#hamilton voice: what is a legacy?

[justanintrovertedartist]

Watched the new defunctland video (a documentary, honestly) and its a literal love letter to the people in the background.

im just. man. longevity of the artist through his work.

sobbing in the best possible way

[marlasbreastlump]

this fucking thing is rapidly becoming my msot popular post yet.

was originally gonna color and post this for pride month but i lost the original file

[oofthwoods]

CHAPTER ONE! ── ˙ ̟ bring home the glory !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: "what is a legacy? it's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. i wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me". | a victorious journey always begins with a death and an offer.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: funerals, grief and death. if you don't feel comfortable with these themes, go straight to the part after 2023. you won't lose much, i promise! the second part is somehow based on right hand man from hamilton, don't ask about it. this is pretty much a prologue number two tbh, but i still hope you enjoy it.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 3.2k

⭠ previous masterlist next ‭→

2021

In the solemn setting of the cemetery, the sun hung in the sky, seemingly unaware of the grief below. Its golden rays contrasted sharply with the darkness consuming your soul, each beam of light piercing through the heavy clouds of sorrow. As tears streaked your face, the warmth of the sun felt out of place, a painful reminder of the world's indifference to your shattered heart.

Standing beside the graveside, you looked up to the sky, seeking solace in its vastness. But the heavens offered no comfort, no relief from the ache within. You wondered why the sky remained clear, why it didn't reflect the storm of emotions raging inside you. Its serene blue expanse seemed to mock your devastation, its unwavering indifference amplifying your pain.

Your mother and her siblings stood ahead, their shoulders bowed under the weight of grief, their sobs a haunting melody that echoed through the air. But you stood alone, isolated in your sorrow, drowning in memories that threatened to consume you whole.

Memories of your grandfather flooded your mind like a deluge, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love you had lost. His laughter, once a source of joy and comfort, now felt distant and painful, a cruel reminder of all that had been taken from you. His stories, his wisdom, his gentle touch — they all seemed like distant echoes of a life that was slipping further and further away with each passing moment.

You recalled his final moments, the frailty of his form, the sadness in his eyes as he whispered his last words to you. "Be proud of who you are," he had said, his voice barely a whisper, his breath brushing against your cheek. "And never forget where you come from. Your roots are your strength, my dear." His words had been a lifeline in the storm of your grief, a reminder of the legacy he had left behind, of the love that would endure long after he was gone.

As you stood beside his grave, the words offered little solace. They felt empty, a faint reminder of the warmth once found in his embrace. You longed to reach out to him, to feel the warmth of his touch one last time, to beg for just a moment more in his comforting presence. But he was gone, lost to you forever in a world that seemed infinitely colder and darker without him.

You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to fall freely as you whispered your silent goodbyes to him, each word a prayer for his eternal peace. But even as you spoke, you knew that no amount of tears could ever hope to fill the void he had left behind, that no words could ever hope to capture the depth of your loss.

As you stood there, lost in your grief, the soft sound of footsteps approached from behind. You turned to see your mother returning, her eyes red and swollen from tears, her expression etched with the same pain that weighed heavily on your own heart. For a moment, you simply stood there, sharing a silent understanding born from the depths of your shared sadness.

Without a word, she wrapped you in a gentle hug, her arms providing solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling around you. "I'm not sure I can go on without him, Mom," you murmured, your voice barely audible as you buried your face against her shoulder.

Her embrace tightened, her fingers gently combing through your hair. "I feel the same way, sweetheart. But we have to find strength, for his sake," she whispered softly, her words tinged with a mixture of sadness and determination.

As you leaned into her embrace, the weight of your grief seemed to press down upon you, threatening to crush you beneath its relentless force. Your mother's presence briefly brought comfort, like a delicate lifeline amidst the stormy sea of emotions swirling inside you.

"I miss him so much already," you confessed with your voice trembling. "It feels like a part of me is missing, like I'll never be whole again."

Her arms tightened around you, a silent reassurance that you were not alone. "I know, my love. I do too," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "He was the heart of our family, the glue that held us together."

A bittersweet silence fell between you, punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Memories of your grandfather danced through your mind like flickering candle flames, casting shadows of laughter and love against the walls of your grief-stricken heart.

"Do you think he's watching over us?" you asked quietly, your voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the evening.

Her hand stilled against your hair. "I'd like to think so," she replied, her voice wavering with uncertainty. "I'd like to believe that he's found peace, that he's somewhere out there, looking down on us with love in his heart."

Tears welled in your eyes as you imagined him, a silent guardian in the heavens above, watching over you with a warmth that transcended the boundaries of life and death. "I hope he knows how much we love him," you whispered, your words a fervent prayer whispered into the vast expanse of the sky.

"I'm sure he does, my dear," she murmured, her voice soft with tenderness. "And I know that wherever he is, he'll always be with us, guiding us through the darkness, lighting our way with the love that he left behind."

As your mother's words gently washed over you, a sudden movement caught your eye. In the corner of your vision, a flash of royal blue fluttered amidst the solemn surroundings. You blinked, momentarily startled, before fixing your gaze on the delicate creature that alighted on a nearby branch.

A small gasp escaped your lips as you beheld the bird, its feathers shimmering like fragments of the sky woven into living form. With a heart full of wonder, you watched as it stretched its wings, basking in the fading light of the evening sun.

"We can leave now, if you're ready, sweetheart." her mother murmured, delicately turning her daughter's face to meet her own. 

As your mother looked into your eyes, you could see the sadness reflecting in them, speaking volumes on its own. Although she softly hinted that you could go if you wished, it was evident that she longed for some respite from the weight of your mutual grief. Beneath her calm demeanor, you sensed her vulnerability, a silent plea to escape the overpowering sorrow surrounding you both. With a simple nod, you silently agreed.

With a mix of sadness and resolve, you followed your mother's lead, letting her guide you away from the graveside and back into the world. While you walked together, a quick look back caught your attention, drawing your eyes to the scene you were departing. And there, on top of the gravestone, sat the blue bird, its colorful feathers standing out against the solemn surroundings.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you watched the bird, a silent sentinel overlooking the final resting place of your beloved grandfather. He seemed to look at you, and, if birds could smile, you would swear he did.

2023

You find yourself standing outside a closed door, your hand hesitantly reaching out to lightly tap against the wood. The muffled voices from within only add to your uncertainty, but the urgency of speaking with the team principal before the Abu Dhabi sprint pushes you to take action. Whatever discussion awaits behind that door must be significant enough to pull you away from your pre-race meeting with the mechanics.

In the stillness of the hallway, time seems to stretch endlessly as you wait for a response that never comes. With a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins, you finally muster the courage to grasp the doorknob. Its cool metal provides a fleeting sense of reassurance as you turn it slowly, the hinges creaking softly in protest as the door swings open to reveal the dimly lit room beyond.

Inside, seated at a table, is Mr. Vowles, engrossed in conversation. Your presence at the threshold goes unnoticed for a moment until you gather your resolve and speak up, your voice barely above a whisper as you address him.

"Mr. Vowles, did you need to see me?" you venture, your words hanging in the air with a hint of uncertainty.

At the sound of your voice, James looks up, his expression softening into a welcoming smile.

"Williams, come in," he says, his warm tone instantly easing your nerves as he gestures for you to enter. "Have you met Sargeant?" he continues, motioning towards a figure standing nearby, their presence previously hidden in the shadows of the room.

As James mentions Logan, it's like a floodgate of memories bursting open, whisking you back to the time when you and Logan shared an unbreakable bond. You were inseparable, navigating the twists and turns of life at the academy with laughter, support, and a shared vision of the future.

But as the competition for a spot in Formula One heated up, your friendship began to strain. What started as friendly competition slowly morphed into something more complicated. The pressure mounted, and with it came a subtle shift in your relationship. Each race seemed to drive a wedge between you, rather than bringing you closer.

It was at the peak of your rivalry that things started to unravel. Every little disagreement or perceived slight seemed to fester, poisoning the once vibrant atmosphere between you. Despite your efforts to keep up appearances, there was an underlying tension that threatened to fracture your bond.

When Logan secured a seat at Williams while you remained in F2, a whirlwind of emotions swept over you. Of course, you were genuinely happy for him, but there was also a pang of envy and disappointment gnawing at your heart. It felt like a piece of your own dream slipping away, leaving you grappling with a sense of loss you couldn't quite shake.

And then, just when you thought things couldn't get any more complicated, James hinted at the possibility of you stepping into Logan's shoes. The idea of replacing your friend-turned-competitor added another layer of complexity to an already tangled web of emotions. It was a constant battle between your ambition and the fear of losing the one person who had been by your side through it all.

"Yes, sir," you respond, choosing a simple response. Logan's gaze meets yours, seeming to ignite with intensity. "We keep on meeting"

In a deliberate choice of silence, Logan sidestepped any engagement with you, his eyes fixed on the team leader instead. "As I was just saying," he began, his voice brimming with confidence, "I truly believe that with these adjustments, I can improve my control over the car."

James reciprocated Logan's smile, though his gaze hinted at a wandering mind. "Sargeant?" he interrupted, signaling a shift in focus to another pressing matter.

"Yes, sir?" Sergeant replied promptly, ready for further instructions.

"We'll talk about this later. Close the door on your way out," James commanded, his tone decisive, drawing their exchange to a close.

As Logan's footsteps faltered on his way out, a pang of unease settled in your chest. You couldn't shake the guilt that crept in, knowing your success might come at the cost of his dreams.

In the relentless world of Formula One, sentimentality was a luxury few could afford. You grappled with the harsh reality that success often meant sacrificing the dreams of others. It was a something you had grappled with since the beginning of your journey, one that forced you to confront the truth that in this fiercely competitive arena, there would always be someone waiting in the wings to take your place if you faltered.

As you redirected your focus towards James, the man who now held the reins of your family's team, you couldn't help but reflect on the rarity of such a moment. Conversations with him had been few and far between, a testament to the typical hierarchy within Formula One teams where direct interaction between a team leader and a junior driver, especially mere hours before a pivotal race, was uncommon.

“Have I done something wrong, sir?” You ventured, a tinge of uncertainty coloring your tone.

"Not at all, quite the opposite actually," James responded, rising from his seat and leaning casually against the table, his arms folded. "Your stats this season are impressive—seven wins, numerous podium finishes. You've got a bright future ahead of you. But here's the thing, every day I see offers come across my desk to buy out your contract, and frankly, I find it amusing."

"Uh, sorry, I'm not following," you admitted, furrowing your brow in confusion.

"Williams, why is it that no team seems to be able to snag you?" James clarified, a hint of curiosity lacing his words. "You're undeniably talented, but turning down offers from big names like Alpine and Alpha Tauri might not be the smartest move."

"To drive their tractor, or worse, become a reserve driver? I don't think so." you remarked with a disbelieving smirk.

"Think about it, a spot at Alpha Tauri could open doors at Red Bull down the line," James suggested, attempting to sway your perspective.

"Everyone knows they have their sights set on Daniel Ricciardo, or Liam Lawson at best" you countered, a note of frustration creeping into your voice. "I'm a bit lost here. Why are you laying all this out for me?" you questioned, a perplexed furrow creasing your brow. You knew full well the offers on the table and why you were declining them. James likely wasn't in the dark about your reasons either.

"I'm just being honest with you," He replied, his tone carrying a hint of earnestness. His hand reached up to rub his forehead, fingers tracing over the lines etched there as if seeking solace in the familiar. "We're on a tight budget," he explained, a touch of resignation in his voice. "We're short on engineers and mechanics compared to almost everyone else, except maybe Haas and Sauber. While we've made progress since last year, I can't promise our car will match up to the competition next season."

James lifted his gaze, fixing it upon you with a mixture of earnestness and concern. "I'm not one to squander talent. I know you've got your reasons for sticking with us, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to have you on board. But I can't move forward without ensuring you understand exactly what you're signing up for."

"I'm just asking for a shot, James. Just one chance to prove that we've still got what it takes," you implored, your words tinged with determination. Images of past triumphs flickered through your mind, a reminder of the team's glory days.

With a weary smile, James let out a soft sigh. "Seems like sheer tenacity runs in the family, huh?"

"They used to say I took after my grandmother," you remarked casually, a wistful grin playing on your lips.

