”
“Yes. Thank you,” he said, taking his belongings. In his haste, he had failed to notice.
“Did you miss your train?” She asked.
It was such a pity for a woman to have neither brains nor beauty, hopefully she was a half-decent cook. Although perhaps she was not as dim-witted as she appeared and used idiocy as a ruse to cover a much larger sin for a woman to possess: inquisitiveness.
“Yes. I did not realize the service I took from Saint Paul was to a different station,” he huffed, tucking the wallet back into his coat pocket.
Charles had naively believed his secretary could book his trip efficiently. Misplaced faith meant he was forced to run a mile and a half in a Wisconsin winter in ten minutes, miss his train, and endure a dull conversation with a prune.
“You are not the first to make that mistake,” she smiled. Her teeth were yellowed and crooked.
He refrained from rolling his eyes, the woman was older than his mother, and he could be polite, even if it took every ounce of his willpower.
“You are from Saint Paul?”
“No, I live in Columbus. I was in Minnesota for work.” The work was smuggling hundreds of dollars worth of moonshine, a detail best kept secret.
“The only other train East today is towards Chicago. It doesn’t leave until nine this evening.”
“Of course, it doesn’t,” Charles sighed. He flipped open his wallet and searched for a bill. His fingers first found a five but he quickly stuffed it back, fishing out a single dollar bill instead.
He extended the dollar to the woman, she waved it off with her wrinkly bony fingers. What would it take to get her to leave?
“No, no. Enjoy your time in Ashland. Perhaps now you can say hello to Mrs. Bauer,” she said, slowly walking away from the platform and back to the main doors.
“Who?” He called after her, leaning down to pick up his baggage.
“The woman in the photograph,” she said, turning to face him. He frowned and she quickly amended her statement. “Your wallet was open to a woman’s picture. Anne Bauer is it not?”
His eyebrows furrowed. Was there a picture in his wallet?
He dug in his pocket for the wallet, and flipped it open, greeted by a woman he had not seen in nearly eight months: his wife.
Paul — Charles’ third eldest brother — had offered to take their portraits as a wedding present. Charles had still thought of her as lovable when he slipped the print in his wallet, the day before he left for the Front. It had been against protocol — which dictated all identifying artifacts were removed from your body — yet carrying a reminder of a woman he liked the idea of seemed necessary at the time.
They had their… differences, and in the eight or so months he had lived without her he had missed her a handful of times. The morning he awoke to find her gone — four sunrises after she truly left — he had been livid, which was quickly taken over by fear. The blood in their marital bed, the dried dirt under his nails, the occupied grave he had dug in her parent’s orchard. Details pointing to a sinister answer, she did not leave him in a fit of hysteria, he had escorted her out of this life.
Reluctant to admit, even if only to himself, that he was a murderer he had visited her cousin in Milwaukee, who had once harbored her for two weeks. Mary swore on her own children’s lives she had not seen his wife and threatened to report the disappearance and all she knew about Charles’ conduct to the authorities if he did not leave.
He returned home and concocted a lie about how he came home one night to find the lock broken and his wife missing. The neighbors who had heard screams of terror and fits of rage did not believe this lie, but they never said a word otherwise which is all that mattered.
It had not crossed his mind she could still be alive, his conscious free. He held the wallet out to the old woman whom he was praying was confused. “This was the photograph?”
“Yes. That’s her, the widow who teaches in Washburn.”
That bitch.
“You are a friend of hers?” She raised her left eyebrow at the word friend.
An emphasis, there was no mistaking the meaning of. It was odd for a man to keep an image of a woman, who was not his wife, on his person. Especially when the woman was in a wedding gown.
What relation would make it not odd?
“My sister. I had not planned on visiting her since the trip was intended to be short but seeing as I will be in town until late I may be able to visit.”
“Her brother,” the old woman smiled. “She’s such a sweet gal. Despite her circumstances. Has she had the babe yet? Last I heard she was almost due.”
His stomach lurched. She had still been home nine months prior. Of course, she could have betrayed him causing her to flee. But deep in the pit of his stomach, he knew this was not the case.
“We have not been able to write frequently as of late,” Charles lied, voice almost shaky. “She is busy, as you could imagine. Last I heard she had not, no.”
“Well, do give Mrs. Bauer my regards,” the woman said before finally turning away for good.
“Oh, I will.”
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Saturday, February 19, 1921. 9:25 AM
Washburn, Wisconsin.
A crisp ten-dollar bill had been enough to convince the cab driver to take Charles twelve miles to the small shoreline logging town and wait for an hour.
In the almost half hour since he had realized his wife might be alive, and more significantly he might have a child, he wafted from well-disguised rage to sorrow. If it turned out that the crone in the station had a riddled memory and mistook his wife for an innocent widow would he be disappointed? If his wife was alive and well could he convince her to return home? How would he explain her initial disappearance or the potential child? Perhaps they could move?
He was getting ahead of himself, he first needed a plan to meet ‘Mrs. Anne Bauer.’ If Anne was his wife, he could not simply waltz into the schoolhouse and demand she accompany him. She was charming enough to convince the town he was a madman, a threat, a danger. He needed to meet without an audience, at her home. Yet, if Mrs. Bauer was a widow whose only sin was bearing a mild resemblance to his wife he could not approach her at home without being escorted out of town by a Sheriff.
As he approached the town’s tiny one-room post office he paused to observe the first townspeople he had seen. A middle-aged couple were making their way down the stairs, arms linked, the man carrying a stack of envelopes in his free hand. The woman’s face turned to surprise when she spotted a young blond man packing boxes into the back of an automobile.
“Dr. Cullen!” The woman exclaimed, dropping her husband’s arm.
The man, apparently a doctor, turned to face the woman and Charles was able to catch the man’s face. Odd, was the only way to describe the man.
“Good morning, Mr. And Mrs. Birch,” Dr. Cullen said, stalling his packing to give them his full attention.
“I have been searching for you but you’ve been practically missing this past month. My niece is staying with us for the season, you must come for dinner,” the woman insisted.
“Oh, I appreciate the invitation, Mrs. Birch. But I must decline, I have been told I am an awful dinner party guest, I am utterly incapable of upholding conversation not concerning diseases and organs.”
“Then I will serve goose liver,” she countered.
The doctor laughed but was unmoved. “Thank you but that will be unneccessary, Mrs. Birch.”
“I will convince you one of these days,” she said pointedly, turning back towards her husband and linking her arm through his again. “Do not let her persuade you, Doctor,” Mr. Birch said over his shoulder.
“Arthur, hush,” Mrs. Burch said, lightly smacking her husband.
The doctor smiled to himself as the couple walked down the street.
“If you told them the truth you were attached she would relent,” Charles said, walking towards the doctor.
“Oh, I am n- How did you? What gave you that impression?”
“You have the air of a man shackled by a doe-eyed girl.”
“I would not use the term shackled,” Dr. Cullen said quietly.
“Ah, you are hoping to be attached.” “Perhaps,” the doctor smiled at his feet.
Charles knew soon enough the young man would realize the trap that was a blushing innocent but for now, he was intoxicated by the thrill of a nice girl.
“Do you live around here?” Charles asked. He figured if anyone were to know the people of a town it would be the doctor.
“Yes, further North. I work in the city,” Dr. Cullen said, resuming sorting his packages. “You are visiting, I presume.”
“Yes, Anne Bauer, do you know her?”
The doctor froze for a split second, something that should have gone unnoticed. “I believe the name sounds familiar,” he said slowly, focusing unnaturally on his task. He had loaded all the boxes and was now unnecessarily sorting them.
“She’s a widow, currently expecting, a teacher.”
The doctor nodded, ‘mhm-ing’ to himself. A noncommittal, unsatisfactory answer.
Charles dug his wallet out of his pocket, pulling the photo out of the wallet. He handed the paper over to the doctor. “Her?”
The doctor held the photo delicately, staring at it for half a minute. “She is young here, but yes, I knew her,” he said, finally tearing his eyes from the image. “You knew her well?”
“Yes, yes, we’re quite close. If you could tell me wher—”
“I apologize for being the one to break this news, Anne passed last month.”
Charles could feel his jaw drop. His legs felt like river reeds, swaying in the stream. “She… She’s dead?”
“You have my deepest sympathies,” Dr. Cullen said with solemnity.
“The child?”
“Her son passed shortly before her, lung fever.”
Charles Evenson had a son that he lost every chance to know because of his own selfish, cruel actions.
“Th-thank you,” Charles told the doctor, starting to walk, more accurately stumble, back down the street. He did not hear the doctor call after him offering him the photo and asking if Charles was alright. His mind was lost in images of a son that never would be.
-------------------------------
Saturday, February 19, 1921. 5:57 PM.
Washburn, Wisconsin.
Carlisle could hear his two companions inside as he made his way slowly down the dirt driveway. The familiar banter was quickly becoming one of his favorite sounds. While the transition into their world had not been entirely smooth, Esme had become a priceless addition to his life.
“Oh, I loathe this one,” Esme sighed as Edward began to play Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 23.
“It’s Beethoven,” Edward responded curtly, continuing on with the composition with masterful precision.
“It is utterly depressing.”
“Depressing,” Edward scoffed.
Carlisle smiled to himself as he parked the automobile. Esme was still reluctant to express any of her opinions freely but when she did allow the two men to know her thoughts on music it often sparked heated debates.
“I imagine this is what plays in a murderer’s mind before he kills.”
“You have too vivid an imagination for your own good,” Edward teased.
Carlisle tried to open the door quietly, so as to not disturb the scene of domesticity but his efforts were interrupted by a pleasant, “Good evening, Dr. Cullen.”
“Good evening, Ms. Platt,” he said, moving quickly to join the pair in the sitting room.
“Please, call me Esme.”
“I will not drop honorifics while you insist on calling me Doctor,” he said for what had to be the twentieth time, earning him a roll of her eyes. He took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, listening to Edward play the “depressing” tune. Esme returned her attention to the book in her lap.
Carlisle allowed his eyes to slip close briefly while he listened. “I suppose it is rather intense,” he acquiesced, opening his eyes as Edward began to play even more passionately.
“Not you too,” Edward huffed, attention never leaving the keys.
“Thank you,” Esme smiled slightly, she still had yet to freely smile in the time he had known her. “How was your day?”
“Quite fine,” Carlisle said. For hours he had debated how to broach the subject of the man in town. Esme’s constitution was delicate, to put it mildly. To remind her she was mourned could be potentially disastrous. Yet, as soon as he saw her his resolve to keep the man a secret crumpled. “I met someone in town I would like to ask you about.”
“Oh?”
“He was quite charming, very personable. He was not from Ashland. You once mentioned you have a brother, correct?”
“Harry,” she nodded, “he died in the war.”
That complicated the matter. Carlisle had presumed by the man’s reaction he was a close dear connection, one personally affected by the loss. Her brother seemed the logical conclusion based on how Esme discussed her childhood. How awful for her to have lost both her beloved brother and husband to the war.
Edward’s fingers halted mid-note. “Carlisle,” he said between clenched teeth. “Think of that face again.”
Carlisle did as instructed, unsure what significance the old friend of Esme’s held in the boy’s mind. Although, Edward had been overly paranoid about leaving any trace of Esme in Washburn’s history, going as far as to erase hospital records that so much as mentioned her son. Whomever this past connection was had left Washburn without fuss as soon as he realized who he sought was no more. Edward was, as usual, overreacting.
“When did you see him?”
“A quarter past nine?” Carlisle guessed. “Edward, the man poses no threat.”
“You have no idea the threat,” Edward said, standing from his bench and storming out of the room in one swift furious move.
