#i'm simply winging this plot and it shows

[hotchshands]

Somebody's Watching Me | Chapter 2

Masterlist| Taglist | Other Chapters

Summary: The BAU continues their investigation into your stalker. As the unsub grows bolder, they grow closer to uncovering your identity behind all the grainy images and videos the unsub left behind. You are completely obvious to the fact that someone is watching you.

Word Count: 1k

Contains: slow burn, semi-nudity, and possible plot holes cause idk where this is going anymore

A/N: Be sure to check out my other series, Teacher’s Pet!

The team went home to rest before yet another busy day, but Hotch couldn't leave just yet. Gracia hasn't gotten a single hit on this woman, and the team was nowhere close to building a profile. Hotch knew that the faster they got through all the images, the faster they could build a solid profile. So, he sat in the screening room alone, drinking crappy coffee, hoping to see something helpful.

He eventually got bored of whatever video he was on and decided to skip to the more recent videos the unsub posted. He clicks on a video dated October 12. The angle was the same as before. The camera pointed at her window, but this time, it was different. Hotch could see you or at least your figure getting dressed. He froze, pressing pause on the video.

The idea of watching a stranger undress felt wrong and perverted. A part of him was unsurprised by the video, knowing that this kind of thing is what stalkers live for, but it felt wrong. Nevertheless, Hotch had to watch it in order to profile both you and this unsub. He resumes the video and continues watching.

You lift your shirt up before turning slightly away from the window and peeling it off. Hotch peered at your hair, falling against your bare back. The light from the window shined on you and your brown hair. You were comfortable enough to have your curtains pulled back as you undressed but not comfortable enough to put on a show. Hotch couldn't understand that, but then again, he knew all about the world's most twisted and sick people. This unsub was one of them.

After watching that, Hotch decided to call it a night, leaving the screening room and heading for the elevator.

You were rushing to get ready for work when you felt off. Peeling off your pajamas to get into appropriate work attire, you felt a shiver run up your spine. Is someone watching me? Growing up in a small neighborhood, you had no problem undressing in front of a window; you did it all the time. However, as you removed your shirt, you couldn't help but feel like this time was different.

You brushed it off and chalked it up to paranoia, but truthfully, this isn't the first time you suspected something awry. For the past few months, every time you stood in front of a window, you felt it as if it were Big Brother, but you knew that was not the case. Somebody was, in fact, watching you, but you were clueless.

The next day, the team gathers bright and early to investigate this unsub. Hotch got their first, sorting through and organizing all the photos the Cyber Alert Team left. Once the entire team was there and ready to work, Hotch began, "Thank you all for being here on time. Let's get to work. What do we know so far?"

"Well, we know this is his first and only victim," Emily said.

"We also know that stalkers are deeply insecure, and this particular stalker is likely to have a personal connection to our Jane Doe," JJ said.

"Don't forget those stalkers snap when anything gets between them and their victims. This guy's no different," Rossi added.

"So this unsub's a ticking timebomb. The closer we get to finding out who this chick is, the more danger she's in," Morgan said.

"We know how they met. In the unsub's correspondence, he said they work together but never mentions it again. After that, he's more careful not to expose any details about her," Spencer said.

"Why keep her identity a secret? From his vantage point, he could easily get a clean shot of her face. Why doesn't he?" Hotch poses to the team.

"Could it be a counter-measure?" JJ responds.

The team grows silent, taking in all the clues and piecing them together to solve the puzzle. During this time, Hotch remembers what he saw in one of the videos last night. He couldn't get that image of you undressing out of his head, and he didn't know if he should tell the team or keep it to himself. He knew it was a significant detail but was embarrassed to share it. He just didn't know why.

Rossi could see the wheels turning in Hotch's head. "Something we should know, Aaron?" Rossi asked.

Hotch shook his head and told the team about what he saw. "Last night, I watched some more of the tapes, and I think you should see them. Gracia, can you-"

"Already on it!" Gracia works her magic and pulls up the videos on her computer.

"It should be dated October 12," Hotch said.

Gracia finds the video and turns her computer to show the team. The team watches as you undress, unaware of being watched. After you change, the video cuts to you leaving your apartment. Hotch didn't see that before...

"This guy's getting bolder, that's for sure," Morgan says.

"Gracia, show us the latest upload. Would yuh? I wanna see just how bold he's gotten," Rossi said.

Upon his command, Gracia pulls up the latest video, dated April 18, months later. The video is drastically different from the others. The footage was taken from inside rather than outside.

"So now's his in her house? Why the shift?" Emily ponders.

Hotch wasn't sure why he hadn't thought to look at the latest video or why the thought of some creep sneaking into your house and setting up a camera made his blood boil. He was off his game and determined to get his head straight. He pinched the bridge of his nose before speaking, "Ok, we need to rethink strategy. Something caused him to shift the camera. He needed to get closer to the victim, but why? That's what we need to find out."

The team nodded in agreement, having started to see a shift in their boss. He was usually so level-headed during every case, but this one was different. The BAU rarely investigates stalkers; on those rare occasions, those cases go over smoothly. So far, this particular case has been all sorts of special.

Taglist: @uselessnewt @lalaehlaa @de-duchess @targaryenswhxre @mrs-ssa-hotch @reidfile

[stubz]

"Remember to check with a teacher or one of the gardeners before eating what you pick from the gardens." calls out teacher Max.

The youngling centre was on a field trip visiting the ships indoor public garden that grows both flowers and vegetables from a variety of different planets. Younglings took joy in sharing and showing their friends vegetables and plants from their own respective planet. Even the teachers, Max and Kim, were happy to tell them about earth's plants.

"Wow, what's that Emira?"

"It's a glass flower!" she chirps holding up a beautiful flower with the petals and stem translucent. "They're my favorite flower!"

"So pretty! Can you...eat it!" the human grins.

"No!" the avian giggles. "You can't eat it! But my Maemae says you can use the roots for tea that helps tummy aches."

"I'll have to remember that." he nods, wearing an utmost serious and thoughtful face. The nearby gardeners chuckle.

"You should!"

"I shall-!"

"TEACHER MAAAX!!"

All heads whip to the south of the garden. At the very end of it is Ezshi screaming and waving their little tail and arms frantically. Beside them is Pollix, Zyz, and Tarlak huddling around a Kim kneeling on the ground grabbing her throat.

"Mr Max you stay h-" the gardeners watched as the human sprinted as fast he could to the other side of the gardens. Seconds later the younglings followed suit with Emira leading them, flapping her little wings as fast as she can.

"KIM! KIM WHAT'S WRONG?!" he skids to a stop beside her grabbing her shoulders to examine her.

The human shakes her head, face red, opens her mouth to speak only to go into a coughing fit. Her right hand at her throat, her left pounding her chest.

"What happened?? Did you eat something?? Kids what did she eat?!" later he'll apologize for shouting but right now he can't help it. Right now he's going through every lesson he's had about what to do when one eats something harmful/unknown to their species.

"I-I don't know! Tarlak gave it to her!" Zyz cries, tears streaming down their little snout.

"Tarlak, buddy, what did you give her??" the little Simia's lips quiver as he stares at the still hacking Kim.

"Tarlak, focus. What did you give her? What planet plot was it from?" Max grabs his shoulders, making him look solely at him and not Kim.

"...earth...it-it was from earth. This." he hands over a half eaten white plant bulb.

"...Kim's fine kids." he sighs flopping over onto the dirt. The adrenaline immediately leaving his body.

"What! What is it?!" they all cry.

"It's garlic."

For a moment there is silence save for some sighs of relief from the human children. And then.

"GET THE RED BAG!"

"CALL THE GARDENERS!"

"SHE'S GONNA DIEEE!"

All the younglings scream and wail. Most like Emira, however, simply cling to the human silently crying.

"...what?! Kids! She's not dying."

" 'm not...dying." Kim rasps, finally done coughing.

"Garlic is poison! It's how my Maemae's uncle died!" Emira wails.

"I heard one garlic clove can kill a hundred rextalians!" Ezshi frets.

"What are you talking abo...oooh. Thiosulfate."

"Thio-whatnow?" Kim coughs, spitting out a piece of garlic she frees from her cheek.

"Reason why most animals can't eat garlic and onions. Including most other non-earth species."

"...Oooh! Okay learning time! Listen up kids. Humans can eat garlic! Got it? Humans can eat garlic and other foods like garlic, our body breaks it down and stuff."

"But you choked and your face turned red!"

"Because the taste is very strong. It's like lemons. Basically I took a giant bite out of a lemon."

"...Ooooh!" cries out the younglings now understanding that their teacher is not dying.

"Wait why did you take a giant bite out of garlic?" laughs Max.

"I didn't know if was garlic or an onion and Tarlak's dad uses onions for to make a bug repellent...don't judge me I've never seen garlic in that shape before!"

"Why didn't you ask a gardener?"

"They're all the way on the other side of the field! Just-shush!"

"I'm never letting you live this down. Now help me stop the human kids from doing some kind of garlic challenge. I see Anthony and Piper eyeing them."

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - it was a pretty darn good time, frankly

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Feb 2024 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 12fin - Everyone looked like they were having a lot of fun in the fight sequences. I’m very happy for them. I’m not surprised they shot Khem and Chart. A little shocked it wasn’t also Yai, TBH.

I found this final episode rushed. According to rumors, The Sign was originally slated to be 14 eps, and it probably should’ve been. And I don’t say that often about Thai BL. But we all knew it was getting too bloated for its britches, so I'm not surprised they fumbled the ending. For me personally, it just wasn't that bad. It was fine and I was fine with it.

Tho, Billy does not look good with facial fur, messes up those gorgeous angles.

I was ultimately amused that the solution to the mythology thread was simply to talk to the river god and persuaded him to give up... off screen. It felt very old school wuxia. Or like Aeschylus or something. I did adore the stinger, Saint was basically like “I want wings too”. 

FINAL THOUGHTS

This show is literally everything (except straight) all at once. It's BL, queer, band of brothers, romcom, erotica, PNR, fated mates, police procedural, fantasy, mystery, suspense, and slasher. It’s the king of genre mash-up chaos. Sure, it's madness but there is genius in it. Was it a crazy unhinged mess +1 roll for damage? Yes. Yes it was. Did it manage to hold all those tangled threads together? No it did not. Was it also a charming, sexy, engaging, non-stop piece of entertainment? Sure thing. I think this show is basically my KinnPorsche, and frankly I’ve been chasing that dragon naga since KP aired. Is it perfect? No. But it was balls to the wall FUN and that gets a 9/10 from me.

I'm thinking of doing a full recap review (partly because I have so many great screen shots.)

Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube grey) ep 10-11 of 12 - Since this series is following the yaoi so closely, I knew these were the separation eps. (Also I knew with would be a soft non-doom ep 11, Japan rarerly does these.) I like that they used it to show improve communication and development in all relationships, but, frankly, TayNew are just best when they are TayNew together on screen. So yeah. Let’s keep them back together, please?

Meanwhile, TayNew gifted us a gorgeous loving sweet sex scene. Thanks OG for doing us a solid. 

I wanna add, it sure is fun to see New play as soft and vulnerable character, I feel like he hasn’t done that since SOTUS. 

(Read all about distribution issues here.)

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) ep 12fin - 1/3 of this is a sweet romance about a student doctor falling in love with a student chef, and the rest of it is utter dross. Look the OffGun bits were GREAT.. In fact, I think they’re better AS A PAIR in this show than in any of their other BLS. And I'm a hard sell on any OffGun being better than PickRome. Saying that, how can I review a show where I could only tolerate 1/3 of it? Because I didn’t like any other aspect of this show, no other pairs and no other plots. That gives me: 9/10 for the OffGun bits, 5/10 for everything else. Frankly it probably should be an 8 but I gotta go with my gut and it's upset about this so 7/10. Sorry boys. It’s GMMTV’s fault. Your heart was in this show, mine wasn’t. 

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 4 of 12 - These two are so good at making heart eyes at each other. It’s ridiculous. They don’t need any cartoon images or noises. Moot crush but "I wanna flirt and court more" is so flipping awesome. I love this for them… and us. 

1000 Years Old ep 2 of 12 - It’s very silly and we have been gifted with the dorkiest vampire ever. But... the smell thing makes me so happy. And I like that the vamp uses chan/nai or tan = v old fashioned. Nahlak. I love our ghost girl. Did you notice she wasn’t in the room with them but they left an empty chair for her? Also nahlak.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Perfect Propose (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 5 of 6 - Kai was pretty much just “you're a workaholic but I basically married you whether you like it or not.” SMOOCH. What can I say? I'm a sucker for this dynamic.

AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - How is this show so cute? How do they both love and hurt each other so much. They are both just scared of loosing each other. Gah.

Unknown (Taiwan Sat Youku YouTube) 1 of 12 eps - Youku dropped the first ep to their YouTube channel but I doubt we can expect that to continue. Still, it was nice to be able to watch it in a convenient way. I enjoyed it. But I am cautious about it. Of course this is possibly two of my favorite tropes of all time (stepbrothers or a variation + hyung romance). So I’m looking forward to the romantic thread, but from the gritty style, it feels a lot more like a Taiwanese short. Which means it could go very dark and may not end happy. 

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 7 of 10 - I just don’t know if the main couple should be a couple. But when they finally get around to talking to each other, they sure are lovely. Also how great is it to see a uke initiate a kiss? Even if it’s not a very good kiss. 

My Strawberry Film (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 2 of 8 - I am still not sure about this one. I am not contesting its quality, just saying it’s not for me. Also I’m not wild about what amounts to basically a redo of everything that already happened in the first episode from a different perspective. I know it’s a tall order with Japan, but I would like (when it’s a short series) for each new installment to actually move the plot (such as it is) along in someway. Am I asking too much?

It's done but I have no time

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - will binge when I have any spare time. 2024 is crazy busy for me so far.

The Servant and the Young Master - from Vietnam, it's on YouTube. I will give it a try when I have a window of time.

Began Beginning (Myanmar YouTube) - A Burmese BL? @heretherebedork vouched for it, so I will give it a watch.

It's airing but...

Dead Friend Forever (Thai iQIYI) - rumors are it's interesting but full of unlikable characters. I'm waiting to know how it ends.

