#starlightiing
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📝
Pierresteban just for you, dear. ❤
I've been struggling with this a bit but I try to keep myself to what Pierre's new t-shirts say and hopefully sooner or later I'll finish it. It's surprisingly difficult to get back to writing again after how much I wanted to do it in the last couple of months but couldn't because of uni stuff.
“I can feel your heartbeat,” Esteban says a few moments later when he feels Pierre’s heart beating against his own even though Pierre seems to be pretty calm, “It’s a bit fast, maybe that’s why you can’t sleep. You keep thinking too much and stressing, you should try to switch off a bit, especially the night before the exam.”
Pierre sighs and presses himself closer, clinging on Esteban, eager for the closeness, the touch, the comfort. “I tried. It didn’t work,” he mumbles into Esteban’s shoulder. “I can’t control it, neither the overthinking, nor the stressing, let alone my heart.”
Esteban thinks for a moment, and then asks: “Is there anything that’d help?”
“Just… I don’t know. Maybe if we keep hugging, then your heart will help mine. It’s close to it and if it keeps beating slowly, then it’ll help mine to slow down, too.”
“Okay,” Esteban nods, smiling, “Then we’ll keep hugging and hopefully it’ll work.”
“Thank you,” Pierre says, closing his eyes and trying not to think about anything, just enjoying Esteban’s warm hug and his big hands resting on his back. It feels nice, being held by him.
#pierresteban#esteban ocon#pierre gasly#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1#starlightiing#my writing#heart things#answered asks
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@starlightiing was quizzing me on F1 and we got to Sergio.
Of course I thought I could be funny (I was on voice chat, she was the one typing ^^^)
I asked how to pronounce his nickname and was like
"Checo?? SLOVAKIA????"
And of course the Alexa in the kitchen thinks I said ECHO, pipes up, and starting spitting facts about Slovakia.
Can't believe Alexa was funnier than me.
#starlightiing#I didn't realize she picked up the ECHO in Checo#so I was just yell/laughing “ALEXA STOPPPPPPP”
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<33 sending you some love because you always make me smile and chatting with you makes my day. you are amazing!! <3
🫶🫶 thank you sm jess !!
talking with you and throwing ideas back and forth is always a highlight of my day :)
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🧠 What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?
🧠 | hmmm there’s a couple hehe but one would be just a silly lil thing of galex as girl dads experiencing the trauma of their precious baby daughter announcing she has a bf at the grand age of 4 years old 🤭
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So we legit only just started following each other so I really don't know you at all but EARLY vibes are Logan I think!! Just sweetness and excitability is what I'm seeing so far. I will revisit this later when I get to know you better!
oh I was no expecting Logan at all
(also hi!!!! 👋)
what f1 driver(s) past or present do you think I'm most like?
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13, 19, and 26!
@starlightiing Thank you for asking!
13. What’s your comfort food?
Hotdogs. Just the sausage (boiled, not grilled) with the bun. No condiments. No ketchup, no relish, no nothing
19. What’s the most important thing in your life?
My friends. I love my family so so much, don’t get me wrong, but it’s my friends that get me out of bed and get me excited for things
26. What movie would you want to live in?
I don’t watch a lot of movies, but I would say Red, White, and Royal Blue because it seems like such a lovelier world than ours. Yes, there’s a lot of homophobia, classism, etc., but the US has elected a female president for two terms in a row, their first son came out as bisexual, and a member of the British royal family came out as gay. I know it’s been criticized for its idealism, but it just seems like a lovely place
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Lando Norris: Formula 1 Race Winner
For a personal design challenge this year, I am aiming to design and create a unique poster for each Grand Prix weekend of the 2024 F1 season! This weekend: Miami.
This weekend’s poster was a very, very special one designed to commemorate Lando's first race win!! 🧡🏆
This poster design strays away from my usual style as it houses a photograph of Lando on the top step of the podium (photo credits @/ausgp on Instagram), front and centre, within his iconic number 4. Details of his personal logo, McLaren logo, and his signature are included to add some layering against the textured papaya background.