Turning to the desk, the man retrieved a piece of paper from a drawer, his movements deliberate and measured. "What are the odds?"

You knew precisely what he was referring to. "Iwasa's already out of the running. If I take the sprint, I'll have enough points to clinch the championship."

Extending the contract towards you, James presented it as if unveiling a glimpse of what lay ahead. "Win this championship, and the seat is yours."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the anticipation that crackled between you. With the contract poised like a tantalizing promise, the room seemed to hold its breath.

You reached out tentatively, fingers hovering over the document that held the potential to shape your future. The paper felt crisp beneath your touch.

"I know it's a risk, trading one rookie for another" James conceded, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension. "But I believe in you, and I need someone who believes in this team."

A surge of determination coursed through your veins, bolstered by James's unwavering faith. "I won't let you down," you vowed, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her chest.

"TO TOP OFF AN INCREDIBLE SEASON, Y/N WILLIAMS WINS THE ABU DHABI SPRINT AND HAS ENOUGH POINTS TO CROWN HERSELF A CHAMPION." The narrator's voice reverberated through the sprawling circuit, amplifying the momentous declaration that crowned your achievement.

The roar of victory surged through the airwaves as your race engineer's voice erupted over the radio, a symphony of celebration. "You did it, Williams! Formula 2 champion, with one race to spare!"

Amidst the cacophony of cheers echoing from Rodin Carlin's garage, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, the weight of your accomplishment settling upon your shoulders like a mantle of triumph. Your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions, a torrent of exclamations, gratitude, and tears that threatened to overwhelm your senses.

As you gradually eased the car to a decelerating pace, you couldn't help but feel the swell of pride and disbelief wash over you. With trembling hands, you lifted them skyward in a gesture of reverence, a silent tribute to the one who had inspired you journey.

"This one's for you, grandpa," you murmured, your voice a whisper against the backdrop of roaring engines and jubilant cheers. "I hope you're proud up there."

Amidst the jubilant chaos enveloping the pit lane, your thoughts swirled like a tempestuous storm, each emotion vying for dominance in the tumult of your mind. As you joined in the exultant cheers of your team, a sense of disbelief mingled with elation, the reality of your victory sinking in with each heartbeat.

In the midst of the celebration, you couldn't help but steal a moment to glance towards the podium, where your destiny awaited. The anticipation pulsed within you, a heady mixture of excitement and nervous energy propelling youforward.

As you ascended to the highest step, each stride felt like a triumph, a testament to the countless hours of dedication and sacrifice that have led you to this pinnacle moment. Your mind hummed with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a kaleidoscope of memories and aspirations swirling in the depths of your consciousness.

The thunderous roar of the crowd enveloped you like a tidal wave, the sound of applause echoing in your ears as you stand upon the podium, bathed in the radiant glow of the spotlight. Your chest swells with pride, your heart beating in time with the pulsating energy of the spectators.

Locking eyes with James amidst the sea of faces, you feel a surge of excitement washing over you. There's a silent understanding that passes between you, a shared recognition of the journey you will embark upon together. In that fleeting moment, as your gazes meet, you know with a certainty that transcends words— you'll be signing that contract.

With a triumphant smile, you raise the championship trophy high above your head, the weight of your accomplishment buoyed by the unwavering support of your team and your unyielding belief in yourself.

And in the middle of the bustling paddock, a blue bird chirped happily, swooping towards the girl as she lifted the trophy high. It appeared as though he'd be sticking around a while longer.

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3 | italic means i couldn't tag you) :: @formulanni @clownrrari @leilanixx @notyouraveragemochii @alliwantisadonut @oooom4rie @watermelon-sugars-things @glitterquadricorn @minkyungseokie @formulaal @itsjustkhaos @thebearchives @hiireadstuff @laura-naruto-fan1998 @cptg00s3 @welovediaaxx @eugene-emt-roe @cha-hot

[authorxxxxxx]

Legends Are Made | Lewis Hamilton x Female Reader

Summary : 9 months after Ayrton Senna's fatal crash , Y/N Senna Da Silva was born in Rome , Italy and was defined by destiny carrying the same talent as her father's . At the very young age of 2 Y/N developed an interest upon her father's job and then entered the fascinating world of F1 . Growing up and moving from F3 to F2 her dream to bring back her father's legacy seemed to finally come true , when she joined the Mercedes AMG Petronas team , becoming the first woman on the F1 grid . What she did not expect was that she would fall in love with an 5 times world time F1 champion , Lewis Hamilton .

TW : Mentions and descriptions of Ayrton Senna's fatal crash from the autopsy , Max is super mean upon the reader ( Red Bull is an absolute shit in this ) , anxiety and panick attacks , a lot of angst(y feeling's ) , tears ( both of sadness and happiness ) , Ayrton visit's the reader ( I was crying when I wrote this ) , but extreme fluff towards the end .

This idea came up to me back in May 1 of this year , and while I was listening to the song above Legends Are Made by Sam Tinnesz , I could not help myself and think of all the things that could have happened if Ayrton had a daughter with the same talent . After 3 months working on this I finally finished it .

Just remember that English is not my first language , so if you spot any mistakes just bare with me . ( It is a tw on it's own ) .

PS : I do not usually pour my entire heart and soul on every imagine that I write , but I actually did in this one - and I am proud of it - I hope you like it . I was literally crying the whole time .

Edit : Still crying .

19k words - i got reallyy away with this one

______________________________________________________________

May , 1 1994 Imola , Italy - San Marino Grand Prix

Lap 7 . . . the  car left the racing line at Tamburello and ran in a straight line off the track and struck an unprotected concrete barrier .

He tried to brake down .

He really did .

The car hit the wall at a shallow angle, tearing off the right front wheel and nose cone with 211 km/h .

" Ayrton Senna crashed after the Tamburello corner and smashed with the barrier . Red Flag . The safety car is on it's way . We may need an ambulance for this . " The presenter said with an anxious tone in his voice .

Ayrton tried moving his head but the pain was insufferable .

After that he lost his vision and everything turned black .

" Ayrton Senna Da Silva , a truly staggering talent is dead at the age of 34 years old , after crashing his W16 on the concrete barrier . We lost without any doubt one of the best or maybe the best F1 racing driver." The same presenter said after a couple of hours after the incident .

Ayrton Senna Da Silva - your father - was dead .

_____

January 8th 1995 , Rome , Italy

It was a sunny but cold day when your mother gave birth to you .

Y/N Senna Da Silva . . . the one and only daughter of the F1 champion Ayrton Senna .

You did not know it yet but you would grow up without your dad .

Although you carried something very special within your heart .

His talent was passed over to you , something that your mother tried desperately to avoid .

At the young age of 2 , after watching for the first time a F1 race , one of your dad's , you could not help but wonder about all these fast cars that were racing in big circles .

You were amazed by the colors and the sounds of the engine's .

Your mother did everything in her power to keep you away from F1 and she thought she had succeeded , until one day when she picked you up from the Kindergarten you were crying and sniffling your nose.

When she asked you what happened the only answer you could give was more tears and the phrase " The other kids say that I don't have a dad , because he left me . "

That phrase still keeps you and your mother awake at night .

After that incident she decided to show you one of your father's races.

You loved it .

Little did she know that you had the same talent as your father and she could not keep you away from it .

After a couple of months , you entered the F1 worlds by going into karting .

_____

By the time you were 15 years old , you were able to perfectly drive a F3 car . Your coach said that it would be too easy for you to move from karting to F3 and then F2 .

" You are just like your father . " Your mother said to you on your first big crash .

You had a few big scratches but nothing that could stop you from raicing .

" What do you mean ? " You asked her back trying to convince your mother on telling you more .

After a few hours of you talking you found out more information about your father's tragic death .

" I saw it live on the TV . He was motionless . He had so many injuries ih his head . There was so much blood . You could see it from afar . Thereafter he did not move again . He called me before the race saying that he had a feeling , that something bad will happen to him."

" How ironic " She thought .

__________

' The resemblance is almost scary . ' You thought while you were looking at your debut photo , that the Mercedes AMG Petronas team had published .

It was 100 % sure that you were your father's daughter .

You had the exact same curls at the end of your hair , big honey color doe eyes , that cute little nose and those same full dark pink lips .

You even had the same stance .

Same fashion style . Heck even some clothes of his where now on your closet .

You were practically the same .

But you were not on the same F1 team .

While your father had the best time in McLaren , you joined the Mercedes AMG Petronas team in 2015 .

Being 25 years old you became the youngest amongst everyone , but what made it even worse is that you were the first woman on the F1 grid .

The night before your first public appearance you couldn't sleep .

You were worried and anxious .

Thinking about people's opinions made it even worse that it already was .

Getting up you decided to go to the kitchen at take those sleeping pills your doctor prescribed for you .

And before you knew it you entered the dream space - or so you thought .

" You know that you can not go on like this for long right ? " A man's voice spoke from your left side of the bed .

A voice you have heard before but can not pinpoint exactly where .

" This is not a dream Y/N you can answer me . "

Y/N .

He knows my name .

' I know his voice . ' You thought .

And then it hit you right in the face .

" Dad ? " You asked tears on your face while you where slowly turning to his direction .

He smiled .

He smiled to you .

Your dad smiled to you .

Suddenly you felt someone embracing you - a soft kiss on your forehead .

You hugged him back .

Your dad was here - hugging you and telling you he loves you .

" I am always with you , you are safe . " He told you .

By now you were crying uncontrollably .

" I love you so much Y/N . "

" Do not leave me alone dad . Please . " You begged him through sobs.

" Never Y/N . I love you ." He said to you one last time before you fell asleep .

And he was right .

He never left your side .

You woke up after 8 hours of sleeping , with his cross on your nightstand beside the photo you had of him .

You were safe .

__________

One year had passed since you first saw your father for the first time .

Everything was going great with the team - almost .

You and Lewis Hamilton were practically best friends by now .

' The best duo on the whole grid ' . Everyone said .

Fans going crazy on Twitter shiping both of you .

You had become great friends with Daniel Riccardo and Carlos Sainz.

You had a good relationship with Fernando Alonso and Perez although you did not talk much , but you respected each other .

You and Valtteri Bottas became buddy's through Tiffany and you had the best time pranking Lewis .

Sebastian Vettel was something else entirely .

He respected you and helped you in any way possible . Being the oldest one in the grid helping others with his own ways , made him the father of the grid .

The only one who did not speak to you was Verstappen .

Max Verstappen .

He looked at you with such hate .

Did not talk at you .

Even when you had to sit net to him in interviews he always switched seats with somebody else .

Atleast you were thankful that nothing ever happened .

__________

Two years had passed by .

The best two years of your life .

Your relationship with Lewis was stronger than before .

At least that's what you thought from your part .

You liked him .

Actually you liked him even more than a friend .

God you even loved him at this point .

But you desided to keep it to yourself , not wanting to mess up your frienship or even worse jeopardize your partnership .

Valtteri joined Mercedes and for once you though that they would ask you to transfer , but Toto Wolff would never do it . Especially after watching you getting close to Susie an having the best time babysitting their kids .

In the Brazilian GP of 2017 you finished first place earning the respect of Kimi Raikkonen and becoming close buddy's .

You were always sending food posts and memes in each other and you even died from laughter when you first watched Jackass while babysitting his kids .

Everything was going great until the Abu Dhabi GP .

Valtteri finished first , Lewis second , Sebastian third , Kimi fourth , you fifth and in the sixth place Max .

You had overtake him in last possible minute earning your place in your father's hometown - something that Max did not like at all and decided to make it show in the press conference later .

__________

" My name is Joseph from the F1 Magazine and my question is for Miss Y/N Senna . Y/N you were so good today and I am a 100 % that next year you will win the Championship . I can not help but wonder though and it is something that a lot of people are asking - today you came in the grid with some of your father's clothes . Is there a particular reason ? " He asked you .

" I actually do it all the time since some of his clothes fit me and I believe that he had the best style back then and since now Lewis has stolen that place I need to bring it back . " You answered smiling and making a little joke about Lewis that alot of people loved .

Especially him .

" That is great . My next question is for everyone and it is about what cars do you drive . Can we start with Mr . Vettel . " The interviewer asked with a smile .

" Well I have a Golf . " Carlos said and everybody laughed .