Ossans Love Season 2 (Japan Gaga) - 5 years later, will anything have changed? This is Japan so… probubly not. I won't be watching this. I disliked Season one and actively hated the follow ups. No thank you.

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 14 eps - Dear Playboyy, it's not you, it’s me… I hate you. You’re about as deep (and as palatable) as a shot glass of cum. While I'm sure you’re someone’s kink, you're my weakest link. Goodbye. I DNFed this at ep 5. Frankly I'm impressed with myself for getting that far. Ends next week TF.

Time the series (Tue Gaga/YT) 10 eps - dropped it at ep 4.

A Secretly Love (Thai WeTV) - I tried but I can't get into my WeTV account anymore and I'm way too lazy to figure it out. Should I bother to go grey for it?

To Be Continued (Thai C3 Thailand YT) - High school sweethearts who had a bad break up reunite when both of them have full time jobs but coming out is still a problem. You can watch this on YT but it has no Eng Subs.

Next Week Looks Like This:

We're light on content right now, but frankly I'm so busy with work I don't really mind.

3/6 Born to be Y (Thai ????) 10 eps - 14 contestants who audition to compete in Born To Be Y, a program that searches for the best couple of the year to work together on a giant project. Described as semi-reality series. So I probably won't bother.

3/7 Deep Night (Thai iQiyi) 10 eps - Multiple romances set in a host clubs. Nice to see First back on my screen but this is not my favorite setting.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

The eyes have it.

Your random BL moment brought to you by my ult-bias being a hyung smartass to his maknae.

(Last week)

[partycatty]

dom bi han x dom reader?

no one wants to relinquish control

(English is not my first language)

wait this is so me fr

bi-han > give in

arguments, spars, and insults come to a head when you're alone with the grandmaster

warnings: mostly plot, ur both meanies, BI-HAN BOANURRRRRR 🚨 , short smut at the end

notes: shoutout to my pookie bear @doki-doki-imagines for fueling my insanity and giving me such yummy ideas about this <3

[ masterlist ]

• if there's one thing bi-han hated, it was someone who thought they were better than him. that, and your entire existence.

• not a day goes by where you wouldn't fight to the death for the lin kuei, but you just always felt the need to speak up and take charge where bi-han fails to meet your own expectations.

• who the hell do you think you are, trying to beat bi-han at his own job?! he's the grandmaster, you're a grunt, but you exude the confidence of a member with influence. this irks him beyond belief.

• "someone should put you in your place," he'd growl at you in frustration, grabbing a fistful of your shirt to hold you close. you're not afraid of him, though, and simply stare at him with a condescending unamusement that makes the veins in his forehead pop.

• "i'd like to see you try," you purr in response, holding eye contact to show there is not a single ounce of fear in your body. damn him for training his recruits to be so fearless.

• and try he does, pairing you with him when it comes to training. but the fight is so evenly matched, a tie is drawn almost every time. you're as strong as him, and your biggest advantage is that you fill him with so much rage his movements become sloppy and loses its calculated touch.

• when it is determined to be a tie, bi-han grunts out loudly and throws his ice weapon to the ground, making it shatter and dissipate. he storms off, leaving you feeling even more confident that you're a little parasite in his skin.

• a day rolls around where a mission is to be planned, and you stand alongside the brothers, insisting your opinion was just as valid as a higher up.

• "and so we strike along the south-" bi-han moves a figurine to the south side of the map, ready to further his debrief before you chime in.

• "the west had less guards," you interject, planting your index finger along the parchment. "if we enter through the west wing and make our way down south through the tunnels, we-"

• bi-han tries to talk over you. "if you'd use your eyes, you'd notice that the west wing is also the hardest to approach stealthily."

• "even so, grandmaster, that's not to say that the south side is equally as quiet, i presume? you said so yourself that the south is bordered by a cliff-"

• "will you shut your mouth and listen to me?"

• "will you come up with a better plan, then?" you smirk and lean against the table, enjoying your verbal sparring. bi-han, however, is fuming. kuai liang and tomas stand to the side, exchanging tiny smiles at the display.

• "easy, brother," kuai liang will step in, putting a hand on his shoulder. "perhaps it is best to approach the mission from multiple angles."

• bi-han shakes his brother's hand from his shoulder, scowling. he places an accusatory finger your way.

• "this brat has been nothing but a thorn in our sides," he growls, eyes fixated on you darkly. "why we invite their knowledge to our private meetings baffles me."

• "like i'm not the most useful person here?" you retort, putting your flat palm on your chest. "if you recall, grandmaster, it is i that led our army to battle the last few times, while you were busy groveling in your princess chambers. i step up where you can't. i deserve to have a say."

• bi-han turns around to leave, not before pivoting back and trying to throw a sharp, icy spear into your shoulder, one that you dodge as it lodges into the wall behind you. grumbling insults, he leaves from the conversation. maybe planning can happen another time?

• "that was incredible," smoke compliments. "nobody stands up to the grandmaster like that."

• "for good reason, tomas," kuai liang steps in. "he is our grandmaster. at times, it may just be best to follow his command, reader."

• "like hell," you reply, hands on your hips. "one of you should be grandmaster. would serve the clan good." all they can do is shrug neutrally, but one of them suggests to defuse his anger by following bi-han out. reluctantly, you follow the cold breeze until you lean against the door of his personal office.

• it was suspiciously tidy, and you wanted to make a jab at his lack of usage for his office, but the truth was likely that he preferred things orderly and simple. just like him, you snickered to yourself.

• "out," he commanded, his back to you yet he knew the sound of your loud, annoying footsteps.

• "not happening," you groan, eyeing him up from across the room. "what's your deal with me? honestly?"

• "where would i even begin?" he grumbles, fists clenching hard. "final time. out."

• you opened your mouth wide, replying with a firm, flat "no." you weren't really trying to act like some kind of brat to him, you genuinely did not take his order seriously. if you wanted something, you'd do it. and you wanted to stand your ground. "tell me what your issue is." you take more steps toward him, waiting for an answer in the center of the room.

• something inside of him snaps and he spins to face you, shooting a thick sheet of ice around your ankles and trapping you where you stand.

• "you are the most obnoxious, annoying, pretentious, self-entitled, stupid, incompetent, arrogant, useless—" bi-han DRIVES insults into you, jabbing a finger into your shoulder harder and harder with each descriptor. you're dumbfounded as you watch your grandmaster spew cold air from his lips, growing angrier by the second.

• your eyes flicker downward, and you feel your lips curl up devilishly at a new realization. under his pants, a thick tent was evident through his fuming anger.

• "i know why you're mad," your voice drops an octave, biting in your bottom lip to stop a grin. "you like me."

• bi-han's berating stops abruptly, the accusatory finger still in your face. a reddish blush creeps up his cheeks, reaching the tips of his ears.

• "what?" he asks curtly, tilting his head to see if he heard you right.

• "you heard me," you chuckle, leaning in. "you're mad you like me. because i'm better than you."

• "s...stop talking."

• "stop lying, then."

• "i'm not lying, you—!"

• "so you're just hard for no reason?" as you ask, bi-han's scowling lips drop into a tight line. his hand falls in front of his crotch, trying to casually conceal the bulge, but the damage was already done. your shit-eating grin only heated him further.

• the ice around your ankles melted as bi-han stood there at a horrified loss for words. you confirmed your newfound suspicion with so much ease it's a mystery how this man was considered enigmatic.

• how you got here exactly felt like a sweaty blur. your hips swiveled mercilessly against bi-han's, tugging on the ribbon that was one his sigil-bearing armband around his thick neck. low grunts and pants spill from his lips as he tries to gather as much of the flesh of your ass within his palms, squeezing and massaging the skin like it would disappear should he even consider loosening his grip.

• "yeah, you fuckin' like that, don't you?" you ask, slamming yourself onto his thick cock. your other hand couldn't help itself as it swung out and placed a crisp slap to his bare cheek to knock him back into reality. he returns the aggression with a hard buck upward, making you lurch forward and kiss the tips of your noses together.

• "you disgust me," bi-han groans, now taking control of the thrusts as his hips come up to ruin your momentum. as your lips part to gasp in surprise, he spits a thick wad of saliva into your mouth. "i'll use you for all you're worth."

• it feels like an obscene, sinful heaven as he fucks up into you while you choke him. it feels like a sick competition to see who would give in first, who would fold and beg for more.

• being sick and tired of your weight holding him down, bi-han, in one swift motion, manages to flip you over and get you on all fours. before you could protest, he freezes your knees and hands to the ground.

• "fucking annoying..." he mumbles, running a hand up your spine with the other landing a slap your ass. his soft pants become more frequent, and you feel him begin to spasm inside of you.

• "you're real close, grandmaster," you coo playfully, tight moans coming from your lips with each thrust. "i can feel how much you need me."

• "i don't need you," bi-han shamefully mutters, his moans getting increasingly higher, though still quiet. "i don't... hhh—"

• "admit it, you fuckin' liar," you giggle, bouncing your ass back onto him, relishing in the way his dick manages to hit the sweetest points in your walls.

• your banter falls silent as you both reach your high, caught off guard from the overwhelming pleasure as your bodies are used for each other's personal benefit. bi-han bites down on your shoulder as his hips snap forward, spilling his seed inside of you. his mouth is colder than a normal human's, and you find yourself enjoying the goosebumps it creates.

• after several seconds of deep breaths, bi-han pulls out and you feel terribly empty. his cum drips down your folds, tickling your inner thigh. he really filled you up.

• he pulls his pants back up, but you notice that the ice on your limbs remains as you stay on all fours completely nude. as bi-han smooths his hair and reties his armband, you crane your neck to speak to him.

• "h-hey," you shout out, brows knitted together in worry. "you gonna unfreeze me?"

• "no," he replies bluntly, crossing his arms.

• "wh... the fuck you mean, no?!" you wiggle, trying to break free but the ice is unusually thick. "we were in a meeting!"

• "and it'll go just fine without you," he says, cupping your ass with nails. "consider this a lesson."

• "i'll teach you a lesson when i shove my foot up your—" bi-han coldly silences you, literally. his hand wraps around your mouth and creates an icy barrier, preventing you from speaking your mind.

• "you're much more tolerable when you're not talking," a smirk toys at his face as he seems pleased with his work while you squirm in frustration.

[pinkandgoldensoul]

Heyo!

Since I'm definitely a fan of your writings and this tinkling feeling of requesting you something has been irking me, can I request something like an arranged marriage with Pierre?

Angsty and maybe a happy ending. That's upto you.

Love your works. Hoping for more great pieces.❤️

Happy New Year 🎊

(At the end of the fic I'll leave a note about this request ❤️)

Navigation || Masterlist

If this is your first time here on this blog, please check the Disclaimers here.

pairing: pierre gasly x female!reader (feat. esteban ocon x female!reader and charles leclerc as reader's bestfriend) genre: arranged marriage, angst, fluff and comfort !tw!: swearing, mention of s*x (not graphic), cheating, violence word count: 18.6k plot: you loved him, he loved you, and neither knew. Will an arranged marriage, an old love triangle and a special friend be enough to finally make you confess your true feelings?

Walking down the aisle, a bouquet clumsily held by trembling fingers, your whole chest was filled with quick butterflies batting wings, desperate to spread free. He was perfect. An astonishingly crafted smirk plastered on his face, ready for the flashes of the cameras to be captured, the suit slid on his athletic body without creases. You reckoned yourself inadequate in that white, plain dress: feeling pins pulling your hair left and right after hours of work by the hairdresser, the steady arm of your dad was the only anchor to the present moment. He never strayed his stare away from you, removing your veil in a slow, tantalizing motion. There were no vows to be exchanged and get mistaken in anxiety, no rings to be put through the wrong finger: you were and had always been his since forever, without he even had to ask. You peeked behind Pierre’s shoulder and saw Charles showing you an encouraging smile, which you tried to reciprocate despite sweating cold. You remembered his huge grin when Pierre had handed him the invitation: dimples on full display, Charles had flicked his eyes between the two of you and had been stoked ever since he was told he’d be best man. He’d been happier than Pierre himself had been about the news of the engagement with you and, consequently, about the wedding.

>>♥<<

«Okay, cool.» That had been his answer to you two fathers’ decision. They had grown best friends over the years, and they both didn’t like Pierre’s womanizer lifestyle, which was quite detrimental to his reputation. So your dad had decided to offer his own daughter to the Gasly’s like a sacrificial victim, knowing you had always had sympathy for the youngster and sure he would simply love you back with time. Of course, you were painfully aware of Pierre’s usual behavior around girls and, even though befriending him in teenage had made you helplessly fall in love with him, getting married felt like the cruelest assault to your dignity. For sure you would love him. And for sure he would not. Sitting on a couch right in front of each other, your parents discussing a couple of meters away, he simply bore his eyes into yours while drinking a glass of juice, legs spread out. «We’re going to have fun the first night together or…?» Your eyes threw a dagger to him, hit in your pride for the insensitive comment; Pierre wasn’t known for being delicate and considerate, when you used to hang out in group with him. After all, his humor was one of the things that had you capitulate before his feet. «Okay, I see. No jokes.» You squeezed your fingers into fists, uptight, dissatisfaction cursing through your blood. «Not on such things, Pierre.» «Like what? Sex?» he raised a brow. «My wedding.» you sighed. «Our wedding, you mean.» «Doesn’t seem as pivoting to you. Nothing will really change for you.» «We’re both going to wear a ring, y/n. Never seen a marriage without the groom or the bride.» He downed the last sip of the juice and placed the glass on the coffee table. You knew from the start it wouldn’t be a fairytale.