Long awaited and so well deserved, it was an honour to watch Lando's first win live! He and Oscar drove brilliantly this weekend and all of the McLaren team should be so proud! And how special to have Max and Charles up there on the podium with him 🏎️
Requested Tag: @starlightiing <3
VIP Fave Lando Girlie Tag: @grandprixwinnerlandonorris
#lando norris#f1#f1 design#formula 1#mclaren#mclaren f1#landoscar#ln4#lando norris race winner#miami gp 2024#miami 2024#miagp#graphic design#photoshop#illustrator#poster design#f1 poster design#art#f1 2024
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Thank you for the tag @starlightiing ♥ you did tag my main, but I'll answer here since it's f1 related ♥
Who is your favorite driver?
LANDO NORRIS (I love when people make assumptions of who my favorite driver is when I tell them I like/watch f1 and they are NEVER right and then I get to say Lando all proudly)
Do you have other favorite drivers?
George Russell, Oscar Piastri (I like a bunch more of others, but these two are like the ones I'd die and kill for and serve for their crimes)
Who is your least favorite driver?
Lance Stroll :/
Do you pull for drivers or do you like teams as well?
I like teams as well!
If you like teams, what team do you pull for?
MERCEDES (I might have to start pulling for McLaren too now that they have finally given my Lando a win and end my anti campaign (this saddens me deeply 😔))
How long have you been into F1?
I've made my first contacts with f1 on September 25th 2022 but only started getting into it on September 27th 2022 and the first race I've watched was on October 2nd 2022 and here I am ever since then, I've never felt more at home
What got you into F1?
OMG STORY TIME!!!!!!! Okay no, I feel like I've already told it too many times already. I'll keep it short and just say my cousin got me into it
Do you enjoy Fanfic/RPF?
I grew up on fanfics and rpf so yes!
How do you view new fans?
I have no problem unless you come from the chicken shop date then please don't talk to me :)
If you could take over as team principal for any team, who would it be and why?
I wouldn't necessarily like to be a team principal, but maybe McLaren (I CAN FIX THEM!!!)
Are your friends and family into F1 as well?
Not really, but some of my relatives are
Are you open to talking to other fans/making friends?
Yes! Always!! I feel like I only talk to a small amount of you when I actually fancy a lot of you, but I'm scared to text first 🥹
Tagging: @lewlew44 @prettiest-at-the-party @ginsengi @mclarenhoney @mdblktwnk @honkyscats @youraveragef1obsessedgirl @feralnando @thesunkeptrising @vivvangel @thef1diary @norstappenvibes @on-sinkingships @ynbabe @vellicora @linnebae @scuderiascarerari @wht-am-i-doin @black-fireproofs @biropen @motorsportmusing @maaxverstappen @pastry-cult @mlee-02 @wtfisakilometer2 @jupiter-je-taime @leclerxnorris @geooooooorge @scuderiasillygirl @usersewis @kiwi-lawson @norrisleclercf1 @inchidentally @keysmashhhhhhhh @lewislcver @interlagostrack @formulahuh @fandomchaosposts @sof1shticated
Oh my god I feel like I've never tagged this many people 💀 please feel free to ignore
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Tagged by @starlightiing ❤
RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
As someone who loves talking about their stories I've been waiting to be tagged in this game since I started writing in English. And now it's happened and I'm so happy! 🥺 Thank you so much Jess. ❤
I'm gonna break the rules (like I always do – because rules are to break them) because almost all of my stories are “untitled documents”, the only exceptions are the ones I show to someone. So yeah, I'm gonna make up some “fun” titles for this game. 😃
NOT medical role-play Charlos ft. a stethoscope and two men deeply in love with each other discovering each other's hearts
Panic attack in Bahrein over the chili crochet (Charlos)
Galex love confession no creative title
Stories I'll probably not write but would still love talking about:
“What do you mean you saw cuts on his arm?!” (Alex/George & Logan)
Little Max and his daddy's heartbeat (Maxiel, non-sexual age play)
Born To Die (Charlos, major character death)
Not Ready (Charlos, mpreg, premature birth, male lactation)
Stay With Me, Stay With Me (Maxiel, paramedic Daniel, s*icidal Max)
Something Daniel/Carlos (Carlos/Charles/Max/Daniel polyam relationship where Daniel and Carlos aren't together but Carlos needs comfort and only Daniel's available)
Feel free to ask about/send one (or more) of them and I'll share a snippet of them or if I don't have any, then I'll just talk about it. 😊
Tagging the one and only @fredwardart (please tell me if you're tired of me always tagging you in things like this.)
