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rxgirlie · 1 month

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The Verdict- Chapter Three

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of suicide, parental death, BUGS: termites & bedbugs (never thought I’d type that but here we are)

A/N: I’d like to state that I’m sure AOAF happened in Grenoble but I’m a dumb American with no sense of direction or geography so Vincent lives in Paris. If you want to be added to my tag-list, just let me know. The slow burn is almost over!

The next day dawned with a sense of urgency as Leah and Vincent pulled up to Sandra's home where the reenactment was already underway. They were greeted by a scene of controlled chaos, with a dummy resembling Samuel being repeatedly tossed from the third-story window, its impact splattering crimson onto the pristine snow below. A meticulous spatter analyst, handpicked by Vincent, observed each drop with a focused intensity, recording her observations in a worn legal notebook.

Leah couldn't help but shudder at the display. "This is morbid," she whispered to Vincent as they navigated through the maze of investigators.

As the investigation unfolded, accompanied by the unrelenting drone of a repetitive tune, Vincent's frustration mounted at the treatment of his client and her son. Leah, feeling a mix of curiosity and confusion, observed the shifting dynamics with a growing sense of unease.

When Daniel's testimony suddenly veered off course upon the discovery of misplaced gaffer's tape, a ripple of anticipation swept through the room. Judge Janvier's satisfaction was palpable, but a shared glance between Vincent and Leah hinted at a deeper understanding of the looming challenges ahead.

The remainder of the day unfolded in a haze of disappointment, leaving Leah grappling with unresolved questions as she sought solace in a bottle of wine at home. The silence that had enveloped their car ride back was a comforting reassurance, a shared space where thoughts intermingled and strategies took shape in the quiet hum of contemplation.

_________________________________________

"And you're doing okay given the circumstances?" Leah's therapist's calming voice resonated from the laptop on the dining room table the next morning.

"The circumstances?" Leah called out from the kitchen, taking a sip of her freshly brewed coffee before padding back into the room to settle into the high back chair. Thankfully, both of their cameras were off, shielding June from seeing Leah's unfocused demeanor.

"The circumstances of the case," June clarified.

"I'm fine. My mom killed herself and that’s all there is to say about it. She left a detailed note. I've found closure. This man was either thrown out of a window or jumped, so it's a bit different. Not everything hits close to home, you know?" Leah replied, trying to downplay the emotional weight of the situation.

"It's important to acknowledge and respect your trauma, understand your limits, and be mindful of triggers that may affect you," June advised, her tone carrying a hint of foreboding, as if hinting at an impending breakdown.

"Sure thing. If I ever feel like taking a leap out the window, I'll give you a call. Otherwise, I'll touch base next week. Thanks, June!" Leah swiftly closed the laptop before June could interject, her attention abruptly diverted by a sharp knock on the front door.

"Can I help you?" Leah questioned as she opened the door to find a mysterious man standing there, who promptly handed her an envelope before hurriedly departing.

Perplexed, Leah shut the door and tore open the envelope, revealing “NOTICE TO VACATE" stamped on the legal document inside.

Just as she processed the unexpected notice, the doorbell chimed once more. Annoyed, Leah swung the door open, ready to confront the messenger of the unwelcome letter, only to be met by a puzzled Vincent.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" Vincent inquired, his expression tinged with mild exasperation.

Confused, Leah ushered him inside and checked her phone, noticing three missed calls she had overlooked.

"I'm sorry, I thought we weren't meeting until eleven?" Leah apologized, adjusting her silk robe as she led Vincent to the kitchen table.

"Sandra was indicted an hour ago," Vincent revealed, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table's surface. "Get dressed, and I'll brief you."

As Leah disappeared into the bedroom, Vincent glanced at the document she had left behind and discovered the reason for the sudden eviction: termites.

"They're kicking you out because of termites," Vincent called out, prompting a bewildered response from Leah in the other room.

"They're offering a full refund if you vacate within thirty days," Vincent continued, scanning the letter's contents.

"I'll never find a new place in my budget in such a short time," Leah lamented from the bedroom.

"You probably got a great deal on this place because of the termite issue," Vincent remarked with a chuckle.

"I figured it would have been bedbugs, honestly," Leah joked, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she reappeared in the living room, fully dressed and ready to take on the day.

_________________________________________

The ride to the cafe was swift as Vincent explained the details to Leah. "The public prosecutor’s statement contained three elements in particular," he said, his voice tinged with urgency. "Analyses of Samuel’s blood spatter found at the home indicate that he may have received a blunt force blow to the head before he fell from the window. The reenactment brought to light a number of discrepancies, which you are fully aware of, and there was a USB file discovered belonging to Samuel containing a recording made a couple of days before his death."

"A USB file? Have you listened to it?" Leah questioned, her expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"Yes, and it’s…" Vincent's voice trailed off, his gaze distant. "damning."

Leah let out a measured sigh as Vincent parked the car, the weight of their conversation settling between them.

As they walked to a cafe by the water, Leah followed Vincent cautiously, her thoughts swirling with the gravity of the situation. Vincent motioned for her to sit across from him, his demeanor serious as he lit a cigarette and sorted through papers from a folder he had been carrying.

Leah placed their order, her mind distracted as she tried to recall their previous cafe visit and what Vincent had ordered specifically. Vincent sipped his coffee contentedly, multitasking with his phone pressed to his ear and papers spread out in front of him.

When Nour, Vincent's partner, arrived, she brought hopeful news. "The judge this afternoon is not Da Silva, it’s Bollène."

"I’m off to the bank. They will only do fifty thousand," Vincent explained, slipping on his coat. "Money issues and such," he added, finishing his coffee in quick gulps.

The bail hearing was tense and sterile, with the prosecuting team arguing against Sandra's release, citing concerns of potential influence on Daniel's testimony. Nour's quick thinking and persuasive arguments swayed the decision in Sandra's favor, emphasizing her role as Daniel's caregiver and the restrictions in place to prevent any tampering with his account of events.

Sandra's temporary freedom hinged on the supervision of Marge Berger, appointed to monitor her interactions with Daniel and ensure the integrity of his statements. As Sandra and Vincent drove back to the chateau, Leah faced the choice of staying in Paris or returning to the alps with Nour and Marge. Opting for the former, Leah watched as the car disappeared into the distance, knowing that the twists and turns of the case were far from over.

_________________________________________

“About your living situation,” Vincent started and glanced over at her. His arrival at her apartment later that evening was a welcomed surprise. Vincent had given Leah a clipped version of his tense ride back to the alps with Sandra over two cups of black coffee at the kitchen’s bar.

Leah sighed, “Ugh, don’t even remind me about that.”

The idea of Leah staying in a hotel, especially under such stressful conditions, didn't sit well with Vincent. An idea formed in his mind, one he hesitated to voice, unsure of how she would receive it. After a moment of internal debate, he spoke, “I have a couch bed in my apartment. It's not much, but it's comfortable and doesn’t have termites. You're welcome to stay there until you find a new place."

Leah was taken aback, her eyes widening at the offer. "Vincent, I couldn't impose. We're colleagues, and that's—"

"—Exactly why you should accept," Vincent interjected gently. The sincerity in his voice and the genuine concern in his eyes made it hard for Leah to refuse. The thought of a pest-free place to stay, even temporarily, was too comforting to pass up. "Thank you, Vincent. I... I really appreciate it. Just until I find somewhere else, I promise."

He nodded, happy to help her in her time of need.

Vincent and Leah made their way to his apartment, the weight of the day's revelations and the unexpected turn of events hanging between them. Leah, still processing Vincent's generous offer, followed him up the steps to a charming, older building nestled in a quieter part of the city.

Vincent unlocked the door and ushered Leah inside, a hint of hesitancy in his movements. "It's not much," he began, "but it's home."

Leah stepped into the apartment and was immediately struck by its warmth. The space was a reflection of Vincent himself—understated, organized, and infused with a sense of calm. A spacious living room greeted them, its walls adorned with an eclectic mix of art that hinted at Vincent's travels and interests.

"This is lovely, Vincent," Leah said, her voice genuine. "You have a beautiful home."

Vincent gave a modest shrug, leading her through to the bedroom. "Here's where you'll be staying," he said, opening the door to a cozy room bathed in the soft light of a bedside lamp. The bed was haphazardly made, and the shelves were lined with books, a testament to Vincent's love for literature.

“This is your bedroom?” Leah questioned.

“Yes,” he nodded, "I'll take the couch for a bit to give you privacy.”

“Absolutely not,” Leah interjected, “I’m the guest, so I’ll take the couch.”

“I insist,” Vincent offered and Leah let out a measured sigh. “I’ll be here for a week, tops.”

#vincent renzi fanfiction #maitre vincent renzi #anatomy of a fall vincent #vincent renzi x original female character #vincent renzi #the verdict

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inkareds · 1 year

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Colonisers || MCU Namor

nav // marvel m.list // ko-fi ✧.*word count: 6k ✧.* warnings: violence, blood, murder, white ppl being demonised, a lot and I mean a lot of murder, kinda ooc Namor, focused more on the reader's journey instead of the romance aspect, kinda soulmate au (oh black panther 2 spoilers FYI) ✧.* genre: NSFW, fluff, no smut, but violence

Transitioning from a soldier, fighting for your nation's independence, to a supposed beacon of diplomacy after your nation finally was free was difficult. Especially when the man in your dreams on the days that you were more violent beckons you to the ocean.

A bit of an author's note before we start, the reader here is heavily referenced to be Indonesian, or at the very least of South East Asian heritage and the time period around 1945-1949. But both of these are kind of irrelevant if you ignore the food and geography. This is important because there are some details like the colonisers here being blonde and blue eyes (Dutch) and them colonising the 'nation' for 350 years is true to Indonesia's history.

I wanted to write more about other cultures but because I am not really the best person for that I wrote what was most personal to me. And just a bit of a warning ik I said soulmate au but Namor plays a small part here. It's mostly about the reader's struggles! Other than that please enjoy (p.s most of the references here about the war, genocide, etc etc is actually true to Indo's history)

How was it that even after 350 years of pain and suffering, you and your people had to suffer more and more? You had thought that by becoming a sovereign nation, you and your people could be free from the colonisers who plagued the fertile soils of your homeland. But they have yet to leave, and they have yet to apologize.

Even here, as you now sat, a diplomat to your country in front of the leaders of the nation who oppressed your own, they judge you. Their eyes analyse you as they try and rip you to shreds with their gaze. Was it not enough? Was three hundred and fifty years of oppression not enough for them? Would it be so terrible for them to free you all now?

All those thoughts come to a halt when your leader called you to speak. You stood when the council allowed you to, “As my President has spoken to all of you before. We are not here to ask for reprimands, we do not demand aid nor do we demand money for all the suffering your people have caused us. We simply ask that you leave. There are still many of your people on our lands, spiting our men and women. For the sake of peace, we ask that you urge them back to their home country. If this continues on, our people will act accordingly.” You warned the leaders in front of you.

Just as you and your president had predicted, they went on the defensive, one of them stood up once you sat. “Are you implying that we should take people who only share our blood but never even touch our soil back here? Those people were born and raised in your now sovereign country. They are your people now. They are no longer our issue anymore. It is not our fault that you are too blind to see you are not able to lead a country without us.”

Now it was your president’s turn to speak, you could already tell he was enraged by the insults thrown your way. “With all due respect, General, I beg to differ. The people of living within your country still think of ‘these people’ as their own. As even if they have never gone to your country, your country’s people still view them as family and vice versa. These people in our land still mock our natives. They still adopt the mentality that they are greater. If this were to continue our nation’s people will be pushed to violence.”