>>♥<<

«Don’t think a bride should stand on her own and look so sad.» Charles’ words whispered in your ear made you roll eyes and brought an immediate smile to your face. «Don’t think a best man should bother the bride with stupid remarks.» «Do you think it’s stupid?» he asked, raising his brow to insinuate doubt. «Pierre is having a blast and you… well, you’re here listening to the stupid remarks of the best man.» The small stem glass of champagne you still held had dried out of bubbles, but seemed interesting enough to draw your eyes down; Charles, genuinely sorry to witness your let down expression, wetted his lips and briefly glanced back at Pierre, laughing and dancing with the other guests. «Let’s go dance.» Caught by surprise, you tilted your head back up, wide eyes. «C’mon, don’t pretend you didn’t hear!» Charles chuckled, holding both your hands. «We’re going to make fools of ourselves…» «But that’s what we do the best when we’re together!» You let yourself be dragged in the middle of the dance floor set up under an outdoor gazebo: Charles’ ridiculous moves made a visceral laugh emerge from the depths of your fears, as he tried to involve you in his bubbly fun, despite the dress not helping the flow of your groove. «Geez, I feel so awkward!» you let out, head leaning backwards, invested by a childish happiness. «Just dance it out, we’re doing amazing!»

The sun setting down at the horizon threw an orange gold ray cut through the air, hitting Charles’ profile, getting both enlightened and obscured in two poetic halves which danced relentless and made you twirl around without a single thought. Out of notice, the guests had gathered around the two of you, enjoying the show you had put up; and when the music faded out to a slower tune, catching your breath in Charles’ arms, hands resting on his heaving chest, your sight found Pierre’s blue eyes, filled with an unreadable expression. As slower notes filled the air, he walked over to you, confident in each firm step, putting Charles’ luminous smile in defeat: when Pierre was around, there was no chance for you to look at any other person. He simply took your hands, implicitly warning Charles to move away and make room for him, tenderly joining the swinging fabric of your dress. Too affected by his presence and by racing thoughts about the future you would share with him from that moment on, you placed your burning cheek upon his chest, right above his heart. «Why didn’t you ask me to dance?» His question breached your overthinking silence. «You were too busy entertaining the guests.» You didn’t mean for your words to sound as veiled of sadness and resigned as they did, but you felt somehow content in letting Pierre know how you felt about the whole situation. He had you wrapped around his finger; his ring one. You were engraved in the inner circle of gold touching his skin, kissing it tenderly, vowing love to him any second. «I thought I’d make you uncomfortable giving you all my attention. You dropped a glass during lunch because of it, and I don’t want you to get hurt.» His smirk disseminated deep, red shame on your cheeks; why did you put blush on earlier that morning if Pierre was managing to do all the work by himself?

An unerasable pang of hurt chained your feet to the ground, unable to sink deeper into Pierre’s gentle hands holding you throughout the dance: you told yourself it wouldn’t shatter you completely if you thought he didn’t mean any of the things he did, he said. Holding you closer, cheek resting on his white, unbuttoned shirt, he left an unexpected and unseen peck on the top of your head, as you both still lulled to the beat. He then leaned on a side, dropping whispered words into your ear. «Want to see a smile on my wife’s face. It’s our wedding, after all, not our funeral.» As much as you wanted to feel hatred, you let Pierre’s jokingly voice sink, unconsciously obliging to his request right away. You felt young, drunk, foolish. You’d enjoy every bit of attention he’d spare you. Every single scramble.

>>♥<<

Pierre had insisted on picking you up before entering your newly bought apartment, to stick to the tradition; between giggles and laughs, you had admired you two’s mothers astonishing work of petals and candles signaling the way over to the bedroom. The dim lights enchanted your sight, as you stood speechless before the bed. Pierre’s hands caressing your forearms and slowly making their way up to your shoulders awoke you and froze you at once. The tip of his nose brushing your neck, you didn’t dare move nor speak as Pierre pressed soft kisses all over. Were you ready? Pierre encircled your waist with his arm, both relieving and accentuating the knot forming in your stomach. Would you ever be ready? You hadn’t talked about that moment, you hadn’t considered there’d be the need to. You thought he wouldn’t even touch you, once everybody’s eyes would be out of sight. So why was he taking all his time carefully unbuttoning the back of your dress, leaving open mouthed kisses on the bare skin he had available? «Pierre…» You soon realized your moan had been an incentive to Pierre when an airy chérie was whispered upon your shivering skin. «Pierre, I don’t know if we should…» «It’s our first night married, y/n. This is exactly what we should do.» His voice was warm, slightly raspy, perfectly calm and collected, concealing a burning desire underneath. Pierre tucked a lock of your neat hair behind your ear, leaving your neck shivering at the touch. «I know this probably isn’t how you hoped your wedding to be… But now I’m your husband, and I’m willing to do everything I’m supposed to. I’m not backing down.» «Will you ever love me?» you asked, suspended. Pierre tucked another strand of hair in the same spot. «I can’t promise that.» Of course, how would he? «But I’m always going to respect you, no matter what. I swore it and I’ll stand by it.» You slowly turned around to face him, picking up the gown of your dress and pressing a hand to your chest so that it wouldn’t slip off due to the strings being loosened. «Please, don’t… Please, promise you won’t hurt me, Pierre.» The pleading tone of your voice unexpectedly pulled a string inside Pierre’s chest. «Do you really think I’d do that on purpose? Y/n, we’ve been… we’ve known each other for so many years.» «That’s what scares me.» You diverted your gaze, staring at your own reflection on the window: you were now gripping at Pierre’s shirt, the bodice dangerously threatening to slip down, eyes brimming with tears. How could you be more miserable than asking your husband not to hurt you? «Y/n, I’m not a teen anymore. And I’m kind of offended that you think I’m what other people say and what the media want to make everybody believe.» «I wouldn’t have agreed to the wedding, if I believed all the things they said about you.» you whispered. «Then trust the words I said at the altar.» Pierre delicately cupped your cheek, leaving a slow, tender kiss on the opposite temple. «For better and for worse…» he said, boring his eyes into yours. «For richer and for poorer…» he carried on, swiftly freeing your arms from the dress’ sleeves. «In sickness and in health…» Pierre breathed upon your lips, grabbing the dress fallen down to your hips. «Until death do us part.» Gripping tight Pierre’s arms, you let him take your breath away with his sloppy kiss, shivering, despite your face feeling warm and flushed in heat. «I will love you, y/n.» Pierre tucked yet another strand of hair behind your ear. «Maybe not like a charming prince, but I will love you as much as I can.»

His fingers pressed on your shoulders, silently asking you to sit on the edge of the bed, to which you obliged without even thinking twice. The air was thick in pleasant tension: Pierre had let his jacket shuffling its way to the floor, staring at you as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt; on your side, you had joined his intentions fidgeting with the buttons crossing his chest and abs, fully focusing on the slow, tantalizing task, instead of searching the force to bear his magnetic eyes. The golden shade casted over your cheeks, blending with the natural reddish shade of feelings spreading over your skin, left Pierre with an unexplainable tug inside the chest, pushing him to bend down and trap you on the mattress with yet another kiss, suddenly impatient. His shirt long forgotten on the floor upon the jacket and his tie, Pierre’s roaming hands dragged your dress down, making sure you’d slip completely out of it, so that you’d be bare for him to avidly see, touch and savor. Senses overwhelmed by his presence, helplessly amazed at how he could enchant your limbs and make them so reactive and sensitive to his touch, your fingers searched for relief on his body, between his brownish locks of hair, on his muscled neck and upper arms. Anything, to release the growing yearning he was masterfully building and lighting up inside of you. Pierre stopped all of the sudden, one elbow keeping him up, eyes lost in focus, as the fingers of his free hand traced an imaginary line from your sternum, down your chest. Before you could swallow hard at the gesture, he placed a lewd kiss right where his pointer finger had stopped. Again, uncontrolled, a soft moan escaped your already opened lips, tugging at his hair as to both pull him away and push him deeper into your soul. He raised his eyes to look at you hungrily, lips still stained with your skin. «I will honor you all the days of my life, y/n.» Pierre read the soft stare you gave him and the lovingly caress of your hand on his head as an invitation to drag his mouth upon your tender breast, finally free from the white cloth he had wished to tear apart since he had seen you walking down the aisle, swearing to himself he’d not be satisfied until he’d heard you scream his name from the top of your lungs, with his own hands, eyes and heart full of you.

The wedding being held in Italy at the beginning of September, right after Monza’s race weekend, you both had spent only a couple of days in the new house in Milan, in the attempt of building the sense of affectionate routine you would inevitably lose after taking the flight for Azerbaijan, following Pierre in the double-header awaiting him. The media had called it “racing-moon”. It was no ordinary honeymoon, travelling across the globe to support your husband, watching him with a pair of headphones and staring at him from a screen inside Alpine’s box, shying away from paparazzi’s cameras ready to capture glimpses of intimacy you didn’t even know how to spark yourself. A night of love wasn’t enough to erase the helpless feeling of distance and separation around Pierre: you were friends, sure, but your heavy crush on him had always prevented the relationship from growing further as it had happened with Charles. Daydreaming about him laying down your bed, earphones plugged, you had known every single detail about the things he liked while being in your early teens; now, looking at him packing his suitcase, standing at the doorframe you realized you either had never known him before or you had forgotten anything at the altar once he had kissed you alive.

«Do you need help?» you asked, closing and releasing your fingers from a fist, feeling useless. «Oh, didn’t notice you were there.» he quickly peeked at you. «No, thanks! I don’t know how, but it took half the time.» You raised a brow, leaning against the frame with arms crossed. «Maybe… it was the perfectly organized wardrobe I spent two days filling up with all your clothes?» «Mmh, I’m not really sure… Maybe I’ve just got quick with packing, since I’ve been doing it every other week for years now.» His smirk triggered an eye roll in you, so noticeable that Pierre turned to you, taking the suitcase off the bed and letting it roll on the floor. Not kind of expecting him to get that close to you after only stopping by the room, suddenly aware of how his stare could get your whole body drawn to him, succumbed to him, enchanted and gravitating around his brightness, you let yourself be courted by Pierre’s teasing fingers running up your arms. «I’m done now, so…» he said. «So?» «The bed is clear.» Throwing him an amused glance, about to laugh at how lewd his voice had sounded while hinting at the endless list of things you could do there, you pretended not to get his point. «Well, good job! We have somewhere to sleep tonight then.» «There’s no way, right?» Pierre squinted his eyes, hands still warming your skin caressed by the hot Italian wind blowing from the window. «Way to do what?» you asked, faking innocence once again. «I think you perfectly know.»

September’s heat had paired up with the warmth creeping up your ears while Pierre encircled your waist and inched over, causing butterflies inside your chest to awake your heart, moving past your thoughts to put them to sleep, as an overwhelming flow of love made you crave that heavenly attention and touch every second more. Pierre seemed to stop in his relentless chase of a kiss: he stood still, enjoying the closeness, the intimacy of the moment, with your arms enclosed around his neck. There was no rush. The house was hollow and silent; only your breaths could be heard, mixed with the distant chatter coming from the street. Maybe that was the happiest and most peaceful corner of life he would ever know. Maybe holding your waist knowing that you were his wife, that he had settled his forever home, maybe spending his life with you was happiness. He struggled forming deep rooted love feelings towards you, yet could picture the two of you having kids so easily, travelling together, filling that empty house with memories. Maybe it was the fondest look in your eyes making every fantasy so incredibly near and easy. There was something, though, that Pierre didn’t find hard to spark at all. «Changed your mind?» you whispered, teasingly but soft. Attraction. Pierre was so desperately enamored with your body; to be fair, he had always quite been. Untouched by innocence, back at the time you would hang out in group, he would see you utterly oblivious to how other guys glanced at you and wonder if you had ever had sex before. The night of your first time together – the wedding’s – he had both been unfazed and surprised about noticing you weren’t a virgin: it totally made sense for someone as beautiful as you to have been with a guy, but at the same time he had no clue of who you had appointed as the one, and it was weird, because you used to hang out with the same people. He had always thought you had been in his universe, like a satellite, and had always taken your presence for granted, without ever considering he could be the planet on the margin of a totally different galaxy you shined in. Pierre was so intimately envious of a past you didn’t allow him in, and his only way to cope was making sure he could be your only future. «Not at all.» The fastest flicker of his eyes down to your lips was the warning, which you took in with delight: and Pierre was all over you, dragging you into his lighthearted desires and plans, igniting a shy flattering shade beneath your cheeks.

Pierre had insisted on entering the paddock hand in hand; in return, you had insisted on giving your right hand, standing on his left side. He had frowned just enough for you to capture it, not able to understand your request. «As you wish.» But you knew why: and your thumb gently stroking his wedding ring knew as well. Unexplainable excitement was the first feeling which had insinuated in you as you put foot past the turnstiles: Pierre had reminded you quite a few cameras would be following you in a bee line right around you. You were too happy to care, in your first outing as a married woman. As a married couple.

«Oh, hello to the royal couple!» You couldn’t stop yourself from eye-rolling at Charles’ comment, drinking Pierre’s laugh like a shot of bliss. «What, are you jealous?» They laughed and joked around, giving friendly pats to each other, while you watched them with a grin plastered on your face, enjoying the luck of spending time with people you loved. So many things had changed, but it still felt like you were still sixteen, walking without destination in group, young and careless, emptying your pockets full of dreams and using them as currency of exchange between each other. «Catch up with you later, I’ve got a meeting now!» «See you later!» you waved at Charles, as Pierre greeted him.

Entering Alpine’s hospitality you squeezed Pierre’s hand in fright: out of the blue, a deafening clapping concert made your heart fly across the room, as mechanics, engineers and other people from the staff celebrated you two. Pierre looked down at you, curious to see your reaction, still infected by the serene and uplifted atmosphere, swimming in delight as soon as your eyes clicked with his and saw you flattered. There was a bit of pride in showing you off like a trophy, proving everybody wrong with the assumption he’d never settle down and never find the one. Well, he didn’t really choose you out of love. But nobody was meant to know that.