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YOU DESERVE 2 DORITO BITCH
Thank you for 2 dorito
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🎵 Ineffable Song of the Day🎵
My first intention was to share a song about stars as a reflection to Crowley's love for the Universe 🌠
But it turn out that is famous song (which talk a bit about astronomy) is so powerful and emotional that I couldn't not share it on this blog. I know most people already know it, but it's a reminder that this song is divine and that Azi et Crow could possibly dance on it one day (I wish) 🕺
Listenning to this song is like stopping time for a moment...
StarlightI will be chasing a starlight
Until the end of my life
I don't know if it's worth it anymore
⚠️ ought to be listen with the song on max level ⚠️
Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations
Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations
Hold you in my arms
I just wanted to hold
You in my arms
Far away
This ship is taking me far away
Far away from the memories
Of the people who care if I live or die
I'll never let you go
If you promise not to fade away
Never fade away
#good omens 2#ineffable husbands#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#azicrow#good omens song#ineffable song of the day#Good omens song of the day#good omens playlist#ineffable playlist#ineffable partners#Spotify
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⏰ Do you spend more time reading fic, writing fic, or do you do both equally?
⏰ | I spend waaayyy more time reading fics than writing which I really should change tbh haha
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💻 Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?
Yes! I think because I'm autistic it's pretty much in my nature to look up anything I don't know in the name of accuracy (literally anything from flight times and in-flight food menus to the interior of hotels and scouring the depths of YouTube for older team-produced content from past F1 seasons).
I wouldn't call it a deep dive, but the most research I've done was for the Hawker Centre scene in Chapter 20 of Life In The Fast Lane. Because I've never been to Singapore I knew I had to put the research work in to make the scene feel both authentic and respectful to the local food culture. Obviously it's not my place to decide whether or not I did a good job, but I published the chapter feeling like I'd done the best I could.
fanfic asks
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Even Out of View (pg10, eo31)
↳ A/N I took so much creative freedom with this request from my 1.5k celebration, straying quite far from the modern-vibes song, but once I get a WW1 idea in my head, I can't say no. (Plus shoutout to my girl @starlightiing for not only submitting this request but also helping me to broaden my writing to include different interests, such as undertones of cardiophilia iykyk lolol)
↳ Inspired By: 'Beating Heart Baby' by Head Automatica
↳ Pairings: WW1!FrenchArmy!Pierre x WW1!WarCriminal!Esteban
↳ Word Count: 1824
↳ Warnings: Active historical war setting, some minor descriptions of heart related things, military crimes and their historically accurate punishments, descriptions of execution
Pierre’s footfalls echoed through the abandoned house as he ascended the rickety staircase to the second storey. His muddy boots thudded across the creaking hardwood floors with each step, his rucksack clanking ungracefully against the walls of the narrow upstairs hallway in his rush, past lived-in rooms with their furniture and once-loved belongings coated in layers of dust and gunpowder. All he could hear was his breathing, echoing in his mind, the thudding of his heart and the rush of blood loud in his ears.
He reached the door at the end of the cramped hallway in no time, the bullet holes in the wood overlooked by him in the world that had long since numbed him to the shock of war. Thrusting it open with an unattractive creak, Pierre was met by the sight of a tiny bedroom with a lanky figure sitting on the side of a single bed that was clearly built for a small child. The juxtaposition was a cruel mirth: a reminder of where they came from and the way war ripped their childhoods out of their hands far too soon.
The commotion of Pierre’s entrance had Esteban slowly turning his head to see who entered, keeping his hands folded with his forearms resting on his knees. His face stayed stagnant, pale, even when he noticed who it was. The sight of his expression sent a chill down Pierre’s spine.
“Este-” Pierre’s dry voice caught in his throat and he cleared it quickly before rushing closer, slinging his rifle from his shoulder to let it clatter to the grimy floorboards. In one smooth motion, Pierre helped himself to the side of the small bed beside his friend, his wide blue eyes dead focused on Esteban’s stone expression.
Esteban hung his head, shutting his eyes tightly.
“Esteban, how could you?” Pierre spoke as gently as he could, resting a firm hand on his forearm. He squeezed.
“Go away.” Esteban replied firmly, although his volume was quiet.
Pierre’s concerned expression faltered for a moment, eyes jumping all over Esteban’s face before he answered, “No, why would you want me to go away? In a moment like this?”