As the meeting droned on, you realise slowly what was happening. There will be no resolution nor an end to this. They will never take their people back because it would be too much work, not to mention the fact that they still have their people in your home means that they still have some control over your people. They can always go back once they’re ready and take back your nation.

Anxiety overtook you on your flight back home. Your only companion, your president, held your hand tightly against his own. A vain attempt to ease you. It was your idea to go to them, to ask and to plead with them. You did not want more blood to spill on your lands. Your people had seen too much war and had seen too much violence. Brutality would be etched into your history books, though you did not wish it to be so.

You wish for a better life for your people. A life where they could live just as they want to. A life farming the lands for what is in season, not what they are told to harvest. A life sailing the seas, diving the oceans, not bombing the sea beds as they were forced to.

But even as you were a beacon of peace and prosperity to your people. They can only take so much.

That much was clear when you landed on the runway and left the plane, reporters hounded both you and the president.

“Was the discussion successful?” “Do you have anything to comment about the recent meetings?” “What did they have to say about their brutal history here?” “Have they apologized yet?” “Are there any plans for future collaboration or communication?”

You stayed quiet, knowing anything that leaves your mouth would only stroke the fires of anger within your people’s hearts. You only wish for peace. An end to this war. But your president, a beacon of the brutal fight for independence, a stark contrast to yours of peace within diplomacy, had different ideas. “I will not entertain the idea of collaboration with such a nation ever again. Not after the insults thrown at my companion’s way.” he gestured towards you.

Your eyes only grew wide at his statement. This will surely anger your people. Quickly trying to control crowd damage you spoke to another reporter. “We were lucky enough to be met with respect and dignity, although it is true the meeting did not end well. I have high hopes for diplomacy between our two countries.” Before you could say anything more you were already dragged away by your bodyguards.

Packed into a small Chrysler Imperial, chosen by none other than your president himself, you were quick to criticize him. “Why did you have to say that?! No one needed to know that those foreigners insulted me. You know the effect it would bring to the people!” He looked towards you with familiar anger in his eyes.

The same anger you saw when you first worked together with him in the field against the very same foreigners you now try to have civil conversations with. “Maybe that’s what I’m hoping for. Enough with this bullshit. Enough with the tension. I absolutely hate how they treat you, how they treat me, how they treat our people.” He spoke with certainty. “Let our nation deal with them. After years of torment, we should at least let them have that.”

“You don’t understand, there are already reports of violent uprisings against the foreigners. Soon enough there’ll be murders-” “And would that be so bad?!” He looked towards you in a way a friend would, not a leader and his subordinate, not a superior and his worker. But a tired friend to another tired friend. A veteran of the war to another veteran of the war.

At that moment, the driver pretends he could not hear the private conversation his two leaders were having. “My mother was killed by those people in front of me.” he spoke your name so softly and held your hands in his. “They killed our friends, tortured our people. Would some of their deaths be so bad?”

For a second, you almost caved. You had almost forgotten how he was able to become president in the first place. After all, his charisma allowed him to lead the rebellion, lead the decades-strong fight for freedom, and now here he sat with you. A president, a leader of a broken nation. He was militant, you were supposed to be his other side, the peace, the diplomacy. You could not support this.

“It will only lead to more violence. What happens when angry people realise it isn’t enough to just kill those that are pure-blooded foreigners? What happens to the people who are mixed? Half of their being belongs to this nation. What about those who supported our oppressors so that they may continue to live? It was not their choice to fight against their own. We must protect them.” You tried to reason.

But with the way, he threw his face away from your gaze you knew he was far beyond reasoning. Despite the fact that you were the one who was insulted, he took that insult to heart. After all, he was the one leading the country, and any judgement made towards your decisions or your position in his council is judgement to his own abilities to lead this great nation. You knew that if you stayed here in the car, arguing with him, you will lose your composure and say things you did not mean.

“Driver, stop here, I can find my way back on foot.” The driver seem to hesitate, but with no further qualms from the president, he stopped and let you off the car.

When you got off, you recognized the place immediately, it was simply by chance that you got out here, of all places. Looking around, you smiled to yourself. This was your hometown, where you were raised. Sure a lot has changed ever since you left to join the fight for independence. But a lot of it was still the same.

One of those things was the kindness of the people. As you were taking in the view of your home and the smell of the salty air, no doubt thanks to the ocean not so far from where you were. An old woman walked by you, when she called your name your head quickly turned around to meet her. “You are the diplomat who’s always by the president’s side aren’t you?” she spoke excitedly.

You felt your heart soar when you heard her. “It seems my reputation precedes me.” The old woman laughed at your little joke. All before pulling out a couple of small circular red fruits, alike lychees but quite different in taste and texture. “My garden’s rambutan trees just went into harvest, take some!” she didn’t even let you protest as she pushes the fruits into your hands.

You laughed whilst thanking her. But because you left your bag in the car, you were left carrying the handful of fruits in one of your hands. “OH! I also just finished baking some pineapple treats! Have some!”

“Ma’am I really shouldn’t.” “Hush now, I have too many anyways. My grandchildren don’t like them very much. I make them for me you see, but I have to watch my blood pressure now. So you’d be doing me a favour!” A sense of joy and easiness flowed into you as you accepted her jar of baked goodies in your hands. Smiling to yourself at her excuses.

This was something you’ll never get over about your hometown. This was what you so desperately want to protect. The kindness and graciousness the people around you raised you with, you only hope to be able to inspire such emotions towards your nation’s people. You know they were raised surrounded by violence, hatred, war, and oppression. But maybe, just maybe, with your help and guidance, they can be so much more.

So you thank the old woman and went on your way to the beach. A place you’ve spent so much of your childhood and adolescence in. The water brings peace. And as now it was getting dark, there were very few people on the beach. You went to sit down on the part of the sand which was still dry and placed down the container of baked goods. Choosing to indulge yourself in the sweet fruit.

Watching the waters etch the sand, leaving behind sea foam in its wake, brought a calmness that you could only guess the fishermen you were raised around could feel. How you grew up seeing brave men and women go out to the oceans with their sails high, letting the winds take them where they need to go, only to grow up defending the very ocean that foreigners claimed to be their own.

In another lifetime, perhaps you could live from the ocean, just as your ancestors had. Instead of dealing with paperwork day in and day out inside an office. Hoping to whatever gods were listening to you that your hard work will pay off.

As you pop one of the fruits in your mouth you hum in enjoyment at the sweet taste that filled your tastebuds. “What fruit is that?” in your fun you did not sense the presence of another person on the beach with you. Your head snapped towards his direction and realised he must’ve been here a while before he spoke, as he was already sitting on the sand beside you, the heels and half of his feet buried in the warm sand.

By the look of him, decorated with piercings and beautiful necklaces, you assumed he wasn’t from here. A guess that was solidified by the answer to your question. “They’re rambutan. Have you never seen them?” he only shook his head. “You’re not from here. But you don’t really look like one of the foreigners.” You analysed. “Have one.” Trying to ease the tension of your obvious suspicion you offered one of the fruits to him. Which he gladly took.

He shrugged as he peeled back the skin of the fruit. “I am from around, but,” he paused, “Just not from here.” You wanted to giggle when you saw his eyes ever so slightly lit up when the fruit hit his tongue. “Careful with the seed.” you warned before continuing.

“Not from here but from around?” you thought to yourself before getting an idea. “Ah, you must be one of the tribe members I’m supposed to meet next week! I didn’t know they were coming so early.”

Having been a combination of different tribes and kingdoms before the foreigners came and combined everyone. You were aware of the separate needs each tribe needed once your nation was formed into one sovereign nation. So, you had invited their leaders to a meeting in the capital. You weren’t expecting one of them to meet you on the beach of your hometown though.

The man didn’t answer, you thought perhaps he just wanted to not talk about politics right now. Gods knew you needed a break.

“Anyways, would you like to try some baked goods too? The people here make the best things with pineapple.” You offered the container to him. At first, he seemed very apprehensive, but after you took one of the goods into your mouth he went to grab one. “Those are truly delicious.” he spoke absentmindedly.

You continued watching him as he ate the food. Now that you got a good look at him, he was quite an attractive man. Dark skin alike your people, contrary to his curlier hair. He was incredibly handsome actually.

“What do you think of the ocean?” he suddenly asked. You were obviously caught off guard but after sputtering a few nonsense you finally got a hold of yourself. “Uh- I think it’s- well it’s beautiful first and foremost. But I think other than that, it’s just great.” you shrugged. “In every way possible.”

Turning towards the slowly descending sun and the ripples of water that reflect its gorgeous glow, you could only sigh in contentment. “If I could, I wouldn’t mind just being in it forever. It’s probably more peaceful than whatever is happening here. Much calmer.” you whispered to yourself.

A faraway dream, you thought. When you were a child, you would dream of joining your people on their voyages out to the ocean. But because you were too young to join a ship, you imagined yourself swimming under them, meeting them as they dive into the ocean to catch fish. A few years after joining the fight with your people, when you were a young adult, you dreamed almost every night about swimming in the ocean with someone. He’d take you from the terrifying life of death and violence and bring you to the calm of the cold waters. You laughed at your own childish thoughts.

How would the younger version of you see you now? They would be proud of you a few years ago. Making plan after plan on how to outsmart the soldiers, how to defeat your colonisers. But now? Stuck in formal attire, in dingy offices, always getting disrespected by the people you were once fighting in the field against? What a disgrace you are.

“I don’t know.” After the long silence, you spoke. “I think the water just reminds me of all I could’ve done. Had I stayed here in my fishing town, perhaps I wouldn’t be as stressed as I am now.”

The man sat silent for a moment, before answering, “What is stopping you from leaving it all behind and staying here, at home?” You don’t know what it was about this stranger you just met. But it was as if you had known him your whole life.

He was electrifying to be around and you just had to get a good look at him one last time before you have to leave. Turning towards him, it would appear he had been looking at you this entire time. Flushing slightly you almost wanted to turn away. But you didn’t. You dejectedly smiled.

“I want to make a difference. Maybe it’s partly due to the way I was raised too, always wanting to make sure everyone was kind to everyone. But I’ve been on both sides of this war. The violent and the diplomatic. The diplomatic is more boring sure, but it kills fewer people. Fewer people die and I’d have to bury fewer people. If I leave now, these people won’t have that beacon of hope. I’m fighting so that my people may always see peace. After all,” you turned around to look at the town behind you.

“If those people, the ones I was raised with, can live this long with kindness in their hearts. Who's to say this nation can’t?” With that, you realised it was getting very late.

High tide will come soon enough and no matter how far you are from the shore, the waters will become dangerous. So you stood up and offered your hand to the man sitting on the sand. He had an empty look in his eyes as if he was lamenting about what you said. It then popped into your mind once more that this man might just be a tribe leader, cursing to yourself inwardly, you only hoped that you gave a good impression to him.

When he noticed your outreached hand to help him up he declined. “I want to stay here a bit longer, the ocean calms me, just as it calms you.” You nodded, completely understanding what he meant. “Well, let these fruits be your company then, cause I’m taking these delicious pastries with me.” You chuckled as you gave to him the rest of your fruits and took the container from the sand.

He then gave you the most electrifying smile you have ever seen in a person. It was a smile you felt as though you have seen before. Perhaps in your dreams, but how would you know? Those days of dreaming were far behind you.

Violence was in your days when dreams were in your nights. And you were steering clear of violence.