«Congratulations, mate.» The voice reaching from behind your back made you turn, despite it being directed at Pierre. Your eyes flew high to Esteban’s face, enlarging in surprise: he wasn’t looking down at you, caught in the weirdly friendly interaction with your husband. But as soon as Pierre was dragged into pats and hugs by team members, you were left with a whole bag of memories and discarded feelings coming back to the surface, standing still next to someone you once knew. «It’s like the old times, isn’t it?» he casually said, as you both stared at the packed room, side by side. «No, Esteban. Everything changed.» Bittersweetly shoving your left hand before his face to make a definite statement, he carefully grabbed it and brushed your ring with the thumb, taking a close look. «I don’t believe so.» he let go of your hand, smiling politely. «What are you talking about?» you asked, kind of annoyed. «You still think you have Pierre all to yourself when we know nobody does.» «Don’t… don’t you dare talk crap about him in my presence. You know nothing.» Staring into the void, you tried to stay calm and collected, swallowing the phantoms of the past. «I respect that. But I just wanted to remind you of when you were the one talking crap about him in my presence.» «That was years ag-» «And I was there to listen to you.» You dropped the accusatory finger you had brought dangerously near his chest, mind invaded by guilt and yellowed pages of life. «I’ll still be here for you when Pierre messes up again.» «He won’t, Este.» «We’ll see.» he shrugged, glancing back at the room. «But I’ve spent more time with him in the last year than you have, and I know he is no easy character.» «I’m not going to change my mind, if that’s what you’re trying to do.» you raised a brow, skeptical. «I simply wanted to wish you good luck.» Esteban’s impassive tone left you with the urge of replying: as much as you were filled with doubts and fears, you somehow trusted Pierre and his promises and wouldn’t bear anyone implying stuff. Especially Esteban. Because, to a degree, he knew the situation better than any other. His eyes, that despicable spark of mischief, anger and regret inside of them told you things you didn’t want to hear. «The staff would like to get to know my wife if only my teammate would let her be.» Pierre’s amused interruption startled you, almost feeling caught red-handed with the most terrible crime: talking to a guy he trusted and had grown to hate over time. «Sorry, Pierre! My fault. I was… keeping up with the Gasly’s.» The awkwardness and the tension of the moment didn’t go unnoticed to any of you, and you mentally thanked Pierre’s hand resting on your waist, slowly guiding you away from Esteban, who still stared at you with a small courtesy smile. «We’ll have to bear his presence, I know. Trust me, if I could, I’d rather have him on the other side of the planet.» Pierre sighed defeated while whispering those apologies laced with hatred in your ear and a pang of nostalgia, guilt, sorrow pushed you a little closer to him. «He’s not a problem, Pierre. We know how to be civil.» He looked at you, faking amazement at your reply, nodding his head with raised brows. «You’re more mature than I thought.» «More mature than you are? For sure.» You expected him to laugh; instead, he grinned in silence, a strange sparkle wobbling in his irises. A part of you clung onto it, wishing it was a veil of tenderness, affection, or anything like it towards you. For a moment, you held the hope in your hands, and you carefully caressed it, cherished it, making room in your heart to plant it and nurture it there, as if that single twinkle could ever be the seed of love.

>>♥<<

Baku’s street didn’t seem as bumpy to Pierre, now that he was walking on it with a small group of engineers; the main straight heading to the finishing line seemed unnecessarily long, especially since he had just travelled the entire track and had the pitlane as destination. Left with nothing else to discuss with his team, he enjoyed the sun setting and painting the city gold, taking it easy and slow. «Pierre!» The Frenchman turned around and immediately grinned wide, waving to Charles jogging to him. «Track walk? Thought I’d see you speeding riding a bike.» Charles chuckled, adjusting his jingling bracelets. «I wanted to enjoy the atmosphere better.» «Yeah, me too.» They strolled pensive, no rush to be drowned by the buzzing life of the paddock. «I can’t believe it.» Pierre looked at his friend, who had a pleased grin painted and hung by his dimples. «What?» «This is your first race weekend married. And I was your best man. Isn’t it crazy?» «Time flies, Charles.» Pierre scoffed with a smile. «I saw you celebrated in the hospitality, earlier.»

As Pierre narrated the small party the team had organized to Charles’ ecstatic eyes, his thoughts lingered on you, on the myriads of unexpected congratulations he had received for choosing such a kind and fine woman and making her his. Though, there were moments he felt like he was just above an acquaintance to you. Pierre sighed. «What was that?» Charles asked. «Sometimes I think I don’t really know y/n. Not as much as I should, I mean.» «You do know her, though. You’ve been hanging out together since high school.» «Charles, I don’t even know who her first boyfriend was.» Pierre’s pinch of helplessness caught Charles by surprise, reciprocating his sudden stare with bewilderment. «Did- I didn’t even know she’s had a boyfriend.» the Monegasque stuttered. Pierre looked down at the asphalt. «Hoped you did. But you see? We don’t really know her.» «Well… You’re married now. You have all your life to get to know her.» Charles put his arm around Pierre’s shoulders, giving him an encouraging look. «Yep. That’s my best man right there!» Pierre reciprocated the grab and smiled as the two of them walked down into the pitlane, serving friendly smiles and beautiful shots to the photographers buzzing around the garages.

>>♥<<

«Hello?» «Uhm, am I disturbing you?» «Yes, absolutely. But I’m going to be the nicest just for you.» «Thanks for the usual teasing, Charles.» «What’s up?» «I… I’m deeply embarrassed, but I think I’m lost. I can’t find the way to the track.» «Never heard of Google Maps?» «I’ve tried, but I ended up exactly back at the hotel.» «Ooof. There’s actually someone out there who’s worse than me then.» «Ah, I wouldn’t have called you if Pierre wasn’t busy.» «Can’t I be busy as well?» «Cha’…» «I’m just joking. Are you at the hotel?» «Yep.» «’M on my way.»

The bubbly air of that Saturday morning brushed your bare arms, anticipating the warmth falling onto the grey asphalt, as you walked quickly alongside Charles, trying not to get stopped by fans too many times. «Why didn’t you come to the track with him?» «I think he tried to wake me up, but I… uhm… fell asleep.» «It’s incurable, right?» You both chuckled, still marching towards the paddock. «How is it going?» «Uh?» «With Pierre.» A horn startled you, while Charles waved towards the Tifosi on the other side of the street and smiled under his Rayban’s. «Good! I mean, way better than I thought.» Charles studied your expression, letting your own statement sink in. «You know, I talked with him yesterday. He asked me if I knew who your first boyfriend was.» «Did you tell him?!» you gasped. «Of course not, I’m not that mad.» he looked straight ahead. «But he seemed somehow disappointed. He really wants to know you on a deeper level.» «And tell him about my hookups as he did with us? No, thanks.» «Not necessarily about past relationships. There are so many things you could rediscover now as a couple, and he’d like to. He… he cares. Pierre isn’t the asshole you believe him to be.» «You know my reasons, Charles.» «I do, y/n. But I also know Pierre, and I’ve never seen him as determined and serious in any other relationship before.» A doubtful glance at him turned into an amused snort, as you saw Charles’ dimples already exposed for you to admire. «I should give him a chance, uh?» you joked, kicking a pebble. «Yeah, you definitely should.» «I hate you.» «What’s that for?» Charles chuckled. «You’re too convincing.» «Maybe you only wanted to hear someone else’s confirmation.» You took a moment to reflect, still looking at his green eyes, letting the sentence resonate inside of you. Perhaps you had only been waiting for a sensible reasoning to justify the senseless, self-destructive and visceral need of trying to build a stronger relationship with Pierre.

>>♥<<

Crossing the room, hands intertwined with yours, Pierre felt alert, almost knowing something about bringing you along to that small reception organized for commercial reasons only was intrinsically wrong. Until he spotted a pair of brown eyes lingering way too long on the fine straps grazing your shoulders’ skin. Esteban’s. Despite the years, despite trying, despite the countless shots he had given to their relationship, Pierre couldn’t let go of hatred: the memories of the three of you in the same couple of meters, in the same suffocating room were still a fresh wound which had reopened once more. Unaware of anything, you reciprocated with a reassuring smile Pierre’s tighter hold on your hand, an enquiring look on your face. He expected you to stiffen at Ocon’s mere sight; instead, you stood like a fragile yet flexible flower against the blowing wind, only caring about being… as marvellous as you were. Pierre had been learning it to his disadvantage each day a tiny bit more, trying not to read too much into your rosy cheeks and your fond, unmistakable stares. The delicacy and the grace you would use with others any time you got the chance to talk with people from the team, the paddock, the entire world, really, hit him in an unknown spot of the soul. Probably as hard as Ocon approaching the two of you with a champagne glass in hand did on his nerves. «Didn’t expect to see you here.» Esteban said, only addressing you. Chewing a lump of awkwardness, you threw the quickest glance over to Pierre to check his reaction after being deliberately ignored by his teammate. «Here I am.» you whispered, pressing your lips together with an embarrassed smile. «Wasn’t I clear enough when I told you to stay away from her?» A lightning struck the room. The bitterness in Pierre’s tone triggered a light-hearted laugh from Esteban, theatrically opening the arm and letting the small wave of champagne wash the resentments of the past away. «Come on, Pierre! How many years passed? We aren’t teenagers anymore.» His fingers grabbed your hand tighter, restraining himself from spitting words of fire against his former teammate once again: the bottled-up anger, though, had resurfaced much to Pierre’s surprise, and to yours as well, pressing the button “play” on the reruns of the day their entire relationship crumbled.

No matter what you could’ve done to avoid it, Pierre and Esteban were born to disagree. Nobody could stop that tickling bomb hiding in both their chests as soon as they would spend enough time together to let it explode. Even without you, they would’ve nurtured antipathy for each other; that was how it was supposed to be, and they both knew it. Nestling against Pierre’s loving arms draping you all, you stared at an indefinite point of the packed, but still empty, room. «Do you think it’s my fault?» Pierre placed his chin on your shoulder to listen to your whispered rumbling, joining you in the contemplation of the void. «No, I don’t. He was a douchebag even before treating you the way he did.» It didn’t seem like he was lying, to be fair. You knew very little about the stormy past between the two, since you had met Esteban way later than you had befriended Pierre; he had never told you a thing about a terrible kid who grew up with like a brother and then discarded him due to insane competitiveness. Esteban was dead to him. A Mr. Nobody existing without any string to his life but hate and resentment’s. Unspoken truth, they both liked you and cared for you in very different ways, so it was only natural for them to notice each other’s evident preference for you and clash because of it; that was how it was supposed to be, and they both knew it, deep deep down. «Can we please forget about him?» The careful urge of the sentence was paired with a swift brush of his hands taking yours, silently asking you to dance to the music now blasting through some speakers in the room. Maybe lightness was all you both needed to be happy.

Singapore’s humidity clung onto your lungs like a suffocating net, twirled around your trachea, squeezing it tight. With an invisible layer of sweat all over your skin, heat as well as worries and doubts made you melt before the evidence, before reality. Two weeks and you had already become a ghost. Imprisoned in the highest tower of the lies’ castle, your honeymoon had turned into a tour around the globe inside a golden cage: everybody saw you as the “trophy-wife”, a peculiar and exotic animal stupid enough to bear Pierre’s company, showed left and right, avidly and superficially looked at, never considered as a real person.

Any time Pierre would come home from unbelievably long training sessions and meetings of all sorts, you didn’t even have the strength to start an argument and cry your loneliness out. He’d absent-mindedly kiss your cheek, go take a shower and leave you to your unfinished essay draft sitting in the dust of your laptop’s memory. Eating some take-out he’d leave you choosing in religious silence, punctuated with brief chat, you’d often watch a movie on the couch: staring blankly at the screen, you’d focus on how foreign the touch of his arm around your shoulder would feel. An afterthought, quick enough to disturb the turbulence of your headspace. I simply wanted to wish you good luck. Luck. It would’ve never been out of love, but out of pure chance. As if Pierre could never learn to love anyone. Still, admitting to yourself Esteban was right would’ve been an unnecessary added humiliation. «We’re too slow in the middle sector, I’m understeering everywhere…» It was a secret you wanted to keep buried in your chest. «But you gain in the last sector, you see? Our top speed is good.» Not being reciprocated. An ineffable hurt. You miserably looked at your husband debriefing intensely with his performance engineer, standing at the back of the garage so that you wouldn’t be in the way of the many mechanics working around the car. Envious, you fixed your gaze upon the fan Pierre held in his hand, still busy talking and pointing at data on the screen. The air felt too thick to be breathed in, too dense to slide down your lungs and swoop your dark thoughts away. You had agreed to be his wife, due to the endless love you had. But what if he let that love slowly wither and die? What if you could grow out of love? What if finally having him was enough for you to become indifferent? What if neither of you could remain loyal to the promises you vowed?

Swallowing hard, you shut your eyes shooing the sudden dizziness away; and at the very same time, you felt a gentle weight lingering on your right shoulder, asking quietly for permission. You opened your eyes, obliged to wide them as soon as you saw it was Esteban. «Here, drink this.» A water bottle was handed to you, still struck by the soft eyes and the attention being addressed to you. «It’s electrolytes. With this weather I always make sure to keep hydrated, since it’s easy to lose liquids and mineral salts as well.» A thousand questions ran through your mind, to the point Esteban could almost see them being scattered from one pupil to the other. He invited you to drink once again, poking pride sitting in his chest as he had noticed you being in discomfort first. First than… him. The quick glance Pierre gave the two of you was enough to stir up even stronger satisfaction, a lovely victory in the endless mind-war they fought. «Thank you.» It came out stifled, high-pitched, a bit squeaky, but somehow filled with unexpected sadness. Pierre crossed the garage in a couple of strides, wearing a mask of concern you couldn’t read the authenticity of, shielding you with his body from the unwanted attention Esteban had provided you with. «Are you okay? You could’ve told me you were thirsty.» «Pierre, I’m fine.» you told him off, almost whispering. He darted a glance at his teammate once again as soon as his hand reached yours to grab the water bottle back, willing to take off the hideous smile he wore on his face. Lots of eyes inside the garage had observed the scene in silence, still glancing over you, as Pierre’s attentions and barely noticeable physical touch felt all too much to bear at once. You would’ve died for it, only a couple of months earlier. If only the wedding weren’t a well-thought plan, a pact between family friends, a tie nobody but you craved intimately and deeply because of the loving, totally disregarding the real practical reasons behind it. Ocon’s silhouette being drowned in his side of the garage made your mind slip back into the past, unboxing a metallic box of memories you had buried six feet underground.