Esteban unclasped his fingers and shoved Pierre’s hand off his arm, “I am to be shot at dawn, Pierre, I don’t particularly want to sit here with you and make small talk. I want to be alone.”
Pierre swallowed thickly at his comrade’s bluntness and he turned his body to face forward too so they were sat perfectly parallel, side by side on the little bed with blue gingham sheets. Silence rested heavily on the dust coated room and the soldiers’ shoulders. Across from them, the ripped wallpaper was tacked with a few children’s drawings – or, at least the few drawings that weren’t shot to smithereens – and many of them housed colourful scribbles of stick figure men amongst red, white, and blue. Messy juvenile printing scrawled ‘Vive la France’ and ‘Pour le drapeau! Pour la victoire!’ on the parchment above the subjects.
The nationalistic phrases written proudly by the hand of a likely now deceased French child stared tauntingly back at the two of them.
Long Live France
For the Flag! For Victory!
None of this felt like they were heading towards victory.
Pierre’s shoulders sank, glancing around the abandoned bedroom of some unnamed child. They were supposed to be fighting for the children of France, for their future, for their country, and now, with the world in peril, Esteban was now to be treated as the enemy by his own people.
Despite Esteban’s firm request to be left alone, Pierre spoke up quietly, alerting him gently as if he were a grenade about to go off, “I can’t leave you. I’m your night watch.”
Esteban looked over at him again, eyebrows furrowed, words thick with angst, “Why are you my night watch?”
“I offered…I asked the Lieutenant.” Pierre answered, “I just…I needed to see you.”
He swallowed thickly, blinking back the dampness in his eyes that came with the weight of their hellish reality. He wanted to say more to him: to say that he was worried sick about him when he didn’t return to the trenches a fortnight ago, to say that when he heard he was captured by the military police and was to be tried for desertion Pierre first felt relief, to say that after such a short lifetime together he couldn’t stomach the idea of living without him…of going back out there to the battlefields without him.
But, instead, the silence spoke enough. Esteban simply nodded once.
What else was there to say when he was to be facing his execution in less than twelve hours?
If it were anyone sent to keep an eye on him over night, he was damn glad it was Pierre.
As if that thought physically pained him, Esteban rested his elbows on his knees again and hid his face in his grimy hands. His blue uniform jacket was caked in mud until it looked almost brown and the sweat and blood of the enemy that he was drenched it flattened his midnight black hair across his forehead. Pierre didn't look much better.
Pierre just stared at him like that, wanting to ask so many questions and say so many things.
“I know you don’t want anything to do with me,” Pierre stumbled out, “but, can you let me in your arms just for tonight?”
When Esteban lifted his face from his hands, his mud-stained cheeks were streaked in tears.
He nodded.
Pierre’s heart leapt in his chest at the unexpected agreement and he hurried to shuffle off his rucksack and his utility belt to drop them to the floor before Esteban could change his mind. The tiny metal bed creaked and groaned under the two grown men as they arranged themselves in a hesitant mess of uniformed limbs.
Always the braver, bolder, more assertive of the two, Esteban cuddled up under Pierre’s arm like a weak child. Branded as a coward and a traitor to his country Esteban had just wanted a break. A break from the war, the cries of agony, the death. Here, now, in this abandoned house in the French countryside, in the country they were raised in together, they finally felt a moment of peace for the first time in a long time.
Pierre’s chest shuttered through his calming inhale as he familiarized himself with their newfound position, chest to chest with Esteban, his arms wrapped around his taller comrade. He could feel his rapid heartbeat against his own, the two of them a frantic mess of anxiety and unspoken uncertainties. In a world of darkness and fear and death, the feeling of Esteban’s heartbeat was a reminder of life, of love, of hope.
The two of them kept their eyes screwed shut as if silently willing themselves to be taken back to their childhood town on the beach where summers were joyful and the air was filled with laughter and they raced each other on their bicycles down cobblestone streets. Just like those summer days, their hearts beat firmly in steady time, rapid from exertion and the good company of familiarity.
As the sun set below the horizon to the distant sound of cannons and shells and gunfire, the two men stayed tangled together on that little blue bed. Their heartrates slowed as they held each other, finding a calming rhythm against each other beat by beat. Everything was uncertain – life was uncertain – but them always finding each other? That was always certain.