That night you went to your childhood home and slept there. You’d be able to find your way to the capitol tomorrow morning, but tonight, with your stomach full of fruits and baked goods, and your mind filled with the amazing memory of that mystery man on the beach, you fell into a deep slumber.

Well, it would’ve been a deep slumber, had you not awoken to screams.

Your eyes jolted awake as your body jumped itself from adrenaline. The first thing you noticed was the smoke, there was smoke, everywhere. Trying to think quickly, you let the instinct from your fighting days override your senses, you immediately took a rag and spilt some water on it. Bringing it to your nose you made your way out of your home.

There was fire everywhere. Your home was set ablaze, and it seems as though your home was not the only one. The moment you stepped out of your house, the sounds of the screams, ones which you had ignored at first filled your ears.

You had never thought you’d ever see such a sight greet you ever again since your nation gained its independence.

The world seemed to move in slow motion. All around you, buildings, homes, shops, all of them were set ablaze. Black smoke and smog filled the air as the streets were covered with blood. People were being dragged out of their homes, beaten, bruised, and slashed. You stared in horror as the foreigners flooded your hometown, dragging your people with them. They screamed obscenities as your people thrashed against their hold.

Their laughter haunted you.

Looking to your side, your eyes landed on an old woman. Immediately, just like that, everything went back to normal pacing. The fires spread as water flowed, people were running, screaming, and begging for help. And the old woman? She was on the ground pleading for someone to rescue her. A man twice her size and half her age towered above her, his hair a golden yellow and his eyes a bright blue.

He held a large wooden stick in his hands, raising it to strike at the old woman. Without thinking twice you ran straight towards the individual. Barrelling your body against his own to throw him off the old woman. She screamed in horror once she realised it was you. But you had no time to think.

The man you threw off struggled against your hold as he slammed the wooden stick onto your back you quickly reeled back. The impact from such a hard object along with the smoke slowly filling up your lungs was too much. You collapsed to the ground as you coughed and wheezed. From the corner of your eye, you saw another foreigner slam the head of the old woman into a brick wall.

At that point, you were sure she was dead.

Your screams fell on deaf ears as your struggling figure laying on the ground was kicked in the stomach by the man you originally pushed off the old lady. Pain spread through your entire body as you cried out for help.

Not here. Please not here. Anywhere but here.

Why out of all places, must they ruin the one untouched home you have left?

Tears flowed down your face as the heat of the fire filled you with pain. You heard their laughter. They laughed as they killed your people. Your friends.

“Let this be a warning.” One of them grabbed your hair and pulled it back to look you in the eyes. “A warning to your stupid president who thought our government would even listen to you monkeys. This land will be ours once more. So, give up, or die.” Your vision slowly clouded away, but in one last act of deviance, you spat at their shoes. “Merdeka atau mati (Freedom or death).”

“Mati it is. (Death it is).” You closed your eyes waiting for impact, but it did not come.

What did come was the release of your hair, and when nothing else came you opened your eyes with worry.

What you saw was unlike anything you would ever expect. There, standing in front of you, was that man on the beach. He held the foreigner’s neck in his hands with ease as he choked the man to death. You didn’t have enough oxygen left to really comprehend what you were seeing but now you were sure where you had met this man.

He was the man who brought you to the ocean in your dreams. It was him. But as the oxygen was slowly depleting from your system, your eyes started to blur. Just in time to see him rush to your side. “I’m sorry I was late.”

Was all you had heard left before you dropped to unconsciousness.

Swimming in the darkness that was the unconsciousness left you with many uncertainties. There was no telling how much time has passed or what was happening during the time that your mind was not present in your body. It was terrifying. But, in a way, it was almost comforting. Away from the duties of having to be the ‘calm’ one in the leadership position.

A part of you almost missed the days when you fought alongside your best friend. But those days were far behind you now. You had to bring balance to his anger and determination to the fight. You had to be that person. You were raised to be that person, and you will honour your people by being that person.

In the meantime, you swam and swam in the cold darkness. Where were you swimming to? You didn’t know. It was as if you were being called somewhere. Somewhere further from your understanding. Somewhere away.

“Mr President, there are already reports of murders towards the foreigners.”

“Let them be.” “But sir-” “I said let them be! Can’t you see what they’ve done to them?? They’ve burned their hometown! If anything, they’re lucky I’m not the one directly persecuting them. The people shall be the judge and the jury.”

Their conversation was simply muffled to your slowly conscious mind. But as your eyes slowly opened, your best friend was on you immediately. Seeing your eyes squint he immediately jumped to be by your side.

Groggily you looked around, parts of your body were bandaged and there were machines connected to you. “What happened?” You whispered.

He hesitantly answered. “You were found on the outskirts of the town, near the beach.” “And my town?”

He was silent.

Why was he silent?

Oh. no.

So that’s why.

The realisation hit you like a bullet. Every part of you wanted to scream out and if you could, you would’ve. But with how dry your throat was from the fire you could barely make out a few words. The only thing you could do was cry. Tears after tears fell down your face.

“What am I doing?” you hoarsely spoke, “All those years ago, when we were fighting. I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to kill as many bastard oppressors in our lands. Even when you asked me to be by your side as you ruled. I knew where I was going. I wanted to protect my home. What am I doing now? I have no home to protect, no people to inspire peace. Nothing else. I have,” he felt his heart break at your proclamation. “Nothing.”

“Tell me, please, Mr. President. Tell me what I need to do. I’m- I’m so fucking tired.” This was it.

You couldn’t do it anymore.

Your childhood was seared with war and blood and pain. The only reprieve was your home, the beaches of your home, the ocean of your home, the shores, the water, the fish, and the people. What did you have now? If you ever come back, the only memories would be of the slaughter.

You had nothing else to fight for. No reason anymore to be merciful. “Just- tell me what I need to do.” Your voice cracked from your desperation.

The president simply held your hand. Exactly as he had thousands of times before to ease your worries. “Nothing. Do nothing, say nothing. Let our people show you how much they care about you. Let them avenge you.”

And avenge they did.

Two years.

It was two whole years of slaughter, violence, and dreams of the ocean and that mysterious man. Two years followed after the threat and attack of your hometown, your nation could not take the colonisers any longer. They broke. Anyone pro-colonialism or of colonial blood was slaughtered. When all of it ended, when the foreigner’s nation finally relented and pulled back any and all efforts. Signing a very official document of peace between the two of you, everything seems to end.

The murders stopped, and the violence stopped. But the dreams did not.

Perhaps it was because the violence was now etched into your mind.

Then one day, the president walked into your office. You stood and saluted him as part of your formalities. “Mr President, to what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you today?”

He walked towards you and spoke your name softly. “You’ve served this country a great deal. You fought alongside me and you’ve lost almost everything.” You nodded. “I wish to relieve you of such burdens. You have given everything to this nation, and I wish to give everything to you back.”

Your face paled at his insinuation. “Are you firing me? You can’t, Mr President please. This is all I have left now. What will I do if not this?”

“Nothing! You will do absolutely nothing!” he sighed, dragging his palm down his face. “Listen, okay? I’m talking to you now as your childhood friend and not as your superior. I’ve seen how you’ve changed. I see the way you’re not taking any time to mourn. I see the way you submerge yourself in apathy. The only time I ever see you calm or even happy is when I catch you asleep in your office! The military pension plan I’m giving you should be enough to live a lavish life. Find something else to live for. Find someone to love. Find, anything!”

He was practically begging you. “Don’t let guilt consume you. Please.” You furrowed your brows as silence overtook the two of you.

All before you looked away from him. How dare he? You’ve stood by his side throughout all this time and he thinks he can just throw you away now? Does he not see how much you needed this? You need a distraction. You can’t just be left to your own devices. But he won’t listen. He never does. He’s a stubborn man and perhaps that’s what makes him the leader your nation needs. A man who’s unafraid to make the decisions necessary, not someone like you, someone who tried so hard to be kind only to have it amount to nothing.

After all, your hands know pain and suffering, it was a fool’s errand to be something you weren’t.

“I’ll have my things packed by tomorrow,” you whispered. “But promise me.” turning quickly towards him you looked at him with fire in your eyes. “Promise me you’ll do what is best for the nation. You remember that diplomacy is as needed as violence. As much as I want to see coloniser blood flood our streets, it is not what’s best for our people.”

He nodded. “I swear to you.”

That night, you dreamt of the beach. Your hometown’s beach. And of the mysterious stranger. He had winged feet and he was staring at you, beckoning you to come closer. With hesitancy, you approached him. When you were close enough, he reached out his hand towards you and every part of you compelled yourself to take his hand.

Slowly bringing you towards him he held your cheek in his other hand as he slowly angled your face towards his own. How had you not noticed his pointed ears before? Every part of him was absolutely beautiful.

Slowly pulling you in closer and closer, his lips were mere centimetres away from your own when he whispered. “Come to me.”

Then your body jolted you awake. As if working on autopilot, you jumped off of the bed and quickly dressed. All before jumping on a motorbike and speeding towards your hometown. Despite your body willing you to go immediately to the beach. You took your time.

You hadn’t had the heart to visit your home ever since it was burned from the ground. And as you looked around, everything was different. The buildings were crumbling, the stores were gone, and the people were dead. But the salty air still stayed.

The salty air.

The ocean.

That’ll never change no matter how much destruction the colonisers curse your lands with.

Making your way towards the beach, there he was. Standing in all his glory. The man who has plagued your dreams ever since you went to fight alongside the other freedom fighters. His back was turned towards you, he faced the high tides of the ocean at night time.

You were taught better than to approach the harsh waters at night, but you felt as though you were protected with him around. As if with him around you could do anything you wanted.

As soon as your bare feet touched the cold sand, he turned around. He stood so regally that it made you quite self-conscious. He smiled at you with both his hands behind his back. “It is really you.” You whispered as you approached him.

Once you were face to face, you continued. “The man in my dreams.” his smile brightened at your statement. “Who are you?” With bravery, you didn’t know you have your hand raised to his face. The man practically preened at your touch, leaning into your warm hand.

“My people call me K’uk’ulkan.” You tried repeating his name. The word was very foreign to your tongue and you wondered if you pronounced it properly, but with the way, he chuckled your face flushed realising you probably didn’t. “Others call me Namor.” That sounds more feasible for your tongue.

Though you inwardly swore to learn how to properly say his name.

“I am a king, a god, a leader to a nation not unlike yours,” he spoke in such a soft tone that it made your heart melt. “A nation built on violence and bloodshed. A nation whose people have war etched onto their veins. But we have long since fled from it, the threat of war is ever looming over our heads, sure. Yet my people know peace and easiness in their daily lives.” he explained to you softly.

If any other man would tell you he was a god, you’d scoff at their face and assume they had the ego of a coloniser. But this was a man with wings on his heels, he could say he was from outer space and you’d believe him. “Must be nice,” you spoke with sadness, “If only I could live in such a way.”

“You could.” Namor’s eyes bore deep into you, he took your breath away. “Come with me. I have searched nation after nation for you. The person of my dreams. You haunt me day and night and now here you stand before me. I first came to you that day to kill you. I do not wish to have my life plagued by a human, but I could not bare myself to do such a thing. And your surface world fruit tastes incredible.” He chuckled.

You didn’t even bother asking what he meant by the surface world. His offer was incredibly attractive. But you still had your apprehension. “What of my life here? What of my people here? I swore an oath to always protect them, to be by their side.”

It was then Namor held both your hands in his. “When they need you, I shall let you be with them. But I promise you now, they are content with how they are now. Be selfish, my love, and have the peace you’ve always wanted. Leave this violent land.”