" And you Max ? " The guy asked him .

" I drive a Ferrari , not like someone else that drives a Golf or an almost 30 year old car . " Max said hating on Carlos and you .

You drove your father's famous red Honda NSX and actually own a really big percentage of the Honda NSX cars and you were extremely proud about it .

" Okay . See you on Twitter . " Carlos said know full well that Max is going to get so many new haters .

Sebastian was not proud , Kimi was laughing at Max's stupidity , Daniel was embarrassed and Lewis was furious .

" Y/N what do you have to say about this ? " The guy named Joseph asked you .

" First of all I agree with Carlos and second I am proud of driving such a car . Actually you can ask Mr. Mibe the CEO of Honda and he can assure you that my 30 year old Honda's are far more better that just a plain Ferrari . Thank you . " You answered making everyone in the room speechless .

" Well I totally agree . " Sebastian said laughing .

" She owns the division of the Honda Acura , she can buy all the Ferrari's he owns and plenty more . " Kimi said making everyone speechless again .

Carlos was right , because Twitter was going wild after the press conference was published .

__________

To say that you were mentally drained was a statement .

You were currently crying your eyes out .

Lewis and his dog Roscoe were on your side .

" I just wished the season didn't end like this . " You said while Lewis was hugging you .

" It's okay silly , everyone is on your side . Look even Kimi talked after a really long time . " Lewis said and you both laughed .

Suddenly you were both looking at each other in the eyes and before you noticed it Lewis had capped your face in his palms and pressed his lips at you .

You were so shocked that you did not realize that you had not kissed him back .

Your unresponsiveness made him believe that he was getting wrong .

'' I am so sorry Y/N I kno that you did- " Lewis said but you interupted him .

" Why did you stop ? " You asked him making him froze in his tracks .

It is safe to say that he kissed you back again something that went on about hours and hours on end until Roscoe got jealous of it and started to bark in your faces .

You stayed in Lewis hands for a while , until a scared Toto stormed inside the room .

" Next GP ? Imola , San Marino circuit . " He announced for both of you to hear , but was looking directly at you .

Imola , San Marino - where your father had lost his life .

__________

May , 1 2018 Imola , Italy - San Marino Grand Prix

"Today's atmosphere is heavy . We are in San Marino , Imola circuit where Ayrton Senna lost his life . Now we are waiting for the race to start as we have Y/N Senna Da Silva driving for the Mercedes AMG Petronas team . Toto Wolff specifically asked for the press to not be outside of the Mercedes pit . Y/N is already anxious and worried enough . We hope and pray for the best . In my opinion she is the best driver of this generation . " The same presenter that witnessed your father's death , spoke about you .

' 5 minutes till the race start's ' . You said to yourself .

You were inside your car , wearing your father's famous yellow helmet, his cross on your neck inside of your clothes .

Lewis had begged you not to do it .

Daniel and Carlos were totally afraid .

Kimi had retired .

Sebastian knew that it was dangerous but you wouldn't badge .

Your boyfriend - Lewis - was looking at you , pleading you with his eyes from his car to not do it .

Valtteri did not intervene .

You started from P4 , Sebastian in P3 , Valtteri in P2 and Lewis in P1 .

And the race started .

__________

You don't know how many laps you had done , you weren't counting them .

Everytime you approached the Tamburello racing line until you pass it , your heart was dropping on your stomach , you had trouble breathing .

You were thinking of him .

You thinking about your father .

Your mind was your enemy at this point telling you to 'look at the corner' .

You heart your companion was telling you 'do not look at the corner' .

'What if I lose control of the car and smash into the barier ? '

' What if I die ? '

' Mom is going to be devastated . '

'Lewis . . . oh my Lewis . . . '

' What if ? '

But despite your heart telling you to not look at the corner near the racin line in Tamburello , you did it and what you saw made everything stop .

__________

It is like you were watching the scene unfold it's self from afar .

You were back in 1994 .

Your car was on the other side of the road parked - you standing at the side of it .

Suddenly your father's car ran off the track and was struck an unprotected concrete barrier at 211km/h .

You could hear everything .

You could see everything .

You could smell everything .

Blood -

Your father's blood -

Tears streamed on your face like falls , your hands trembling while you were running to your father to save him .

But Death was far more powerful .

Before you could go and grab him , a hand engulfed your right wrist .

Your dad was standing besides you - his unconscious body still inside the car .

You started panicking , blindness covering your eyes - head dizzy .

" Y/N breath for me come on honey listen to me . " Your dad instructed you .

Trying to concentrate on your father's voice , you did not see his body getting lift out ofthe car , bones broken , blood everywhere .

After a while your father took you back to the side of your car , watching himself being lifted into a helicopter .

" What was the last thing you felt ? " You asked him .

" The taste of blood in my mouth and pain . " He answered calmly .

" I love you dad . " You said to him and hugged him again searching for his embrace .

You cried again .

" I love you too . Stop unsettling your mind with uneasy thoughts and go finish that race . Okay champion ? " Your father said to you before placing a soft kiss on your forehead .

Suddenly you were inside you car racing at 211km/h passing the Tamburello racing line - with your father's voice saying that he loves you watching him with tears in your eyes waiving at you from the corner .

__________

" AND Y/N SENNA DA SILVA IS THE WINNER OF THE IMOLA GRAND PRIX AND THE F1 WORLD CHAMPION OF 2018 " . The presenter scream in his microphone when your car overtook Sebastian's and finished in 1st place .

Your team was screaming , but all you could see and hear was your father saying ' I love you ' and ' I am so proud of you ' .

Only when Lewis hand landed on your shoulder you looked up - at him with tears in your red eyed from crying .

He helped you to get out of your car , took of your helmet and your balaclava , staring at you .

He grabbed your face - " What happened love ? " He asked you .

" I saw everything Lewis . I saw my dad . "

__________

You were currently standing with the Brazilisn flag on your shoulders , trophy on your hands , closed eys and head looking up , while everyone - even the fans - were all silent .

After you rised for your national anthem you asked for a minute of silence for your father .

The wind was blowing - and when something made you shiver but feel safe at the same time - you knew that your father was sitting besides you .

After one minute tears of happiness fell from your eyes .

__________

2023

You are now 28 years old , married with Lewis from 2019 with one beautiful baby boy .

You were still racing .

But today was a special day .

It was your son's birtand he was turning 3 years old .

You've desided with Lewis to go and wake him up , since you've prepared his favourite breakfast and after you would let him open his gifts .

" Goodmorning Ayrton Happy Birthday honey " You both said to your son to wake him up .

Mom's and Dad's and Thank you's could be heard all over the apartment as your son was driving his toy car around the house while holding a cookie .

Chocolate was plastered all over his face .

You were both happy smiling at him .

And then suddenly you heard your son screaming in the leaving room-

" I woak up in a new Ferrari . "

" I swear I am going to kill Carlos and Charles the moment I see them." Lewis said to you while you were uncontrollably laughing .

--------------------

@unimportantbabymilksharkte

@k----a27s

[saintslewis]

❝ it’s the soul that needs a surgery ❞

pairing: lewis hamilton x black!fem reader

summary: you’ve never felt a shared pain worse than what Abu Dhabi have given you and Lewis.

warnings: this entire drabble is based on AD21, cuss words, lots of crying, mean words said by mean people, slight…everything atp.

saint’s notes: feeling a bit sad after watching a Lewis edit where he still smiles even after AD21 and still stays positive and that just breaks my heart so i’ve decided to break yours 🫵🏽

taglist: @thisismeracing (thank you love), @flowerchild-96 (for your kindness)

-

The heat in Jeddah was unbearable and everyone seemed to be affected by it but chose to continue with whatever they were busy. As media followed you to the buzzing Mercedes garage, you took out your phone to inform your husband that you’ve arrived and will be waiting for him with Angela.

Your confidence had reached an all time high from the moment you landed in Abu Dhabi. It was a day of the champion spirit to float around the Hamilton household once again, a day for Lewis to win his 8th World Championship and for him to continue his legacy as the greatest driver that Formula One has ever seen. You refused to think anything negative about this race but something in the back of your head kept itching to argue your positive feelings about it. He had hyped himself up for today and you joined him, knowing that everything would go well.

Spotting your father in law, Anthony, standing outside the garage made you sigh of relief, knowing you could safely offload your thoughts to someone who most likely had the same thoughts as you in concern for your husband. “Hey Anthony.” You greeted as you walked up to him with his arms ready to envelop you in a hug. “Y/n! How are you feeling? It’s quite hot here, isn’t it?” He commented, looking over at the busy pit lane.

“I’m feeling confident. Surprised there’s no ice cream station around.” You joked and he flashed a smile. “Oh, there is, in the paddock club. Made sure to check for you.” Anthony smiled and you could only flash a smile back. “Hey, don’t stress about it, Y/n. Everything will be okay, even if he doesn’t get it and that’s a very big if.” He assured and you took a breath in, not wanting to seem negative. “The Red Bull’s are the ones stressing me because they’re just everywhere but like you said, I shouldn’t stress. Now, would you like some ice cream?” You asked and he nodded. “Need a little pick me up. I’ll be here when you get back.” Anthony responded and walked back into the garage.

By the time you had arrived to the paddock, it had been quite full so it was clear that the paddock club would be as full with many different people from all around the world. You waved to whoever seemed to want your attention, stopping to take pictures with fans or sign autographs all while having your airpods in, a habit you gladly took from Lewis. You knew people would talk about you, what you’re wearing, what you say and being quiet, just like your husband, has helped you a ton in terms of not taking your words out of context. Did SkySports F1 always have close ups of you during races just to see your reaction to anything? Yes but you never engaged unless it was to a smile or a wink to the camera.

Entering the paddock club with two of your security personnel, your long blonde braids swiftly followed behind you and it caught the attention of many, especially a woman who never really liked you or your husband. “Oh my! Y/n! Hi!” The shrill voice behind you had exclaimed to you, hearing their heeled footsteps come close to you. “Kelly, hello.” You smiled but anyone around you could see that the smile never reached your eyes. “Just came over to see your hair and wow, what a statement!” She giggled and she reached her hand out and inched her hand closer and closer to your braids but you moved away as quickly as you could. “Always have something to say.” You muttered to yourself as you turned towards the makeshift ice cream parlour.

“Also wanted to say good luck for today with Red Bull and Mercedes being head to head, y’know? Speaking of your hair, I saw a couple of hair ties that reminded of the two of you-”

“Okay Kelly! Just…stop commenting on our hair, our jewellery or just anything that involves my husband and I.” You sighed out. The look on her face was of shock and disbelief that you would even dare to speak up to her. You flicked your braids behind you and grabbed the two cups of ice cream after paying. Walking out of there in a quick pace, you kept your face neutral and made your way to the Mercedes garage with no one bothering you.

Giving Anthony his ice cream up in a hurry, he observed your face and immediately directed you to where Lewis was, his drivers room. Knocking on his door, you heard a ‘come in’ and entered, seeing him seated with his race suit around his waist and his airpods in just like you. He faced you and his face lit up at the sight of you. “Hey, love. You look so beautiful.” He complimented you and you smiled but it didn’t quite reach your eyes once again. “Let me guess. Someone criticising your looks?” He guessed and you could only nod at him before crashing into his chest and him hugging you right back, feeling the warmth of him envelop you.

“It’s not even about that because people always have something to say. It’s a specific sloth’s girlfriend that’s pissing me off.” Lewis squeezed you within the hug. “Don’t call him that.” You could hear the laugh creeping up but he chose not to. “It’s not me, it’s the internet. She tried to touch my hair then said some shit about hair ties and you know I could beat a bitch up and then she was on some “good luck” type shit-”

“Y/n.” Lewis called out and held your face in your hands. “They want you to stoop down to their level then drag your name all over. Everything will be fine, especially today. As long as I have you and my family beside, I already feel like I have won.” He smiled and gave you a peck before looking into your eyes. “You’re so corny but so sweet, Sir.” You said, fluttering your eyelashes at him and he chuckled while looking to the side.

“You are a dangerous woman, Mrs Hamilton.”