“In spite of all this, I still love all of you.” Pierre breathed into the night, trying to keep his voice from shaking with subconscious awareness of what the morning would hold, “I do…and I always will.”
Esteban’s hand tightened on the back of Pierre’s matching blue uniform jacket. His heart skipped a beat.
In the morning, they were woken by the officer in charge and two assisting men. Esteban was firmly yanked out of bed by the men of his same rank, each with a stone-like grip on his biceps as they nearly dragged him down the narrow hallway and towards the stairs. Pierre barely had a chance to grab his belongings before he was rushing after them, boots pounding down the flimsy staircase and out into the damp spring morning. It was so cold he could see his panting breath.
He wanted to call out for Esteban as the men let go of him outside of the abandoned house they had slept in that night, letting him fall clumsily to his hands and knees.
“On your feet, Private.” The commanding officer ordered, standing in front of a line of eleven soldiers all armed with their rifles.
As Esteban brought himself to his feet on trembling legs, he looked over at Pierre only a yard away. The officer followed his gaze.
With a cock of his head, the officer called out to Pierre next, “Over here, Gasly, open your rifle.”
Esteban and Pierre both looked at the officer as if he were completely out of his mind.
“Sir-” Pierre started as calmly as he could muster, trying to decline the order.
“We need a dozen men, Private, don’t make me ask again.”
If he argued, he would be put up there against the wall with him, he knew. With a curt nod to his superior, Pierre joined the lineup.
He was supplied three bullets to load into his empty rifle and he loaded it with trembling fingers before clicking his weapon back into place. His red rimmed blue eyes rose to Esteban’s figure standing in front of the stone wall of the house in which they shared their last night together. Out of everyone in that lineup, Esteban’s gaze was locked solely on Pierre.
Esteban was offered a blindfold. He declined.
On the order, the firing squad raised their rifles. Twelve rifles pointed at Esteban.
Pierre had killed a lot of men since the start of the war. He had more blood on his hands than in his body, one might argue. Killing Germans was easy. But this?
Pierre could hardly hear over the ringing in his ears, the rapid thump, thump, thump of his heart enough to drown out the officer’s pitch for Esteban’s final words.
Through the deafening noise, he barely heard Esteban’s voice cutting across the misty spring dawn, words off-set from the movement of his mouth as Pierre stared at him, “I defend France with honour and glory.”
Esteban’s dark eyes never wavered from Pierre’s baby blues, staring at him right through the rifle that was pointed directly at him. He raised his hand to set over his heart, a silent reminder of the rhythm they shared so closely the night before and all those years back home. Pierre swallowed the lump in his throat.
Finally, the commanding officer gave his order, “Fire at will, gentlemen.”
Pierre shut his eyes and pulled the trigger.
"You want nothing to do with me,
I don't know what to do with you,
Cause you don't know what you do to me.
Baby is this love for real?
Let me in your arms to feel
The beating of your heart, baby."
#emilys 1.5k celebration!#1031#pierresteban#pierre gasly#esteban ocon#pierre and esteban#f1 fanfic#f1#formula 1#pierresteban fic#ww1#f1 au#esteban ocon imagine#pierre gasly imagine#pierre gasly fic#eo31#pg10#alpine f1
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Out of Context WIP
Tagged by @starlightiing. Thank you so much! ❤
Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post and share one or two sentences (or lines for artists) from your unposted WIP with zero context.
Well, the writer friend doesn't really have anything to show. I've written one(!) sentence today. For something I didn't plan to write... 🙃 So yeah, I have that one sentence and like two lines or so from another story from months ago. Math is not my strongest skill (showing only one thing's never enough) so I'm gonna show these two story snippets and also one-one detail of the two drawings I've been working on for a while now.
The first one:
“I saw cuts on Logan’s arm.”
The second one:
“Shall I take my t-shirt off, Dr Leclerc?” Carlos asks with a cheeky smile on his face, already preparing to free his body of the white t-shirt he’s wearing.
Charles’ face immediately turns red at the role-play like wording Carlos uses. “Don’t call me that,” he tells Carlos as he glances at him and then back at the instrument in his own hands, trying to find out how to start.
And the two drawings:
Tagging: @fredwardart (Art and story too, if you have both. Thank you. ❤)
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b iiiiiiiiiii tch
At your service
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