Esme’s gaze followed Edward from the piano to the doorframe, and a look of recognition hit her face. “Did he have a cane?” She asked quietly.
“Yes,” Carlisle said, turning his attention back to her. Esme’s eyes were wide with an emotion he dared say was fear. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Esme was off the couch and bolting after Edward. Carlisle followed out of pure confusion.
“Edward, please,” she pleaded, running down the hallway.
“Esme, stay,” Edward spat in a tone harsher than Carlisle had ever heard him use, throwing the front door open.
“Edward, do not do anything to him.”
“Go inside, Esme.”
“No,” she grabbed his arm. He flinched but froze in his step, refusing to use force to remove her. “You are not to find him. I am pleading with you.” Her voice was close to a tearless sob.
“Esme, the things he did to you,” Edward hissed. A statement that made Carlisle’s stomach turn. The things he did to you. The wedding portrait he had stored away in his medical bag. The man’s shock at the passing of her son. How Esme flinched every time someone raised their voice. No?
Edward nodded brusquely in Carlisle’s direction. “He must be dealt with.”
“Edward.”
“I will not kill him,” Edward said quietly, in a tone not entirely convincing. He placed one hand over Esme’s on his arm. “I promise.”
“Who is this man?” Carlisle asked, stepping towards the two. Although he presumed he knew a fraction of the answer already.
Esme glanced back at him eyes wide, mouth agape. Edward used her moment of distraction to pry himself away, marching towards the automobile.
“Esme will explain. I will be back.”
“Edward, no.”
The car engine roared to life.
“Edward, please.”
Within seconds the coupe was speeding down the dirt road, leaving a cloud in its wake.
“Edward, don’t.”
The woman was still pleading long after the woods had swallowed the view of the automobile. Her cries eventually turned into explanations which turned into tearless sobs.
When Edward finally did return it was with clean hands, finding Charles had unfortunately made his train and was out of Ashland, alive and well.
#charles evenson#esme cullen#esme platt#carlisle cullen#edward cullen#my stories#twilight fanfiction#thank you thank you thank you to the anon who requested this!!
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I Can't Handle Change (Doctor Strange x Fem! Reader)
Summary: every disease has its own cure
Warning: It's Stephen, he's a sweetheart, Critically ill, reader is sick, near death experience? Medical care, fluff, angst, Stephen being a good boyfriend, severe heart arrhythmia
As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"Me and some Masters in the Kamar Taj have decided that the London Sanctum will be the next target to break into, I want you two to go and catch the culprits before they smuggle out our sacred relics. We don't want those relics to fall into the hands of wrong, don't we?" Wong explained firmly that you two are busy arranging all the relics that were successfully confiscated in the relics room at the NY Sanctum.
"Why us? We're busy right now" Stephen said without taking his eyes off the chest containing the relics.
"because you both are one of the most free sorceress we have. The others are busy with their missions, only you two have free time" Wong said simply.
Stephen sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose while you looked at Wong skeptically.
"of course we'll help you but who wants to pack these relics?" You ask Wong.
"don't worry, I've assigned some students to help put all these relics in the temporary relics room so that relics here is in safe hands, while the others Sanctums are targeted" Wong said walked closer towards the exit before he paused. "You two better go now.. We don't know when the culprits will show up" and then Wong walked away.
Stephen exhaled heavily and adjusted his belt, checking whether the sling ring was on his belt or not while you put the relic in your hand back into the chest and walked over to Stephen.
"Don't worry, at least we will spend time together" you lighten up the mood.
Stephen smiled faintly. "I would love to spend time with you but not this" Stephen put his hands around you and crashed his lips on your lips.
You hummed and parted away. "Maybe.. we can spend some time after this mission is over. what do you say, Doctor Strange? Fancy a good night movies with cuddles?"
"Absolutely" Stephen muttered and looked at you hungrily. "well, better go now.. I'm not a patient person"
You smirked and then without hesitation pulled Stephen's hand and walked towards the door connected to the London Sanctum. The Sanctum is quiet without a source of sound in it. Only the sound of automobile engines outside the Sanctum. You and Stephen paused in the middle of the room, trying to listen for any sounds like things being moved or thumping around the Sanctum cautiously.
The two of you walk slowly towards the stairs where all the relics are. Stephen unconsciously reached out your hand and held it tightly in a protective way. Maybe worry if something unexpected happens suddenly. As the two of you started climbing the stairs, you both heard the sound of a voice talking but it was faint.
The noise of 3 people was heard upstairs and this made you both cautiously go up the stairs and prepared to catch the culprits. Stephen went first and you followed behind him. There are 3 figures wearing all black outfits with their faces wearing black masks hiding their identity but you can both tell their gender based on their body shape. 2 men 1 woman according to their built bodies in two men and breasts in women.
You looked at Stephen with a knowing look. The three of them seemed to be solemnly putting the relics into the sacks in their hands, unaware of the presence of the two of you.
They said to each other with overjoyed voices. You can't make up what they say because of the masks they wear, but you can tell that they are likely to be excited about the quality and price of the relics if they are sold to the black market. It seems like they decided to show up earlier than you both expected. Stephen then walked in front of you.
"I'm sure the sacred relics are not for sale, in fact they are not to be stolen," Stephen said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
The three figures stopped what they were doing and looked at the source of the voice behind them. They freeze when they realize they are caught.
"You broke into one of the sacred Sanctums in this universe and decided to smuggle out some of our relics. Well, you don't know what you're all dealing with now" you said threateningly.
The three figures didn't say anything but then all of a sudden they ran towards you both with their weapons in their hands. Seemed like they quietly reached for their weapons while you both threatened them.
You automatically conjured bands of cyttorak and whipped it on one of the figures hand causing the weapon in his hand to fall to the floor. The man looked panic but still attacked you with all the energy he had while you whipped the band to dodge all the punches he gave you before you tied his legs and pulled the band until he stumbled to the floor hard.
He groaned in pain. You smirked but then you started to feel a bit of pain in your chest which you ignored the pain and continued to attack the man by tying his whole body with a band of cyttorak then slipped your two fingers into the sling ring and summoned a portal below him to the Kamar Taj.
He fell into the portal with a scream. One has been held, two not yet. You ran towards Stephen who was dodging the attack of the two culprits. The pain in your chest started to increase. Stephen punched one of the culprits who is man hard in the face which makes the man stepped back when he was hit in the face while the woman rushes towards Stephen and swings the weapon in her hand towards Stephen but then crashed to the side when you hit her body hard which makes both of you stumbled to the floor hard.
You both groaned then you got up quickly and straddled the woman with struggle as the woman seems to fight with you which you managed to straddle her and punched her face several times before summoned bands of cyttorak again and tied both of her hands. You stood up and summoned a portal behind her like you did to the man. The woman screaming as she falls into the portal.
You smirked with victory but then your face grimaced in pain as you felt the pain in your chest increase. You hold your chest in excruciating pain. You kneel on the floor with a cry of pain and fall to the side on the floor. You close your eyes as you feel the agony of pain in your chest. Tears fell down your cheeks as the pain increased. Your breath starts to gasp for enough oxygen but fails.
Stephen who had just caught the last culprit started looking for you but couldn't find you. He started to worry but then he started to hear the sound of crying not far from him. He recognized the voice and ran towards the source of the voice quickly. He saw you lying on your side while clutching your chest with eyes closed and a pained face.
You exhaled in pain and groaned. Stephen slides to your side and grabs your shoulders with concern on his face. "love, what's wrong?! Did the woman do something to you?!" Stephen said loudly. You just cried out in pain and reached for Stephen's free hand and squeezed it hard. Stephen ignored the pain in his hand and with panic he slipped to his fingers on the sling ring and opened a portal to Metro General Hospital. You started to lose your consciousness. The corners of your eyes start to darken while dark spots dance in your eyes. You let out a gasp. The pain in the chest is getting worse and makes it difficult for you to breathe.
Stephen picked you up bridal style and rushed into the hospital with panic on his face.
"Hold on, Love! Don't you dare pass out in my arms!" Stephen said firmly.
But you are already unconscious. Your head lolled to the side as you limped in his arms.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
A burst of white light greeting in your eyes as you started to wake up. You closed your sore eyes and grunted in pain as you felt a faint pain in your chest. You started to move your body but then someone held your cold right hand with their warm hand.
You jerked a bit but calm yourself down as your eyes adjusted and you finally recognized the person in front of you. Stephen. You sighed in relief after seeing Stephen sitting in front of you with a look of concern on his face.
"Hey" you greeted him with a hoarse voice.
"hey" Stephen greeted back, unconsciously rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand.
"I'm sorry" you said upset.
"Why do you want to apologize? For not telling me that you have severe heart arrhythmia?" Stephen replied, pulling the chair he was sitting on closer to you carefully with the wire attached to your body.
You nodded ashamed. "yeah.. I'm sorry for not telling you about this"
Stephen shook his head. "no don't be. I understand that you don't want to bring this up to me, but at least you can tell me that you suffer from this"
"I want to tell you but.. I'm worried that I will be forced not to do any mission if you know about this. Knowing you, I don't think I can agree not to join any mission.. I don't want you to worry about me" you said weakly.
Stephen kissed the back of your hand. "But at least you don't have to get like this for me to know that you suffer. I'm worried about you, you know. You almost died if I didn't take you to the hospital. I-.. I can lose you" Stephen looked down at his lap.
You soften your look. "hey, look at me" Stephen raised his head and looked at you. "I'm okay now, thanks to you. But please don't tell Wong or anyone about this. I want to finish this mission no matter what. If they find out they will force me not to join this mission."
Stephen shook his head. "You are a stubborn woman. Alright, but on two conditions." Stephen looked at you softly.
You nodded urging him to continue. Stephen sighed.
"One, let me do all the running things so that you don't have to weaken your heart and end up like this again and two, no more hiding secrets. Understand?" Stephen stared at your determined eyes.
You nodded in understanding. "yes.. anything for you. I promise"
Stephen nodded and leaning towards your lips and pecked your lips sealing the promises with passionate, careful with the oxygen tube in your nose. He smiled gently and stroked your cheek. "l love you" he said gently.
You stroked his hand tenderly and smiled softly. "I love you too"
#benedict cumberbatch x reader#benedict cumberbatch#doctor strange#doctor strange x female reader#doctor strange x reader#dr stephen strange x reader#stephen strange x reader#doctor strange x you#chronic illness#stephen strange imagine#dr stephen strange#Spotify
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trust
she was only supposed to be carlos sainz jr's lead engineer.
carlos sainz jr x SFengineer!OC
word count: 2k
tw: nothing
note: a) mentions of unmarried!toto, b) as usual, i happen to always write around dawn so ofc this is not beta-read. i swear i'll be answering ur asks around this weekend and put up 'the holiday (pt.2)', sorry for the delay but i can't help but write this down first teheee
“what do you think, alina?”
at the mention of her name, his lead engineer didn’t waste another breath to jump into topics at hand. she presented her case and the justifications behind her decision, statistics and other data tucked under her arsenal in case anyone dared to refute her. all sharp and ever precise, no wishy washy, just like how she presented herself.
carlos remembered he once contemplated raising a concern over the engineer assigned for him. no, not because she is a woman—hannah schmitz of his old company, red bull racing, had proven him wrong so many times about the calibre of the women working in this rigorous field—but because she was aloof beyond belief, borderline unapproachable even. in his early ferrari days, carlos had his moments where he second-guessed himself before engaging her into a conversation, afraid she’d think of his questions stupid, that he had to seek charles’ aid.
charles used to laugh at carlos’ meek revelation but the frenchman also recalled the days where he used to be so intimidated by the woman, thinking she should’ve been assigned to the first driver and not him, who just debuted only a year before joining the italian automobile giant. alas, the no-bullshit-only-facts kind of way she rolled with was what made the entire paddock respected her even more because the least they needed to end the constructor’s championship drought was someone who only wanted hefty pay checks but not glory days.
carlos, for the same reason, had to agree with charles’ sentiment. her calls, more often than not, were more significantly impactful to him gaining podium than even the team principal’s, even when carlos himself doubted his ears when her instructions came to him via the radio. but his respect went off the roof back in silverstone, when he couldn’t see anything straight due to the heavy pour, but alina called the shot to fuck away most of ferrari’s strategies—one that she didn’t think made sense—and told carlos to drive as his instinct went.
at that time, carlos told her she had gone mad. alina didn’t laugh at his response—well, she rarely did to anyone’s—but her response came out stronger than his.