Disappointed. The disapproval you had read in Pierre’s face right as you showed up to the club next to the “new friend” you wanted to be joining your historical trio had your heart shattering like a glass of wine from a polished tablecloth, painting the floor in red diamonds. Pierre had dragged you in the middle of the dancing crowd, leaving Esteban hanging at the entrance before a confused Charles. «Why did you bring him here?!» «He’s… I wanted to introduce him to you and Cha’!» you yelled, in order to be heard amidst the chaos. «I know him already, and he’s an asshole. Now tell him to leave! I don’t want him anywhere near me!» «You can’t force anyone to leave a public place! And… And I want to spend time with all of you.» He bored his eyes into yours, letting the blasting music take over your thoughts. «I’m not hanging out with you if you buzz around him.» It was definitive. «Call me when you’re done wasting time with that piece of shit.» Giving you his back, you saw him dive into the sea of people, to find and rapidly grab the waist of the brunette who had accompanied him to the party; he didn’t even bother to be far enough so that you wouldn’t see him shove his tongue down her throat, a tangle of hands messily roaming, touching, squeezing yearning skin. Este’s hand softly intertwining yours guided you towards a quiet table, to which Charles sat waiting, with drinks for the three of you; and as much as you would’ve liked to be grateful for Charles’ delighted stare, for Esteban’s soothing words, your heart still drowned in bubbles at the bottom of your cocktail. He’s my boyfriend. Those were the words you were about to say at the door of the club, to Pierre. You had already anticipated the sweetness of the moment, the satisfaction in proving you weren’t his little puppy, a slave rebelled to the master showing him the jingling keys which had freed him. The mere need to prove him anything was the undeniable sign of slavery. You’d never be free.

>>☆<<

«Are you sure?» «Yeah…» «Here? Don’t you want to go-» You shut Esteban up pressing your lips on his, carrying on the messy make out session you had started in the club’s bathroom. «Y/n, are you really sure?» The kiss was interrupted once again, leaving you with an unbearable, unsatisfied yearn making your heart swell and explode in ashes of frustration. «Don’t you love me, Este?» you whined, your fingertip dragging his bottom lip down in the drunken attempt to seduce him even further. Of course he loved you. He had agreed to take your virginity away as you leaned your back onto a bathroom’s door, during the most boring and miserable of nights out, accepting to be humiliated by Pierre in front of you, his own girlfriend, and dancing awkwardly in the crowd before you dragged him there to pour out the unexplainable need of getting your brain fucked out. Esteban loved you purely, too purely, to be fair: he felt like a noob and inexpert, an amateur he was not, while listening to your heavenly choir of whimpers and profanities, with his fingers gripping tight your hips, as not to lose you. Deep down he knew he should’ve been satisfied and content, he should’ve enjoyed that piece of pleasure and love – but was it love to you? Esteban wasn’t quite sure – because he had managed to snatch you away from Pierre’s clutch, he had laid his hand onto someone he hadn’t had already: he had won where Pierre had lost. Still, thrusting into you as waves of pleasure rocked your body and transfigured your expression, Esteban only felt like he had lost you, indeed, like he had never truly had you, not even physically. And when your warm hand caressed his cheek, he got the confirmation: you pitied him, because no matter how bold the “boyfriend” tag could be, your heart could only crave, think of and wish Pierre.

The break-up was, nonetheless, harmful. After damning yourself, considering how nice and kind Esteban was to you, how sweet some of the moments you had spent together had been, you had come to the conclusion that no other feeling in the world could replace or overshadow the consuming love you felt for Pierre. You didn’t need it to be easy and satisfying; as hurtful as it could be, you only needed him. And to his own dismay, Esteban knew it.

«Can you drop me off at that bar over there?» you pointed at the end of the street. «Why?» «I simply need to hand this to Pie-» «Oh, no, just save it. I should’ve known.» You frowned, looking at his tensed arms. «Is there something wrong?» He scoffed, gripping the steering wheel ‘til his knuckles turned white. «Absolutely not! My girlfriend only runs after another guy who also happens to be a moron and doesn’t give a shit about her while I’m being the third wheeler to my own relationship!» Esteban harshly braked in front of the bar. «Y/n, we’re done.» «What?» you gaped, still stunned by the whole conversation. «I don’t want to be with you anymore. Now get out of the car.» Beyond bewildered, you searched for sincerity and honesty in the brown chocolate eyes you had often lost yourself into, stung by hurt as you found them. «Are you seriously breaking up with me for this? I just need to return this hoodie to him!» Esteban’s eyes bore yours outraged, almost incredulous to your words. «Can’t you see the problem? Can’t you notice how you’re chasing after him and are not willing to treat me nearly the same as you treat him? You share clothes with him and you’ve never even asked once for my hoodies!» «Did you want me to?» «That’s not the point, y/n! The fact is it seems like I never cross your mind, whereas Pierre is always in your thoughts. Sorry, but I can’t bear to see you love him more than you love me. I can’t do this anymore.» Gasping for air and for words, you found none: you witnessed helpless as Esteban got out of his seat and reached to your side to open the car door and invite you once again to get out. «Y/n, don’t force me to be drastic. Come on.» «You’re being nonsense! Este, please, you can’t do this!»

Watching your first relationship crumble under the weight of painful lies, you desperately held onto the car door, despite Esteban’s hand trapping your wrist, firm. «Y/n, I told you to get out.» As you pleaded him, whispering “sorry”s like prayers, few tears pricked your eyes, which seemed to sort the opposite effect of what you had hoped for. Esteban, blinded by hurt and rejection, pulled your wrist towards him in an attempt to drag you out the car, and as an unconditional reflex you cried out to him, a tear cutting through your cheek. «Este, please… Please, don’t do this to me!» «You didn’t care about hurting me, why should I care about hurting you?» As he spitted out these words, scornful, he managed to pull you out the car with a jerk, eliciting a chain of heavy tears to reach the ground, which blurred your vision. Esteban was still talking to you, wrist aching to be freed underneath his hold of steel, but your mind refused to make sense of any of the insults directed at you, as much as your eyes couldn’t clearly distinguish his angry face. You had stopped fighting him, though, surrendered to the sad truth he had unveiled despite you trying to cover it up. A truth made of lies. Exposed to your own blade, humiliated and full of regret, you stood still, frozen, incapable to react. And it was then that you saw Esteban’s body being crashed violently onto the chassis of his car with a loud thud. Your wrist was suddenly snatched from the grab, and you swiped some tears to witness clearly the scene unfolding before you. Pierre holding Esteban by the collar. Pierre was shouting onto his face, unleashing his fury, barking his disgust and hatred; and though you and him both expected some sort of reaction from Esteban, you both watched him stay silent at the accusations. «Don’t ever touch her again! Don’t you even try to show up again, understood? Go fuck yourself and stay away from us!» Pierre shouted, putting a protective arm around your neck and bringing you close. But he couldn’t protect you from those brown eyes, which swallowed down the secrets you weren’t ready to share with Pierre. Esteban judged you in the harshest way possible: leaving you to your own conscience. «It’s okay, now. You don’t have to cry anymore.» Pierre wiped your face off, pulling your head to him for his chin to rest upon, rubbing your back with his hand, as you watched Esteban get back in the car and disappear in a cloud of smoke. «He won’t bother us anymore, I promise. You’re safe, with me.» What a paradox: safe in your captor’s arms.

You let yourself be cradled by Pierre’s honey-laced reassurances, trying to digest the shock of the whole situation bit by bit, failing not to feel sorry for having deceived Esteban and yourself. You had believed you loved him; which wasn’t and could never be true. And the awareness weighed on your chest even heavier while being held in Pierre’s arms.

HOT NEWS: Alpine’s driver Pierre Gasly is told to had been seen very intimately close to another woman during a formal gathering with top sponsors of the team. Has the recent marriage with y/n cracked already?

𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙿𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒����𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚜? 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝! 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢/𝚗, 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛.

>> 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭: 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐲’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝙶𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗 “𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕”. 𝙻𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚋𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕... N𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚓𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝙶𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖’𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚜… 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛; 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚕, 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝚄𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎: 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚍: 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝙿𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝙰𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚎’𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙶𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚢? 𝙸𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎, 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎’𝚜.

Paralyzed on the spot, you let the phone gently thud against the kitchen counter. It was nothing you didn’t expect to happen to you; you had lived through it even before whispering with soft eyes “I do” at the altar, when you used to scroll his Instagram picture-perfect shots with his girlfriends, but the timing he had chosen was way off your forecast. The thunderstorm had darkened your sky too early. You hadn’t seen it coming, you hadn’t heard a single roar of the wind in the distance. Nothing. Pierre had given you nothing either to hate or to love. Somehow, a small part of you felt sickly relief in knowing you could finally turn your eternal suspicion into hatred: you wished you could mold it in shape, form sentences to dagger him with, cries to let out your throat with violence. Nothing came. Nothing.

You stood by the counter as you let the bloody red liquid boil into the pan; staring at it, you absentmindedly kept stirring the sauce, not able to do anything else. Your ringtone blasted through the empty kitchen and it pierced your ears unexpected, instilling in your nerves a hit of anxiety which caused your hand to hit the pan; it dropped inevitably off the stove, collapsed to the ground, poured its vermilion content on the luminous tiles. Dodging quickly enough not to have the pan falling on your feet, still hearing your phone ringing, your chest benched inward with a deep, exasperated sob, sharply taking in air to fill your shaky body with. Waves of tears ran down your eyes, arms still half-hanging in the void, as if you waited for someone to pick you up and nail you to a cross, to cease your unsubduable sense of betrayal. It all crushed down on you, eyes closed, stilling liquid sadness, which ricocheted between the walls of the emptiest and loneliest flat in the world. The phone stopped ringing. It seemed to calm you down at first; the silence left you with curiosity to see if the nightmare was over, opening your eyes back to the disastrous sauce on the floor, which was supposed to be ready for dinner. With caution, your trembling fingers grabbed the phone from the marble counter, and you jumped on your feet as it started buzzing and ringing against your skin once again. A name appeared, impressed on your retina. You couldn’t help but suffocate a sob: the grab on the phone tightened together with the clench wrenching your heart, making it as small as a crumble.

>>♥<<

«Charles…» He didn’t hesitate to take in your wandering hands, flinging towards him and holding onto his shirt. Right as he had read the news, he had reached out to you: for he had witnessed you breaking down because of Pierre too many times not to know you would, eventually, need a leaning shoulder. He wore the friend’s armor with the usual embarrassment of being both friend to you and to Pierre; he was used to balancing between two sides, trying not to pick one, working as a bridge to keep you walking in the same direction. Charles always felt helpless before your broken heart: he knew Pierre and how he would’ve never done anything to hurt you, but still, he had, undoubtedly, and there was no defense Charles himself could put up. Especially if he had you weeping and sobbing in his arms, so painfully close to his heart. «I can’t do this anymore, Charles.» «I know, y/n. I know.» He swallowed hard, caressing your hair, searching for comforting words even though he was damn aware there were none. «W-why? Where did I go wrong?» Charles’s heart panged at your words: he immediately took your face in his hands, wiped tears off it with both thumbs and silently hoped to find an answer. The truth is he hadn’t a single one of them. Glancing at you, Charles wished he hadn’t been excited and bubbly about the marriage as he had been; he had nurtured so much joy, watching the relationship timidly sail the month before the wedding. He had pictured you and Pierre being the couple everyone would envy, perhaps even building a family together. He had got enamored with the way your wedding dress fitted you, how the golden ring adorning your hand had lit up your smile and your complexion even more, how every piece seemed to be finally falling into place.

In a few weeks’ time, he had witnessed the cast away of hopes. Charles wanted to tell you Pierre would’ve never done anything like it, he would’ve sworn it, if only facts didn’t force him to question everything he presumed to be sure of. «I know you’ll hate me for it, but…» he tucked a strand of your hair behind an ear, «…we should know exactly what happened before judging him so harshly.» «Charles! Do you think I really want to know the details?» your chin twitched. «I don’t need to know where… how… and since when they started fucking.» Shaking your head while picturing the atrocious scenes in your head, you put a hand on your forehead, face dropping down, incapable of tolerating Charles’ eyes boring into yours with an awful mixture of pity and sorrow. «It disgusts me.» you said, even feeling your stomach upset. Charles watched you spit out hatred as he rubbed a hand on your upper arm, slightly squeezing it in reassurance. He was friend with both of you and wasn’t keen on the idea of losing either, nor choosing where to stand. Somehow, he couldn’t pick a side. «Don’t I deserve better? Don’t I deserve to be loved?» Charles looked at you sternly, almost scolding you for such a question. «No doubts you do.» he said, definitive. «But Pierre knows that too. Before being his wife, you’re his friend.» He placed his firm hands on both your arms, searching for eye contact as he kept addressing you with a gentle tone. «He’s always loved you and respected you, even if it might have been hard to notice.» «He’s never going to love me… He never will.»

You both stood in the hall of Charles’ suite: the silence wrapping the luxury furniture was punctuated by your quiet sobs, your shaking breath, the strenuous beating of your heart. The air was warm; it flushed your cheeks and Charles’ as well. After a more attentive look, his green eyes seemed dull and tired. The night was already projecting its dark shadow onto the sky, and it was the sign which put your soul into a state of guilt: right after Charles had called you, you had run to him without a single worry of disturbing him. You had left a mess in the kitchen. You hadn’t prepared the dinner Pierre had asked you for, like the perfect lovely wife you had been up until that moment would request you to. As much as you could try to hate him, a solid and unbreakable part of you held onto the hopeless love of him, never ending source of suffering, yet inevitable. At the thought of your condemnation, you sobbed and cried a little louder, pulling Charles’s shirt near you, defeated, exhausted, distraught.

>>♥<<

The quiet sound of clinking metal timidly reached you and awoke you; you stirred, onto the couch, feeling a bit sore from sleeping all night in the same position, cranked. The sun filtered through the curtains, lighting your cheek right as you got seated. The room seemed to wheel ‘round you, on and on: thoughts started racing the new circuit of your mind, lap after lap, causing you to shut your eyes and block the incessant flow which was making you dizzy. Putting memories in order, you recalled the events. You had spent the night at Charles’ place: he had offered you to sleep in his bed, but you had decided not to profit of his generosity. In the quiet darkness of the suite, you had thrown your phone on the carpet, nestling against the squared pillow, shying away any thought concerning Pierre. But you had failed and wondered, haunted, if he might have been searched for you. After all, you weren’t home, when he clearly expected you to be there. He might have noticed. Or maybe not. Perhaps he had been taken care of by that daddy’s girl; maybe he had left you a text saying he wasn’t coming home either, leaving you wasted and rotten together with your nicely cooked dinner. If only there was a dinner to see rotting ; the red liquid crusting on the kitchen tiles printed on your mind like a crime scene you wanted to forget. The idea of your house being empty crashed your insides and twisted them in helpless disappointment. Still sitting, you eyed the phone, lying backwards on the floor, turned off since last night. What was the point of switching it back only to be flooded with more rumors you would never be ready to face?