Perhaps you would’ve declined his invitation weeks ago. But now, without a job, without a title, and without a hometown. Especially with the man you’ve been dreaming of standing in front of you, his face mere centimetres away from your own. It’s very hard to decline.

“Take me with you.” With those four words, his lips moulded into your own. With that kiss, he gave to you everything. And you gave him your everything.

All your pain, all your suffering, all your hopes and dreams, all of it you poured into the love you have for him. When did you fall in love with the man in your dreams? Perhaps it had happened so long ago that you didn’t even realise it. But you would’ve never thought he was real. Yet here he was. As real as daylight. And here you were, the one he thought he could only ever dream about. With all your bravery, compassion, and violence.

You were perfect, and you were finally his.

tagging people who seemed interested hehe: @omgsuperstarg @queenotaku23 @gamorxa @girlymusiclover09 @honestlyka @internetmultifandomfangirl @tzurue @marvelupsetsme @superpartyclamthing @ben-solo0 @bontensbabygirl (I fucking love ur username) @tacorei @starkgaryan @sera-wonderland (I'm sorry if it's not as soulmate au ish as you'd wish lmao I'm working on sumth else that's more soulmate-y but w/ the same concept as this) @n3v43hj @fictional-darlings

I'm sorry if this wasn't what you guys were expecting hehe. Watching Namor defend his people and watching the colonisers was just a very personal moment to me (and I'm sure a lot of people), so I made this story as a personal self-indulgent story.

#namor x reader #namor the submariner #mcu namor x reader #mcu namor #namor the submariner x reader #k'uk'ulkan #black panther 2 spoilers #black panther 2 #mcu #black panther wakanda forever spoilers

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rasby · 7 months

Note

Heeeey I loved your tattos HCs!

Do you have anything about what kind of HS/uni professor they'd be?

Hii! Omgg thank you 😭😭😭 this is really nice

I tried to write this with my limited knowlage of how American schools work (that i picked up from tv shows and cartoons). I'm from the Balkans and our schools are a bit different, so if there's anything inaccurate i apologise!! (Also this is based on highschool bc I'm in highschool)

Asra

• They would teach art

• One of the favourite teachers in the entire school

• None of the assignments they give are what the school board tehnically require, but they encourage creativity

• Also he has no care when it comes to grading so you can come to class with a roll of toilet paper and still get an A

• There is no learning in his class, it's more like an extended break

• I imagine they don't even show up half of the time

• It's a miracle they haven't been fired

• (The miracle is called Nadia)

Nadia

• As a teacher, i think she'd do history or geography

• But overall, she's definetly the principle

• If the school is short staffed, she can definitely multi-task

• As a teacher, she'd be very strict

• No talking, no whispering, no phones...really follows every rule

• And she's a little harsh on the grading too

• But it isn't hard to get a good grade if you listen to her lectures and take notes

• She's also very willing to help and really aims to teach

• If you ask, she'll find the time in her day to go over everything with you

Julian

• The obvious answer is chemistry and/or biology

• But i feel like his classes would be so much more

• He gets really immersed in teaching and he knows how to hold the students attention

• Half the time doesn't even notice the bell

• He's not a strict teacher by any means, but he does want everyone to learn

• When it comes to grading he's very flexible

• If he thinks you understand the subject, he'll give you a good grade even if it's not EXACTLY by the book

• Of course, he's open to helping students with his own subject but if you need help with other subjects, he's willing to help in that department too

• If you wanna get out of a class, just ask him about his day before he starts the lecture. He'll start rambling about random things until the class ends

Portia

• She would teach language and literature

• She's also very liked by the entire school

• Puts her whole soul into teaching

• Like there's no way you're coming out of her class uneducated

• She decorates her classroom and has a LOT of plants

• In fact, she probably takes care of most school plants

• And shows the janitors how to properly take care of them if she can't

• Teams up with Asra for most school projects and decorations

• Her classes are very calming but if she's really passionate about a certain subject, be prepared

• Will also ramble before class and talk to the students, but she's more focused then her brother

• Spends her breaks in the library or with the lunch ladies

• Also the type of teacher to bring snacks every day into the teachers lounge

• Honestly, everyone likes her

Muriel

• I'll be honest, I've been wracking my brain about this for so long but i cannot for the life of me see him as a teacher

• In pre school, maybe

• But with high-schoolers? No...

• I do see him as a janitor, however

• He'd be perfect for the job

• The kids wouldn't want to mess with him because he seems mean and scary

• (And because Asra can also be mean and scary)

• He's very fast and only focuses on doing his work as fast as he can

• He's tall, he's strong...you get my point

• He would definitely bring Asra lunch every break and they would sit and chat in his classroom or the Janitors closet (they don't mind the small space)

• Eventually, Asra introduces him to other teachers and they all become friends and welcome him into the teachers lounge

Lucio

• He's a PE teacher

• If you're in his class all i have to say is....good luck

• Most students skip his class

• EVERY class

• He will work you TO THE BONE

• He doesn't understand that high-schoolers can't compare to his professionally trained self and expects everyone to meet him at his level

• For a PASSING grade

• If you want a GOOD grade you'll have to impress him

• And before you think he should've been fired, that isn't possible

• HE'S FUNDING THE SCHOOL

• Nadia is aware of his..."teachings" but she can't do much about it

• With him gone, half the school goes too!

• Eventually everyone tells him to calm down and he does

• (But he's really passive agressive about it)

• The students forgive him cause he's hot

As always, if anyone wants to add on, please feel free!

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sparkrls · 3 months

Text

Bonus: The Brits

MASTERLIST

Summary: Bonus content from my series Keep Driving, available on Wattpad

Author’s Note: If you enjoyed this, feel free to check out the full series. PS, contains small spoilers for the series

•••

11 February, 2023.

London, UK.

"ALL BECAUSE I LIKED A BOY!" Alliah belted, the highest note she had ever sang in her life. And then softly and gently, letting emotion leak through her voice, "All because I liked..." Her words were barely a whisper, "a boy."

She searched through the crowd, finding Harry's face, and those familiar green eyes. He was wide-eyed and blushing when she pointed at him.

Alliah bit her lip, trying to hide her smile at his reaction, and instead focused on the screams and cheers from the crowd. The applause lingered in her mind like smoke, and she stood taller as she found herself pleased by how loud the crowd was.

This was one of the most elaborate performances she had ever done, wearing a glamorous red dress that was draped in dangerous and elegant ways, with backup dancers and sparklers. The whole performance was supposed to be similar to the upcoming music video, set in a circus.

And sure enough, it did look like a circus on stage but in the most glamorous way possible.

She'd designed it all to be a metaphor, of the way her life was treated as if it were designed to be a circus, all her flaws and creases pointed at for entertainment. She would jump through hoops, walk tightropes and play with fire, just for the applause of other people.

Alliah had to admit she was proud of herself for coming up with the whole concept.

The lights shut off, the cameras turning to look at the crowd, and Alliah made her way off the stage as they quickly prepped it for the next award and the next performance.

She went backstage, where Harry was waiting for her, still dressed in the outift he'd used for the performance, red and black pants and an open jacket. No shirt.

His torso was like a sculpture of marble, embedded with black ink in lines and curves of beauty. Alliah could spent forever tracing her hands over his body, memorizing every little detail.

Alliah grabbed the skirt of her dress that was dragging on the floor, and ran up to Harry, hugging him tightly.

All she wanted was to celebrate this moment with Harry, bathe in the happiness of this day with him, the one person who truly mattered to her.

As soon as she backed away, she exclaimed, "Oh my God that was so cool! Holy fuck, I've never felt so confident. And did you see that little move I did with my hips? Did it look good? It felt good."

"You were incredible!" Harry agreed, kissing her full on the lips as she smiled into the kiss. "You looked beautiful and I loved the concept- you have an amazing mind, Mendoza."

Alliah grinned at the ground, blushing at his compliments even after being on the receiving end of them for years now. He always knew the right thing to say.

"I loved your performance, though," Alliah added, placing an arm around his waist as he placed one on her shoulder. She raised her hand to intertwine her fingers with the hand around her shoulder as she rambled, "You looked so happy and comfortable. Not like you were performing to a bunch of strangers, but the way you look when you're with fans."

Harry nodded, smiling softly as he gazed at her. "I just love being home."

"I get it," Alliah agreed, knowing how the location made all the difference. It's why she had been so comfortable at the Grammys and why Harry was so comfortable at the BRITs. "It really does make a huge difference, a little thing like geography."

"It does!" Harry agreed as they made their way into their dressing room and were helped out of their outfits and back into their 'normal' ones.

Once they were in their usual glamorous award show outfits, Harry hugged her around the waist, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "But I'm always home when I'm with you."

Alliah's fingers found their way into his hair, holding him close while still being careful to preserve the shape of his curls. She kissed the side of his head. "I love you."

"I love you too."

liked by harrystyles and others

alliahmendoza that's my boy 🫶

view all comments

harrystyles thank you, love xx

-> username WTFFFF OMGGGG

-> username they're such couple goals 😭

miraduncan congrats hazzy!!!

-> username the fact that alliah's friends are so close to harry that they have nicknames for him 😭

username her first post about the BRITs wasn't even about her performance, it was about her boyfriend <3

-> username *her fiancée

username alliah is proud of her boy and we love to see it 🫶🫶🫶

username thank you alliah for the backstage pic of harry!!! this is why we love you

username the character development from being afraid to go on stage because of backlash from harries to unashamedly posting how proud she is of harry... i love alliah sm 😭🫶

[liked by alliahmendoza]

liked by alliahmendoza and others

harrystyles my girl xx

view all comments

alliahmendoza omg i slayed in that last picture

-> harrystyles you 4+4

jefezoff proud of you two ❤️

username i like to think that alliah is the one teaching harry all the internet slang

-> username oh she is. there's no way harry would've known what '4+4' meant without her

username WHAT THE FUCK. DID HARRY JUST POST HIS PERSONAL LIFE ON SOCIAL MEDIA FOR THE FIRST TIME???

username this is the first time harry posts a girlfriend on his socials

-> username screaming crying throwing up, he really loves her

username neither of them posted about themselves at the BRITs, just about each other 😭

username AAA THE BTS PIC OF ALLIAH I LOVE

-> username imagine all the unseens in their camera rolls

-> username if their camera rolls were leaked, it'd be the end of both fandoms

username oh our man is down BAD

-> harrystyles no regrets

-> username LMAO ILYSM HARRY

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kruven · 1 year

Text

— Isagi is horrendously and lamely in love and his confession shows it (how lame he is)

ISAGI Yoichi is cheerful and cheeky. Among many things, friendly and easy going. And a "devourer."

Isagi Yoichi is also simple and innocent.

Isagi Yoichi is also lame. Horrendously lame.

Isagi Yoichi, in front of you, is quiet.

Isagi can't help it, he cracks weird and sometimes unfunny jokes in hopes of getting you smile or bonus, a laugh.

But mostly he is quiet.

Unknowingly, his brain refuses to co-operate with him every time you are in his line of vision, or even in his peripheral vision.

There are nights where he cannot sleep.

Those nights, he cannot help think of you.

(Sometimes those thoughts aren't innocent.)

He cannot help but think of how you look when you are sleeping, or if he was there, on your bed, with you, he would touch—

He stops himself this time.

Isagi Yoichi concludes that yes. He has a crush.

But how could he ever tell?

Isagi Yoichi has never confessed to anyone before. But he remembers his middle school friends who were on verge of tears when their crush rejected them.

He vowed to never let that happen to himself.