-

The silence around the Mercedes garage was unsettling once the drivers got to the last two laps of the race. Lewis and Max were head to head with the Red Bull going suspiciously faster. You stood next to Toto and Anthony, tearing your eyes away from the screen to look at the person who’s eyes were piercing into you. There were multiple cameras around you so you couldn’t see clearly at whoever was staring at you. Looking back at the screen, all your hope poured out to Lewis, praying to whoever was listening that he should win.

Your heart seemed to stop at the very moment the world saw Verstappen cross the finish line and hearing the cheers of the Red Bull garage not too far from you. A few groans spewed out of a few engineers as they began to get ready for Lewis to come back after the podium celebration. It seemed as if the cameras came close to you as a single tear slipped out of your left eye, face stoic as ever. You blocked out everything that happened around you. Toto becoming angry, Anthony urging you to come with him to see Lewis, your phone continuously buzzing but all you could do was stare at the screen as you watched Lewis park the car and his helmet dropped down as you saw people cheering behind his car.

Your throat felt closed up and goosebumps run through your body. You felt nauseous but chose to keep it down, knowing you would not be able to even breathe when you see him. You walked out of the garage only to see other drivers coming out of their garages and Lando and Sebastian walking towards the Mercedes garage, mainly towards you.

“Seb..” You muttered out and you could see the pity coming from them but they were trying to make it not seem like they were pitying you. “I’ll talk to you guys later.” You uttered as you waved them off in shock, walking towards the podium celebrations where Lewis’ face was on the screen and you tried your level best to keep it in.

Eventually standing with Anthony at the entrance of the garage, there he was, walking towards the two of you. Lewis hugged his father first whilst giving him encouraging words and you see a few tears escape his eyes and that broke you. Your own tears started to fall and Lewis could hear you despite all the noise. He looked at you once and brought you to his chest for you to sob all your feelings out.

“I’m so sorry.” You cried and he just held you, your arms around his waist. “Everything will be fine, princess. I’ll be okay.” He said as he helped you calm down, rubbing your back. You lifted your head off his chest and looked up into his sad, beautiful eyes. “I love you so much. You’re a champion to me.” You tried to smile at him and he kissed your forehead.

“I love you so much more.” He said, not caring about the world seeing you console each other.

present day

Your sunglasses were perched on your nose as you leaned onto the railing of the Mercedes hospitality in Austria. The race was going terrible for the drivers who weren’t Max Verstappen. Penalties were being handed out left right and centre and it wasn’t a pleasant sight. An hour after the race, you watched how Lewis and Lando interacted in the media pen and how there was no bad blood between them.

“It always shocks me when you and Lewis still keep a positive energy around you even when it feels like the worlds against you.” You heard Susie’s voice as she walked up behind you. “As Selena Gomez said, you kill them with kindness. Us being positive makes people really mad on the internet but everything will work out soon.” You smiled to her as you took off your shades and put them in your handbag.

“And he will get his 8th World Championship title very soon, i can feel it.” You added with a wink which made Susie smile and you looked back at Lewis on the screen to see with a big smile as he bid goodbye to the interviewer.

[sunny44]

Old vs new

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x daughter

Warnings: none, just fluff

Summary: When Lewis is bored in his house and decide to do a instagram live with his daughter.

This is a request

It was a sunny afternoon and I was bored in the house, my wife was with her sister and I was at our house with my daughter who was doing something in her room and then I had the idea of doing an Instagram live witch is something I usually don’t do but since the fans lives Ava I thought it was a good ideia.

I called Ava saying to meet me in my trophies room and when I press the button to start the live, Ava entered the room and she sit in my lap and we immediately created a buzz as fans tuned in to witness our live.

"Hey everyone, I've got a very special lady here with me today," I said to the phone and Ava smiled and waved at everyone. "As you guys already now this is my daughter Ava. And she’s already in go kart to be the next Hamilton.”

Mia giggled, her eyes lighting up as she playfully jabbed, "Yeah, Dad, you're not as fast as you used to be. You're like, ancient in F1 years!"

The comment sparked laughter from Lewis and his audience. "Ancient, huh?" he responded, feigning shock. "Well, I might not be as young as I was when I started, but I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve!"

Ava’s eyes twinkled mischievously. "Oh, I've seen your tricks, Dad. I've also seen your old races on TV. Vintage stuff!"

The banter continued as they reminisced about Lewis's early days in racing. He recounted stories of his breakthrough races, while Mia giggled at the outdated racing gear he used to wear. "Hey, don't laugh too hard! Those suits were cutting-edge back then," Lewis protested, feigning offense.

Mia, her voice dripping with mock seriousness, quipped, "Yeah, sure they were, Dad. Just like those ancient cell phones you used!"

The playful teasing exchanged between father and daughter endeared them to their audience even more. Amidst the jokes, Lewis shared the valuable lessons he learned from his journey – the hard work, dedication, and resilience that drove him to become a champion.

"You know, Ava" Lewis began with a thoughtful expression, "racing isn't just about speed and trophies. It's about determination and pushing yourself beyond your limits. That's something you'll need to remember when you're the next Hamilton in F1."

Mia's eyes gleamed as she leaned closer to the camera. "Oh, I'll remember, Dad. And when I'm on that track, I'll make sure to remind everyone that the Hamilton legacy continues!"

Their connection was a beautiful blend of admiration and camaraderie. As the conversation flowed, Lewis turned the tables on Ava. "You know what, Ava? I think it's time for a challenge. How about we have a karting race this weekend? Old vs new!"

Ava's face lit up, excitement radiating from her. "You're on, Dad! Just remember, I've been practicing!"

As the live session drew to a close, Lewis shared his pride in his daughter's aspirations. "I'm not just her father, but also her biggest fan. If she chooses to step into the world of racing, I'll be there every step of the way."

The Instagram Live ended with promises of the upcoming karting showdown and a grateful farewell to the fans. Lewis and Ava had not only shared their love for racing but had given the world a glimpse into the genuine bond they shared – a bond that would undoubtedly continue to flourish as the next generation of the Hamilton legacy began to unfold.

[capybaracorn]

‘We won’t stop’: How Columbia’s students etched a new Gaza protest legacy

Inside a movement that took over a university building and lost its encampment within 24 hours – yet refuses to die.

New York, United States — At about 10pm on Monday, April 29, I thought I would call it a night.

My student journalist colleagues and I had stayed late into the night on Columbia University’s campus the previous couple of days, reporting on a story that had grabbed the world’s attention: the pro-Palestine protests and encampment that had inspired similar campaigns in schools across the United States and globally.

As I slung my camera bag on my back and began to leave campus, walking by the camp, I got a tip from a passing protester: “I would stick around till about midnight,” they said. “Maybe go home first, though.”

Got it. I went home to charge backup camera batteries and grab spare memory cards before leaving for campus again.

Back at Columbia, it appeared that more than one of us had gotten the tip. Crowds of student journalists, all of us with matching paper badges and blue tape on our clothes, waited next to the encampment for whatever was to come. Our journalism faculty stood by our side, as they had been doing throughout.

Protesters grouped into “platoons”, and while we didn’t know what to expect, we kept eyes on different corners.

We split up to make sure different spots were covered; a few of us stuck by Pulitzer Hall, the home of Columbia Journalism School, where a small number of protesters had convened, while some others stood ready with cameras and recorders by the encampment.

That is when it all began. Campers began walking their tents off the lawn. One group began chanting. Another at the opposite end of the lawn sang protest hymns. I was with a small cohort of journalists who followed the tents to another small lawn, a clever decoy – whether intended or not – that meant many of us missed the moment, at the opposite end of campus, when protesters entered Hamilton Hall.

By the time we had run over, tens of student protesters had gathered to link arms outside the building, which their predecessors had taken over in 1968 to protest against the Vietnam War, and in 1985 to demand that Columbia divest from firms tied to apartheid South Africa.

Two of my colleagues were in the middle of the scrum, up against the doors watching two counter-protesters attempt to stop the occupation before being pushed out. Protesters rushed metal picnic tables, wooden chairs, trash cans, and planters to the doors where they were zip-tied together, effectively forming a barricade.

Two masked individuals appeared from a second-floor balcony to cheers and applause. They unfurled a hand-painted sign, “Hind’s Hall”, a reference to the six-year-old Palestinian girl who was killed with her family in their car in January as they tried to escape Israel’s military assault in Gaza.

That night, I fell asleep on the floor of a sixth-storey classroom in Pulitzer Hall to the echoes of song, one lone voice amplified through a megaphone, coming from Hamilton Hall: “This joy that I have, the world didn’t give it to me … the world can’t take it away.”

Student protesters playing music at the Columbia University encampment in New York City [Yasmeen Altaji/Al Jazeera]

The final offer

The morning before had felt very different. Columbia University’s South Lawn was packed, and the little protest village in the heart of the campus – dozens of tents and tarps comprising the “Gaza solidarity encampment” – was bustling with life, two weeks since its erection.

The protest is rooted in a decades-long movement for Palestinian rights in their homeland, and to hold Israel accountable for its illegal occupation of Palestinian territories. The current campaign against Israel’s war on Gaza – in which more than 34,000 people have been killed – also aims to pressure Columbia to divest from Israel-linked companies, just as the university did in the case of apartheid South Africa after similar protests four decades ago.

In my time covering the protest, the sounds at the encampment varied. Some days, you could hear the (Islamic) adhan, or the chants of (Jewish) Passover prayer. Or the sounds of the dumbek (drum) and sharp violins echoing microtonal hymns of Palestinian folk music and classical Andalusian muwashshah. Speakers amplified the melodies of iconic musicians like Abdel Halim Hafez and Fairuz.

Protesters shared donated hot meals – pizzas and samosas, bagels and eggs, sacks of mandarins and tubs of crackers, muffins and cookies spread on a tarp aptly called the “cornucopia”.

One camper had set up a makeshift nail parlour, painting red, white, black and green manicures matching the Palestinian flag. Cardboard “street signs” named the tight spaces between rows of tents “Walid Daqqa Road”, after the Palestinian novelist and activist who died of cancer in April, while in Israeli custody.

In the lawn’s centre, organisers routinely updated a whiteboard to reflect the day’s programmed activities: Dhuhr prayer and Shabbat dinner, with jazz in the mix, too.

In a corner of the lawn near the main campus walk, an “art guild” was buzzing with protesters painting signs, drawing patterns of the keffiyeh, decorating and personalising tent spaces.

But that Monday, campers received a final offer from the university administration under President Nemat “Minouche” Shafik: evacuate now, and evade suspension. Campers defied the order.

And by Monday night, the morning’s bustle had died down to a hum, then a whisper, before the eruption that culminated in the takeover of Hamilton Hall. At the encampment site, the zipper flap doors of empty tents billowed in the breeze. Blankets lay crumpled beside pillows still dented from a nap; a sole LED lantern left lit on the ground, a paintbrush crusted with dried red and green acrylic lay stuck on a paper plate.

It’s a community that student journalists like myself at the Columbia Journalism School had closely observed for days at a stretch, unlike the “outside media” who were only allowed on to campus in daily two-hour windows since the encampment went up. Joining us were undergraduate peers at student publications including WKCR and the Columbia Daily Spectator.

A community that, through the intensifying attention on its members, had been trying to emphasise that they weren’t the story. Signs planted across the lawn read: “All eyes on Gaza.”

But in the 24 hours that would follow, the world’s gaze on Columbia would only sharpen.

Students were trapped inside the entrance vestibule at John Jay Hall in Columbia University in New York on Tuesday, April 30, 2023 [Yasmeen Altaji/Al Jazeera]

The raid

Tuesday morning started eerily quiet. The camp was empty, save for a few protesters, and Hamilton Hall was sleepy, the only movement coming from a banner reading “INTIFADA” hanging off the side of the building.

Just a few days prior, far before the occupation of Hamilton Hall, the Columbia administration had sent a notice arguing that “to bring back the NYPD at this time would be counterproductive, further inflaming what is happening on campus, and drawing thousands to our doorstep who would threaten our community”.

The note was met with mistrust by protesters: After all, the university had already called the police to campus for the first time in more than 50 years in April to try to clear the encampment. More than 100 students had been arrested.

Instead, I heard organisers advise campers to pack their belongings in trash bags and write phone numbers on their arms in case of arrest.

By Tuesday night, their apprehension would turn into reality. The NYPD entered Columbia’s campus shortly after 9pm on Tuesday (01:00 GMT on Wednesday).