You then finally stood up in the middle of the living area, looking around you like a stranger, and followed the noise coming from the small kitchen. There you found Charles, jogging around the counters, attempting to cook. You checked the time on the clock hung up on the wall: Monday, 1:12 p.m. «Oh, finally! Good morning!» Charles chirped, interrupting the trance status you had swamped into. «Good morning. Are you cooking lunch?» you asked, getting closer to the stove. «Yep! Some pasta with pesto for lunch!» You gulped at the mention of food. «I just woke up, Charles… I don’t know if I want to eat so much for breakfast.» «I’m sure you’re going to be hungry as soon as you see my delicious plate.» he chuckled, right before quickly removing the lid to the pan which was about to overflow in white bubbles. Done with stirring up the water, he turned towards you, who were already seated at the table, and leaned his palms onto the marble behind him. «How do you feel?» he asked. You rubbed your temple. «Tired.» Charles sighed. «You should’ve slept in my bed and let me take the couch as I-» «I’m not tired physically, Cha’. I slept quite good.» He nodded to himself in silence, looking down. «I see.» You drowned in the white noise of the pan boiling and the kitchen fan filling the otherwise dead silence, mentally visualizing the blurry picture you had been shocked by. The dizziness grew stronger and a large, deep pit in your stomach opened like a black hole swallowing your feelings. «I’ll talk to him about it as soon as I see him.» You heard Charles’ voice, but didn’t listen, as the cooking water roaring against the steel was the sound you had tuned into, and it grew louder and louder, almost unbearable to your focused hearing. With a quick glance, you saw the white foam resurfacing behind Charle’s silhouette. «Charles, the pan!» you urged. «Oh, fuck!»

>>♥<<

You stared at the plate, keeping it at a distance ahead of you with your fingertips, listening to Charles’ chewing, which never seemed that loud. The chewing stopped, together with his fork clinking against the ceramic, and you felt his eyes fixed upon you. «You need to eat something, y/n.» «Sorry, Charles, I have a messed-up stomach… After all the things I read…» «I know, but please, just have a few bites.» Charles gently pushed the plate back near you. «I can’t see you like this.» It was meant to be an unheard thought, just above a whisper, but the kitchen was so silent you could listen to his breathing. The shining fork on the tablecloth, a small piece of penne pierced; half a bite. Eyes closed, and Pierre was still there. Maybe he hadn’t even texted you: he hadn’t wondered about you at all, but left without warning, completely indifferent to your absence. The invisible wall built brick after brick in the last two weeks suddenly turned gray and heavy, painfully present. Pierre would never love you. The fork crashed against the plate, hand covering your mouth; Charles raised his eyes and stopped his every movement to observe you once again. He saw you hesitantly get up from the chair, quite unsure about what was going on, until the air punched your stomach and caused it to fling upwards, together with all its content. With no time to reach the bathroom, panic building in your chest, you abruptly turned towards the sink behind you, fingers unable to stop the wave climbing up your throat.

Charles got up, as you intended hearing his chair screeching. Not quite sure about what was happening, he first let his arms raise up a bit only to be lowered back down, helpless, indecisive, confused; then he got near you, pulling your hair out of the way, trying not to feel grossed out by the scene. «’m sorry…» you mumbled, breathing through your nausea, hoping the worst had passed. «Are you okay?» he rushed. You shook your head in denial. «Y/n, what’s up?» Your marriage was in shambles after a couple of weeks only and an insufferable urge of hiding from the entire world pulsed like a drill in your head. «I don’t know, but I’ve kind of been feeling sick the last couple of days.» «Are you ill?» Charles sighed, sorry. To think he was lying in somebody’s arms, cuddling in someone else’s warm touch, careless enough to forget about your existence and your feelings, your ego so easily, paired up with the sudden shock and horror of throwing up in front of Charles, put you in the worst state of anxiety and despair. Then, the realization. A sly thought, slithering tantalizingly amidst your scattered mind. What if…? You gripped the counter so hard your knuckles turned pale, washed out, eyes wide opened and bewildered, in fright and disbelief. Your heart ran wild, as your thoughts did, while a sigh of hysteria and awareness triggered your cry.

Charles, who had opened the tap in the meantime and had handed you a piece of paper towel to clean yourself up, slowly put down his hand and frowned, disturbed by how exasperated you sounded. «Please, please, it cannot be… It can’t be true.» you chanted low and quick, but slow and high enough in tone for Charles to understand your words. «What can’t be?» Charles asked, searching for your attention and your eyes through your erratic movements: you rinsed your mouth with water, closed the tap and swiftly dried your face with the piece of paper he was still holding. You stared at him intensely, as much as he did: he immediately read the fear overwhelming you, but still failed to see the reason, which you hoped to be able to communicate without giving it form with words. A couple of seconds were shared in that exchange of terrified glances; and before he was able to say anything else, Charles looked at you pacing quickly to the couch, raising all the pillows in search of something. «Where’s my purse?» you asked, frenzy. «I- I don’t know!» «Did you see my wallet at least?!» You picked up your phone from the ground and pressed in hurry the switching on button, cursing as it took an insufferable amount of time to turn on. Charles stepped right behind you, glancing left and right, pondering your request quickly. «What do you need money for?» Charles shouted, set in panic by your erratic behaviour. With a swift turn, you stared at him once more, eaten alive by anxiety. «A pregnancy test.» You could hear his soundless breath of surprise as he left his mouth ajar, as well as his brain’s gears in motion, getting a grip of the situation. «You… You two…» You gave Charles a regretful and desperate stare, pleading him with your eyes not to judge you harshly for falling into Pierre’s trap, chin twitching, tears pricking your eyes. «It was our wedding night. I just… I just wanted to be happy.»

You broke down in tears before you could end the sentence, covering the face and the shame it displayed with your hands. Charles froze, trying to clear his mind and think of the next step he should take; your cries, though, only distracted him from doing so. «Y/n, hey, come here.» He carefully engulfed you in a hug, shushing you, in an attempt to calm you down. «I’m going to buy a test now, okay? Stay here, sit on the couch and relax. I’ll come back in a second.» The lightweight kiss he pressed onto your head as you plopped down onto the sofa, spent, felt distant and muffled, as much as the door closing shut behind his hurried figure. You stared into the void, replaying the night of the forbidden love over and over again, in search of any possible mistake you two made, to no avail: you had been so enchanted by Pierre and buzzed in bliss that the rerun became fader and fader, the memory even more distant, as if it were a mere fruit of imagination, as if you and Pierre had never been happy together. Before you could realize it, Charles was already flinging the door back open, pouring the content of the whitish plastic bag onto the table, unwrapping the test and placing it in your hand, closing your fingers shut around it.

«Okay, so… It says to hold the stick downwards, so maybe it’s better if we use a cup or something.» Charles opened a cabinet of the bathroom and took out a plastic cup, which he handed to you. «"If testing early, use first urine of the day"… Well, that’s perfect, because you’ve just woken up! “Don’t drink lots of liquid”, done as well… I think we’re good to go.» Sniffing, you stared at Charles, in wait. «W-why are you looking at me like that?» he nervously chuckled. «I need to pee.» «Right!» He immediately rushed out of the bathroom, pressing his lips together in embarrassment.

He leaned against the door, impatiently waiting for you to signal to him to enter back again, which you didn’t. After a couple of minutes, Charles knocked, not able to bear any more silence. «Y/n? Can I come in now?» No answer. Charles put his ear against the varnished wood, trying to capture any sound, knocking once again. He got startled by a sudden yelp echoing from inside the bathroom. «Y/n?» Charles was about to put his hand on the knob, when he heard the lock being sealed under his helplessly slow fingers, which vainly tested the knob in a rush, too late. «Y/n? Please, open the door!» As if it weren’t enough, his phone started ringing and buzzing in his pocket: moving a couple of steps away from the door with a loud sigh, he was struck by the caller. «Pierre?» His name pierced your ears like the tick of a bomb: the pregnancy test in your trembling fingers, you bore your stare into the bright lines signalling the positivity of it. A child. Pierre had just cheated on you and, of all the moments, the pregnancy news had sprung at the most inconvenient time. «Have you heard from y/n? Do you know where she is? I’ve been trying to reach out to her, but she doesn’t answer.» «Yes, she is…» Charles swallowed hard and glanced at the wooden door, still perfectly closed and sealed. «She’s here with me, at my place.» «Oh, thank God. How is she?» «What?» Charles almost choked at Pierre’s enquiry. The thought of your benching figure throwing up in his sink was still vivid and his shirt was somehow slightly damp and stretched. Pierre sighed. «She trusted the news, I suppose…» Charles’ end fell silent for seconds, in which he stared at the door opening and showing your silhouette marked with tears, emotionless, holding the pregnancy test upwards so that he saw the result right as you stepped close to him. «I’m coming over. Don’t let her go, okay? See you soon.» Pierre concluded, impatient. «Bye.» You both stood in silence, thoughts taking over the room. «How can I raise a baby without a father?» The sudden question melted Charles’ heart. «Y/n, it’s going to have a father: Pierre would never leave you alone, even if you two weren’t married and the child weren’t his.» «But I don’t need him as an uncle, I need him as a father and a husband who’s present and loves us both!» To that, Charles couldn’t answer anything: he couldn’t swear Pierre’s love for you, it wasn’t in his power, though he would’ve liked to reassure you in any way possible. He hugged you for the umpteenth time, cradling your never-ending weeping self, mentally uncovering the weight of tragedy: not only you might be hurt by Pierre refusing your affection, but preferring someone else’s physical, carnal company. Discarded, thrown away like a valueless thing, having to face one of the biggest challenges of a woman’s life without the certainty of support from the man you loved.

Charles noticed a swelling point near his heart, tormented by the whole situation, which soon turned into utter panic as you twisted abruptly into his arms, startled by a loud knocking on the door. «Who’s that?» you asked, holding the pregnancy test to your chest and looking around, trembling and confused. Some other knocks thundering through the suite. «Charles! Open the door!» You daggered your eyes to the Monegasque, torn between utter terror and betrayal: why had he made him come over when he was supposed to keep you safe from the whole world, especially from Pierre’s cruelty? Charles stared at you, motionless, waiting for you to make the first move and implicitly give him the consent to unlock the door. «He cannot know.» you stated, attempting to sound firm, and failing to conceal panic. «But-» «You owe me this, for allowing him to come here in the first place. Don’t you dare to say a word about it.» Charles shook his head, eyes full of disapproval yet showing pity; then, without adding any other word, he watched you fiddle with the pregnancy test to hide it beneath your shirt and approached the door to let Pierre in. «Where is she?» Pierre urged, hurried. Your sitting silhouette towered on the couch right in front of him: your profile contrasted the long curtains of the living room and the pale, greyish tones of the weather outside casted on your skin a livid, gloomy shadow. He knelt down before you, trying to get your eyes to look at his, but he was met with the deadliest still stare he had ever seen: your glossy irises worked as a push for his hand to reach and stroke your cheek, but you shied away his touch. «Can you leave us alone for a few minutes, Charles?» The Monegasque mumbled a “Sure” under his breath, drained by the whole situation.

Pierre never stopped observing you with attention, which cost you a lot of effort into not locking gaze with him; and when you finally did, a clench of rage shut your jaw, annoyed by his behaviour. «Aren’t you tired?» «Tired of what?» you spitted out. «Of consuming yourself after a false accusation.» You reluctantly strayed away your eyes from him once again, unluckily charmed by his proximity. «But you’re not consumed, right? You expected it from me, you were waiting for me to make a mistake, weren’t you?» he sarcastically added. «You swore you would love me and trust me until the end of your life, but you didn’t hesitate to buy into whatever lie someone spread to ruin my reputation once again!» «Your reputation! Always your fucking reputation first! And what about mine? Don’t you care about how people will think of me from now on?» «I’m not saying I don’t care, I want to point out the fact that some bastard sold the news on purpose to damage me!» «I don’t give a shit about who did that, you cheated on me!» «I DID NOT! For fuck’s sake, this is what I’m trying to tell you! Someone took an out-of-context picture at a dinner where photographers weren’t allowed to try to ruin me and our relationship as well! Are you so stupid to fall for it too?»

At this point, you were crying without containing anymore; after the heated altercation, you stopped and felt your chest sting with hurt pride and feelings. «I’m stupid for having fallen in love with you since the day I met you.» Your words seemed to stun Pierre: his lips had parted in surprise at your confession, as much as his eyelids had uncovered completely the majestic blue eyes now bored into yours. The silence which followed your unwanted declaration made you curl into a ball, sobbing loudly to yourself. As soon as you felt a pair of arms embracing you, you fought back to avoid them with little whines and cries, only to be defeated by its comforting warmth: you let Pierre seal your bubble of despair, like a shield. «I’ll prove to you I did nothing, y/n, I promise. Nobody should’ve dared to write about us the way they did.» What Pierre reckoned to be soothing words weren’t reassuring to your ears at all: the missed reaction to your hopeless love for him fuelled your fears concerning the buried, but growing life in your womb. How could a child live without love? How could you? A sudden wave of nausea made you break the embrace Pierre had engulfed you in, bringing a hand over your mouth yet another time, eyes shut. «Don’t you feel good? What’s wrong?» he unconsciously put his hand on your thigh, affectionately squeezing it, as he asked. «I cooked some pasta and it tasted awful. My fault.» You quickly glanced at Charles, who had rejoined the room, getting near the couch. His stare on you was stern and tender at the same time, communicating both his blame and his will to help you cover up the pregnancy, for the moment, at least. «You’ll never learn how to cook, right?» Pierre snorted. «Probably not.» Charles huffed a smile, happy to have brightened the mood of the room a tiny bit. «I’m a bit hungry, though. Got anything in the pantries?» Pierre asked. «I’ll go check!»