The fear of rejection gnaws at him. Eating his brain up slowly and torturesly.

But he still makes weird and unfunny jokes for you.

And you laugh.

Isagi Yoichi, again his brain draws a blank.

Isagi Yoichi loves to walk.

He thinks and thinks and gives rise to many thoughts.

This time, you are all he can think of.

The way you furrow your eyebrows and smile a bit confused. The way you subconsciously play with your pencil when listening to the Geography teacher.

He remembers that he got yelled at for not focusing.

And he also remembers how you chewed your bottom lip trying to stop yourself laughing.

He is quite thankful, Isagi Yoichi has his pride after all.

Isagi Yoichi cannot keep this new-found discovery of his crush to himself forever.

He wants to let it out, scream at the top of his lungs, on a rooftop or even a mountain is fine.

But he is too caught up in his thoughts.

But he does. Oh He does tell.

On the day he declared that he will lead Japan to victory in U-20 world cup.

Well not quite.

It was when he was back home after all.

Well around 1 in the morning.

He couldn't sleep. Again.

But this time, it was his adrenaline that was keeping him awake.

So he thinks of the dumbest way to wear down. Run around the block till he tires himself again.

How lame.

He remembers that time as clear as freshly washed glass.

You saw him running from your window. (You never told him, but you thought he was a thief)

You scolded him.

(He did rebuttal saying 'why were you even awake at this hour?' effectively winning the argument)

And you remember that he blurted out "Please be my partner. I like you."

And he noticed that your eyebrows were furrowed together, lips in a confused smile.

He is back in his senses. And god he thinks you look cute.

He also remembers your answer.

It was the same, as he sees your shocked face and the way you nod your head to his question. (The one he is asking on one of his knees)

Well it was 'Yes'.

Isagi Yoichi is lame.

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haveyoubeentothiscity · 5 months

Note

I was a bit concerned by the "haven't heard of these places" percentage about rather popular European cities (I'm thinking about Bilbao, Como, Leipzig and Namur in peculiar) before I realized that there are USAmerican cities people seem to know (I know most but there are maybe three I don't think I've ever heard of) that I don't remember having heard about so my guess is most voters are USAmericans and that makes sense they're better at remembering places close to them, the way I know much more about European geography than theirs

Also not impressed by the percentage when it's about Latin American cities or African ones. La Paz is a capital city. Lagos and Kinshasa are ones of the most (I think the most but that'd need double checking) populated African cities.

Look, this isn't a personal criticism. I've no doubt the educative system failed many and that it's important for USAmericans to learn a lot about their country, probably much more stuff than European countries require their students to know about other European states. I'd get why it'd take center stage in geography class.

Personally, I hated my geography classes and had never been brilliant at it but it's important to know that kind of stuff and you can still inform yourself about it now that you're no longer in class

I think you’re right about this being partly about the geography of your own continent being more familiar. The demographics poll I posted last week suggests a little less than half of voters are from North America (probably mostly the US, although Canada does well in the submissions too).

While I’m a little hesitant to use not recognizing a city’s name as a metric for ignorance, the US does have a serious problem with neglecting Latin America, Asia, and Africa in education. A focus on US history makes sense, but after a leaving Ancient Egypt, the “world” history classes I took focused almost entirely on Europe. It is a failure and it leads to lack of familiarity and some serious misconceptions about these places.

That being said, I tried to pick language for the “haven’t heard of this city before” option that is neutral. If you haven’t heard of some of these cities before, well, now you have! I’ve definitely learned many new names through doing this, and while I don’t read up on every city I post, it’s been a delight to learn more about a few.

#not a poll #asked and answered

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kerubimcrepin · 3 months

Text

Live-read: The Wheel of Destiny #8, Kerubim.

You can find this article on the Dofus MMO's site, by simply googling it.

A bit of context: this is an article, from the series called "Wheel of Destiny," which focuses on small character studies of various ecaflip characters from the World of Twelve. I won't be doing all of them, just the ones that interest me.

It is my decision to start with this in particular, because of the relatively small size of the article, to test out this... reading liveblogs thing. I hope it goes well, and isn't too boring.

I hate Eca so much it's unreal, just so you know.

To make it more obvious which parts are me, and which parts are the article, while you're skimming the post, I turned on my computer's night mode for making screenshots.

...My sincerest apologies to tumblr's dark mode users, though. I'm sure this is a nightmare for you.

And this is what I was talking about in the previous posts, where I said that, canonically, Kerubim's friendship with Bashi started before the Quest of Two Mornings in Episode 3, Strich Hunt.

Very sad to disappoint, but there does not actually seem to be a Croc Ness monster in the Dofus MMO.

Yet another confirmation of the temple being situated in Amakna. (Besides my own geographical estimations while watching the show, and it literally being there in the Dofus MMO.)

It's a long ass way between the temple, and the swamp, but it is realistically doable for two kids, especially if they have a carriage. (Which Kerubim, being the guy responsible for feeding Ecaflip, does have access too.)

"Five-Cat Monte" is a reference to "Three-Card Monte" which is a real thing.

Glad to know Bashi is also very normal and sane as a kid. Also, very glad that older kids, who give lessons, react to things like this by essentially going "Sure, go die I guess."

God, they are so fucking stupid. Anyway, they are talking about some real landmarks here, all of which are also around Amakna, and seem to be pretty accurate to the in-game geography.

...It feels nice to be right.

...I suppose that, despite its faults, the orphan temple actually gives a shit about its disciples not dying. Color me surprised? Eh, I'm mostly joking. It would be very weird if they didn't.

I will spoil things ahead for you: Ecaflip used magic to make Kerubim look like Atcham.

Bashi's reaction to Atcham being "AAAAH NOT THAT FUCKING CREEPY KID AGAIN 😨". The way he pretty much says, "a ghost?? NO. SOMETHING SCARIER. YOUR WEIRD FUCKING BROTHER."

It all implies., So much. It implies so much. I'm still not over it.

youtube

Pictured: my vision of how Bashi reacted to Atcham, when Kerubim (against his will, unwillingly, and deeply embarrassed) was forced to introduce them to one another.

I like to think that before they began to hate one another, Kerubim's relationship with Atcham was similar to what he had with Patafiks. Except instead of copying him, Atcham would, idk. Threaten to kill himself if he got any friend other than him? Threaten to kill his friends?

Something insane and jealousy-based like that.

I may be that guy who's very critical of Kerubim, and constantly going "Atcham's sad implied backstory this, Atcham's sad implied backstory that," but you don't get reactions like that by simply being extremely bullied.

You get reactions like that by being That Heavily Bullied Kid With 20 Mental Illnesses Who Attacks People With Sharp Objects.

youtube

Pictured: my rough theory of whatever the fuck happened between Kerubim and Atcham in the orphanage.

It is a funny image... that quickly wraps around back to being sad, once you think about little orphan Atcham, who people fucking hate for being a bingus, who has nobody except for his equally-orphaned brother (who doesn't look weird, can actually make friends, and leave him alone, if he wants to. Which he does.) and how at such a young age he got desperate enough to resort to what seems to be violence to protect himself.

Which got him absolutely no help. And also made people look down on him even further.

I think the funniest part of it all is that Atcham as an adult has:

1. The knowledge that hating Kerubim is literally not productive and a weird fucking coping mechanism.

Yet he keeps doing that.

2. A sort of moral compass that's all about protecting and respecting those in the same shit situation as him. (Even if they insult him. He hates that, but he's mature enough to uh.... just shave people against their will about it.)

While Kerubim is like. Still struggling with even saying that he doesn't even hate his brother. Somehow, he's the more emotionally constipated one.

So normal of them.

Anyway,

I think here we can see a bit of the internal growth Kerubim has had, from the time when he was a child, to adulthood.

Joris cannot picture Kerubim being ashamed, or disgusted, by Atcham, despite this article showing him doing exactly that.

It is the reason why I think one of the factors that contributed to Kerubim adopting, and keeping, Joris, was his guilt over whatever Atcham went through, despite how much he likes to say that he doesn't like Atcham.

Joris is different from other kids: small, weird, probably bald. And in any other situation, it's likely he'd develop a complex about it, except his dialogue in the movie specifically implies that Kerubim has put in conscious parenting effort into preventing exactly that.

While it's obvious that Kerubim loves Joris, there are many flaws in his parenting. So him putting a petabyte worth of effort and research into one single aspect of it is... very telling.

Now for a bit of a reach/headcanon: Who's to say that the reason Joris doesn't have many friends, is not Kerubim trying to isolate him from any potential source of shame or trauma? This part, as I've said, is purely speculation/headcanon — but it is an interesting thought.

And Atcham, who was there, and experienced shit like this from Kerubim, is still swayed by Joris's words.

What I think happened between them is that Kerubim, who yearns for societal approval, is afraid of being like Atcham, who is often ostracized and disliked by people for his looks. Besides this, I think Atcham, who was Going Through Horrors, was clingy.

For these reasons, he pushed Atcham away, and it is this betrayal, coupled with Kerubim's advantages in the form of not looking weird and being Ecaflip's favorite, that made Atcham fucking detest him.

What it all means is that Joris isn't necessarily wrong: Kerubim wouldn't hurt Atcham (at least, not unless it's self defense), and what he did was just... trying to save his own skin as kid.

Which isn't exactly malicious.

And I guess Atcham agrees with Joris on Kerubim's incapability of doing harm to him on purpose. Otherwise, he would never be convinced to change his mind.

There is probably a reason for why Kerubim would rather live in a forest, than go back to the temple looking like Atcham. And as I've said, I don't think it's a happy one.

Now think about Atcham doing this his whole life and get sad. Like I just did.

I think that, of all the things, it's most disgusting that whatever happened to Kerubim and Atcham was happening under the watch of Ecaflip, and perhaps even because of him.

I wouldn't put it past him to orchestrate their hatred for each other for fun. Or because he wanted Kerubim all alone, to himself.

I also find it interesting, the way Ecaflip says "once more" here. Implies that it used to be a normal thing for him. I suppose my guesses of Kerubim being disliked by other kids due to Atcham may have some merit.

And god, it makes me so, so sad.

He cares enough to intervene when Kerubim is about to die, which goes against his own rules, but not when it's about his kids' life being fucking awful.

...Maybe Oropo was right.

Do we know if Ecaflip's emotions are even genuine? He is the narrator of this story, after all, and he could be lying. He puts Kerubim in danger many times. Many. Just for fun and his own amusement.

I will take Ecaflip's narration as a straight-forward one, — that he really is feeling these things, but it still reads as manipulation, even if he is doing it for "Kerubim's sake". He's not a good father and never will be one, and these are very cruel lessons.

I will be real, their relationship disgusts me to my heart <3 Amen.

And now we know why Kerubim is... like that. And why his parenting is so overbearingly sweet, controlling, and obsessed with making sure Joris knows he adores him and adores him back.

Perhaps, despite everything, Atcham was the luckier one for not having Ecaflip's "love" the way Kerubim did, but honestly, I feel both of them had it equally shitty.

A true "would you rather sit on an anthill or sit on a cactus" choice.

#wheel8 #ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz #atcham crepin #kerubim crepin #Youtube #still hate that tumblr automatically adds this tag to posts that have videos in them but whatever.

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wisteriagoesvroom · 4 months

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after seeing your college au post a prompt struck me. mine is a bit different though:

charles' major is something artsy and he doesn't care for scientific things at all, and max's geography like your au and he is a total nerd. thanks to lando who wants people to mingle their friend groups organize a meet up. charles and max don't interact that much. but when charles comes back from a phone call with his mother, which he miscalculated the time and caught her at a bad time, says 'why even there is a time difference?' max can't help himself side eyes him and whispers to lando 'is he an idiot or what?' which charles hears and frowns when max turns to him all judgy and says, 'this is one of the main outcomes of the earth rotating.'

and after this rude response charles hates max. everytime they have to be in the same place they bicker like crazy.