Students linked arms and sang together in anticipation before the harmonies of “We shall not be moved” merged with the march of hundreds of police officers making their way, in formation, to Hamilton Hall.

Calls through long-range acoustic devices (LRAD) to disperse or face arrest, echoed across the campus square, all the time weaving in and out of the floating tunes of the protest hymns, earworms that anyone who’d been on campus had likely come to memorise.

Protesters outside of Hamilton braced for arrest. But officers turned away from them upon arrival, and instead turned towards us – onlookers and press.

Officers instructed us to vacate the area. We walked backwards to get everything on video. “It’s easier if you face forward,” one officer said. “Turn around so you don’t fall,” another yelled repeatedly in a collective command. “Time to go inside,” another said. “Back to your dorms.”

While our backs were against the door of a building at the end of the courtyard where Hamilton was, the doors opened, and officers raised their batons, giving one final push until we were all inside. There was a moment of disorientation before we realised where we were: inside an undergraduate dormitory called John Jay Hall.

It’s where the student health centre, a dining hall, and a late-night campus eatery are. But we couldn’t see any of that. While police guarded the doors into the entry vestibule of the building in front of us, campus security guarded the rest of the building behind us, restricting access to dorm residents.

With about 30 or 40 of us squeezed into the small entry vestibule, ventilation was poor. We wouldn’t reach the bathroom. Red arrows pointed towards the emergency exit but the doors were blocked by officers. Phone batteries were dying. And most pressing, for the journalists among us: we couldn’t see Hamilton beyond the bodies of officers standing at John Jay’s glass doors.

For about three hours, students kicked at the front doors, slouched on the ground against the wall, and slept with their backpacks as pillows. One student sat cross-legged on the floor, sobbing softly while her friend comforted her.

Three hours passed in that hall before we were let out, officers directing us to dorms and buildings they did not know the names or locations of. “We know you want to get out of here. We’re doing you a favour,” one said.

As I left campus at about 1:30am, I walked past a crew hauling the tents off the South Lawn and into a garbage truck that crushed them on the spot.

[See embedded video in the article]

The remains

On Wednesday, the tension wasn’t palpable, only disappointment. The campus was quiet, but not calm. It was completely empty. No one, aside from residents and essential staff  – which the journalism faculty ensured we were viewed as, as student journalists – were allowed past campus gates.

Where the encampment once stood, there were only marks of discoloured grass in the shape of rectangular tent bases.

But the movement seems anything but a ghost; on Wednesday, protesters hosted a “light show” beside the campus, projecting titles onto the public-facing side of Hamilton Hall that read “Hind’s Hall forever.”

Every year, on the eve of exams, students gather to let out what is known as a “primal scream” on campus. On Thursday, they took that tradition to Shafik’s house, shouting outside her door.

On Friday, protesters again lined the street outside of Columbia’s gate. And the words still rang through the neighbourhood: “Disclose, divest, we will not stop, we will not rest.”

[carpehistoryandthepens]

Legacy (what is a legacy?) Part 14

It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me

Hamilton, the world was wide enough. LMM.

one, two, three, four, Five, six seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen

Summary: Mike is 13. Born May 2009. Sid didn’t know he had a son. All Mike had was hope and a prayer for his and his half-sister’s safety.

(Sid is a dad of a teen he didn’t know about AU) Sidgeno.

Warnings: (for the total story) post-child abuse (all off-screen but it affects things and is spoken about often), learning how to parent, panic attacks, anxiety, based on last season, OCs?, realization about sexuality. Post breakups. Desperate lack of in-depth research for CPS in both PA/CA, melodrama?, kidfic, angst, slowburn, playing fast and loose with the law for drama/storytelling purposes.

-

Sid's house was quiet when Nikita and Papa came back from school. It was missing the happy noise of Marisol and Mike talking and playing. When Papa picked him up, he said that Mike and Marisol had a tough day and might not want to be bothered.

Nikita frowned when told that; he hoped Mike would help him with his math again. This was harder than his last school. Nikita really liked it when he came home from school to them. He hoped that they would continue to hang out after school even after he and Papa moved back into their home. They could hang out, do homework, or maybe play with the mini sticks!

But Papa was clear before they left the car; now was time to be quiet. Mike and Marisol had a bad day.

Nikita liked Sid's house a lot, almost more than his Papa's house. He did miss the basketball court from his Papa's house, though. But Sid's garage was a good place for a football net. Since his Mama returned to Miami, he got his own room with a nice view.

He was a little upset at the constant moving around, though. Mama and Papa had promised him that if he chose a school, he would stay in one place except for vacations, and he only got a few weeks in his room before they had to move again.

It wasn't fair that the house broke. Nikita wanted to stay in one room for a while.

Mike and Marisol were nowhere to be seen when he and Papa entered the house. Sid was at their side in an instant, greeting them in Russian.

One of the other reasons Nikita liked Sid's house is that Sid spoke Russian. So, if Nikita forgot a word or didn't know it in either English or Russian, he could just switch, and Sid could follow – just like his parents! It was nice.

Sid's hair was a mess, and it looked like he had been running his hands through it. Nikita thought it looked fluffy. There was a slump to his shoulders that Niktia usually only saw on his Papa's teammates after long roadies.

Papa paused at the door and glanced around, "Mike and Marisol…?"

"Are in their room," Sid said in Russian. "Marisol needed to be in a bed."

Nikita looked up at his Papa, "Can I go play with them?"

Both adults exchanged a look over Nikita's head. Just because he didn't know what the look meant didn't mean he didn't see it.

"I think you can, buddy," Sid said slowly. "But you have to be quiet."

"And you have to ask," his Papa said, emphasizing the word ask and holding Nikita's gaze until Nikita nodded solemnly, "If they say no or are sleeping, you have to come back, ok?"

Nikita nodded again. "I promise." He said before dashing off, and he would. He would ask! But Mike and Marisol had never said no to him before, and they weren't like the kids from the school; they were nice. He grabbed his iPad from his school bag. There were a few games on there that didn't require sound. Nikita played them while he and his parents were at restaurants.

As he left, his Papa asked Sid, "How was the talk?" Nikita didn't hear Sid's answer, only the low tone of his voice.

Mike and Marisol were in a room across from his. Sid and his Papa's rooms were further into the house. Nikita knocked on the door. Mike opened it up, warily looking around and then seeing Nikita.

"Wanna play?" Nikita asked dutifully in English. Mike didn't speak any Russian, just Spanish. His Papa would be proud. His Mama might say something about proper English; if he had to learn the language, he should speak it right.

Mike scrunched his face unhappily, and Nikita's hopes dropped a little. Maybe he would say no. But Mike glanced back into the room and then back out. "Marisol is still sleeping. We can't wake her up."

Behind him, Nikita saw that Marisol was tucked into Mike's bed. Her bed was on the other side of the room, but Nikita knew they only tended to use one bed often; they both had nightmares they didn't like to discuss.  

"Napping?" Nikita asked before remembering to whisper. "I can be quiet!" He said, hushed.

Mike gave him a slight quirk of a grin before ushering him into the bedroom.

They settled down to play an English game on Nikita's iPad, which helped him learn the rules of the language. It was on mute.

"You're really good at this," Mike said after Nikita rapidly beat several levels before losing while at a spelling game while trying to spell 'believed.' Too many 'e's in the word.

"Thank you!" Nikita beamed. Nikita handed the iPad to Mike so he could play a few levels. He was really good at sharing things; his Mama always said so when they were in Miami with friends.

He should make lots of friends at school. Just because he hadn't yet didn't mean he wouldn't! He liked a few of his classmates. It was just hard to talk to them. It was different from talking to Mike or Marisol. One boy was bigger than the rest of them, and he was in charge. Nikita didn't like that boy, and that boy didn't like Nikita.

Mike and Marisol were easy to talk to, even when Marisol was being fussy or acting like a baby or when Mike couldn't talk at all. It was like they were his actual brother and sister! Something he always wanted – but was never able to get. His parents were always firm that they were not planning another sibling.

Mike played for a few rounds before losing at a level, trying to figure out the endings of words. After that, he handed the iPad back to Nikita. After going back and forth for a while, getting to a higher level than Nikita had ever gotten on his own or with his parent's help, Nikita set the iPad aside. "Can we play mini sticks?" he asked.

He missed having his own playroom. Both of his homes, his Papa's Pittsburgh house and his momma's Miami condo, had rooms just for his toys. (The Russian apartments didn't have a separate room, but Nikita never minded.) Sid didn't have that in his home. Instead, they could play with mini sticks in his room, or their room, or…

But Mike shook his head negatively, "No, Nikita. I don't want to."

"Ok," Nikita frowned; who didn't want to play mini sticks? But he accepted Mike's answer because that's what being a brother means, right? Mike had chosen to play on the iPad with Nikita despite being tired; he might not be ready to play something so rowdy.

Nikita wanted to be Mike and Marisol's brother. That way, his family and theirs can stay together. He doesn't understand much but knows his parents aren't getting back together, so his family is smaller than it was. He misses his mom – she left a few days ago to work back in Miami – but it was better with Mike and Marisol there.

"How about we work on your homework?" Mike asked, "You have more math today, right?"

Nikita nodded slowly. "Yeah." The math was hard and wasn't much fun. But his Papa was firm that math was necessary, even for professional athletes. The school used a website for homework, and Nikita logged in to the program online from the tablet. He opened the assignment, and very quietly, he and Mike worked through the numbers.

There were some kids in his class, classmates of sorts who were good at math, and they were mean to Nikita for not being as good as them.

Nikita was so much better than them in English, as they had only moved from Moscow a few years ago, but Nikita never brought it up.

He hopes they will be on a different football team. He knows they won't be on the same hockey team – he's better than most of them at hockey, even if he likes soccer better.

As they got close to the end of the assignment, Mike started to look really sleepy.

"Nap time?" Nikita asked. Most of his classmates weren't taking many naps anymore, but when his Papa, Sidney, and most of the men he knew took them regularly, Nikita didn't see it as childish as they did. He knew a Hockey player's secret: Naps.

Mike nodded. If they all ended up in Mike's bed and crashed out, Nikita was told that nap piles happened while on roadies.

[aswithasunbeam]

Hey! As you know a lot about the time period I’m wondering if I can ask you a question. From what I’ve seen, John Hamilton’s biography of his father was criticised because it claimed that Hamilton authored many of Washington’s letters (and I gather he was criticised by people who admired Hamilton). Did Hamilton actually author many of the papers under Washington’s name - did people just not want to believe it because of Washington’s reputation or for political reasons?

Hamilton definitely authored a good number of Washington's papers. During the Revolution, Hamilton's job as Washington's aide de camp included the duty to pen letters for George Washington. A quick search of Hamilton's papers on Founders Online shows a total of 889 letters written in Hamilton's handwriting that were sent under George Washington's signature.

What brought much more political controversy was Hamilton's involvement in the drafting of Washington's famous Farewell Address. All those years as Washington's aide meant Hamilton had a great knack for writing in Washington's voice. When Washington determined to step down from the presidency, he sent Hamilton a draft for a Farewell Address that James Madison had worked on four years previously (See Hamilton to Washington, 10 May 1796). Hamilton reviewed Madison's work, but decided instead to send his own version of what he thought Washington ought to say to the public. (See Hamilton to Washington, 30 July 1796). Washington ultimately tweaked Hamilton's draft and also passed it around to members of his cabinet for input, but much of the Farewell Address was in fact authored by Alexander Hamilton.

Because Washington generally tried to remain above the party politics of the time, it being widely known that his beloved last words to the public were penned by Alexander Hamilton would have started a political firestorm.

When Hamilton passed away in 1804, Rufus King went through his papers and took the draft of the Farewell Address that would have proved his authorship, fearing Hamilton's family would publish it to give Hamilton credit for the work. Eliza Hamilton spent years attempting to reclaim the document. She even visited Mount Vernon at one point to look through Washington's papers to see if there was a copy of Hamilton's draft there (see The Life and Correspondence of Bushrod Washington, v. VI, pp.617-18). Ultimately, she had to file a lawsuit against King in 1825 to reclaim the document. Eliza did not, as King feared, immediately make it widely known that Hamilton had authored the Farewell Address. However, she did record a statement to be released after her death where she detailed her own personal knowledge that Hamilton had drafted the Address for Washington. In that statement, she related the following amusing anecdote: "Shortly after the publication of the address, my husband and myself were walking in Broadway, when an old soldier accosted him, with a request of him to purchase General Washington’s Farewell address, which he did and turning to me said, ‘That man does not know he has asked me to purchase my own work.'" (Elizabeth Hamilton’s Statement as to Washington’s Farewell Address, as published in The Intimate Life of Alexander Hamilton). Her statement was one of the many, many ways Eliza worked during her life to help preserve Hamilton's legacy.