While Charles walked away and left you alone once more, you sniffed and dried your cheeks, gazing down, looking away from Pierre’s burning and suddenly careful stare. «I called you a thousand times yesterday.» he spoke low, as not to be heard. You shook your head, smally. «I think you know why my phone was switched off.» «I came back home and I saw the mess in the kitchen.» he ignored your words. «What? Were you disappointed about not having dinner served?» Pierre pressed his lips together, holding back the quick answer rolling off his tongue. And then he decided to let it out. «I was worried about you.» No, he wasn’t, you told yourself. He’s trying to fool me. Still, the heartfelt tone he used to deliver the sentence rose a commotion deep in your soul: the gentle chords of golden love vibrating for him only were put in restless motion at the sound of the confession. It was just so small, but your entire feelings could feast with it for months, for years, after bearing starvation for as long. «I’ve already talked with my lawyer to sue the journalists and the source of the rumour for defamation.» he caressed your cheek, slowly, as not to startle you with the touch. «I won’t let anyone come between us. Soon it’ll be again just you and me, only us.»

As much as you would’ve liked to trust his whispered words, soft as you had never heard him talk ever before, your choked lie laid untold and yet high like a wall in the room. Pierre leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, fingers still lingering over your face. Flushing your eyelids down, you recalled the same tenderness being offered to you on other occasions, too short to your liking, too faintly impressed in the memory’s film, too brutally in contrast with the bittersweet tumult raging inside of you. «I need you by my side.» Maybe you had imagined it, as it left Pierre’s lips lighter than a whisper; or, maybe, it was the first time you had witnessed some kind of fragility and sweetness in him, just so that you could fall for him even deeper and harder.

The following days, the tension you anticipated to lay between you and Pierre was replaced by a layer of anguish and plainness, wrapping you like a wet, cold cover: the pregnancy test you had hidden carefully haunted your thoughts throughout the day, making you insensitive to Pierre’s attempts at building back again a sense of familiarity, and kept you awake at night, gripping the sheets tight, shaking away the loneliness of the present and of the future.

You knew you didn’t have much time before being forced to tell Pierre: but you had never been as scared to lose him as you were, walking side by side into the paddock, sitting on a stool in the garage, avoiding your husband’s stare while he kissed your cheek, gentle. The weight of your mind drew your gaze down, to the floor. «It’s so cold in here, isn’t it?» You peeked upward at Esteban entering the garage, rubbing his arms as to shake them up from coldness; to be fair, Texas’ air was far from cold, and you struggled interpreting his sardonic smile. Pierre turned around to throw an annoyed look at him, as he gathered the upper part of the suit higher to zip it up. Having gained both of your attention, Esteban fixed his eyes on you, in mischief. «It’s so sad to see a couple being so distant and cold to each other…» You frowned, surprised by the unusual tone of his voice and the sparkle of malice shimmering on his features. Esteban tilted his head, still looking at you, his expression now turning to an unbearable shade of pity, masked by a sinister grin. «Poor y/n… I had told you Pierre would mess up.» «It’s none of your business, you don’t know a fuck!» Pierre shouted, crossing the garage to face him directly. «And stop addressing her like you’ve known her forever.» he added in a lower tone, threatening. Esteban glanced at you back again, letting out an amused scoff. «Didn’t you ever tell him?» «Stop talking to her! Take it out on me and leave her out of this!» The increasing tone of Pierre’s voice, as well as Esteban’s cornering words, made you stand up from the seat and left your mouth dry like the desert, no chance to reply. «Pierre, she can decide on her own if she wants to talk with me or not, you don’t control her. Is he always acting like that with people getting close to you?» Pierre, of course, anticipated your reactionless self. «No, only with dickheads like you! Fuck yourself and don’t get near to her!» «Isn’t it a bit pretentious for someone who cheated on his wife?» The sentence sorted the effect Esteban clearly was expecting: Pierre’s fingers gripped his suit tight, pushing him a few steps backwards due to the threatening force he used. «IT WAS YOU! You made the picture, you were there!» «Pierre, please…» your voice, shaky and feeble, made Esteban laugh. «Stop fucking laughing! Who gave you the right to ruin both our lives?!» «Oh, trust me, Pierre, if I wanted to ruin her, I had a far more interesting story… Which I think you should hear.» With one, fierce shrug, he got rid of Pierre’s tight grab, pointing his eyes back at you. «I was her boyfriend, back in high school, when you used to hang all out together with Charles.» You stood lifeless, dreading the moment Pierre would turn to give you a disappointed or maybe even mad look; but he didn’t. Esteban kept going. «You’ve always had her on your tail, but you never noticed she was in love with you… I’ve never seen anyone more pathetic.» he let out a snort. «She had so little self-respect to let me take her virginity away in a club’s bathroom… She used me like a fuck-toy and then discarded me. This is the girl you married.»

The whole garage fell silent, since nobody dared to interrupt the helpless flow of words. An involuntary yell escaped your lips as Pierre ferociously crashed Esteban’s back onto the back wall, finally getting a reaction from the mechanics and engineers, trying to get in between the two to separate them. Pierre was screaming in French, at the top of his lungs, defending you – unbeknownst to you; Esteban simply stood without reacting much, as he had done years earlier at the same physical attack he had experienced, but this time his revenge was consumed. He knew he had won after hearing Pierre shouting it was over; seeing him approaching you with big strides and hugging you, leaving the box without uttering any other word. Reading your expression on the verge of crying, a sick pleasure overtook him. He had won the war.

«Cheers, les gars!» «Cheers!» Amongst the choir of glasses jingling, toasting in delight, you raised yours without being able to reach everyone’s cup, then obliged to set your eyes on the non-alcoholic beverage you had ordered. You had received numerous side-eyed glances and mocking exclamations for even daring to ask for a banal juice on the celebration night of Pierre’s new contract with Aston Martin, which came after the unexpected departure of Lance. «Someone will have to drive us home tonight, and I don’t think Pierre is going to spare himself…» you half-joked, as an excuse. Everyone bought it with a loud chuckle, except for Charles, who didn’t miss any of your movements, bearing the incommensurable weight of truth on his chest.

He had been texting you quite a lot in the last few days: you had informed him of the explosive moments lived inside Alpine’s garage, ultimately leading to Pierre signing with Aston for next year; he had asked you, in turn, how things were now going with Pierre, if you trusted his version of the story. A few nights earlier, while reading Charles’ texts, you had looked down at Pierre, who was peacefully heaving against your chest. You couldn’t tell whether he had fallen asleep to the soothing head scratches you had been giving him since you had snuggled on the bed, as silence and quietness lingered in the air. “Did you tell him?” Pierre’s arm encircled your waist, radiating warmth all throughout your core: it served as another subtle reminder of the news yet to be shared. Though, you had never felt more terrified: it was the first time in years that you perceived Pierre’s affection being that close. Announcing the pregnancy might have taken away the precious blossom of his love, which you now couldn’t live without. Charles knew your fear, he could read it well between the lines, and he hoped you would soon rely on Pierre to get the support you’d need.

Drinking plain juice didn’t prevent you from joining friends on the dance floor, gripping handfuls of hair and shaking it to the thick, hot air of the club. Standing still at the edge of the crowd, sipping on a cocktail with eyes fixed on the group – on you, mainly – Charles and Pierre talked, undisturbed. «What are you looking at?» the Monegasque asked with a smirk. Pierre didn’t answer, he didn’t stray his irises from your dancing silhouette, drowning and resurfacing in the crowd. «She’s beautiful.» «As if you haven’t been telling me this for the past ten years, Pierre.» Charles chuckled, taking a sip from his own drink. «It’s different, now.» «How so?» Pierre hesitated before answering, gathering the right words to express his muted feelings. «Last Monday, when I came back home and I couldn’t find her, I freaked out as I’ve never done before. I called her twenty-five times, left a fucking voicemail – who does that anymore? I just didn’t know what to do, I was panicking. I slept on the couch thinking she’d wake me up after coming back at night.» «I should’ve warned you she was with me, sorry.» Pierre lightly shook his head. «No, I think I deserved that, for all the times I treated her bad.» After a small pause, Charles, frowning, prompted another question. «So what’s changed?» «I… I’m falling in love with her.» he breathed out in realization, enchanted by your vision, watching you move like a fairy amongst the large group of his friends enjoying the blasting music. Charles couldn’t stop himself from snorting and laughing. «What?» «That’s a lie.» Pierre looked at him puzzled; Charles took another sip, smiling in delight and amusement. «You’ve always loved her; but you didn’t know what love was yet.» «Said the philosopher!» Their laughter was so bright and loud that you turned your head towards the two of them patting each other friendly. Pierre’s features were painted in deep, rich warm tones, under the dim lights of the club; the sudden need to refuge in his arms and rest your lips on his draw your eyes to him like an undefeatable magnet, whose force he seemed to feel as well. «I think I know now.» Pierre said, gaze turned back again on you.

>>♥<<

Exiting the bathroom, you saw Charles waiting right near the door frame, arms crossed, distressed expression, wetting his dry lips as soon as you got near him. «Is it all good?» he asked. «Jeez, Charles! Can’t I just go to the bathroom now?» «You ran away at the speed of light! Pierre was confused and I had to stop him from following you.» Sighing, you quickly rubbed your temples. «Listen… I don’t like lying to Pierre. You need to tell him, y/n, he has to know.» His pleading voice twisted your stomach in a pang of regret and fear. «I want to see a doctor first… And I need to come back home for that.» «Why don’t you try with a clinic here?» You darted your eyes at Charles, half in disbelief, half surprised at the idea. «I can help you find one, I’ve got some contacts. Plus, I think you should check as soon as possible if everything’s okay with…» «With me, yes.» you breathed out, feeling Pierre’s heavy stare on you both. Before you knew it, he was making his way amidst the crowd with a frown, seeing you and Charles confabulate away from indiscreet ears. «He’s coming.» you whispered. Charles, visibly frustrated and failing to hide it, huffed and waited for the storm to run over both of you. And it came. Pierre’s body was burning a few centimeters away from you, igniting shame and terror, knowing you were putting the newfound trust on the line, like a fool. But it isn’t your fault, a part of you said. «Why did you stop? I want to hear about the State affair too.» Not willing to test Charles’ trust for the umpteenth time, you jumped in before he could add anything to his deadly stare directed towards Pierre. «I was telling him I’m tired and I’d like to go home, but he thinks we should stay here a bit more since we’re celebrating you.» A soft caress of his palm was enough to melt the hurried tension entangling your muscles, sure he had bought into the lie after seeing a veil of fondness cover his blue eyes. «Oh, don’t worry, I was thinking of calling it a day too. We can always party more than once, after all.»

>>♥<<

The shirts had slipped away swiftly in a matter of seconds, as your shivering skin warned your senses. You kissed in passion, somehow already accustomed to each other’s pace, yet so new and undiscovered beneath the physical layer of quickened breaths, intense heartbeats and roaming hands. Pierre dragged your head up with his long lasting, tantalizing kiss, trapping both your wrists with a smirk which spread further blush on your cheeks. «So that piece of douchebag was your first time?» He didn’t seem to wait for an answer, as he leaned down to your neck, tasting your skin open-mouthed. You simply moaned, incapable of uttering a word. It was the first time he enquired you about the awful talk you had had in the garage with Esteban and, noticing the unexpected silence on the topic for days, you had simply guessed he would never tackle it again. Still, getting drunk had probably loosen him up more than he would ever admit. «Pierre…» «What? I’m just curious.» «I don’t want to be reminded of that day.» you whined, already out of breath. Mischief gleamed in Pierre’s blue irises, pupils enlarged to take in as much of you as they could. You were able to interpret his intentions a few seconds after his stare: he buried his face behind your earlobe, teasing your skin with his teeth, just enough to gather a shot of blood cursing pleasure and electricity with its flow right where he was leaving kisses. «Is it because you don’t feel… proud of yourself?» he murmured against your neck. Guilt tangled in the middle of your chest, words and acts painfully reminding you of the infamous night. Only after years, you could realize how despicable and poor your choice had been; though, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame it. After all, it had led you to embracing Pierre as close as you would’ve never even imagined in your wildest fantasies. «Is it because you think you acted selfishly?» A sweet yet poisonous bite was left just above your collarbone, another soft breath escaping your control. «Because you hurt people around you?» Now Pierre looked hungrily at you, halting just a few centimeters from your parted lips, letting your focus drift towards his quick hands unbuttoning your jeans, as if they didn’t know any better. The stormy meaning hidden behind those words seemed senseless to you, impossible: and still his irises showed turmoil… Hurt. You were almost about to mouth a question, something along the lines of “What do you mean?”, maybe you even did; but you couldn’t tell, because Pierre thrusted his body upon yours all of a sudden, diluting your thoughts in a stain of useless reasoning, moans and whimpers the only incoherent reactions. «Is it because… you wished you were with someone else?» The floodgate of your heart crushed open: it rocked your body in such an intense wave that you had to hold onto Pierre, gripping his shoulders tight, while he kissed down on your neck once again, lavishly, anywhere he could print his love on you.

Overwhelm of senses almost ended up in a gracious state of numbness, in which Pierre seemed to be the only actor: he handled you with ease and carefulness, though intoxicated by the physical contact, and before you had realized, the night was consumed, the abatjour casting a gentle warm shade on your bare, entangled bodies. Drunk in love, you chuckled in silence, warmed by Pierre’s touch. «What’s that?» he asked. «I… When I’m with you, I feel both anxious and so happy I could die.» «Why is it funny?» «Because it’s childish. I’m still crushing on you like a kid, I only know extremes.» He hummed, pausing for a few seconds. «Why do I make you nervous?» he then enquired, again. «Because I’m scared to lose you.» It sounded so fragile that Pierre involuntarily tightened his arms around you, drawing you nearer. And deep in thought, he stared at the void. «I think I know how you feel.» «What?» you turned your head around to look at him, as if you hadn’t paid attention to his words. «I’ve felt this way too, since… forever.»