(I have to mention my bestfriend here who inspired me and is a math teacher but absolutely doesn't get geography. when she went that overseas vacation she couldn't understand the time at all and made me tear up with her stupid understanding of it 😂)

ANON THIS MADE ME GIGGLE SO MUCH. Different is good, different is delicious, even. more cake. more stories. more AUs!!

Charles doesn't understand time zones 😭 maybe he knows Max is a giant nerd and is being deliberately obtuse 😭 maybe he does it just to annoy max because max is kind of weirdly hot and charles doesn't know what to do in the face of those big blue eyes and all of his subsequent, very inconvenient feelings 🍆😜

now. this is ur wonderful prompt. me being the angsty + miscommunication trope enthusiast that i am, my (very personal! very subjective!) characterisation of charles is always going to be that he is actually very bright, or at least some level of competent and focused on the details of what he is doing. but we all space out a little sometimes, and so does he.

so u have given me a beautiful cake and may i suggest adding a later of emoshunal filling in the middle of this, which is that

charles has had a really long day with classes and extracurriculars and on top of that idk, his washing machine broke cus he overloaded it or something. and that’s why he just totally misjudged the actual time diff

he is horribly homesick and just called his mom to hear her voice, screw the timing. so when he blurts out to max that he called her and didn't realise the time, he really didn't

he was so stunned by max's weird mix of dorky and pedantic and hot that he just fumbled all his words

literally all of the above cus they're OUR stoopid kissy kissy ken dolls and if it's necessary for da plot then why NOT

so it's not a meet cute. it's a meet-misunderstanding. a meet-discord. a meet-disaster, if you will. and of course lando's just standing there with his phone in his hands sitting pretty watching this play out because in my head he's always here for the chaos.

now, beloved anon. how will lestappen resolve their issues? will they

accidentally run into each other at the natural history museum for different story-necessary field trip reasons, and max actually takes the time to tell charles all his favourite maps? and charles actually listens?

will charles end up cracking max's tough exterior open while they're working on an assignment late one night. and charles realises max knows all the time differences because it's important to max (literally) that he makes up the lost time with his mama who he didn't grow up with?

mayhaps they don't talk about it at all but argue about something totally arbitrary one afternoon (like... charles insists on a historical fact about monaco that max says is wrong but is actually right). and it culminates in awkwardly cramped but still hot hatesex in one of their dorms. and after that max says nothing at all about their first argument, but helps charles download an app that works out the best windows to call home?

and in the end, no matter what happens, we gotta surely squeeze this in somewhere:

"you're such an idiot sometimes."

"i know. but i'm your idiot. all the time." 😤😤

anyway tl;dr i really enjoyed this idea, and thank u for sharing it with me. it is very precious and very good. may the plot bunnies and muse-ly entities always be with you and bless you with gentle metaphorical kisses to the forehead, mwah mwah mwah

#lestappen #3316 #1633 #f1 headcanons #f1 au #asks #wisteriahcs

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padfootagain · 4 months

Text

You and the King (VI)

Chapter 6 : On a Journey

Hi lovelies! Here is a new chapter for my Caspian series!

I hope you like this new chapter! Let me know what you think!

****

Pairing: Caspian x reader

Warnings: one scene is a tiny bit spicy? Not very much though, you know me, I don't write smut. It's a rather light-hearted chapter!

Summary: Sequel to The King and You – After meeting Caspian in your own world, you decide to follow him to Narnia, your love for him too strong for you to keep your old life. But as you discover the magic of Narnia, you soon realise that this extraordinary world is as dangerous as it is magnificent. Will your love for Caspian be enough to defeat your new enemies?

Word Count: 2864

Masterlist for the series – Caspian’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Lord Baras, Lord Luis and Lady Dalia were to travel in the same carriage as you and Caspian. The three men were sitting next to each other, while you and Dalia sat on the opposite side. Outside of the carriage, the royal guard was in charge of your safety, both Ammos and Diego guiding the carriage themselves. It didn’t stop Caspian from wearing his sword and dagger.

It was a long trip to Cair Paravel, almost a week of journey, but you didn’t mind. It felt nice to walk out of the fortress, to look by the window at the colourful trees swinging gently in the sun and wind, to let your gaze graze over the fallen skeleton leaves. And even if Caspian and you were not alone, it was enough to be able to catch his gaze with yours whenever you wanted. To see his cheeks redden ever so slightly, the ghost of a smile turn the corners of his lips upwards, his long hair let loose falling over his eyes…

Yes… yes this sight was enough…

The conversation quickly drifted towards politics, and if you tried to follow for a long while, you couldn’t help but be reminded that you were not ready to deal with such complex issues. Instead, you picked up a book Doctor Cornelius gave you to learn about Narnian history and geography, and started studying. You didn’t notice Caspian’s fond smile at the sight of your focused frown, of your lips silently moving along the words you tried to memorize. The rest of the passengers in the carriage did notice though, even if they said nothing about it.

The weather was on your side for your journey eastward. The sun was high and warm despite the coming of winter, the wind gentle in its breezes. You would have enjoyed walking across the forests you passed through, you would have enjoyed listening to the crunching noise of broken leaves, the vivid smell of earth, the laziness of painting orange leaves…

Instead, your head was aching, you guessed it was because of your efforts to memorize the names of these bloody princes and princesses, the sound of conversations you were trying to ignore and the rhythmic creaking of the carriage. You rubbed your temples in an attempt to soothe the pain, but the words were mixed on the page when you tried to focus again. Instead, you lost yourself in your own thoughts, looking by the window.

The light was too vivid as you passed through a valley, along the shores of a steady river. A wooden bridge allowed safe passage a few miles ahead, the area was like a long clearing crossed by a dusty road, with barely any tree, instead a field of lush grass and wildflowers. High hills, or perhaps short mountains, framed the valley, but did little to stop the warm sun. Your headache got worse under such bright lights, and despite the beauty of the scenery, you closed your eyes.

You had been travelling for almost five hours now without any real break, and all in the carriage must have thought that you had fallen asleep, as they started to talk in quieter tones. And you did doze off for a while, until you caught your name being spoken by Lord Baras.

“Lady Y/N seemed tired today, I hope the trip will not be too tiresome to her.”

You were about to open your eyes again to show everyone you were awake, when Caspian answered.

“Yes, these past few weeks have been difficult. But we will be both safer and more comfortable in Cair Paravel, it is worth the tiredness of the journey.”

“I have not talked many times with Lady Y/N, but she seemed… surprising.”

Caspian let out a chuckle.

“She most definitely is full of surprises, indeed.”

You could have opened your eyes and stopped the conversation, but you were too curious for that. Perhaps it was a little childish of you, to fake sleep when you could hear every word spoken. But then again, you wanted to know what the lords and Dalia thought of you. At the very least, the extent of their feelings they were ready to disclose to their king.

“I do hope that she will find the palace to her liking,” Luis said, his tone unreadable.

“Who would not?” replied Dalia.

“How are your studies with lady Y/N going?”

You guessed that the question was aimed at Dalia, although she took a moment before answering.

“Lady Y/N is a slow learner. But she does make a lot of effort.”

You were surprised by the rather positive feedback on your disastrous sessions with her…

That terrible book was still falling from your head after a few steps, after all.

“Many are still very much worried about how competent the lady will be as our Queen, as she was not raised in Narnia.”

“History has proven that our greatest leaders came from her world,” Baras argued, and you were surprised by him choosing your side.

“Of course, of course,” Luis answered with an audible nod.

“She is not alone in this task. She will not be alone to rule,” Caspian added. “She will be more than fine, I am sure of it.”

“Of course, you know her better than any of us,” Baras added. “We should trust your judgement.”

“Indeed, you should.”

“Many are still hesitant, though.”

“Many do not know what lady Y/N is capable of.”

“Echoes from Reepicheep’s lessons show that she will be of no use on a battlefield, that is for certain,” Dalia answered in a wry tone that matched better her feelings towards you, but Caspian laughed, you were surprised by the unexpected sound.

“I did not mean it in a threatening way. Y/N is… kind. And she is more than strong enough to stand her ground, if need be. She will be a just and gentle queen, once she has learned her ways.”

“Rumours are spreading more and more about the circumstances under which the two of you have met,” Luis said. “And some of the rumours are… bothersome, to say the least.”

“Oh, I am certain that some theories are as laughable as they are imaginative.”

Even if Caspian’s tone was still pleasant, his voice had tightened as well.

“Some say that you were kidnapped and forced into her world…”

“Well, I can assure you that I went there guided by my own recklessness and stupidity…”

“Some also say that your attachment to lady Y/N was called by a spell.”

“Magic does not exist in her world. At least, not in the form that we know of. I am perfectly sane of mind, thank you for your concern.”

“Of course, I merely share the rumours I have heard, I do not believe in them.”

“Of course.”

“So… you were not forced into this marriage? Some say that she might have manipulated you. Some say that she used magic to guide your heart.”

“There was no magic involved, outside of love.”

“It is hard to believe that you met her and fell in love out of pure luck, your Majesty.”

“Perhaps I did not. Perhaps Aslan guided my steps. Or perhaps it was fate. Perhaps it was pure luck. Call it what you wish. The truth is that I stumbled on her path, and in a world where I was lost, Y/N saved me. We fell in love. She chose to come here so she could be with me. There is nothing more to tell.”

“You seem perfectly resolute in marrying her.”

“I am absolutely determined to marry the woman I love, indeed.”

Caspian heaved a sigh, you felt him shifting his weight, his boot gently touched yours as he straightened his legs a little.

“We should stop for a few minutes,” he commanded, before opening the small window behind him to shout his ordered to the soldiers. “I am growing numb sitting in this cage.”

“It is safer than riding,” Baras argued, but Caspian huffed, annoyed.

“Which is why I have agreed to travel in this carriage, but I am still allowed to complain about it.”

Baras chuckled.

“I apologize. I know your Majesty prefers the wilderness to closed spaces.”

“Indeed…”

The carriage stopped a few minutes later, and after checking the perimeter, Ammos’s voice rang to notify the passengers that it was safe for them to walk outside for a while.

All climbed out, but Caspian lingered inside for a moment longer. He took off his travelling cloak and covered your still frame. He was arranging the soft fabric to tuck you in properly when your fingers held on his.

He looked up, but your eyes were still closed.

“I love you too,” you whispered, a smile spreading across your features.

He grinned.

“For how long have you been awake?”

“I wasn’t asleep.”

He chuckled.

“That was sneaky.”

“I’m learning politics.”

“And you are becoming good at it.”

He bent to kiss your temple.

“You should rest. We’ll leave again in just a few minutes. Try to sleep, my love.”

He brushed a strand of your hair away from your face, kissed your temple once more, before walking out of the carriage, a smile on his lips that matched yours.

The first evening was spent on the road. You stopped for a few hours but remained in the carriage to sleep. At the second sunset though, you reached an inn that would offer your shelter for the night.

It was already night time when you arrived to the establishment, and there was little you could distinguish of it besides its stature cut against the ghostly shapes of tree trunks and a lantern before the door that shone on a sign where its name was written.

The Fire Horse

Caspian offered you his arm as you walked across the leaves to the door, and you held onto it a little too tightly perhaps, but the shadows of the forest were not reassuring, to say the least… the canopy above your heads cut off most of the light of the stars and moon, you could barely see where you were walking.