[jittyjames]

laurens

eliza

burr

madison

(once again these are personal headcanons idc if the historical canon says other wise 🙈 these are just fun)

Laurens

very poor relationship with his family (especially henry). part of the reason he joined the military was to get away from him and his expectations. he's closer with his mother, but it's still strained. he adores his siblings tho, even if henry kind of pitted them against each other

he's a skilled painter and spends his spare time sketching. he once tried to teach alexander, but quickly realized that it was one skill hammy would never possess (this would make such a cute fic ngl)

his favorite season is autumn because he likes the colors and the crispness of everything

he's protective almost to a fault

Eliza

in my mind she will always be a beyond talented pianist! like to the point she's like a virtuoso. she writes her own music and secretly dreams of publishing it. she pens music after major life events, and it sort of acts as her diary (after she met alex, when angelica moved to london, when she had philip, after the affair.) she's basically taylor swift

smells so incredibly good (shhh I know it's the 1700's but let me live) but she smells like expensive perfume (you know the type) sugar, and strawberries

she's a cat person!

she has an aptitude for mathematics, and that's why she would act as alexander's advisor so much. she's educated in literature, philosophy, and history as well, but angelica has always been more vocal about it, so she doesn't get a chance to shine as much as she should

Burr

oh my beloved burr :(((( he has a lot of unresolved trauma. from the pressures of his family's legacy, to his (canonically) abusive uncle, and the religious trauma of being jonathan edwards' grandson, he has a lot of pent up sadness that he won't let himself feel. he's an anxious mess most of the time, and all of these reasons are why he feels like he can't rush into things and make mistakes.

also a cat person. he loves cats so much. he dotes on them. he would have twenty if he could. in the war, he would go out of his way to feed any strays around and would protect them, sometimes sneaking them into his quarters in his coat if it was particularly cold

he's a hopeless romantic, even if he's not vocal about it. he wants to be loved and to share the love he never got to give anyone. he wants to do all the courting things with someone, and make a life with them. his love language is practically all of them

after alexander's death, if he would go to any tavern or party or anything where there was music, he would request they sing how stands the glass around because that was what alexander sang at the last party they were at together. it's a form of punishment, but it's also because he can close his eyes and imagine Alexander is still there, even for just a moment. sometimes he thinks he can hear his voice interweaving with the others

Madison

he and dolley are a power couple. everyone wants to be them. they are the only really healthy relationship in canon. they are each other's best friend and madison's favorite place is by her side. he's not afraid to admit that she's the better half of him. (this is probably not true lmao but I'm too tired to look it up)

he very much has "gifted kid burnout" if you can call it that in the 1800s. he's tired. he's unwell. he just wants everything to work out for everyone, and for the people around him to chill and stop yelling for five minutes. he's like a long-suffering parent, and all but keeps jefferson on one of those backpack-leash combinations that kids wear in malls

actually doesn't mind hamilton that much. he doesn't agree with him on most things, and thinks he's annoying, but he still feels a bit worried about the man he once called friend. they were pretty close when they wrote the federalist papers, and they would often have dinners together where he found he actually enjoyed the company

he prefers the quiet. he finds it comfortable. he doesn't find it awkward if conversation lulls into silence (though it rarely does with the company he keeps)

[stormflower8]

oh look a wip

uh please don't hype yourself up for this because I have literally no plan and too much going on and too little motivation to work on this buuuut here's a Strange wip that's been sitting in my notes app!

this takes place right after nimona's whole. self-sacrifice.

"is this a hamilton songfic" YES IT IS OKAY

SUCK IT UP

"is that "It's Quiet Uptown" YES IT IS

I WATCHED HAMILTON RIGHT AFTER I WATCHED NIMONA

THIS WAS BOUND TO HAPPEN

I HAVE NO LIFE

"Look at where we are," Ambrosius said quietly. "Look at where we started." They'd started as two little kids, one with a legacy and the other with a dream. "I know I don't deserve you, Bal," the boy- the man with the golden legacy on his shoulders mumbled. "But hear me out, that would be enough." Ambrosius turned his head to face Ballister, but the other didn't bother meeting his gaze. Instead, the lost person with a broken dream stared out from the balcony, letting his eyes trace the outline of what lay beyond the Wall. "If I could spare her life," Ambrosius continued. "If I could trade her life for mine," and a little chuckle escaped his lips, "She'd be standing here right now, and you would smile, and that would be enough." Ballister finally looked at Ambrosius and opened his mouth to argue, to say that wasn't true, but his words failed him when he saw the tears pooling in his lover's eyes. They shone like liquid moonlight in the night, and Ballister deliriously wanted nothing more than to take Ambrosius into his arms. He didn't move. "I don't pretend to know the challenges you're facing," Ambrosius started to walk away from him, his steps deliberate and strong. He couldn't see Ambrosius's face anymore, but his voice betrayed that he was on the verge of tears. "I know there's no replacing what we lost," and now he turned back to Ballister, the tiniest reassuring smile on his lips, "And you need time." Ambrosius closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, they burned with a fire so fierce that Ballister could've sworn his heart stopped. It was a fire of devotion, a fire of determination, and, dare he say it, a fire of love. "But I'm not afraid," Ambrosius crossed the balcony in a few long strides, and he stood right in front of Ballister. "I know who you are." He didn't touch Ballister, but he held his gaze so strongly Ballister could've sworn he felt it physically. "Just let me stay here by your side." Ambrosius reached out as if to take Ballister's hand, but dropped his arm at the last second, leaving Ballister with nothing more than the cold ghost of a lost touch. "That would be enough."

coming to ao3... hopefully soonish!

btw I'm Burning_Sand on ao3 and only have ninjago fics up right now, please don't come find me

-Storm

[puckpocketed]

Hi! Sorry if this is weird but do you have song/video recs? I have enjoyed what you recommended in the past. Please ignore this if you want, I know this isn't really a hockey ask :')

so does everyone else have a playlist where they store all their favourite essays/documentaries miscellaneous vids. or is that just me?? anon i hope u like hearing from me, if u wanted short answers u came to the wrong person. here are various faves from over the years:

Dawn from Pride and Prejudice (2005). i think about it often. it's a beautiful piece. i listen to this song and experience the movie all over again. the mud on elizabeth's skirt. dancing at parties. lovely potatoes. darcy and his cleavage. the mist in the morning. "you have bewitched me, body and soul. and i love, i love, i love you." the sun rising as she kisses his hand. HELLO!!!!

minesweeper is literally causing me health issues by i am error. a harrowing look at addiction through the lens of a minesweeper fixation. very funny and warm video.

The Best Food Movie Scenes Supercut by William Adiguna. fascinated by this. also i have used it for painting study reference.

How J Dilla's Timefeel ACTUALLY Works by Digging The Greats. right so. i know everyone's been making posts about black artists in the wake of the Kendrick-Drake beef and white tumblr subsequently figuring out that rap exists outside of Hamilton and music as a whole exists outside of uhhhh taylor swift. I don't think I've seen anyone mention J Dilla in my circles yet so here's a small essay about how he changed music history forever and you should absolutely listen to him. we lost him too fucking early, but his legacy lives on in the beat!!

The Lincoln Highway: Across America on the First Transcontinental Motor Route by Noah Caldwell-Gervais. this is a 7 and 1/2 hour travelogue by one of my favourite writers of all time. he has shorter videos about games and travel, but this one is an all-timer for me. I admire him so much. His writing voice is so lush and intentional, he weaves narrative with every sentence, and yet nothing feels superfluous. i have listened to this video multiple times and always find something new to think about.

Savestate vs Armada - The Quest for the Frozen Turnip by Melee Stats. if you made it this far down the list we are either best friends or you are super bored and want something to watch. here's the sell: Armada is one of the 5 Gods of Super Smash Bros. Melee, Savestate is this weirdo who does speedruns and loves to break the game. they go head to head at a tournament, super smash con. the frozen turnip is a bug that sort of breaks the game. chaos ensues <3

Stylish Academic Writing a lecture by Helen Sword (Harvard University). I think about this video a lot. As someone who writes a lot of academic essays and For Fun essays, this lecture was formative.

Time and Again - How to Write and Understand Time Loops by Replay Value. dissecting and categorising time loops, and teaching you how to write them in the process. excellent video even if you aren't a writer or don't have an interest in writing sci-fi/time travel!

With Love by Harbour. this song makes me so happy. i will dance to it with my future wife in our kitchen. i will sing this to her under under our pink lights. that kinda vibe <3

thank you for dropping by!! <3 and giving me an excuse to inflict a bunch of recs onto my followers!! hit me up for more recs any time ig??

[saint-starflicker]

My Top 10 dark academia stageplays:

#10 Cleansed by Sarah Kane

This playwright is known for deconstructions of stageplays themselves. Kane's later works replaced characters with voices, or did away with settings, and became so avant-garde that they weren't shows anymore but experiences. While Cleansed still had something like a plot or characters, it's a surrealist story set at a university—according to the script—that nobody treats as a university because they're only trapped there by a serial-killer torturer man. It is gory, depending on the stage effects budget many audience members are prone to walk out, but if you can withstand the shows of violence then you might find that there is meaningfulness at every instance of it.

#9 Rope's End by Patrick Hamilton

The morality of murder as discussed by elitist post-grads. I think The Secret History fans would like this for the similar themes. There was a movie adaptation in 1948 directed by Alfred Hitchcock.

#8 The Children's Hour by Lillian Hellman

There is a movie version from 1961 that I consider "malicious compliance" to the Hays Code policy of bury-your-lesbians. The doomed-to-death character was not a bad person, and an intolerant society is worse off for having lost her.

#7 The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds by Paul Zindel

Tilly Hunsdorfer has a science fair project to put together, but her home life continues a legacy of child abuse. I have not watched the 1972 film adaptation, but the internet has informed me of its existence.

#6 The Awakening of Spring by Frank Wedekind

Written in 1891, translated into English by Edward Bond in 1974, again by Ted Hughes in 1995, and translated/adapted by Anya Reiss in 2014. When young people aren't guided and educated about facts of life that are traditionally ignored or repressed, then their actions become destructive. There was a very popular Broadway musical adaptation and American Sign Language revival, but I'm trying to keep to listing stageplays that are not musicals.

#5 Proof by David Auburn

A father and daughter duo are mathematicians who figuratively walk a tightrope between genius and madness. There was a movie adaptation in 2005.

#4 Master Class by Terrence McNally

This might not technically be a musical, because the featured songs are selected from other operas that Callas starred in, so I'm including this on the list. A retired opera singer, the legendary Maria Callas, teaches a room full of opera singers. Each song they select to perform sets off a series of monologues from the impassioned Callas about her life, portraying wartime poverty through to the betrayal of torrid love affairs, and how her voice was a gift and a curse.

#3 Educating Rita by Willy Russell

This is much more on the academia side than the dark side, but I think people that liked Dead Poets Society 1989 for the themes will like this stageplay or it's 1983 movie adaptation.

#2 Arcadia by Tom Stoppard

In the year 1809, the honorable Septimus Hodge tutors a teenaged gentlewoman with a keen interest in mathematics and physics. In 1993, two historians and a mathematician stay at the estate and try to find out what happened there between 1809 and 1813: sword duels, extramarital affairs, secret letters, famous poets, and how the brilliant Thomasina died tragically young and unsung. They clash with regards to academic "office politics" and the importance of the humanities versus the sciences.

Honorable Mentions:

The History Boys by Alan Bennett

In terms of how this stageplay and the 2006 movie adaptation tackles social issues, it's technically better than Dead Poets Society on every count: directly confronting misogyny and racism in academia, and having canonically queer boys and men in a convoluted relationship triangle as they try to prepare for university entrance examinations. There is a death. The History Boys absolutely qualifies as the genre Dark Academia. At the same time, I cannot recommend it because the way one main thread of subplot was handled really bothered me.

