He's in love with the statue in a marble block
He's in love with the girl that time forgot.
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He's in love with the statue in a marble block
He's in love with the girl that time forgot.

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Oh wow yikes lance
Not yikes. He's fucking disgusting but what else can we expect from a billionaire nepo baby.
Lance Stroll is currently hooking up with an IDF Soldier and people are hating on Alex for *checks notes* posting a throwback???. //
wait why are they hating her ππ
but doesnβt surprise me most of these ppl are closet misogynists
Quite literally for posting a throwbackπ
Lance is screwing a raging Zio and someone who has probably murdered Palestinians, but Alexandra will get hate for posting 20 pictures. Priorities.......
Lance Stroll is currently hooking up with an IDF Soldier and people are hating on Alex for *checks notes* posting a throwback???.
He reads a book about self actualization and determining goals for ones self when he's 21 years old. It's a copy of some gratuitous self help book left behind by civilians long gone on the train out of their battle torn city. He doesn't really know why he picked it up other than curiosity.
Lance doesn't know what it's talking about. Finding ones self. Your true calling. Choosing a path. He shows it to one of his partners. A stocky man with the codename Panther. They laugh about it. Panther shakes his head, lights a cigarette and says, "Like there's a better path in life than shooting fuckers in the head."
His smile fades.
He hides the book in his bunk.
He tries to remember what he wanted before a gun was shoved in his hands. He doesn't think he had put much thought into it before. Dug at the bottom of his meagre belongings is an old, tattered notebook. He's careful with it. A poem is scrawled in neat script, the only thing of his mother remaining. Panther teases him when he catches Lance leafing through the yellow stained pages.
Hey look guys. Letters from your girlfriend?
No, Lance says forcing the words out in a rush. It's too much of an insult. His careful cadence stumbles on consonants, it was m-my m-mother's.
Panther utters a quiet little oh and then it was just a joke, man.
Not that Lance cares. He scribbles his own poorly written poems beside her old ones. At first they're clunky and confusing. Nothing at all like Shakespeare or Byron, Frost or Ginsberg, the poems he used to read before the gun. His collection grows until he needs a new notebook.
Sana brings out the best of his language. Words blossom under the sunshine of his infatuation, then his sunset soft loyalty and love. She is his muse and he paints her with poetry. He would follow her to the ends of the earth and says so one day when the two of them are alone in the twilight of a night shift.
It's cold on the deck as they lean into the banister. The helicopter pad is empty but he doesn't remember why. His head has been full of static. His temples pounding with a coming migraine. Sana toys with the rifle, watching the other guards at their posts through the sight.
Even if it's all the way to hell? She says.
Yes, he says. If only to drag to b-back.
She laughs as she sets her rifle back down. It's quiet out here. Of all the places he's ever been, it's not so bad. He could pretend this os his choice.
And then she looks up at him, her dark eyes like the midnight sky. He's never been in love before. Mikhail (Beetle) doesn't do attachments and Lance isn't sure he's really into men like that even though it felt good. He's never touched Sana's skin, he's never kissed her soft, full lips and he's not sure he's even dreamed of it, but it doesn't matter because he knows. He knows as much as he knows self determination is still a load of bullshit.
But maybe, maybe, it's not that farfetched when she says, let's get away from here.
Maybe it's her. Maybe hes wanted to hold a pen instead of a gun and write flowery prose about all the ways her smile births butterflies in his belly.
The last page in his second note took says I'm going somewhere I don't know. The path is untrodden, or hidden by overgrowth. It's lost its way. I make a new one out of my own footprints pressed deep into the dirt so someday someone else can follow and find their way. For now it is only I and a light at the distance, a tiny beacon of hope in a profound and deep darkness.

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His original codename was Snow Leopard. Sometimes he still uses the motif.
Due to gene experimentation and other research, Lance requires nano machines to slow down his body's deterioration. He requires an injection every 3 months for maintenance reasons.
They provide regular medication and ease symptoms during episodes of illness. This allows him to live a relatively normal life, even as his illness progresses.
I need to emphasize the fact that Lance is a soldier because life pushed him in that direction, not because he wants to be or takes easily to violence. In fact, it is the antithesis of his nature. He is a soft heart, quiet and kind man. He wouldn't hurt anyone or anything if given the option.
But he will kill and he will turn to violence to protect people or if that is what is specifically needed of him. Just because it does not come naturally to him or feels wrong doesn't mean he won't destroy himself out of obligation, duty or, most often, loyalty.