The owners of the establishment were a couple of badgers that fussed around a lot, clearly over-excited at the prospect of welcoming the King and mighty Lords in their inn. You found them a little too overzealous, but they seemed nice all the same.

You ate some stew with the Lords and Ladies that travelled with you, the soldiers and lower lords remaining in tents outside. In total, about sixty people were gathered in the room, scattered in little groups around packed tables. There was but one large fire-place, and a broken window let in the cold of the evening. You were grateful that Caspian had not taken his cloak back.

Conversations went smoothly that evening, as most were too preoccupied by being noticed by the king to be mean to you. Besides, the mockeries had diminished after a few meals spent with Baras and his friends, as you stood your ground. Caspian had worked on shutting down many rumours and criticism towards you as well.

You weren’t accepted yet, but the animosity towards you was bearable now.

Both you and Caspian were exhausted though, like most of the party. Outside, besides the guards on sentry, all had already gone to bed when you were guided to your bedroom, right next to Caspian’s. Diego would stand before your door all night, and you thanked him as he bid you a good night.

You were getting ready to go to bed when you heard something tapping on your windowpane. You stopped your movements as you were about to remove the long chemise you wore under your dress. But the sound came again, softened not by distance but by a fear of being heard.

Your mind raced, trying to decide what to do next…

Should you call for Diego? For Caspian? Was it a threat?

You wrapped Caspian’s cloak around you, seized a steel chandelier from the table set in the corner of the room, and decided to draw the curtains before calling for help.

You almost dropped your improvised weapon when you saw… Caspian’s face on the other side of the window.

Now, a little explanation is required to explain why Caspian was at your window, on the third floor of the inn, right above a certain death were he to fall. There was no other door to your room besides the one guarded by Diego, there was thus no way anyone could enter your room undetected. Which was needed to assure your safety. But it was also a problem for Caspian, who wanted desperately to see you.

The cause of this sudden urge of his was probably to be found in the third glass of wine he drank that night at dinner. If he was not drunk he was a little tipsy, with pink colouring his cheeks and his brain taking more foolish decisions than his usually-wise self did. Which was why Caspian decided that it would be a fabulous idea to climb his way from the window of his room to yours. He did not think of the deadly fall that awaited him was he to fall down (lucky for him, your dedicated narrator made sure there was no obstacles to his climb, thus fighting this bloody pigeon that nested in the small nook right above his window). He did not think either of the possibility of being seen by the people sleeping in the dozens of tents that had been set all around the inn (again, lucky for him, I was here to make sure everyone was looking in the opposite direction while Caspian was stupidly risking his life and you were wondering if you were about to be assassinated, you’re welcome).

Thus, when you opened your window, it was to let inside your room a slightly dishevelled and out of breath Caspian, who was grinning all the same.

You hurried to close the window again, draw the curtains to hide him.

“What are you doing here?” you asked in a whisper, afraid to be heard.

“I wanted to see you,” his grin doubled in size.

“That’s dangerous! Do you know how high this window is?!”

He rolled his eyes.

“I have done more dangerous things in my life…”

“I don’t want to know any details about that statement. Still, what are you doing here? Aren’t we supposed to not be caught alone together?”

“Diego is on sentry before your door, and it’s the only way in…”

“Besides the window, clearly. And Diego might hear us.”

“He will not.”

“He might.”

“Are you not happy to see me?”

“I am. I always am happy to see you.”

“Then, why are you standing so far away, instead of being in my arms?”

You chuckled at that, heaved a defeated sigh.

“What was your plan, then?” you asked, walking over to him, and a second later, you were tugged in his safe embrace.

“Climbing inside by your window, spending the night with you and going back to my bedroom before dawn.”

“What if someone sees you?”

“No one will see me.”

(For someone unaware he has an amazing narrator as a guardian angel, Caspian sure is overconfident tonight…)

You heaved a sigh, but couldn’t help but relax and believe him when he whispered in your ear that everything would be alright.

You looked up when he pulled away enough to look at you.

“By Aslan’s name, I’ve been dying to do this ever since we left the fortress…”

Before you could ask him what he meant, Caspian was pressing his lips to yours, holding your face in his palm while his other arm was drawing you closer. It took you barely a second to react and kiss him as well, messy and urgent and too passionate for your lungs and hearts…

“Are you very tired?” Caspian asked before moving his lips down the length of your jaw, and then pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck, right against your pulse.

“Not enough to ask you to stop, if that’s your question,” you answered with a playful smile on your lips, eyes closing as Caspian nipped at your soft skin.

He chuckled, pulling away completely. You raised a surprised eyebrow when he took off his shirt, leaving himself half-naked before you.

He grinned as he noticed your gaze roaming down the expanse of his chest, hitting the barrier of his belt, and then climbing all the way back up to his dark eyes, your gaze hungry now.

“Good, because I have plans for tonight.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

But Caspian’s smile softened.

“I want you. So badly. I’m ready to take the risk.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am. Do you want us to stop?”

But you shook your head.

“Absolutely not. I will kick your pretty arse if you don’t take off the rest of your clothes, actually.”

It was hard for Caspian not to laugh too loudly, after all, discretion was still an imperative. But a couple of seconds later, your lips were back on his, and they were most definitely effective in shutting him up…

#caspian x #king caspian #caspian x reader #caspian x y/n #caspian x you #king caspian x reader #king caspian x you #king caspian x y/n #caspian fanfic #caspian fanfiction #narnia #narnia fanfiction #narnia fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #caspian series

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daydream-cement · 1 year

Note

larissa x student! reader with adhd and had trouble coping in school please!!!

Coping Mechanisms

Larissa Weems x Student!Reader

Authors Note: This is a little teeny tiny. My teacher brain kicked in for this one.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come find me.” Your head swivels to Principal Weems. You sat in the astronomy tower, half doing your homework and half staring out the window at school grounds. Turns out reading Edgar Allen Poe wasn’t as interesting as watching some of your peers slip and fall on some of the icy walkways.

“And why would I need to come find you?” Principal Weems swatted at you foot to go down to the floor, freeing up a chair next to you. She took a seat and gave you a stern, motherly look.

“‘Cause I haven’t been paying attention in math and literature.”

“And?”

“And astronomy and geography.” You list your other classes for the semester, rolling your eyes as you did. Your mind begins to wander as you remember that you have a project due for geography next week.

“Now, you aren’t in trouble. We both know that your ADHD is to blame, but what I’m here for is to create a plan for you. I’ve convinced all of your teachers to aide in it’s follow through.” Principal Weems crossed her legs at the knee and folded her hands in her lap as she gazed down at you.

“I don’t know…” You shrug. You felt like you had tried everything in the book to help you stay focused.

“Well what do you like? What do can you focus on for what feels like hours at a time?” Principal Weems asked, deciding to work from a different approach.

You describe a couple of your current favorite hyper fixations and describe a couple of your old ones. Principal Weems nods and listens, smiling at how excited you began to get as you spoke about them.

“How about we use a little bit of that interest and mix it with your coursework? In the meantime, we can go over a few of the more traditional ADHD redirecting methods and find ones that would help even just a little bit.”

Together you sat in the astronomy tower creating a plan for you that could hopefully help you in your studies at Nevermore Academy. When Larissa felt as though you had a satisfactory plan together she stood with a proud smile, “I have big hopes for you Mx. L/n. I will continue to check in with you frequently this semester, making sure these new changes really help you.”

#larissa weems #wednesday netflix #fanfic #gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #oneshot #student!reader #adhd

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anglerflsh · 13 days

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for the statecraft/political thing, im trying to figure out the semantics of a government with shapeshifters in it, they naturally have lots of different body types but also odd disabilities that need to be accounted for like inability to shift/fly/magic illnesses etc. As far as i have its just that most of the power is with the citizens but they do have a figurehead ruler that tries to deal with other systemic conflicts imbalances and issues with immigration (as little as there is bc you need magic to get in), asylum, and healthare stuff. Theyre kinda smaller scale than usual after a big war made a lot of lives lost and scattered and theres someone that is supposed to be the rulers right hand specifically so if the ruler is unfair they can be killed and selection begins again. Most of the city is laid out around a round central square and is roundly shaped in general but im thinking that other nearby towns would be shaped differently based on the occupants veiws and magic abilities. This particular city is mainly focused on community, but still has poorer sections where people are less magically inclined and those sections tend to fall into disrepair. If you got snything at all, critique or addittion, city plans or politics, its much appreciated and i hope you have fun!!

Alright!! It seems like you're dealing with an elective monarchy that is coadivated with some sort of public assembly or council. This is a mixed type of Government, and it's a nice one. I'll leave some consideration and some questions that you could consider to further the system under the cut ^^

The ruler has power only over a specific set of issues - all of which from what you've said seem to me to fall into Domestic/Internal Social Politics. And I'm assuming all that the ruler does not decide is then handed to the citizens, again, from what you've said. I'd say to narrow down what exactly is competence of the monarch and what is of the democracy - does the ruler choose on wars, do they rule the army, or are those decisions of politica estera left to the democracy?

The ruler isn't in a hereditary position! Fascinating. This combined with the specificity of their duties would make me think that this role would ideally be taken by someone who's specialised in the field… you could either make this position elective, with candidates coming either from the general public or some sort of nobility group (families with a lot of wealth and power, of that have had a lot of governmental roles in the past, that sort of thing), or you could make it selective and make it be chosen by some sort of group - Depends on how democratic you'd like to make this: before hereditary positions were the norm, kings were chosen by the upper class from the upper class, so you could go with a similar set-up.

Is the right-hand able to take any decisions, or are they only there to act as a check? Are they also elected, and if so, is it in the same way as the king? Does the right-hand change after the king is killed, or does it stay the same person? It reminded me a bit of the consul system in Rome, so maybe looking into that might help.

If every other decision is taking by the citizens, you do have to figure out how exactly that happens, too Is there a popular assembly of every single citizen voting and debating and proposing decisions? That works in small settlements, but you seem to be working with a multi-city state. There are a couple of ways to go about it, I can suggest either to divide the territory in electoral colleges - by geography, by class, by census… anything, really - and have voting happen per-college to reach a final consensus (like the roman republic did with centurie/curie/tribù), or to have each place elect a rappresentative that can then go to some other collegial organ where the decisions happen.

Are there smaller decisional organs, like city councils, to decide on smaller matters that only pertain to a certain place? Can anyone propose something to decide on, or just some group/s? Does your country have a legal system? If so, are there laws that only the ruler can make, or are they within the realms of the democratic system? What's the justice system like? Is the ruler also the highest judge, like in medieval monarchies, or is that system completely different?

Who is in charge of the execution of the decisions? Is there a burocratic system of government workers?

Are there associations of traders in the same field who decide the inner regulations of that type of work (think le Arti in italian medieval times) or is that left to the government? If so, to which half of it?

This system sounds really cool! Hope all my questions can help you figure it out a bit more, remember that if you're writing a story you don't need to have all this figured out! Just the parts that matter for the story to make logical sense. Like, if you never touch on commerce or on the justice system you can leave that out completely. !! thanks for letting me play in this space I'd suggest you to look up the two or so different irl systems I mentioned for inspiration

#[.asks]#solary-cycle #infodump tag #worldbuilding #there are More Things I haven't touched on but this is mostly a me giving a nudge to your initial starting point #a few of the More would be what are roads like! how's the agricolture - what are these people actually Living Off Of and how is it produced #is there a religion? is there more than one?#etc and etc #again I'm not an expert!! I'm just a history student who likes to ask questions about this and there is so much I haven't touched yet :')

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hockeyshmockey · 2 years

Text

Max Verstappen- Wing Men

summary: the moment when max has a crush and the paddock tries to help wing man

warnings: I used this years grid but im going with a more 2021 season vibe since I can use the fia gala as an event :)

wc: 2.3k

“Hello,” Max greeted as he walked into the room where the drivers would be gathering to participate in some of the F1 media challenges for the upcoming season.