“do you trust me on this, carlos?”
“do you trust me, alina?”
"with my life."
funny how she could do it with less than expressive tone, with less than 10 words exchanged between them. funny it was exactly how carlos could gain his maiden win in formula 1. funny it was also the moment she became an important figure in his life.
the moment carlos stepped out of the car after the long race, he didn’t think twice to sprint to the paddock—because alina hated crowds and preferred to celebrate it in her station—to give her a hug. probably the tightest hug carlos had ever given to someone. but it was worth every penny on his bank account, especially when he noticed a miniscule smile ghosted over her lips.
“i told you to trust me.”
“i did, i do. with my life.”
and the growing smile afterwards made his head spin. he didn’t know there was something else that could intoxicate him when he was high on adrenaline, more than the fact that he could now proudly say he was an f1 race winner. but he didn’t want to trade it for anything else in the world. in fact, he couldn’t wait until the time he could see it again.
“what do you think of alina’s strategy, carlos?”
mattia’s voice interrupted the flashback train he was having but mattia should’ve known better. carlos would always answer this question with, “i’m down to whatever alina plans. she knows best.” call him bullshitting, but it didn’t take away the truth behind his words. he trusted her, with his life, without a second doubt.
but maybe he should’ve trusted alina strictly only for things concerning his racing performance because carlos as heck couldn’t accept the feeling he was having when he overheard the mechanics gossiping alina.
“have you heard? toto asked alina out!”
“fuck! toto fucking wolff?”
“it's a buzz over there. you reckon he's doing it so alina can join them?”
“probably. did she say yes?”
“yeah, man. they're going out tonight.”
“not going to the monza party, then.”
“she never does, anyway. besides, it's the fucking toto wolff!”
never once in carlos’ short life did he mourn for a loss. of what, he didn’t know, but he knew as much as whatever it is was now falling down the drain. he swore he didn’t want to go through it all over again, being bereft of something to the point it suffocated him, made him gaping for an extra air supply.
to say it blew carlos’ mind would be an understatement. he was completely out of it most of the time he wasn’t in the car racing. ironic how he needed something to occupy his mind beyond the grid, yet her stoic voice over the radio was what he soaked himself in. reality be damned.
but as everyone and their mothers say, reality sure had a funny way to slap you in the face. if carlos thought finding out alina was going to a date with the toto wolff, he clearly wasn’t prepared to see how she looked going to a date with toto wolff. the signature red blouse and her series of pencil skirt dashed aside, she was earth-shatteringly—at least to carlos’ definition of earth he was living—stunning in a black cocktail dress, the sparkly ornaments pronounced her eyes even brighter than the chandelier hanging above them as they waited for the elevator car to come and pick them up.
“i thought you’re not going to the monza party.”
“i’m not.”
call him idiot for hoping she’d say the otherwise, even though he—like the rest of the crew—knew like the back of their hand that alina was devoid of places packed with people.
carlos’ heart lurched at the thought she dressed up excellently, had she decided to go to the monza party, black dresscode and all, yet he couldn’t have her come with him. she would surely woo away all the boredom the party would bring, for carlos thought she was the most interesting thing on the planet. but instead, she decided to forego it all; going somewhere else far from the crowd, looking so enthralling he wanted to capture every motion of her breathing, doing something he would absolutely love to ask of her.
“where are you going then? a date?”
“oh, you heard what the mouths in the paddock running with.”
that got to be alina’s longest sentence, sans the strategies and all other jazz in relation to racing. how pathetic that the only time they spoke something not connected with their office relationship was triggered by ferrari’s long standing rival. so pathetic carlos wanted to beat himself for taking everything of alina for granted, now that he realised.
“so, are you?”
the eerie silent bestowed upon them was so cold it prickled carlos’ skin as if frostbite had bitten him down. it was frightening that such silence drove them apart further than the atlantic ocean, yet no words were more powerful than any other answer she could possibly provide him with.
carlos didn’t know what to do with himself. should he be glad she presented him honesty? or should he be devastated they were so compatible that they needn’t any words to understand each other except for this one particular matter?
heck, even if he’d figured out all the answers to those questions, he was sure he still didn’t know what to do with himself. take a look the past years they’d been working together and not a moment did he know what he was doing around her, especially the time when he’d pulled over the helmet over his head after the race was concluded.
the loudest ding! reached to carlos’ ears, as if it was purposely done that way as carlos’ loudest reminder he was running out of time. because let’s be real; when the torger christian wolff of Mercedes-amg petronas f1 team succeed in wooing you, you wouldn’t have the chance to say no to the life laid in front of you like a hollywood’s blockbuster red carpet rolled on your feet.
but at least, carlos had tried before toto did, despite knowing the slim succession rate.
“don’t go.”
the elevator doors hadn’t even shut properly when carlos shot his fire, taking alina aback like a whirlwind no one warned you about. it was the most expressive alina had ever been around the spanish driver, her being perplexed enlarged the eyes he loved the most—for it always shone with burning desire and determination to win around him—and forced herself to inhale a sharp intake of breath. it was an endearing sight, if only carlos wasn’t hanging his sanity on the thinnest line called god’s fate.
alina being analytical alina, she spared some time—god, he wished to never undergo those excruciating seconds again in his life—to scan over carlos’ face through their reflections on the gold plate of the elevator doors, searching hopefully anything to indicate the sainz jr was joking around, like he used to do with lando on the mclaren paddock across the red horse’s.
carlos was glad alina didn’t take her chance to crumble him to his feet by turning herself towards him. his resolution would fall apart in a split second. so he chose to stand straighter, all while locking his black orbs on hers, this time with the same burning desire and determination she always had on a race day.
“why?”
she needs convincing? i'll give her convincing. he was the first to peer down at her, immediately submerging himself into intoxication at the sight of the beauty beside him and soaking in the close proximity he’d been dying to have ever since silverstone. “do you trust me, alina?”
alina, in turn, tried to reach his eyes, this time wavering from the intensity of carlos’ staring. throughout their excellent partnership, alina had never encountered such heavy weight on his eyes and she’d be lying if deep down she wasn’t scared of the combination between those eyes and what lied underneath them. but her fear was overshadowed by her curiosity. “with my life.”
it didn’t take carlos another second—thank god for his f1 driver reflexes—before his unconscious jumpstarted at her response. his hands immediately went up to cup her jawlines, holding her in her place before she could think of anything else, and brought his lips landing on hers. softly, smoothly, precisely inbetween. their eyes shut into perfect dome, noses rubbing gently against one another.
he closed down on her upper lip, as the lower part moved to sync with him, and soon their lips began dancing in perfect sync on the slow, burning floor. nothing was rushed, nor impatient. simply a mutual enjoyment between two people who’d been deprived of something they’d been craving in the dark for far too long.
freedom tasted so good on their clashing tongues as the dance, slowly but surely, picked up some speed and heat altogether. alina seeked for stability by grabbing carlos’ sleek black suit jacket as the towering man pushed the woman gently towards the corner of the small space, their heavy breaths were the only music filling the air.
another loud ding! pulled them apart, as if it was purposely done to bring them back to reality. they both heard another couple taking up some of the remaining space but their eyes never left each other's as they exchanged knowing smiles, the tip of carlos' fingers brushed over her cheeks softly as he rested his forehead on hers.
now they were truly one and the same in every sense of that word. one, same team. not just the driver and its lead engineer, but carlos and alina.
#carlos sainz#carlos sainz jr#cs55#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz junior#carlos sainz fanfic#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz one shot#carlos sainz fluff#carlos sainz 55#carlos sainz x oc#carlos sainz x y/n#carlos sainz fan fiction#carlos sainz blurbs#oh-saints writes
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John Mais (and Elfrieda Mais) Biography
Welcome to Day 1 of my month-long project where I research and craft biographies of Indy 500 participants (with a focus on pre-1950 drivers).
The first driver is John Mais who only participated in one Indianapolis 500 -- the 1915 Indy 500 with a finish of 22nd. But his story is interesting nonetheless, not because of his Indianapolis career but because of the woman he was married to.
Born in June 1888 in Koblenz, Germany, not much is known about John Mais’ early life but what is known is that before he immigrated to the US, he worked at the Mercedes automobile factory in Germany.
Mais himself claimed that he raced in Europe, however, that claim was never substantiated. John Mais arrived in New York City in 1909, traveling directly to Indianapolis and finding work with Hudson Motor Car Company designing trucks.
By the end of 1909 though, Mais had gathered investors and started his own truck company — Mais Motor Truck Company. The company struggled to make a profit (not because of poor product though, his trucks were apparently well built and reliable). The company was dissolved in 1913 but not before Mais was able to provide a truck to be used as the official press car for the 3rd running of the Indianapolis 500:
On July 26, 1911, John Mais married Elfrieda Hellman, an Indianapolis local who had started working as an airplane stuntwoman and wing walker in 1910. By 1912, she started racing automobiles.
This is the only photo I found of the two of them:
In John’s free time, he built a chassis to house the Mercer engine that he had modified. In 1915, he took this car to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway to try his luck for a chance at motorsport glory.
It was not to be. Mechanical failure ended his race. He finished 22nd.
Approximately a month after John Mais’ failed attempt at Indy glory, the Detroit Free Press ran a notice that Elfrieda Mais would be running the races in Saginaw:
The AAA Contest Board did not allow women to drive so Elfrieda was constricted to racing at state fairs and/or doing time trials. John Mais was actually suspended for a year by the AAA for racing in non-AAA sanctioned events (that he was likely at with his wife).
From 1916:
Simply put, Elfrieda was much more famous than John but he still raced (and was successful as well). He was instrumental in making sure his wife had reliable equipment to race in.
When they weren’t racing, John and Elfrieda were promoting races. There are also mentions in newspapers of Elfrieda being a flagwoman for races as well.
At some point after 1922, John and Elfrieda quietly divorced and they went their separate ways.
Despite my best efforts, I could not find any mentions of the divorce in any newspaper but perhaps this article from September 1922 might offer a clue:
Whatever the reason for the divorce, it did not stop either John or Elfrieda’s racing careers.
An article from 1924 about Elfrieda, mentioning that she previously had raced (and beat!) three male drivers:
John had a lot of success as both a driver and a car owner BUT it seems that he frequently found himself in trouble with the AAA contest board for having no regards for rules and regulations.
This 1926 article talks about it:
It does seem that this suspension effectively ended John's racing career, however, John seemed very involved in car-owning/building/engineering and was widely respected.
Elfrieda's career continued though, racing against the clock and occasionally racing against men when she could. But there was one career aspiration that Elfrieda had that she hadn't been able to conquer: The Indianapolis 500.
According to an article that ran nationwide in 1931, Elfrieda Mais’ ultimate racing goal was to participate in the Indianapolis 500.