Picasso at the Lapin Agile by Steve Martin

While this list got much less dark from Proof on downwards, this might also be less academic. Albert Einstein and Pablo Picasso meet at a café, the eponymous "Lapin Agile", and banter with the entire cast of characters about their life and philosophies. I found the entire play both funny and fun, and I really think it gets the neurons firing in sparkly ways.

Doubt: A Parable by John Patrick Shanley

At a Catholic school, a nun tries to prevent a priest from further interfering sexually with one of their students. The stageplay keeps the audience in doubt(!) about whether or not he did what he was accused of, as the story spirals into explorations of faith, race, sexual orientation, pragmatism versus principle, and whether what we're shown in our limited ways to witness can really be what it is. There was a movie adaptation in 2008 starring Meryl Streep.

#1

I don't actually know what to put here. Recommend a stageplay that you think belongs in this spot.

[maedhrosisbae]

Here’s some songs that I have been collecting over the years like a hobgoblin that reminded me of the Silmarillion. (These were all mostly a product of daydreaming about showing these ppl my music and how they would react)

Blood on my name (The Brothers Bright)- Feanorians

Dancing without music (BRDGS)- Maeglin. He’s willing to do anything for Idril, but she won’t love him back, but he can’t let go. (I’m not saying I agree with him, this just sounds like his POV)

Trying my best (Anson Seabra)- Legit every silm character, especially Finarfin and Elrond

Hall of Fame (The Script)- Fingon, Finrod, Feanor, Fingolfin, All Feanorians, Galadriel

Centuries (Fall Out Boy)- Feanor, Feanorians, Fingon, Galadriel, Morgoth, Mairon. These people are HUGE and they were remembered for centuries. They fought tooth and Nail and it paid off.

See you Again (Wiz khalifa, Charlie Puth)- Everyone.

Demons (Imagine Dragons)- Maedhros, Maglor, Glorfindel.

Good example (with Andy Grammer)- Finwe, Fingolfin, Finarfin, Curufin, Miriel, Maedhros, Fingon, Turgon, Elrond, Finrod. They all are trying so hard to be a good example to their families, troops, and people, even if they lost their way and grew selfish. When it started, they wanted to the best for the people around them. Ultimately, most die, but they die hoping they made a good example to those they love.

Eyes on fire (Blue Foundation)- Sauron, Feanor. This is just a very threatening song and gives the vibes of a wild beast stalking you through the forest about to pounce. Like, they have forgotten how to be kind and loving, and now it’s this wild, ravenous, greedy beast hell bent on one purpose.

7 Years Old (Lukas Graham)- Feanorians, Fingon, most of the ppl tbh. They all were young and innocent in Valinor, but now they’re older and have lost all innocence. They just want the good old days back.

Achilles Come Down (Gang of Youths)- Maedhros. He has two voices warring with each other. One is Maglor and Fingon, and the other is his own. Maglor and Fingon are trying to talk him off the edge, but his voice tells him to jump, which he ultimately does,

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE (Maneskin)- Sauron, Celegorm. They’re just kinky guys, what can I say?!?

Burn/First Burn (Hamilton)- Nerdanel to Feanor the night he leaves. Especially the line in First Burn “When will you learn that they are your legacy, we are your legacy?”

Bang! (AJR)- idk, just have the vibes of everything going to hell in a hand basket, but still trying bc why not

Painter (Aimee Carty)- one of the Feanorians, idk. Like maybe one of the twins bc a lot of the others already have recognizable crafts, or maybe Maedhros, but I think he likes to read more. They are so scared to show the world their true selves and feel as if they have to put on a face that the world expects them to have. They’re scared to show their true self.

[disneyanddisneyships]

@gyubby99 I have too much time on my hands

I'm evil. And I love angst.

This has not been proofread.

Alastor sat in his office.....

Vox, Valentino, and Linda had visited him earlier confronting him about his affairs to fuck up his chances of popularity with a new studio.

Vox found out about him and Linda.....

In the eye of a hurricane There is quiet For just a moment A yellow sky

Alastor sat at his desk, letters from Aponi in his hand and a blank paper in front of him.

Vox would use his knowledge to destroy everything Alastor had built.

When I was seventeen a hurricane Destroyed my town I didn't drown I couldn't seem to die

"Al?" Husk asked as he walked into the office.

"I used to live in New Orleans. I remmeber a hurricane that happened. It had destroyed everything I held dear but somehow I lived through it," Alastor stated to his friend.

"Uh.... Vox told everyone at his bar.... about... you and the overlord Linda.... it's not long until the word gets out to all of hell.... Aponi is one of the most loved dancers second to angel.. people won't take kindly to what you did," Husk explained as he scanned all of alastor's liquor bottles.

I wrote my way out Wrote everything down far as I could see I wrote my way out I looked up and the town had its eyes on me

"Back then I wrote my way out of everything.. spoke my way out of everything," Alastor continued as if he didn't hear Husk.

"Al.... Judith is gonna find out if you don't do anything about the rumors.. I mean they're not true... right?" Husk asked.

They passed a plate around Total strangers Moved to kindness by my story Raised enough for me to book passage on a Ship that was New York bound

Alastor chuckled. "In life people belived I was so kind... they were evolved to kindness by the story of my abusive father.... they raised enough to help build me my own radio studio," Alastor explained with a genuine smile.

"You... you cheated on Aponi?" Husk asked in disbelief.

I wrote my way out of hell I wrote my way to revolution I was louder than the crack in the bell I wrote Eliza love letters until she fell I wrote about The Constitution and defended it well And in the face of ignorance and resistance I wrote financial systems into existence And when my prayers to God were met with indifference I picked up a pen, I wrote my own deliverance

"I'll talk way out of hell, I'll talk my way out of this. I'll be louder than a crack in a bell. I spoke to Lilly with such love that she fell. I spoke about the demons and defended them well. And in the face of ignorance I'll pick up my microphone and I'll speak my own deliverance," alastor ranted as he looked to the button that broadcasted his voice to all of hell.

In the eye of a hurricane There is quiet For just a moment A yellow sky

"Do you hear that, Husker?" Alastor asked.

"Hear what?"

"The quiet before a storm," Alastor replied.

I was twelve when my mother died She was holding me We were sick and she was holding me I couldn't seem to die

"I was young when my mother died. She was holding me, she was suck and she was soothing me.... all I wanted was to die," Alastor muttered.

Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it (I'll write my way out) Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it (write everything down, far as I can see) Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, wait (history has its eyes on you) I'll write my way out Overwhelm them with honesty This is the eye of the hurricane, this is the only Way I can protect my legacy Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, wait

Alastor looked toward his microphone.

"Alastor.... wait.. think this through.. don't go rushing into things like this, it won't end well," Husk spoke.

Alastor turned on the microphone.

The Reynolds Pamphlet

"Hello Demons! I'd like to tell you a little bit about something I'll call, the Davis Pamphlet!" Alastor exclaimed into the mic.

Have you read this? Alexander Hamilton had a torrid affair And he wrote it down right there Highlights!

"Are you hearing this?" Valentino asked Vox as they listened to Alastor broadcast his affair to everyone in hell.

"Highlights!" Vox exclaimed as he smirked.

The charge against me Is a connection with one For purposes of Improper speculation My real crime is an amorous connection with his wife For a considerable time With his knowing consent Damn!

"Hello demons! The charge against me Is a connection with one Linda Davis, for purposes of Improperspeculation! My real crime is an amorous connection with her for a considerable time!" Alastor spoke.

"Damn!" Vox shouted with a laugh.

"I had frequent meetings with her Most of them at my own house."

"I made frequent meetings with her, most of them at the hotel in my girlfriend and I's room," Alastor spoke.

At his own house? At his own house! Damn!

"In their own room?" Valentino asked with a wide smile.

"In their own room!" Vox replied.

"Damn!" Valentino exclaimed.

"Mrs. Hamilton with our children being absent On a visit to her father."

"My significant other being absent On a visit with her friends!" Alastor continued.

No…

Aponi's eyes widened from her dance studio as she covered her mouth in horror. "No...." she muttered.

Boooo!

In the city, everyone booed the radio demon.

Have you read this? Well, he's never gon' be President now Never gon' be President now Well, he's never gon' be President now Never gon' be President now He's never gon' be President now Never gon' be President now That's one less thing to worry about That's one less thing to worry about

Vox and Valentino ran out into the city to gossip with every other demon.

"He'll never get the funds he needs for his studio now!" Valentino laughed.

I came as soon as I heard

Angel dust barged into Alastor's studio.

"I came as soon as I heard," Angel stated.

Angelica

"Angel dust!" Alastor exclaimed as he turned off the microphone.

All the way from London?! Damn

"You're ditchin Val?" Husk asked in suprise.

Angelica, thank God Someone who understands what I'm struggling here to do

"Oh angel, thank God a demon who understands what I'm struggling to do!" Alastor exclaimed as he walked up to angel and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Angel shrugged him off.

I'm not here for you Oooooh!

"I ain't here for you!" Angel spat.

Alastor's eyes widened in shock.

I know my sister like I know my own mind You will never find anyone as trusting or as kind I love my sister more than anything in this life I will choose her happiness over mine every time Put what we had aside I'm standing at her side You could never be satisfied God, I hope you're satisfied

"I know Aponi like I know my own mind! Youll neva find anyone as trustin or as kind! I love 'poni more than anything in this death! I will choose her happiness ova mine everything! Put our friendship aside, I'm standing at her side! Youll never be satisfied, God I hope ya satisfied!" Angel shouted before turning and slamming the door to head over to the dance studio where Aponi was.

He's never gon' be President now (Never gon' be President now) He's never gon' be President now (Never gon' be President now) He's never gon' be President now (Never gon' be President now) That's one less thing to worry about (That's one less thing to worry about)

Alastor's eyebrows knitted together before he walked out of his studio, just following behind to see how many people were gossiping in the streets.

"I ain't fundin his new studio. One less thing to worry about for me," a demon spoke.

Have you read this? You ever see somebody ruin their own life? His poor wife

"You ever see someone ruin his own death?" Valentino asked as they walked passed Alastor.

"Poor Aponi. Hope she doesn't set fire to anytniiiing," Vox spoke with a smirk as he looked back at alastor slyly.

Alastor's eyes widened as he realized what he did.

He took off running back to the hotel only to stop in the doorway to see Angel dust explaining what was happening gently to Judith.

Angel glared at alastor before he pointed to Aponi's room and ushered Judith outside.

Alastor walked upstairs and opened the door to see the bed sheets stripped off of the bed, and Aponi sitting by her fireplace with a wooden box that seemed to be full of letters.

"Darling?" Alastor asked.

I saved every letter you wrote me From the moment I read them I knew you were mine You said you were mine I thought you were mine

"I saved every letter you wrote me...... when I had read them I thought you were mine.... you said you were mine," Aponi muttered as she looked at a photo of her and alastor together.

"Lilly...." Alastor sighed.

Do you know what Angelica said When we saw your first letter arrive? She said, "Be careful with that one, love. He will do what it takes to survive."

"You wanna know what Angie said when your first letter arrived? He said 'be careful with that one hon, he doesn't care whether you die or survive,'" Aponi scoffed as she glared at the photo in her hand.

Alastor stood there like a deer in headlights.

You and your words flooded my senses Your sentences left me defenseless You built me palaces out of paragraphs You built cathedrals

Aponi laughed as a tear roled down her cheek. "Your words melted my heart.... you built me palaces out of paragraphs...." Aponi smiled gently before her eyes grew angrier.

I'm re-reading the letters you wrote me I'm searching and scanning for answers In every line For some kind of sign And when you were mine The world seemed to burn, burn

Aponi picked up a letter from the box that was next to her and began to skim over the words written on it.

"I'm searching and scanning for answers. For some kind of sign.... when you were mine the world seemed to burn....." she muttered as she threw the letter into the flame, her eyes glowing a bright shade of red.

"Lilly no-"

You published the letters she wrote you You told the whole world how you brought This girl into our bed In clearing your name, you have ruined our lives

Aponi turned around sharply, looking straight at alastor.