“Hey Max,” Scott, one of the cameramen from the previous year greeted. “Good off season?”

The men spoke for a moment about their respective time ‘away’ from the track. “Will Jane be joining us?” Max looked around for the woman who usually directed these challenges.

“Ah, no. Jane moved to a HQ based job. This season you’ll be working with Amelia, she’s been working with the team for a few years.”

Max nodded but internally was a little annoyed. He liked routine, and he always felt more comfortable with people he knew. He just hoped Amelia lived up to his expectations or else he could start to look like Kimi.

“Ah, here she is now,” Scott nodded towards the door. Max turned around and let his eyes travel up and down the woman coming through the door. She couldn’t have been more than 5′6, even with the massive pointed heels on her feet.

“So sorry guys, I got caught up in brainstorming,” Amelia gave them a breathless grin. “Hi Max, it’s great to meet you. Heard great things.”

“I am assuming you have been lied to,” he smirked as he shook the hand she offered, Amelia laughing at his joke.

“I’ve seen the out takes of these games, you can’t be that bad,” she winked as she went to move to the table next to the camera and sat her notebook down. “I don’t want to take up more of your time than necessary, so we can get started if you like?”

Max found himself slightly disappointed he didn’t get to talk with her more before it turned to work, nodding as Amelia began to tell him about today’s challenges. The woman directed the driver through a geography challenge and then an either or challenge focused on the US.

“Ok Max, thats it for today,” the woman stood back up and approached him. “this season we have decided to space out the challenges across different races, so you’ll get to see some more of me yet.”

“I definitely will not be complaining about that,” he flirted lightly, enjoying the way she blushed before offering him a sweet goodbye. He was lost in his head a bit when he ran into a body in the hall.

“Oi, watch where you’re going there Maximillian,” Daniel laughed as the blonde shook his head before hugging the Australian.

“Sorry man, my head was a million miles away,” the dutch man rubbed a hand across his face while Daniel looked on in confusion.

“No offense man, but I didn’t think older women were your type. Jane could be your mum-”

“It’s not Jane you idiot,” Max huffed, looking over his shoulder to make sure Amelia wasn’t lurking. “There is a new host this year. Her name is Amelia.”

“Oh my god,” Daniel squealed. “You have a crush!”

By the end of the drivers heading to grill the grid, every driver knew about Max’s attraction to Amelia. Daniel had told Lando, who had told Carlos and George, who in turn had told Charles, Checo and Lewis, who then had exposed him to Pierre, Fernando and Valterri, then off to Yuki and Lewis, who told Seb and Zhou, who told Mick and Esteban, who told Lance, Nicky and Alex.

So yeah. The whole grid knew.

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

“Hello Amelia,” Daniel drawled out as he ran into the younger woman in the paddock for the next GP she was attending for challenges.

“Hi Daniel!” She smiled up at him, fitted out in a bright pink blazer and short set with another pair of killer heels.

“Wow, Max had told me you looked stunning today, but he didn’t give you enough credit,” Daniel smirked.

“He did?” The girl asked, but Daniel had already walked away whistling.

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

“Hello, hello,” Amelia greeted as she walked into the room where both Max and Checo were sitting for this weekends content challenge. The two were being quizzed this day about their F1 knowledge.

“Amelia!” Checo cheered, causing Max to nudge his teammate. He wasn’t sure how (actually he was) but apparently the whole grid knew he thought Amelia was stunning. And as he had gotten to know her better, he had learned she had an amazing personality to boot.

“Hi Sergio,” the woman laughed, accepting the hug he stood to offer her. Max realized the opportunity Checo was giving him, so didn’t hesitate to stand to embrace her next.

“Hi Max,” she tried to keep her voice normal, but knew it came out breathy as the man wrapped his arms around her waist.

“You smell nice,” Max commented absentmindedly as he pulled back, blushing as Amelia thanked him.

grid boys 2022

checo

max just told amelia she smelled nice

lando

MATE HAHA

daniel

this is gold

this is why he needs our help

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"Well look who it is,” Amelia was brought out of her sleepy haze at a booming voice over her shoulder. She smiled softly when she turned to see Daniel and Max approaching her in the aisles of the corner shop near her hotel for the Belgium Gran Prix.

“Hi boys,” she offered the both of them hugs.

“You’re looking short today,” Daniel joked, looking down at the sandals she was wearing rather than her normal heels.

“Yep, just wanted to pop over for some meds. No need for heels,” she giggled.

“You feeling alright?” Max peered down at her in concern.

“Ah yes, just coming off of a nasty cold, and with the jet lag I just needed something to help me sleep,” she held up the ZQuil in her hand.

“Well, hey listen, I have to run,” Daniel rushed out suddenly. Max and Amelia looking at him in confusion. “But Max, you make sure our Amelia gets home safely, ok? Bye!” With that, the brunette literally skipped out of the store.

“He is an odd one,” Amelia remarked with a laugh, Max joining in. “But seriously, don’t worry about walking me back. I’m a big girl, I can make it.”

“No, I want to!” he protested. “Plus I want to hear about your summer break.” Amelia smiled softly before asking if he was ready, and heading to the register.

The two turned the five minute walk to her hotel, into a twenty minute walk. Talking about what they had both been up to and catching up on the last few weeks.

“This is me,” Amelia nodded to the Holiday Inn behind them. “Thanks so much for walking me back, you are too sweet.”

“Any time,” he grinned. “And let me know if you need anything if you’re not feeling better. Can I give you my number?”

“Very sly Verstappen,” she smirked as she pulled out her phone and handed it over. Once she returned it, the blonde wrapped her in a warm hug that bordered on too long, before they broke apart and went their separate ways.

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

“Hi Max,” Amelia greeted as she ran into the man walking into the paddock for the Dutch GP weekend.

“Amelia!” he grinned, turning around to wrap her in a hug. “Good to see you!”

Max had of course forgotten both Bradley, his sister and his mother were with him. “Amelia,” he guided her around with a hand on the small of her back to his smirking sister and Bradley, and his angel of a mother. “This is Bradley my trainer, my sister Victoria, and my mother Sophie.”

Amelie darted forward to greet all of them with a warm smile. “It is so lovely to meet you all. Are you excited for the weekend?”

The group of them turned and started to walk into the paddock as the entrance was beginning to get a little busy. Max watched with a smile as Amelia chatted with his mother and sister about the weekend, and her work.

“Mate,” Bradley elbowed him. “You look so lovestruck right now.”

Max grumbled at his friend, but his frown remained when he realized the time had come for Amelia to split ways from them.

“Well this is me,” the woman grinned, gesturing over her shoulder to the media area. “It was so amazing to meet you all!”

“Oh you too darling,” Sophie leaned over to hug the woman. “You must come see us in Monaco one day.”

Max almost rolled his eyes as his sister agreed, the two women clearly already conspiring. “That would be amazing,” Amelia smiled gently. “Thanks for the escort,” she turned to Max with a teasing grin, the blonde leaning down to hug her again.

“Had to make sure you found your way,” he joked. “See you later?”

The girl nodder, waving to the group before heading into the glass building. As soon as the doors closed, his three companions were on top of him.

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

“Max Vestappen, World Champion,” Amelia beamed at the sweaty man stood across from her. “Let me just say congrats. This is well deserved.”

Max thanked her, the smile never fading as she asked him a few questions before eventually waving the camera off. As soon as the camera was off, she bounded over and wrapped the blonde in a tight hug.

“What a season Max,” the two rocked back and forth before pulling away slightly, but keeping their hands on each other. “It was truly a pleasure to watch and be a part of it.”

“I think you must be my good luck charm,” Max smirked, ignoring the cat call from Daniel over his shoulder.

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

Amelia entered the large ball room in an expensive Monaco hotel with nerves bubbling in her belly. Before this year, she had never made the invite list for the FIA Gala. But this year with her new role, she had landed a spot.

Coming without her team was terrifying. The woman felt like she had spent the season building a good rapport with many of the drivers and principals, but it still would have felt better to have a friend here to arrive with. Even though Max had offered to arrive with her himself, she knew he had other duties to attend to.

Max was standing with a large group of drivers when he saw Amelia arrive. She was in a stunning gown, her hair pulled back to show off her shoulders and neck.

“And we have lost Max for the night,” Charles laughed with his hand around his girlfriends waist, the brunette quirking an eyebrow in question. “Oh, Max is in love with one of the women who run the F1 media challenges.”

“Oh,” she gasped, following everyone’s look to Amelia. “Someone should go get her, she looks lost.”

“I can-”

Max’s reply was lost as Pierre and Yuki began to speedwalk towards the woman. “This is going to be a disaster,” he groaned, Daniel laughing hysterically as Max turned to the bartender to order another drink.

“Amelia!” Yuki practically yelled as he approached with his team mate, the woman offering them both a smile.

“Hi boys!” she leaned in to give them both a hug. “It is wonderful to see you. You both look dashing.”

“You know who is really dashing,” Pierre smirked as he offered her his arm and began to lead her to where they had come from. “Max.”

“Oh is he,” Amelie giggled.

“He is,” Yuki piped up as they got closer to the other drivers, including the man in question. “And look at him in a bowtie?”

“He does look good in a bowtie,” Amelia commented absentmindedly as they joined the group, everyone offering her hellos. She was introduced to a few girlfriends she hadn’t met yet, and the women found themselves chatting over their getting ready process compared to the men.

“I heard you think I look good in a bowtie,” Max asked the woman later that night, after dinner when he had gotten the nerve to ask her to dance.

“Oh my gosh,” Amelia laughed. “Do you really need me to boost your ego?”

“Nope,” he smirked. “But let me boost yours. You are the most beautiful woman here tonight.” The girl blushed, turning her head into Max’s shoulder to ignore his piercing gaze. “Will you take a walk with me?”

When she agreed, the two headed out of the large double doors leading to a garden. “So, what are this off season’s plans?” Amelia asked after a moment of silence.

Before Max answered, he draped his tux jacket over Amelia’s shoulders, the woman smiling softly before wrapping her arm around his own to huddle together as they walked.

“Definitely see my family, get some training in,” he listed off. “I would also really like to take you on a date.”

That night, Max returned home to his apartment with a bright smile, hours after the gala ended. He and Amelia had ended up getting some late night food, and he had dropped her off at her hotel with plans to see each other in a week. He toed his shoes off and went to head right to his bedroom when he heard a noise in the living room.

Max had to hold back his laughter at the sight in front of him. Daniel was taking up his whole couch with Jimmy asleep on his chest. Yuki was curled up on a love seat, with Pierre on a pile of pillows on the floor. Finally, Lando was sleeping in the single seater, with Sassy literally curled up on his face.

Max took a photo and sent it to Amelia.

this what I got home to..... nice wing men I guess

As he laid down he got a response.

yeah if those were your actual wingmen you would be SOL... even with me

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen fluff #f1 #f1 driver #f1 driver imagine #f1 drivers #f1 driver imagines #formula one #formula one imagine #formula 1 driver #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 driver imagine #formula one driver #formula one driver imagine #imagine #racing #driver imagine

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