It didn’t matter that by this point she had raced for nearly 20 years, because she was a woman, she would not be allowed.
In January 1932, Elfrieda tried to set up a race against a male driver in South Florida.
Sig Haugdahl (who NASCAR history buffs should know), was one of the drivers that refused to race against her.
This is what Haughdahl had to say about her:
Around this time, a name is mentioned as racing in events that Elfrieda was doing exhibition/time trial runs — Ray Laplant(e). Ray was also a racer and at some point after 1930, he and Elfrieda married, her fourth husband.
A photo set of Elfrieda and Ray who were competing against each other in Oct 1932.
(The romance lover that I am is imagining Elfrieda and Ray meeting after this race and falling in love, that’s the story I’m going to go with):
Perhaps Elfrieda and Ray’s love story was a little less “love at first sight” and a little more “enemies to lovers” 😬
An article from Oct 1932, after Ray and Elfrieda raced:
In 1933, Elfrieda had a new thrill — stunt racing.
Her go-to was to drive through a wall of wood. Sometimes she’d even light it on fire.
A photo of her doing the stunt:
Unfortunately, it was this stunt that claimed her life in September 1934.
She was 41.
Elfrieda Mais was a race car driver whose only hindrance was the sex she was born as, never allowed to show her true racing potential like many other female drivers. Over 100 years after the start of Elfrieda Mais' career, women are still struggling to be able to race, and to have the same opportunities as men.
John Mais married and divorced at least twice during his post-racing life. He moved around often and ended up living with his nephew in Germany when he had a heart attack and died at the age of 73.
This is a very condensed version of John and Elfrieda's stories. If you'd like to read more, this article gives a more in-depth look into John's life and this article is the most in-depth article of Elfrieda that I could find.
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Where In The World Is Phryne Fisher?
This week Phryne finds herself in Dayton, Ohio!
Dayton thinks of itself as the Birthplace of Aviation since the Wright Brothers invented and tested their first planes here (Yes, we all know that Kitty Hawk claims first in flight, but the work was done here, near the sight of current day Wright-Patterson Airforce Base). The Wright Brothers weren't the only great inventors in Dayton. We also boast about Charles Kettering, who invented the electric starter for automobiles, and many others.
Phryne stands between the Wright Brothers' hats on a bench outside The Engineers' Club. It was founded in 1914 by Charles Kettering and Colonel Edward Deeds to foster innovation through the sharing of ideas, guest speakers and more. We doubt the very female Phryne could have been a member at the beginning, but perhaps she could have been a guest of their most famous member, Orville Wright, at one of the lectures.
She definitely wanted to spend time at The Dayton Woman's Club, home to a 100+ year-old non-profit group devoted to empowering women and strengthening the community.
Ever the art-lover, Phryne drops by the Dayton Art Institute looking for a Margaret Preston. Unfortunately, there are no Margaret Preston's in the museum. But she did enjoy the many exhibits and having her picture taken with Leo the Lion, who guards the property.
Liberty Tower is a beautiful Art Deco building in Dayton, so Phryne stopped by, mainly to check that her money was safe in the vault.
Is that Bert and Cec outside the tower?
Another Building in Downtown Dayton that caught Phryne's attention currently is home to AT&T. (Hey, they haven't made the center of the earth explode yet!)
Phryne also couldn't resist stopping in The Packard Museum to look at the latest models on the showroom floor. She does like shiny things. Perhaps Dot would like a new race car?
Phryne was crunched for time, but she couldn't turn down an invitation to Hawthorne Hill from Orville Wright. They had much to talk about at the Wright Brothers' Mansion.
#flatphryne #missfishercon2022 #missfishersmurdermysteries #missfisherandthecryptoftears #phrynefisher #essiedavis #jackrobinson #nathanpage #everycloudproductions #AcornTV
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With Osborn, Chapter 1: Sunset Roulette
Part 2: Dashing through the Horizon
“A bet is a bet; after this, you're free to race all over this road!"
They've all lined up in a row on the highway. The car with the bat logo sprayed on it belongs to Xiao Bai, the second-to-last vehicle after Osborn's. The car engines are revving, signalling that they are ready to go. My heart, meanwhile, is pounding like one of those engines. As far as I can see, the road goes all the way from the coast to the peak of the mountain. Just thinking about how quickly the ascent would make my heart race.
Huff… Inhaling deeply, I close my eyes. My body stiffens, and I open my eyes to find Osborn staring back at me. First, he double-checks my seatbelt and then puts on his own. The sound of the engines roaring from the sportscars in front of us becomes more deafening at that moment. It's as if he can read my mind: he tilts his head to gaze at me, and then tousles my hair casually.
Osborn: Relax.
I nod, squeeze the holder behind me hard, and look at the woman on the side of the road raising the starting flag. She uses her fingers to make a countdown gesture: 10, 9, 8. Before the end of the countdown, the engines of these sports cars roar to life. Osborn appears unfazed; his arms are relaxed on the wheel, and he has a sinister squint in his eyes.
MC: Why—They shouldn't have started yet?!
Osborn: Because they are amateurs, that’s why.
I can't help but feel enraged as I watch those sports cars speed up forward and out of sight.
MC: This is too much. It’s cheating!!
Osborn gives me a sidelong glance, his demeanour unaffected by the fact that the other racers are cheating.
Osborn: Now you're invested in the outcome of this race?
MC: ……I mind about the fairness!
The woman drops the flag she was holding right as I finished speaking—
Vroom—! The car accelerates, and the abrupt surge causes me to lean against the back of the seat.
Sand whipped up by the wind whistles as it crashes against the glass. Osborn picks up the pace as he approaches the corner and the cars that had left earlier come into view. The one with the spray-painted bat logo is way out in front.
As we get closer, the automobiles start lining up in a maze-like formation, blocking our path.
MC: Osborn—
My throat has tightened with nervousness, and I can barely hear my voice at the moment.
Osborn: They have quite the trick up their sleeves.
Our car clings to the rear of the pack, swiftly passes it, and then speeds into the "maze" as soon as he finishes speaking. Osborn keeps an eye on the space between the vehicles, and when one opens, he bursts through it at top speed. However, the initially empty gap is quickly filled by a car approaching from the right. Suffocating, I instinctively clutch the handle.
MC: !!!
The tyre makes a loud friction screech, and Osborn wafts our automobile back into its previous place due to the high inertia impact.
Soon, the automobiles we passed catch up to us and surround us with their blinding headlights. There's a car following closely behind us, and Osborn's keeping a close eye on its every move. The ascent to the mountain road seemed to take no time at all. There is nothing but an empty cliff on our left and a vertical wall of a steep slope on our right.
I gulp subconsciously and sneak a peek at Osborn's face. Slightly raising an eyebrow, it seems he has suspicions about the car on our back.
Osborn: Tsk, another tiresome gimmick.
He presses the accelerator as soon as he finishes talking, but there's a bend up ahead! I am completely baffled by his motivations and can only watch him with wide eyes. Sweat is dripping down my forehead.
Now, something much worse had happened: as we sped around the turn, the car behind us tried to squeeze through the opening between us and the mountain wall.
MC: He—He’s gonna hit us?!
I feel like my heart is about to stop for a second from sheer astonishment. Osborn's speed is fast enough, so we push on and manage to put some distance between ourselves and the car trailing behind. Simultaneously, we hear a massive crash behind us. It's so loud that it seems to shake the entire mountain.
Instantly, I look around and notice that the front of the car behind us has slammed into the side of the mountain and come to a complete halt. After making sure that no one is seriously hurt, I turn my head to the front with a lingering sense of foreboding.
MC: Was that car trying to make a narrow pass just now? But how could that ever be possible?
Osborn: He knows he's not going to make it. What he really wants is for me to yield to him so he can occupy my path. But I've seen far too many of these petty ploys. I accelerate right away. He lost control and crashed. Those twisted mind tricks come with a steep price to pay.
From there, we pick up the pace, passing other vehicles and eventually making a beeline for Xiao Bai. I take a few deep breaths to try and calm myself down as the overwhelming sense of panic returns. But before I could breathe a sigh of relief, the race car slammed into a sharp turn after travelling down a straight road. Osborn sharply turned the wheel around the bend, the powerful centrifugal force nearly lifted our car off the ground. I feel the energy seize hold of me as it desperately tries to fling me from the vehicle.
MC: !!!!!
This was when my unease and terror were at their worst; the piercing wail made me feel as though it may engulf me. I—
[Maintain A Calm Façade]
[Can't Resist Screaming Out Loud]
[Close My Eyes]
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Some Wonderful Features Offered The Particular Samsung Un55b8000 55 Inch 1080P Monitor
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As Seen a tv personality name brand products have been around for years, and they're almost as much a part of America's heritage once the automobile! As these types of grew in popularity, and people became more comfortable shopping from home, new innovative and useful products were released almost every single week until there were hundreds of what to choose from.
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As a dad or mom you can also add some limits to what amount television could be watched each day. Set a time limit for your youngster. This could be a certain number of hours or even certain associated with shows that she or he can have a look at. If you come check here up using a limit, you should stick with it. This not only includes watching exhibits but playing games on the television also. Adhere to the limit.
If this is true, Christakis' research validates the slowly move the Academy of yank Pediatrics gave in 1998. The Academy said children under two shouldn't watch any television, and children two and older should be restricted to one to couple of hours per day of the week.
The more professional of Plasma introduces us to the PM6700, home for the outgoing PZ570.The PM6700 can be a Full HD, 3D smart tv - offering built in Wi-Fi is actually a first for LG, as in the past seasons you possessed to obtain a Wi-Fi Dongle on almost the 9500 LED lady. Another new fantastic feature is Wi-Di (see below). The PM6700 also boasts THX3D display certification, 2D-3D conversion, Time Machine recording, a Magic Motion Remote with Voice as well as a cutting edge Triple-XD processing engine. One pair of 3d Glasses are also included in the box.
If you're working on a bad side of your company, or maybe your company competes with the wrong side of the market then it may just unquestionably be a matter of one's time before your number appears and you along searching for others are cut.
She was covergirl for Stuff magazine in April 2006. Individuals softlogic tv when she chose the moniker "Tila Tequila" as her official celebrity or stage name and this wounderful woman has been branding that name since. In August 2006, she was on duvet cover of Maxim UK, since number 100 on the 2008 Maxim Hot 100 list.
Start planning activities that overlap with regards to your television the moment. Do those things instead in your own evenings. A person are busier and have things to do, things like television aren't quite as vital as the other things are that often times are more fulfilling.
By knowing where the best places are for a television and tips on how to appropriately and properly integrate it in the areas where involved with challenging, a tv can definitely welcome add on.
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Events 11.30
977 – Franco-German war of 978–980: Holy Roman Emperor Otto II lifts the siege at Paris and withdraws. His rearguard is defeated while crossing the Aisne River by West Frankish forces under King Lothair III.
1707 – Queen Anne's War: The second Siege of Pensacola comes to end with the failure of the British Empire and their Creek allies to capture Pensacola, Spanish Florida.
1718 – Great Northern War: King Charles XII of Sweden dies during a siege of the fortress of Fredriksten in Norway.
1782 – American Revolutionary War: Treaty of Paris: In Paris, representatives from the United States and Great Britain sign preliminary peace articles (later formalized as the 1783 Treaty of Paris).
1786 – The Grand Duchy of Tuscany, under Pietro Leopoldo I, becomes the first modern state to abolish the death penalty (later commemorated as Cities for Life Day).
1803 – The Balmis Expedition starts in Spain with the aim of vaccinating millions against smallpox in Spanish America and Philippines.