"You told all of hell that you brought this girl into our bed!" Aponi yelled as she gestured to the sheets that she had taken off of the bed.. "You've ruined our lives!"

Do you know what Angelica said When she read what you'd done? She said, "You've married an Icarus. He has flown too close to the sun."

"Lilly, darling, i-"

"Do you know what Angel dust said?! When he heard what you had done?!" Aponi yelled. "He said that I've made a family with an icarus and that you've flown too close to the sun!" She shouted as she picked up the old sheets and threw them into the fire.

You and your words, obsessed with your legacy... Your sentences border on senseless And you are paranoid in every paragraph How they perceive you You, you, you…

As the sheets burned, Aponi turned to alastor once again, fire in her eyes.

"You're so obsessed with your radio studio! Your mind borders on senseless! And you are paranoid in every paragraph!" She shouted as she turned back to the letters and threw them into the fire one by one.

"How they perceive you!" She muttered before throwing in more letters. "You.. you, YOU," she stated as tears ran down her face and she threw the entire box into the fire.

Aponi collapsed onto the ground as she watched the flames grow for a few minutes before they got dimmer as they finished burning everything that was thrown in.

Alastor stood in the dark of the room, looking down in disappointment in himself.

I'm erasing myself from the narrative Let future historians wonder How Eliza reacted when you broke her heart You have torn it all apart I'm watching it burn Watching it burn

After some silence Aponi spoke up. "I'm erasing myself from your narrative," she mumbled.

"What?" Alastor asked.

"Let the demons in hell wonder how Aponi reacted when you broke her heart. You've torn it all apart and I'll watch it all burn," Aponi explained as she stood up.

She took the choker off that Alastor had gifted her, massaging her neck with her hand before clutching the peice in her hand and turning to him.

The world has no right to my heart The world has no place in our bed They don't get to know what I said I'm burning the memories Burning the letters that might have redeemed you

"Hell has no right to my heart! She shouted as she threw the choker at him. "Hell has no right in our bed! Go sleep at Linda's instead! I've burned all the memories that might have redeemed you!" She yelled.

"Lilly please!" Alastor begged as he held out his hand to her.

You forfeit all rights to my heart You forfeit the place in our bed You'll sleep in your office instead With only the memories Of when you were mine I hope that you burn

"You have no more rights to my heart! You have no more rights to our bed! You'll never see Judith again! You'll be stuck with the memories of when you were mine!" Aponi shouted.

"No! Please, you can't keep me away from Judith! Lillian, please!" Alastor begged as he kneeled to her, practically praying for forgiveness from Aponi.

"I hope that you burn," Aponi stated before walking out of the room and slamming the door behind her.

[agrimedena-drax]

For the OC Emoji Ask Game!

👁️ EYE - what colour are their eyes? do people notice their eyes? is there anything special about them (shows emotion easily, literally magical...)? 💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with? 🍧 SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it? ☀️ SUN - are they a morning person? what is the first thing they do in the morning? 🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears? 🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people? 📖 OPEN BOOK - do they like reading? what's their favourite genre? 🎭 MASKS - do they act differently around certain people? what's different between the way they act around friends, family, strangers, etc.? 👖 JEANS - what is their go-to outfit? ☁️ CLOUD - a soft headcanon ❤️RED HEART - their love language(s)?

Have fun! 🖤✨

Hello hello ✨

Another wonderful ask, this time from my most beautiful, wonderful @circa-specturgia ✨🖤

Thank you for so many amazing question, on which I will answer using our fems, Vieno (they/them, feminine expression), Nurah (she/her) and Devina (she/her) ✨

Be my guest 😊

***

👁️ EYE - what colour are their eyes? do people notice their eyes? is there anything special about them (shows emotion easily, literally magical...)?

The most interesting are Vieno's for sure. They have greyish/brownish eyes with black sclera, which is significant to Gauls and is connected with their darkvision. They always look af if they were filled with constellations ✨ When they are using a lot of amounts of energy and power, the irises glow on white and purple light.

Devina's eyes are golden with a little rust, shimmering with passion and confidence. She always hold her head up high and her eyes can be very intimidating at some times. Her eyes shimmer with sky blue sparkles.

Nurah's eyes are in the colour of hazelnuts mixed with shells of peanuts. They are soft by the first glance, but when she enters her general mode they become focused, still and you might think they are burning with passionate fire is emerging. Also using her force power her eyes lighten up in fiery colouration.

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

Devina is definitely struggling with intimacy and love stuffs. That's why her relationship with Lubos worked, because they started as long distanced and they were slowly moving towards being close to each other physically. You know this song in Hamilton called "Non-stop"? She has this anxieties of wanting to be the best, to be somebody, to leave legacy in engineering. She also secretly wants to live up to her dead mother's legacy and finish her studies. Saying that, I mean she does not deal with failures and inability to go forwards, she is scared of procrastination and is a workaholic.

There are two sides of Vieno: Vieno before and after begining of the war (I don't know if I told you, but there will be a war 😅). Before war they had little problems with their emotions. Definitely, as the voices started surfacing in their mind, they had really hard time sharing their concerns. I may say that it was her main emotions they couldn't deal: they didn't like to talk about their worries and concerns, mostly being there for others rather than talking about their problems. After war they have much more. Other than concerns connected with the voices, they also don't talk about their trauma and about their ruined at the time relationship with Ferrer. They hold it inside and it's not good for them.

Nurah is very good with her emotions, she always expresses them and is not afraid to talk about them. I think the only thing she struggles with is a vulnerability to comments about her being a nepo baby. She gets very angry and loses her grip

🍧 SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

Nurah definitely carries her princess symbolisms with her, maybe not a crown, but her medalion and traditional, royal veil for official occasions. The medalion is a red ruby, which are symbolic stones of her dynasty. They veil was made for her when she decided to follow the traditional covering of Furidium people during her early teenage years. It is caramel with gold embroidery.

Devina on the daily bases uses golden enchanted tools given to her by her mother when she was nine. She of course also have new tools, but she liked to use those when she is tinkering with her own garbage, the projects she makes with new ones.

Vieno has a toy they got from their father when they weren't even one before he got departed go Potentium from Gaulia. It is a little strange, as it is a half plush half porcelain doll that looks like a human with owl head with big, black, ink eyes. It is very small, maybe 4/5 inches tall. They carry it with them in their school bag as a little guardian.

☀️ SUN - are they a morning person? what is the first thing they do in the morning?

I will answer for all of them, because all of them are morning people. They love waking up early and have their morning routine, chat, eat breakfast together, help each other do their hair. In comparison to male side of their friend group, they are night owls and morning people and surprisingly they don't need that much sleep 😅

🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

Some of it I answered in the point about emotions but I will add some short notes about each of the character.

Vieno's biggest fears are definitely losing their loved ones. They are an introvert who is a social butterfly within their friend group, they have amazing relationship with their mother. They are really scared of having it taken away. Also after conflict broke, they have very irrational fear of being observed at all times. After they reunite with Ferrer after his complicated situation with his father, Vieno also have a terrible trust issues.

Repeating Devina's point a little, she is scared of failure, that she won't reach to the point where she wants to be in life, and when the war starts she is scared that she won't last to the moment of happiness and fulfillment. She is also afraid of intimacy, she is very private and likes her comfort zone and she is scared entering more of a sexual relationship with somebody, she is scared of being hurt if she lets somebody closer. Fortunately she found a man that understand her needs and respects her boundaries and loves her and adores her, may I say worships her.

Nurah's fears are mostly connected with not letting down her soldiers. She has their lives in her hands, she feels grand responsibility for them. Nurah is also afraid of her friends getting hurt that's why she is very protective of them, especially Lech and Vieno, but later on also Dakarai. When she can't handle her fears she goes to Devina or Lech.

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

Nurah doesn't like showing her weaknesses. She doesn't want see her at the lowest, because she thinks it hurts her status, appearance and destroys authority she holds as head of the unit and princess. She only shows this vulnerable side of herself to her closest friends. Stranger or colleague would never see her break or fall apart. But when they are all gone, she needs a shoulder to cry on silently, so nobody else will notice.

Vieno is scared of being too much. They are really passionate about what they do and how they life is beautiful. But behind that joyous facade they are scared of people's judgement and finding them annoying. Vieno is sometimes scared that some might call them a bastard due to their parents not having a blessing of their families while marrying, which is a big thing in Gaulia and bastards are deeply disgraced. That's why they never tell strangers about it.

Devina doesn't never admits to failure. It is sometimes unhealthy, she doesn't want to admit that she is little obsessed with living up to what she thinks her mother would expect from her if she lived. She also doesn't want to show her shy side, which she has when she is with Lubos, he just make her lose her cold face and melt.

📖 OPEN BOOK - do they like reading? what's their favourite genre?

Nurah was reading a lot as a child, now she rather prefers different types of entertainment from the visual arts.

Devina is a big fan of science and technology magazines, she also reads a lot of manuals

Vieno loves fairytales. Some might find it childish, but they remind them of Gaulia when they are away. They usually read them when they are homesick.

🎭 MASKS - do they act differently around certain people? what's different between the way they act around friends, family, strangers, etc.?

Vieno is pretty shy around strangers. They feel more comfortable around friends. Very polite in nature around adults, little bubble in their friend group. To Aline, their mother, they are 100% themselves, never lie or hide something from her. They also have pretty good relationship with one of their grandfathers, who are the only family aside from Aline they have direct contact with.

Nurah is definitely more stern around people she is responsible for, like her unit or military or subjects. She was called "Sandwoman" by people in Furidium, as she tough looking from afar like sandstone, but in reality she is softer than other rocks. Her family and friends can easily notice that for real she has very polite and warm nature, also very teasy and bright.

Devina is very collected and uptight around adults and strangers. She is very proud and confident, showing her manners and gracefulness. She is almost like a swan or a peacock. But among friends she is very sarcastic, likes to tease and talk passionately and loudly, doesn't hold her lady like attitude when she is with her closest ones.

👖 JEANS - what is their go-to outfit?

As whole Quinque is historical/cultural garment inspired, they all rather wear garments reminding the certain periods in fashion history, when they are out of their school uniforms.

Nurah likes wearing abaya like pieces in warm colours: beiges, creams, oranges, reds, browns. She also changes the colour of her hijab: at school she wears mostly dark and toned veils, when in her free time she likes adding those lighter with golden embroidery.

Devina loves long skirts and loose blouses, kinda Edwardian style silhouette with a little, more loose twist basically. She really enjoys her Nazargatian fabrics, even if she wears official garments. In private she loves shirts with a lot of colorful patterns and simple, but colourfully embroidered skirts. She also likes less slick hairstyles when she is at home.

Vieno really loves experimenting with their expression. They for example chose to have trousers in their school uniform and overall wear trousers sometimes to their black or white shirts and blazers. Their colour palette consist mostly blacks and whites, but also some ashy grey, pale purples and blues. Vieno also enjoys wearing long, flowy dresses in Empire style of the regency, or rather inspired by their cuts.

☁️ CLOUD - a soft headcanon

The soft headcanon between Vieno, Devina and Nurah is that one of them gives the others a little kiss on the forehead, it is mostly done by Devina, because she knows how much Nurah and Vieno miss their mothers and she wants to give the motherly love she received from her mom to them when they are homesick.

❤️RED HEART - their love language(s)?

Vieno is definitely quality time. It doesn't have to be anything specific, they just want to spend time with Ferrer: from nerding and studying magic together to just watching frog, covered in midnight fog on the swamps near Academia.

Devina's is definitely words of affirmation. She wants to be praised (it is one of her kinks tbh 😅). Lubos gives her that, not only does he admire her work, but also worships her dearly and loves passionately.

Nurah's is certainly a physical touch. She swore to withdraw from nudity and sex until she finds herself a life partner (it doesn't have to be marriage), so it is rather hugs, kisses, maybe some physical intimacy that doesn't break her purity. She loves to cuddle with Lech, but she also like a little tease with him.

***

Uffff! That was a long one! And I had some much fun with it!!! ✨

Thank you dearest @circa-specturgia for sending me this ask, I hope you all like my answers ✨

And I hope you learnt something more about our wonderful Vieno, Devina and Nurah 🥰

Sending lots of love ❤️

Agri 🖤✨