1803 – In New Orleans, Spanish representatives officially transfer the Louisiana Territory to an official from the French First Republic. Just 20 days later, France transfers the same land to the United States as the Louisiana Purchase.
1804 – The Democratic-Republican-controlled United States Senate begins an impeachment trial of Federalist Supreme Court Justice Samuel Chase.
1829 – First Welland Canal opens for a trial run, five years to the day from the ground breaking.
1853 – Crimean War: Battle of Sinop: The Imperial Russian Navy under Pavel Nakhimov destroys the Ottoman fleet under Osman Pasha at Sinop, a sea port in northern Turkey.
1864 – American Civil War: The Confederate Army of Tennessee suffers heavy losses in an attack on the Union Army of the Ohio in the Battle of Franklin.
1872 – The first-ever international football match takes place at Hamilton Crescent, Glasgow, between Scotland and England.
1900 – A German engineer patents front-wheel drive for automobiles.
1916 – Costa Rica signs the Buenos Aires Convention, a copyright treaty.
1934 – The LNER Class A3 4472 Flying Scotsman becomes the first steam locomotive to be authenticated as reaching 100 mph.
1936 – In London, the Crystal Palace is destroyed by fire.
1939 – World War II: The Soviet Red Army crosses the Finnish border in several places and bomb Helsinki and several other Finnish cities, starting the Winter War.
1940 – World War II: Signing of the Sino-Japanese Treaty of 1940 between the Empire of Japan and the newly formed Wang Jingwei-led Reorganized National Government of the Republic of China. This treaty was considered so unfair to China that it was compared to the Twenty-One Demands.
1941 – The Holocaust: The SS-Einsatzgruppen round up 11,000 Jews from the Riga Ghetto and kill them in the Rumbula massacre.
1942 – World War II: Battle of Tassafaronga; A smaller squadron of Imperial Japanese Navy destroyers led by Raizō Tanaka defeats a U.S. Navy cruiser force under Carleton H. Wright.
1947 – Civil War in Mandatory Palestine begins, leading up to the creation of the State of Israel and the 1948 Arab–Israeli War.
1953 – Edward Mutesa II, the kabaka (king) of Buganda is deposed and exiled to London by Sir Andrew Cohen, Governor of Uganda.
1954 – In Sylacauga, Alabama, United States, the Hodges meteorite crashes through a roof and hits a woman taking an afternoon nap; this is the only documented case in the Western Hemisphere of a human being hit by a rock from space.
1966 – Decolonization: Barbados becomes independent from the United Kingdom.
1967 – Decolonization: South Yemen becomes independent from the United Kingdom.
1967 – The Pakistan Peoples Party is founded by Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, who becomes its first chairman.
1967 – Pro-Soviet communists in the Philippines establish Malayang Pagkakaisa ng Kabataan Pilipino as its new youth wing.
1971 – Iran seizes the Greater and Lesser Tunbs from the Emirates of Sharjah and Ras Al Khaimah.
1972 – Vietnam War: White House Press Secretary Ron Ziegler tells the press that there will be no more public announcements concerning American troop withdrawals from Vietnam because troop levels are now down to 27,000.
1981 – Cold War: In Geneva, representatives from the United States and the Soviet Union begin to negotiate intermediate-range nuclear weapon reductions in Europe. (The meetings end inconclusively on December 17.)
1982 – Michael Jackson's sixth solo studio album, Thriller, is released worldwide, ultimately becoming the best-selling record album in history.
1994 – MS Achille Lauro catches fire off the coast of Somalia.
1995 – Official end of Operation Desert Storm.
1995 – U.S. President Bill Clinton visits Northern Ireland and speaks in favor of the "Northern Ireland peace process" to a huge rally at Belfast City Hall; he calls IRA fighters "yesterday's men".
1999 – Exxon and Mobil sign a US$73.7 billion agreement to merge, thus creating ExxonMobil, the world's largest company.
1999 – In Seattle, United States, demonstrations against a World Trade Organization meeting by anti-globalization protesters catch police unprepared and force the cancellation of opening ceremonies.
1999 – British Aerospace and Marconi Electronic Systems merge to form BAE Systems, Europe's largest defense contractor and the fourth largest aerospace firm in the world.
2000 – NASA launches STS-97, the 101st Space Shuttle mission.
2001 – Gary Ridgway is apprehended and charged with four murders. He was eventually convicted of a total of 49 murders.
2004 – Lion Air Flight 583 overshoots the runway while landing at Adisumarmo International Airport and crashes, killing 25 people.
2005 – John Sentamu becomes the first black archbishop in the Church of England with his enthronement as the 97th Archbishop of York.
2012 – An Ilyushin Il-76 cargo plane belonging to Aéro-Service, crashes into houses near Maya-Maya Airport during a thunderstorm, killing at least 32 people.
2018 – A magnitude 7.1 earthquake with its epicenter only 24 km from Anchorage, Alaska causes significant property damage but no deaths.
2021 – Barbados becomes a republic.
2021 – Ethan Crumbley, 15, armed with a 9mm semi-automatic handgun, murdered four students and injured seven people, including a teacher, in a mass shooting at Oxford High School in Michigan.
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5 Must Listen Audiobooks For Everyone
In life, there are things you could do, things you should do, and things you must do. These same categories apply to the choice of book you listen next. You could listen any number of books, for reasons ranging from guilty pleasure to the fact that your book club meets in two days.
Below is the list of 5 Must Listen Audiobooks for Everyone. Everyone should listen to these books published by HarperCollins India.
1. Azim Premji by Sundeep Khanna | Varun Sood
Azim Premji: The Man Beyond the Billions, the first authoritative biography of the icon, shows how Premji is a philanthropist at heart and a businessman by choice – a man who wanted to give away his billions but realized early enough that he would first have to earn them. It peels the layers off Premji’s life while chronicling his professional and charitable work in the context of his many strengths and shortcomings.
Buy Now!
2. I Came Upon a Lighthouse by Shantanu Naidu
In 2014, Shantanu Naidu, an automobile design engineer in his early twenties, developed an innovation to save the local strays from being run over by speeding cars. Ratan Tata, himself known for his compassion for stray dogs, took note. Impressed, he not only decided to invest in the venture, but over the years became a mentor, boss and an unexpectedly dear friend to Shantanu.
I Came Upon a Lighthouse is an honest, light-hearted telling of this uncommon bond between a millennial and an octogenarian that gives glimpses of a beloved Indian icon in a warm light.
Buy Now!
3. Yes Man by Pavan C. Lall
Yes Man is the story of Rana Kapoor, and his Icarus-like flight that eventually led to the Yes Bank crisis. From starting out as a junior employee at Bank of America to leading a bank worth billions, Kapoor’s rise and fall is a case study in ambition, greed and deceit. In this hard-hitting book, Pavan C. Lall details not only Rana Kapoor’s journey, but also asks tough questions about the banking system, its regulators and even the business environment that led to a point of no return for Yes Bank.
Buy Now!
4. A Patchwork Quilt by Sai Paranjpye
Sai started her career at All India Radio, later graduating from the National School of Drama and making her way into theatre, television, documentaries and movies, working with some of the most highly regarded names of the Hindi film world. She met with success in the world of books too, her Marathi translation of Naseeruddin Shah’s memoir winning her the Sahitya Akademi award in 2019.
Frank, forthright, full of anecdotes and written with a flair for recounting her multifarious journey in lively detail, A Patchwork Quilt is Sai Paranjpye’s memoir that looks back on a life well lived.
Buy Now!
5. Nothing to Lose by Manbeena Sandhu
From heading an ashram at Rajneeshpuram, Oregon, USA, in the 1980s to allegedly spearheading what is known as the largest bioterror attack in American history and spending thirty-nine months in prison, Ma Anand Sheela’s life is one that fascinates and intrigues.
But who is the woman beyond the persona of the commune leader? What is Sheela like behind the sensational ‘tough titties’ avatar?
Manbeena Sandhu followed the Osho movement for two decades before her journey finally led her to Sheela. Nothing to Lose is a no-holds-barred account of Sheela’s life, her intense relationship with Bhagwan, and the riveting story of what actually happened behind the closed doors of the cult’s ashram.
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View of woman engineer, at drafting table, drawing an automobile body with pencil and drafting triangle. Stamped on back: "Photo by N. Lazarnick, 244-6-8 W. 42nd St., New York. Tel. 594 Bryant." Handwritten on back: "First and only woman automobile engineer."
Courtesy of the National Automotive History Collection, Detroit Public Library
#lazarnick#engineer#automobile engineering#drafting#drafting table#engineers#engineering#uto history#automobile history#first and only#women engineer#female engineers#drafting triangle#history#woman engineer#detroit public library
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rosalie & esme headcanons
Okay, working on a story that requires me to sift through of a lot of history/ideas about Rosalie and Esme’s dynamic so here’s some general working thoughts because it appears I have many:
In short, their relationship is complex, tragic, and beautiful. I think this post by @gisellelx really sums up the root complexity of it all just perfectly, and pinpoints just how Carlisle and Edward add to that complexity.
In the first few months to the first year, Esme was the only Cullen Rosalie would stand and begrudgingly became the woman’s shadow simply because being in someone’s company beat being alone with her thoughts most days.
In the early days Esme tried to offer her own hobbies as a means of escape: needlework, painting, sculpting, miniatures. Rosalie typically tried each once, just so Esme would get off her back, but never really enjoyed them. She preferred simply sitting in the same room silently as Esme went about her own things. This didn’t stop Esme from framing each piece of Rosalie’s art as if they were masterpieces.
They stumbled upon her love for mechanical work solely by accident. Esme’s band saw got stuck, Edward ended up worsening the problem, and Rosalie fixed it within minutes once the two left the garage.
A few days later Esme went out and bought an entire lot of broken tools from a foreclosed farm. Rosalie rolled her eyes at the desperate attempt to win her affections but tinkered with the machinery anyways. Esme brings the antique table saw Rosalie fashioned into a drafting table with them almost every single move.
This fascination with mechanics shifted to automobiles when Edward absolutely screwed his transmission. He was intent on fixing it himself, despite having no idea where to start. After eight days of Edward just making even more problems Rosalie snuck into the garage while he was in town and started to fix it herself. Although she was very clear she was not doing this for Edward’s sake but instead to stop having to hear him rev the engine six hundred times a day.
Esme didn’t know a thing about cars when Rosalie joined them, absolutely hated driving them and only tolerated driving in them, but you can bet she was out in that garage nearly every day, casually offering help that Rosalie didn’t ask for nor particularly cared for.
“You know, I know how to weld, in case you need something made.” “I’ve been told I’m pretty good with a paintbrush if you wanted to pick a different color.” “I’ve got a real nice sanding block if you need it.”
They have an extensive collection of matching coveralls. It started back in the ‘30s when Rosalie would just borrow a pair of Esme’s if she needed them. Esme eventually just started buying a second pair if she was already buying herself one. As they’ve grown closer and Rosalie has become a bigger part of Esme’s projects over the years it’s become a lot more intentional. Rosalie’s favorite pair is one she gave Esme for Christmas one year, they’re hot pink and she hand embroidered one of Esme’s floral sketches on the back panel and their names over the breast pocket. Alice occasionally tries to get them to wear some fashion forward or designer get up but they usually revert back to their tried and true. (Although Rosalie will wear a bedazzled pair of safety glasses once in a while.)
Esme is at every single one of Rosalie’s college graduations and Rosalie is at every single gallery opening or open house no matter how small.
Rosalie has asked Esme to “give her away” at more than one of her weddings, not the first one but many since. Esme has never failed to ‘cry’ at this ask.
They’ve done a few coordinating Halloween costumes over the years the highlights have included: Barbra Streisand & Judy Garland, Debbie Jelinsky & Mortica Addams, Lucy Westenra & Mina Murray.
One of Rosalie’s most prized possessions is a sketchbook full of images of her family, her house in Rochester, little details of the city she grew up and loved. Most of them have a distance to them, as if the artist had to sit in a park yards away and sneakily jot down the image, which is exactly what Esme had to do. They weren’t friends at that point but due to the public nature of her disappearance it was impossible to sneak any of Rosalie’s possessions out of the Hale home so sketches of inconsequential things was the best Esme could do.
“Rose,” “Rosie,” “Rosie Posie,” “Ro,” “Lily,” “Lil,” “Rosa,” “Lee.” Esme makes a lot of nicknames and very few stick, that does not mean she tries them any less. Rosalie pretends to hate them.
(Charles, Royce, and infertility & infant loss references below.)
Both have named an imaginary kid after the other, they have never told each other this and they most likely never will reach the point where they disclose this to each other but it has been a constant in their dreams for decades. (Virginia Lilianne Cullen and Vera May McCarty respectively.)
Surprisingly they’ve stayed away from the kid discussion. They occasionally discuss an imaginary alternate universe or the hurt that lingers decades later. But it remains fairly surface level because it’s the one major topic they will never agree on and at this point they know to avoid the unnecessary pain. (Rosalie secretly resents the fact Esme got the life she herself always wanted. Esme tirelessly tries to point out that her human life sucked.)
Renesmee posed a huge roadblock in their relationship for a good chunk of time. It eventually triggered a few discussions/fights that needed to be had and the door for those difficult conversations is more open than it ever has been but they still choose to not discuss it most days.
Despite this Rosalie is the most conscious of the family about Esme’s son by far. Carlisle is terrified of dropping him into conversation, even if the conversation calls for it, and is more focused on never working on the anniversary of the boy’s passing than anything else, and that all stems from his own trauma around the day.
Meanwhile, Rosalie’s the one who makes a conscious effort to slip Esme a ‘Happy Birthday’ card every year. If they aren’t living together when the date rolls around it’s not unknown for her to just so happen to be in the area and stop by, even if Esme insists that she does not need to stop by. Rosalie is the one who casually says the boy’s name, who points at the new childcare trend and laughs “can you imagine,” who makes sure the forget-me-nots at every property are well tended to. It’s difficult but she can’t just push it under the rug.
Their relationship is a lot closer to sisters than anything. There’s some pretty heavy maternal notes but that’s just who Esme is, for Rosalie she’s the protective, slightly overbearing older sister versus a full-fledged mom.
At first Esme approached the situation from a maternal standpoint - a girl tragically losing her life in a way Esme herself was all too familiar with of course she would want to provide comfort and guidance. But Rosalie very much saw herself as an adult, she was about to start a family and life of her own; she simply did not need the same adoptive mother that Edward had desperately needed.
And, to be honest Esme didn’t “need” a daughter in the way she had needed a son when she first met Edward. Esme hadn’t truly interacted with another woman in over ten years; her purpose in life had been pretty well cemented as “Carlisle’s wife” and “Edward’s mom” for a decade. She had her hobbies and her individual interests but she was never her first priority, or second, or even third.
Rosalie hated both of those men for a myriad of reasons and resented the idea that Esme treated them like the center of the universe. This resentment grew stronger when she learned more about Esme & her life. She simply couldn’t get past the huge disconnect between the Esme she was told once existed, a woman who fled her husband and marketed herself as having a child out of wedlock and the Esme she saw, a woman who consistently prioritized her husband, and son, at the expense of her own well being.
At some point Rosalie truly saw Esme as a warped version of the woman she was supposed to grow up to be. (Young wife of an affluent and well respected man, perfect home family and appearances.) This was before they really knew each other but seeing someone so unhappy in a life she had envied as a human, because yes the Hales and Cullens bumped shoulders at least once, was a start to realize that dream wasn’t perfect for everyone and even if Carlisle hadn’t been there that night she would not be living a fantasy.
On the other hand Rosalie was the first person to point out to Esme how quick her life had changed, and made her consider if she actually liked these changes, and that it was genuinely alright to grieve these changes/missed opportunities.
While Carlisle and Edward were furious about the Charles situation for Esme rarely did they ever hold enough space to allow her to be angry for herself. Rosalie had no issue correcting this.
Esme didn’t really agree with Rosalie’s approach to the Royce situation, especially after dealing with the Edward-Charles situation less than two years prior. She knew that it wouldn’t solve the problem completely and that the choice to take his life would weigh heavily forever. She never tried to talk Rosalie out of it because she knew it wasn’t her choice, but she didn’t object when Carlisle first did. But once Rosalie had made up her mind Esme was behind her, she quietly offered to help but Rosalie denied.
The night of Royce’s death Esme not only bought Rosalie the wedding dress she helped with her hair and makeup. (Explored this a little when I first started writing fic earlier this year but it’s in desperate need of a revision after reading Midnight Sun & figuring out their voices a touch more.)
By the time the saga rolls around Rosalie has done a lot of the work she’s going to do. She’s still resentful and aggressive but she’s able to recognize how her experiences affect her. Esme, not so much.
All that to say Rosalie is the one providing comfort more often these days. Sometimes it’s a shoulder to cry on. Other days it’s Esme tossing Rosalie car keys and without a word both of them getting in the car and just driving. Other days it’s screaming country-pop break-up songs at the top of their lungs. Other times it’s destroying fine china because some days you just need to destroy the symbol of the woman you were raised to be.
Charles is still very much an unresolved issue with Carlisle, Edward, and Esme that the three of them opt to ignore most of the time. Rosalie on the other hand encourages an open dialogue, and after a few years knows more about what went on in that house than both Carlisle and Edward combined, simply because she asked. Which means Esme’s first call, on Charles related issues, is rarely anyone but Rosalie, much to Edward and Carlisle’s frustration/relief.
When Esme secretly bought Charles’ house in the 70’s it was Rosalie she took with her. When Edward simply refuses to stop picking fights about every single thing she says it’s Rosalie she mentions her discomfort to. When Carlisle does something particularly triggering her first instinct is typically to tell Rosalie, not Carlisle.
They are a two woman show, neither are particularly close with Alice. Through no one’s real fault it’s simply hard for Alice “I know I will get everything I want and no harm will come to me ever again, also I have absolutely no memory of my tragic past” Cullen to relate to them and vice versa. They do girls nights and they love each other and they truly enjoy each other’s company but it’s very much not a trio.
Esme often gets irritated by Rose’s constant cynicism and disregard for others and Rose often gets irritated at Esme’s lack of self respect, illogical kindness, and her absolute inability to stand up to people. Mainly Edward, especially when Rosalie is the one suffering from the brunt of Edward’s callousness.
Rose’s crudeness and often rudeness is rarely directed at Esme but there’s still days where it’s a harsh reminder of a life she once lived. Somewhat often the boundary “you’re not allowed to be mean to me for no reason” has to be drawn.
There’s a running gag in the family that Rosalie will be the getaway driver, or hitman, if Esme ever decides she wants out. It’s become more of a light-hearted joke over the years but the knowledge that someone will be behind her is weirdly affirming.
Rosalie and Carlisle now are close but it’s no secret that relationship is difficult. No matter how much she wanted to Esme never pushed them to get along. The first time she ever put her foot down in the “be nice to Carlisle” fight was when Rosalie began to insist on calling Carlisle only by ‘Esme’s second husband.’ Nowadays Esme lovingly refers to Emmett as Rosalie’s tenth husband, or whatever wedding number they’re on.
They have a decades long running debate about the ethicality of romance novels, and specifically the morality of bodice rippers. If they’re living apart, a mass market paperback will randomly arrive in the mail every few months with a quick note, ‘thought you’d enjoy this trash.’
They both generally veer away from true crime. Esme more than Rosalie. They’ll occasionally watch an episode of Forensic Files or throw on a podcast episode when they work together, but Emmett always secretly vets whatever the thing is. They got a particular kick out of a podcast episode that had a wack conspiracy theory about Royce&co’s murder being the product of Bonnie & Clyde. Although Rosalie got quite perturbed when a different podcast tried to connect her (unknowingly) to some of Edward’s killings.
I love the fanon theory that they donate largely to shelters and other dv causes but I think that work is done from a very large distance. They donate great sums sure but rarely, if ever, are they in the shelters, being a victim advocate, ect.
They do really well living apart, and nowadays prefer it. There’s always an adjustment period when the family all move back together. They’re great friends but very different people and thrive without constantly reminding the other of the worst moments of their lives.
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Levi x Reader: Drunk Love
WARNING: NSFW!!
Levi stood there, completely nude, in front of Erwin and Hanji as he covered his stuff while avoiding their gazes. His cheeks turning pink with his hair messy with fly-aways in every direction and his body covered in bites and hickeys. Erwin stood in Levi's living room, not amused, while Hanji was laughing until she was in tears.
"Sooo...you wanna tell me why you are...?" Erwin trailed off.
"I dunno....I-I...just woke up like this...."
"You were drinking last night, huh?" Erwin asked, more like stated.
"A little...." he mumbled, then clicked his tongue.
"Woooow Levi~!" Hanji laughed more.
"Shut up" Levi slightly growled as he tried to remember his actions last night.
~flashback~
Levi sat at a table in a bar with a few of his friends and co-workers, passing time and attempting to get away from the stress of work. Eren, who happened to be one of his best workers, offered him some food while drinking his drink. No sooner did another song start to play, a familiar woman entered the bar with Mikasa.
"I've never been in a bar.” Mikasa stated.
"We can't buy alcoholic beverages so we can just have water and some food. Give us some free time from all the work we've been asked to do." Y/n replied.
She nodded in agreement, looking around at her surroundings only to see the men at Levi's table looking towards them. Truth be told, Y/n and Mikasa worked in the same building as Levi, just on different floors. The two had met on a few occasions and even had small talk in the elevator whenever they were going to the same floor for meetings, but never actually got close to one another.
Levi glanced at the two as they came in and made a bit of a face. "I guess they're getting the same thing you are, Eren." He smirked behind his glass as he looked at Eren's drink suited for him being underaged. Eren pouted and gave somewhat of a glare towards his boss. "If you weren't my boss, and I wanted to not get fired, I'd slap you like I do Horse-face." He mumbled in his glass of apple juice.
"You sound like you're plenty drunk on apples," Levi stated as he set his glass down. "Now you finally have a chance to talk to that girl. I've seen you eyeing her at work." Hearing his comment, Eren did a spit-take with his drink; coughing and pounding his chest a bit. Once he got his breath back, he looked at Levi like he grew two heads.
"Are you insane or drunk?!" He slightly yelled in a whispered tone.
"I'm neither. You shout about being better at your job than The Titan Company down the road but you can't even talk to a girl."
"Yeah?! W-well what about the girl you stare at?! You seem like you stalk her!"
"The only time I even see her is on the elevator. Are you sure you aren't drinking beer?" Levi retorted.
"I'm underage to be drinking unless someone spiked it when I wasn't looking." Eren calmly stated as he took another drink.
"If no one did, they might need to so you can actually grow some balls for at least an hour and act like a man instead of a loud little kid."
Eren glared. "Shut the hell up....I do act mature. Just on some levels." He, then, turned away to stare at the ebony female with a slight blush on his slightly dark skin.
”Can you prove that?" Levi smirked at Eren's attitude.
"What did you say?" Eren growled, thinking his boss is picking a fight when he doesn't feel like throwing a punch while Mikasa is here.
"I said to prove that you aren't a child and go talk to her," Levi told him.
"Fine. I will." He suddenly stood up and walked towards the two sisters, feeling confident in his moves. Levi smirked as he watched, wanting to see how much of a train wreck it would turn into. But the minute Eren was only five steps away, he froze. His face turned a sheer scarlet red and felt his palms get sweaty. But what he didn't expect to happen, was that Mikasa noticed him and gave a small wave to him, making him lose his cool and speed-walking back to his seat before face planting the table. Mikasa flushed a faint pink but couldn't help to give a minuscule smirk from his failure to walk over.
"You’re a wuss" Levi muttered.
"Fuck you....." Eren mumbled against the table.
Levi smirked and took a sip of his whiskey before standing. "Let me show you how it's done," he stated as Eren groaned and watched him as he made his way towards the girls.
Levi walked over to the older of the two with a confident stride, the alcohol taking the edge off of his normal attitude. Y/n was too busy talking to Mikasa to notice him. Taking a french fry off her plate, she ate it and smiled as she was talking about her latest masterpiece for the company due to being in the advertising department. Mikasa mentioned a work project that’s due next week before looking over Y/n's shoulder to see the male.
"This seat taken?" Levi asked.
Y/n turned towards the voice of the male and her eyes widened. "M-Mr. Ackerman....! It's nice to see you again." She smiled softly at him.
"The same to you" he stated. "We don't see each other often. I thought we could talk."
"Of course! Come sit with me!" She smiled and patted the seat on the other side of her. He gladly sat, looking towards Eren and winking in success mainly to show off before talking to the two women. Eren growled and slammed his hands on the table and walked over once more before offering a hand at the grey-eyed female.
"May I sit with the beauty who I'm looking at~?" He asked with a smile.
Mikasa looked and blushed brightly at his words but nodded. “Sure."
With a small hum, Eren sat beside her before gently holding her waist to bring her closer to him. Her blush darkened, looking at her plate of food like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
Y/n eyed the boy, a little surprised at his actions before drinking her iced water, smirking behind her glass as she knew Mikasa has a crush on him. Levi rolled his eyes, ignoring Eren as he talked to Y/n, keeping up a conversation about her interests. About an hour later, Levi was not feeling like his usual self. His cheeks were flushed while his eyes were dilated, black pupils taking up more of his steel-blue corneas. Y/n had offered to take him home while Mikasa stayed with Eren since he's completely sober. After that, Mikasa waved as she left with the green-eyed boy.
He tried to refuse, saying he was fine but she insisted, eventually giving up as he slumped over the table. Y/n slung one of Levi's arms around her neck; the other around his waist while leading him outside. Digging in his back pocket for his wallet and keys, she pressed a button to activate its panic alarm. Upon hearing a frantic horn, she turned to her left to see the flashing lights of a sleek black Ford Mustang. After calming the automobile, she gently helped a drunk Levi into the passenger side before slipping herself behind the wheel. Y/n opened up his wallet and found a small piece of paper with his name and address written in beautiful cursive. Pulling up the GPS on her phone, she punched in his home address to help her navigate before revving up the engine and beginning to drive to him home.
Levi did his best to keep the alcohol's side effects from taking over, grinning as he remembered the feeling of her hand in his pocket but stayed quiet until they got to his house. Once Y/n had gotten him out of his car and into his house, after she had unlocked the door with his keys, she walked him to his room and placed him in bed. She gave a small huff from how heavy he is for a short man. As she tried to leave the room, Levi had grabbed her wrist to keep her in place.
"(Y/n)," he muttered.
"Levi. You're drunk. You need to rest." She said softly so as not to hurt his pounding head.
"Only if you rest with me." He said, not because of how many shots he’s had, but because he’s wanted her since the first day he saw her and this was the only way he could get himself to say it. Y/n smiled and pried his hand off her arm so she could help him get comfortable by stripping him of his clothes. Y/n flushed a scarlet red when he was now only in his briefs which held a proud tent.
He smirked a bit as he watched her. "You can look if you want"
"I-I rather not, thank you...." she stuttered before going to find him some bed clothes he could wear; giving him time to look over her body that was shown by the jeans and shirt she's wearing. Her hair pulled up into a ponytail and her feet dressed in regular tennis shoes. He blushed from more than the booze in his system as he looked over her, letting her help him dress before laying in the bed with him. Y/n covered him up along with herself and sighed softly as she turned her back to him so she can sleep since it's after midnight.
But with Levi still drunk, he couldn't go to sleep. No. He didn’t want to go to sleep. He had a beautiful woman in his bed and he wanted her to be his woman. No one else’s. Levi took advantage of his drunk state and suddenly rolled Y/n onto her back, pinning her to the bed. She blinked, shocked from his sudden actions.
"L-Levi....?" she stuttered.
"Y/n.....~” he purred in her ear while sliding his hands up her shirt, making her shiver at his cold slender hands on her heated skin. "Let me love you," he whispered before colliding her lips with his own, making her body stiffen. She soon felt intoxicated by his touch and kissed him back, craving for more as she entangled her fingers into his soft black hair as she moaned.
Levi kissed her deeply as his hands made their way to her breasts, feeling the soft flesh against his skin. Arching her back at the feeling, she pulled away from his lips for air but gasping the minute he latches his own to her sensitive neck. She moaned his name when he bit her neck then pulled back with a smirk. Y/n looked down to see that Levi had, somehow, stripped her bare naked without her noticing. Trailing kisses down her body, she moaned and ran her fingers through his hair again as she closed her legs when he got between them. He rubbed her thighs soothingly before kissing them to help her relax. Once he thought she was ready, Levi opened her legs and placed his head between them. His tongue slid along her folds before flicking at her clit. Her hips jolted upwards while her fingers tugged at his hair, giving loud lewd moans.
Levi smirked and started to go faster, making her squirm and squeal in complete ecstasy as he tasted every inch of her. He then sucked her bundle of nerves into his mouth as his tongue did wonders. Y/n panted as she arched her back off the bed while her head flew back into the pillows, desperately wanting to move away but his hands held her down in place as he ravished her more. His teeth gently grazed her clit, making her lose control of the volume of her moans as they got even louder before she finally released with a squeak. But Levi kept going, making her beg as he continued to drain her of every drop before pulling off with a small pop. A trembling Y/n laid there panting heavily as Levi licked her clean, sitting up to look down at the beautiful sight under him. Levi chuckled and laid beside her with his arm draped over her waist.
Y/n calmed down from her overstimulated high before she made the bold move to pin him to the bed instead. Levi looked up at her in slight shock from the sudden move before his breath started to hitch when she started to rub the bulge in his pants. She hummed and stripped him bare of any clothes before suddenly going down to suck his cock. Levi's hips bucked at the sudden pleasure of her hot mouth on him, panting as he felt her tongue do circles around the tip.
"(Y-Y/n)~" Levi moaned as he gripped the sheets. "Ngh...! I-I'm gonna....! Ah!" he gave a loud moan as he came in her mouth. Y/n swallowed it all, a little disappointed that he came that quick, and sat up before marking him in hickeys and love bites, loving the sounds that were coming from his mouth. After she was satisfied with her work, she straddled his hips before pushing herself onto him, making her gasp and him moan. When she felt comfortable, she bounced on him as her hands rested on his chest. Loud slapping noises of skin colliding and loud moans filled the room. Y/n decided to bounce faster and go all the way down, earning her a loud moan from Levi as he gripped her hips to help her keep steady.
Pretty soon they both hit their high and came together. Y/n collapsed onto Levi's chest, panting heavily as he held her close to him. Having to pull out, he laid both their bodies on the bed and pulled her to his chest after covering them both with the blanket and going to sleep.
~back to the present~
Y/n walked out of the bathroom only to see a naked Levi standing there, in front of his boss and co-worker as he tried to suppress his blush. Smirking, the said female walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and satisfied hum.
"Don't worry, Mr. Smith~. Levi was a good boy last night with all the moans I made him do~."
At that, Hanji ran out with Erwin on her tail, trying to suppress their nose bleeds while Levi was a blushing mess at the moment from her comment. Y/n laughed at his reaction and kissed him briefly before giving him a warm smile and going to make breakfast. Levi sighed as he went back to his room to get dressed.
'Maybe getting drunk wasn't so bad after all......'
#levi smut#levi ackerman x reader#captain levi#levi attack on titan#levi heichou#levi x reader#levi x you#shingeki no kyoujin levi#aot fanfiction#aot x you#levi ackerman#levi aot#aot#shingeki no kyojin#snk#levi x y/n#levi ackerman imagine#levi ackerman aot#levi ackerman x you#aot imagines#aot smut#aot anime#snk x you#snk x reader#snk fanfiction#snk x y/n
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Obsessive Hisoka Morow x Female Reader [He cannot hate you]
Constellation: Obsessive Hisoka Morow x Female Reader
Words I got: → Protective → Duality → Affection
Rating: Teen up and Audience
►► He is the devil with a sweet tooth,
And you are the candy on his tongue.
Get on your knees and ask him to choose
Nothing sweeter than you.
For sweetness doesn't last long. ◄◄
Hectically, you jerk your head from left to right, look around for other cars and take a breath when there are no others blocking the road. In the cold evening air, your legs carry you in hurried steps across the asphalt, to the other side of the pavement that should lead you through the houses of Yorknew. Further and further, until the hotel room is forever gone.
The breath on your lips rises in white clouds, bringing something wistful with it that you don't want to pay attention to. Still, you can't rid yourself of the thought in the back of your mind.
It's not too late to give up on your plan.
You could drag yourself back to the room you've been sharing with Hisoka for four days, put on something pretty and wait for the magician to return from his meeting. He'd tell you about his new plan, kiss you, and fuck your senses into no-man's land for half the night because you're his favourite toy.
That's the problem: you're just a doll that can be replaced.
He's never said that he loves you, even though you've been spending every spare minute together for six months. Hisoka took you on his journey and he hasn't let you out of his sight since.
You shower together, eat together, he kills anyone you exchange too many kind words with. It's as if he wants to shut you off from the world so that you belong to him alone.
But this obsessive nature of his is nothing but terror for you. Sometimes you long for freedom, which you know Hisoka will never give you. He would rather strangle to death with his own hands than see you go. His subliminal threats make that clear time and time again.
And tonight you are ready to die for your freedom.
A little more hastily, you hurry ahead, turn into a narrow alley and hear the echo of your footsteps rising up the stone walls. Each reverberation makes your skin seem colder under your soft woolen coat. The goosebumps don't subside, the shiver persists, and you can't help but believe that behind every shadow is a part of Hisoka. His intense gaze has made you paranoid.
Briefly, you shake your head. This time his eyes won't be able to pierce you. When Hisoka returns, the hotel room will be empty and you will be long gone – so far away from him, with a new name and a new life, that he won't find you. For three weeks you have been looking for someone who would save you and Hisoka from this relationship and you have indeed found someone who wants to fulfil all your wishes for a lot of money in exchange.
Your gaze wanders once briefly over your shoulder. Through the echo of your own flight, you can no longer perceive anything but your own movements. Hisoka could be walking right behind you and you wouldn't notice. The racing of your heart makes the blood rush in your ears and everything else inside you is so erratically tense that you don't know if your nerves can hold it all together.
Only when the alley ends and sends you between other streets to find safety, a tiny part of the fear falls away, still simmering underneath.
Across the street, at least fourteen cars have parked. This area of the city seems like a residential neighbourhood where men return to their loving wives. The husband old-fashioned in a suit while she wears an apron because dinner is boiling on the cooker. Docile women in the kitchen who have no time to look for other men. Probably that's exactly what Hisoka is longing for too. A woman who only has eyes for him. All day long. Without exception. Locked up like a bird in a cage.
Even though you never intended to replace him. Hisoka is the man who won your heart. A guy who goes through life strong and ruthless, but always takes great care to make sure you're okay.
Your steps slow down as you stop at the edge of the pavement. One of the vehicles is started, flashing its headlights three times. The sign that this is your getaway car. The man who will take you away. Away from Hisoka, whose arms have wrapped protectively around you more than once in the last six months. His warmth on your skin has always been comforting and even though you know he hates it when you talk to other men and he has left marks on your body as a safety for himself as a result, his company has always been loving. He has never hurt you unless you found sexual pleasure in it. He never raised his voice at you. Never did he try to lock you up. His only crimes are the threats that still jump through your senses and also the fact that he likes to corner and intimidate you.
On top of that, he messes with people for your sake who are more dangerous than one might think at first. Yes, you love him. But if you don't leave, he will either throw you away or he will be killed because of you. You are poison to each other, you can't explain it any other way.
Yet, you don't want to go. The fear in your heart has made room for sorrow and the desire to run back into his strong, protective arms is strong.
Swallowing dryly, you give yourself a push. You have no choice but to make the best decision for both of you. Your feet start moving again and you drag yourself along, reaching the car you're getting into. You find room in the back seat, the fabric of which clings to you strangely and uncomfortably as you take a shaky breath and look in the rearview mirror for a half-glimpse of your helper's round face.
“Are you ready, good lady?” His smoky voice scrapes through the atmosphere, merely making you nod before he finally starts the engine and drives off. Your heart sinks four floors deeper, smothered in grief and fear, both of which settle on too many things in your chest. Maybe you're making a mistake, but this relationship has no future.
You feel the car smoothly take the turns, hear the engine accelerate, sense every bump in your bones. You claw your sweaty hands into the upholstery as you reprimand yourself to rest with conscious inhales and exhales. It's over, you've escaped, given you both the freedom you deserve.
Yorknew's houses diminish for a moment, bringing trees and the parkland to the fore where you would have loved to have a romantic walk. But Hisoka doesn't think much of boring strolls. He likes sex. Togetherness where you are close to each other – all to yourselves, so that you can snuggle up to him and you just sit there. Amusement parks. Bungee gum. You.
The thought draws a sigh from you before the car makes a strange rattling sound, forcing the driver to stop. You halt at the side of the road, so you can't help but hold your breath.
“What was that?” you press out.
“If I saw right, I just accidentally drove over a marten,” the stranger returns to you, making you exhale because it's not a horror movie you're in after all. Then he gets out.
The open door, which he doesn't close, brightens up the inside of the vehicle, makes the outside world a little more unfriendly than it really is and forces you to get out too, because you can't find a quiet minute alone on this upholstery.
Slowly you push your way back into the cold of the darkness, glancing at the streetlights flickering conspiratorially before circling the car to check on your driver. But all you see in front of the bonnet is a trail of blood. Not a marten. No one. Probably he's just taking the dead animal away, burying it so the kids won't get spooked in the park the next day.
The cool air seems to bite down to your bones, numbing your skin as you count off two minutes. The restlessness keeps you looking around and for a moment you are willing to jump in the car and eagerly drive on. But your driver also has your new identity and all the other things that have been so painstakingly prepared. You can't leave without him. So you stroll a few steps towards the park. Just until the blackness seems to swallow everything, because the flickering streetlamps don't give enough light for more.
Tense, you cross your arms in front of your chest, bobbing up and down before gnawing fear begs for action. “Hello?”
Only silence returns to your question and you can't help but take a step over the dark threshold and venture further ahead to find your driver. Three, four feet ahead to the first tree closest to you. “What's wrong?”
Again you meet only silence, staggering a few more steps ahead and giving up in the same breath. A glance over your shoulder moves the car, which is already a few metres away from you, into a ghostly, almost lonely picture, apart from the other vehicles that pass by every now and then. No one seems to care about the abandoned automobile.
A little more annoyed, you take a breath, shake your head as something wet hits your cheek and you instantly look up because the sky didn't look like rain at all when you started running.
And it still doesn't.
Nevertheless, your heart stops for a beat.
Cold seems to consume you from within, makes you pull your coat tighter.
Up there, above you, fixed between branches, the lifeless eyes of the man who was supposed to help you escape stare back at you. His arms hang twisted above him and his legs are missing entirely. In the darkness, suffused with moonlight, you can only make out the bitter facts. And one of them is death.
“Do you like it?”
Instantly you suck in the air sharply, turning around in an instant only to catch sight of Hisoka. Leaning relaxed against a tree, he shuffles his cards as if nothing has happened. “I thought we had decided that you would wait in the hotel room. Where were you going with that man at such a late hour?”
His gaze lifts so that his amber eyes can look at you, while his features wait in a lack of enthusiasm for answers. You don't know if he's angry, but his expression seems to threaten you.
“I-I... I wanted to...” What do you want to say anyway? You don't know yourself what exactly you wanted other than to just get away from him for too many things that seem wrong. “Away.”
“Where to?”, Hisoka inquires, pushing himself off the trunk and coming closer. The cards disappear into the pockets of his white trousers in the same blink.
“Just... away,” you counter, unable to look at him any further because his eyes seem to look right down into your core.
“From me?” He pauses in front of you. “Why?”
Again your attention jerks to him and you hate the fact that he is wearing heels because it only makes him taller than he already is.
“You... are... constricting me.”
“Is that so?” The almost biting undertone in his voice is frightening. But you don't have time to think of what his next move might be as he grabs you by the chin and forces you to look at him very closely. His grip is so tight around your jawbone as he does so that you panic he might break it.
Then he leans towards you, breathes such a gentle kiss on your lips that, along with fear, terrible warmth rises up inside you. Your heart races wildly, but you don't know if it's the fear or the longing. Seeing him like this, knowing he is so close to you, is cruel because you love him, don't want to leave him, but don't want to see either of you die either.
The mere thought of losing him, or not being good enough anymore, knots your stomach as your vision blurs and the sobs in your throat quietly spill out.
Hisoka watches this rection, loosening his grip around your chin and running his thumb over your lips. A little like he wants more words from you. And you can't help but give them to him in a gush.
“I love you, Hisoka. I really do. But this can't work.” You have to swallow to keep from breaking into a raspy cough. “You lock me up like I'm your pet and you're messing with people who might kill you one day.” The first tear rolls down your cheeks unintentionally, making you wipe it away in frustration because you don't want to seem like an effeminate damsel in distress. “You're going to kill yourself because of me. And if not for that, then one day you'll just throw me away because you're not a man for life. And I'm afraid that by then I'll love you so much that I won't be able to stand it. So I was gonna let you go. And I can understand if you hate the decision, but isn't that the duality you love to talk about? Love and hate, both sides of the same coin? I-” Hisoka interrupts you as he takes your face in his hands and forcibly pulls you to him, far enough to force you onto your toes to press a kiss to your lips. A warm touch full of affection so gentle it takes your breath away.
Then he lets go of you, remains close in front, but his features are adorned with a friendly smile that makes him a little suspicious, while his hand caresses your cheek. As he does so, he brushes your lower eyelid, collecting another tear that was about to escape.
The tenderness he has for you irritates you so much that every one of your brain cells shuts down for a breath before Hisoka focuses on you again, piercing you with a blank stare. The atmosphere between you grows heavier.
“You think too much about nothingness, love.” His voice is so soft that it seems almost deadly at the same time. “And because you're like that, I'm going to let you get away with it for today.” He leans down to your ear, licks once over the shell with the tip of his tongue. “But if you run away again, I will kill you.”
“H-Hisoka...” You don't know what you can say to appease him. Nothing seems good enough. But Hisoka understands, straightening up to look at you again, putting on that playful smile he goes through life with. “Or I can put you in chains so I can have you with me for the rest of my life. Whichever option you like better.”
He tilts his head, looking at you with mockery and at the same time with a barely perceptible commitment so that you can feel the blush on your cheeks. On one hand, he's making a fool of you, on the other, he's conveying in his own unique way that he's sure he wants you for himself – forever.
He can't stay mad at you for long, can't even punish you for your terrible action, just takes you as you are, as if he has a weakness for all your stupid words and your troubled feelings.
And in those seconds you know that he loves you no less than you love him.
[Picture from a card collecting game]
[Want to give me kudos or a request? Check here!]
#Hunter X Hunter#hunter x 2011#hunter x reader#hunter x you#hisoka hxh#hisoka morow#hisoka x you#hisoka x reader#Female reader#reader insert#My writing#my Ao3 works#fanfiction#fanfic#love#obsessive#obsessed
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Day 6. Museum Date (TFA Optimus Prime)
I looked up actual museums in Detroit for this with some creative liberty since it's 50 years in the future.
It had been a while since Optimus and Carmen had been on a date. Most of them were actually just stay-at-home dates with them talking about their day, both too tired to deal with going to another location what with their full-time jobs as a protector of the city and employee of an influential company.
But it was time for a breath of fresh so Carmen planned out a date she thought they'd both enjoy.
"I'm glad Ratchet's holo form chip is working okay." She oogled the man in front of her with a stupid grin. Granted she would've done it in his original form regardless, but Optimus wanted to avoid any sort of attention from the public today.
"How do I look? I admit I don't understand human aesthetics that much." Optimus asked as he pulled at his letterman jacket. He was still tall compared to her but Carmen got on her toes to peck his cheek. "Handsome. Shall we?' She offered her hand for him to hold.
Fingers intertwined, they entered the museum building. It was an automobile museum but it had a few exhibits on the cultural significance of technology on Detroit's population. There was also a small cafe area and a resting garden with recycled parts to create statues.
"Professor Sumdac mentioned Detroit being an automobile city but I had no idea it had such embeddings in the commercial industry," Optimus said as they looked at some fancy vintage models. Carmen merely nodded her head.
"I only know of the 2 major companies. Ford and General Motors."
"Ford as in Henry Ford right?"
"Yes, he's credited as the father of the American automobile industry," Carmen said.
"What about General Motors?"
"I know nothing about the company, other than my dad's family being loyal employees and consumers." She admitted. Optimus looking over the GM exhibit.
"Well, I guess you get to learn something now."
------
"Oh, man!" Carmen stated loudly, startling Optimus. "I totally forgot about the T-model!" Optimus looked at her in confusion.
"The T-model?" He asked cautiously. It just earned him a mischievous smile.
"I want to see your reaction to the first car model sold and produced in Detroit." He eyed the human woman in suspicion now.
"You purposely waited to do this didn't you?" He only got a smile as she led Optimus to the area.
"I won't have much of a reaction. The other models were nice so I don't see how this one will be any different." He paused when he saw it, the old rinky-dink model that a family was posing with.
"This looks.....ancient.....and severely unsafe." He asked once the family left. Carmen just continued to grin as her boyfriend analyzed the old and clearly run-down model.
"It couldn't get far. You'd have to hand-crank the engine."
"Hand crank the engine?!" Carmen laughed at his astonishment, this was why she wanted to introduce the model to him. It must look significantly inferior to transport vehicles back on Cybertron. However, she was surprised that he looked impressed, if not still a bit thrown off.
"Still, it's impressive that humans made these advancements and you're still going." He commented before getting up from his kneeled position. "Anything else you've been hiding?" Carmen grinned.
"Nope. C'mon, let's take a look around some more."
#carmen#fofebruary#fofebruary2022#self ship#self insert#tf#transformers#tfa#transformers animated#tfa optimus#optimus prime
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