>>♥<<

The faint sound of fingers typing filled the kitchen, otherwise silent. You had woken up early, after rolling in the sheets for hours, not sleeping much; you had had a little bit of breakfast – as much as your upset stomach would allow you to – while you scrolled the online page of one of the clinics Charles had suggested you, searching for a cell phone number. You stopped, engraving the digits in your mind. If you had dialed, a spiral of appointments’ calls, check-ups and exams would follow, and you wouldn’t have been able to stop it from tumbling and assaulting you. Pierre would know soon. The mere thought scared you to death. As you saw Pierre's ruffled hair and creased eyes peeked out inside the kitchen area only to direct the slow and unsteady steps towards the bathroom, you bolted as fast as a lighting. «No, the bathroom is mine!» You stomped the door in front of his face, preventing him from stealing the precious space and time to clean yourself.

Pierre quickly eyed the laptop on the marble counter, figuring out you must've been up for quite a while; a stained mug and tiny crumbles were other signals of your silent presence, lingering around his numbed senses through the waking. He had missed the warmth of your body, the securing hold of his arms around your waist, the sweet scent cursing through him while resting his head close to yours, near enough to perceive the undeniable pull drawing him like a magnet. «You're lucky I love you!» he yelled, in order for you to drink in his amused tone. You wished you didn't. That only sentence made your guts twist and horribly enhanced the dizziness, obliging you to grip the sink tight. You had waited so many years for those words to have a meaning and now you might have it. Still, you found yourself to dread them. You were about to ruin everything.

He had not intended to; he had tried, vainly, to stop himself from looking at the screen of your laptop, but the gaze dropped involuntarily, fast, the quickest glance, while placing the mug on the counter. And the first words he read only invited him to linger on the page further. A clinic. A phone number written in bold cyphers. «Y/n?» Resurfacing from the trance status you had fallen into while lazily brushing your teeth, you answered with a whine. «Can you come here for a sec?» You deeply inhaled in annoyance, sure it was either to pull a prank on you or to get some help with the absurdly expensive coffee machine Pierre had asked for in the suite - and didn't quite know how to use yet. The puzzled look on his face told you right away all you needed, as much as his fingers brushing the laptop’s pointer pad. «Why were you searching-» «Why are you going through my stuff!?» You flung yourself onto the pc, pulling it away from his touch and his sight, hoping that could be enough to erase the content from his thoughts. As you imagined, it didn't. «What's that for? You left it spread open, how was I supposed not to see it?» Pierre followed your gushing figure placing the laptop back in the bedroom, closing the door after you two. «Can you please stop a second and explain to me what's going on?» Your body seemed to slip under Pierre's touch, then ultimately gave in, anxiety paralyzing all movements but trembling. Immediately noticing your distress, he stroked your hair in reassurance, trying to calm himself down as well through the action. «Y/n, I'm not asking again. What's the clinic for?» You avoided his stare as much as answering. «Did something happen? I need to know, y/n.» he wetted his lips, visibly frustrated. «It isn't just you, now. It's both of us. We're in this together.» After minutes spent crafting the most realistic lie, painfully witnessing Pierre being tender and caring only to be fooled by you, you were finally ready to utter a word. «I had booked a routine appointment with a gynecologist before I knew about the trip, but we aren't getting home soon, and I didn't want to miss it.» Pierre's forehead distended like a folded sheet laid spread and fresh onto the mattress, irises still concealing a hint of doubt. «Why didn't you tell me?» «I thought it'd be embarrassing… for both.» «It isn't to me.» he said, softly. «And you can talk to me about anything, you know that.» You rested your cheek upon his palm, enjoying the caress with eyes closed, quietly accepting the lie still holding up the invisible wall of miscommunication you purposely built. «Especially when the topic is dear to me.» Pierre's smug tone lifted a stone from your shoulders, as well as dropping it in your chest, heart swimming in a lake of mixed emotions. You would’ve liked to cast a spell and stop the flow of time, because bittersweet guilt and happiness were the telltale signs a fairytale was possible, after all, almost within reach. And you had ruined it.

>>♥<<

A thought had been flying around his mind all day: jogging lightly before free practice, revising the track with his performance engineer, laughing and joking around with other drivers ahead of media duties. It hadn't bothered him, it hadn't shown; not even when he came back to the hotel and didn't find you there as he expected. It slipped from his consciousness even while drifting into sleep, your scent dazzling and lulling him. It harboured beneath the surface, though, and its stealth presence made itself evident - yet misunderstood - on Saturday morning. «Where's my shirt?» Pierre asked abruptly, entering the bedroom in a hurry. Despite him trying to get you to get up multiple times as he got ready, you were still lying in bed, sick to the core, unwilling to admit it, exhausted already by the day. «Y/n, c'mon, we need to go!» Pierre huffed, poorly concealing the annoyance. You whined, weakly raising the duvet in order to get seated. Before Pierre could snort again and feel even more dissatisfied with the sudden lack of energy you showed, he hesitated on your dark eyebags, on the slow movement you dragged your limbs with, on the aura of fatigue encircling you. He stepped closer, taking your arms and lifting you up, guiding you to the kitchen steadily, but still rather quickly. As you took a seat, he placed before you an amount of food – for breakfast – which you would've always considered sufficient and that now seemed exaggerated. «If you're not hungry, drink at least. You need to keep hydrated.» Pierre's demanding voice partially saved you from the impasse of refusing food, so you obligingly sipped the cup of coffee he had pushed towards you without adding a word.

From that moment onwards, Pierre eyed you with a carefulness unknown before. He only realized now how sluggish and overall low-key you had been behaving: though, the restless rhythm of flights, hotel check-ins, suits packing and racing sessions were draining enough to present themselves as valid reasons for your lack of verve. Taking your purse underarm in a hurry, you crossed eyes with Pierre’s. «I’m ready, let’s go.» Dumbfounded by his sudden aplomb, you stood in silence, hair barely brushed, shirt carelessly half untucked in your jeans; you didn’t stray your stare from Pierre’s while he slowly took your hands in his, a strange thoughtfulness guiding the movement. The silence said more than you two were capable of. It seemed to be thrown back in time to those longing, perusing stares you studied each other with, always analyzing expressions and reactions, never sure of getting it right yet desperately needy of the other. You both swam comfortably in that tacit conversation, exchanging fears, doubts, loving care; but Pierre knew it was time to go – it had been for a while, already – and couldn’t restrain himself from clearing his throat. «Yep, I told you. Let’s go.» you whispered.

>>♥<<

It had been Charles' idea, to have a brunch all together inside the paddock: he had found a small sort of restaurant, right in front of Pirelli's backdoor, unfrequented by VIPs and paparazzi. If you didn't know Charles well enough, you would've guessed he simply wanted to check on you; but him craving some good old company and wanting to shy away from the crowd of the track was the most likely scenario. Hanging out together, the three of you, felt like a fever dream, every single time: the memories would merge, the jokes and the laughs would crack on their own with such a flow and an ease unexplainable to anybody else. Sitting next to the most important people of your life was a luck you would never take for granted. «…should buy one. What do you think?» «I think that’s awesome, really.» You became self-conscious of the wedding ring pressing Pierre’s name onto your skin as an endless kiss, recalling the ebbing moments of the day you became one. «Y/n?» Again. The wave knocking at the pit of your stomach, the sudden harmony of smells emanated by your dishes was quick to stir your quiescent sickness. «Y/n? Did you hear the question?» Charles’ voice obliged you to answer. «Uh? Yeah, yes, I did.» you composed yourself as quickly as you could. «I think it’s a beautiful opportunity for you.» «We’ll help you, if we can do anything for it. Like, if you need taste testers, we’re more than happy!» Pierre chuckled. You forced a smile too, in order not to contrast your husband’s bright expression. However, it all spiraled when a pile of used tires – the F3 free practice had finished less than a half an hour earlier, you reasoned – was dragged in a small interstice near Pirelli's building, leaving an unbearable smell of burned rubber. You felt yet again nauseous, making it blatantly obvious clasping your mouth and nose, focusing on your breathing, eyes closed. Pierre and Charles' stares laid on you in a single motion, both catching on what was happening (with different awareness, clearly). Pierre couldn't let the memory of your missed breakfast fade into nothing, and his racing mind quickly figured you must be ill; he trapped your free hand in a grab which you immediately complied, he got up and kneeled next to you, seeing you didn't give any signs of the clench in your stomach loosening.

In the meantime, Charles quietly and politely asked you if you needed a glass of water, if you'd want to go to the restroom, to which your silence only fueled his helplessness and sly embarrassment. «I'm okay, guys.» you breathed out, finally removing your fingers from your lips, but still too scared to open your eyelids and be attacked by their sharp stares. «No, you're not, y/n. You've been sick for at least a week.» Pierre's statement worked as a tymbal clang to both you and Charles, so that you looked at each other briefly but intensely, wondering whether the ticking bomb laying untold amongst you three had just exploded without you noticing. “Tell him” was painted in capital letters, bold, inside Charles' green irises.

Internalizing the truth impossible to fool, you let Pierre's fingertips gently move your chin towards him, since you had enchanted in reflection on Charles. Suddenly confronting your husband's – yes, because he was your husband – unexplainable beauty like it was the first time you really saw him, the news seemed to brim out your lips, overflowing with contrasting emotions you weren't able to conciliate. Gathering all your courage despite the trembling of your chin, you reciprocated the hold of Pierre's hands: it was building up, from your chest up to the throat, bypassing the rationality check. «I need to tell you something.» It was nothing but a whisper; Charles, unknowing to either you or Pierre, slowly got up from his chair, standing near you and placing his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it for comfort. Pierre waited in silence for your words, pupils scattered all around your features trying to get the smallest hint of which nature the news was. The tears pricked your eyes as soon as the thought hit your synapsis. «I'm pregnant, Pierre.» Releasing the pent-up distress, finally relieved by the burden of secrecy, you cried freely, ready to face the consequences of the news.

A part of you expected an endless chain of angry sentences and despair, complaints, immaturity. And the part of you who didn't expect such a reaction, or at least hoped for a better outcome without much conviction, still managed to astonish before the taken aback but sweet curve of Pierre's eyebrows, unbelievably moved by your words. «Really? Are you sure?» His mistrust annoyed you slightly and made you scoff through tears. But before you could answer with a snappy remark, he was all over you, hugging your sadness away, melting in an embrace that swiped bad omens, that dissolved the clouds of doubt in a sparkling, bubbly dust of relief. Pierre left a long peck on your forehead, which only freed tears from running ceaselessly. «I can't believe it…» he whispered out of an uncontainable smile. Your body and soul, both in shock from experiencing the most releasing happiness, trembled like leaves under the wind of Pierre's affection. He glanced at Charles, looking for confirmation, which he found expressed through the dimples of his best friend; then focused back again on you, whose reaction Pierre couldn't quite make out. «You're happy, right?» he asked, almost fearful of the answer. Sobbing a laugh, you leaned against his hand cupping your cheek and enveloped it with yours, fond. «Of course I am.» He paused, taking a full look at you in excitement and amazement, letting the thought settle in his heart. «When did you find out?» he asked, cupping your cheek as a fragile corolla of petals. Your mouth dried out, your throat was still knotted; thankfully Charles beat you on time in answering. «Almost two weeks ago.» You waited for it, you anticipated the hatred and the – righteous – disappointment in getting to know that his best friend had witnessed and received the news first. Fear invested you once again, through sobs and hiccups. «Y/n… Look at me.» It all seemed to down on you at once: sat in your weakness, you had disclosed all your cards and were now the most vulnerable you’d ever been with him. Not even when you had promised in front of your families to love him for the rest of your life, not even lying in his embrace and cuddling with him after breathing out affection and pleasure on top of each other’s skin; no rejection could hurt you more than now, while carrying two lives inside of one body, two souls, doubling the sorrow. His serious demeanour only spiked up your anxiety, as you realized you weren’t ready at all, neither emotionally nor mentally, to face him yet.

He shut his eyes closed, he prepared himself to talk; you braced yourself for the impact of the cruel reality. It had been fun, until it had lasted. This is no fairytale, you chanted to yourself, lulling your crying soul. «I love you.» You looked at him dumbfounded, waiting for the answer to be completed with a "like a friend", or something of the sort which would've stabbed your heart with pain as he would always do; but a peaceful silence followed his words, and the longer you stared at each other, the deeper the realization would set in your heart. The promise you had been waiting for since the day you had met Pierre, which you expected to hear at the altar, was now vowed to you, him still kneeled down. «When…?» you involuntarily voiced your reasoning, not able to make sense of it, caught by total surprise. «Since forever. It just took me a while to realize…», he then glanced at Charles. «… and the help of a friend.» Spontaneously, you flung your arms around him, heart aching in joy and bliss. You watered and creased Pierre’s shirt, feeling life flourish just by listening to his words; to seal them, he plastered a kiss on your reddish, smooth lips, and heaven reached earth. «A baby, uh?» Pierre said almost to himself, placing his spread hands on your belly. You couldn’t help but have eyes brimming with emotion, gently brushing with your fingers his: was there anything which could make you happier and more strongly bonded together? «Charles… I think we’ll need plenty of your ice-cream in the near future.» «Hey!» you patted Pierre’s shoulder, amusingly offended. «Oh, for sure. I’ll make you a discount, since you’ll buy it in large quantity.» «Guys!» you laughed, trying to stop their endless flow of jokes. With your left hand still pressed onto Pierre’s, you gazed down at your wedding ring, shining and glimmering under the sunlight. Maybe, no matter how unhoped and unplanned, yours was truly a fairytale.

to @gaslysainz: Thanks again for the request! I really hope you’ll like it…I’m not fully satisfied with how it turned out, but I couldn’t work on it any further 😂 I’d be glad to know what you think 🥹❤️

AND TO ALL OF YOU, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND FOR BEING PATIENT! I’D REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU LEFT A NOTE FOR FEEDBACK, SO THANKS IF YOU DO! HOPE YOU HAVE A NICE DAY! . · ˚✧

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[daytaker]

greetings from clown anon, adored the fic very silly <33

i apologise if i’m filling up your inbox but may i ask for an mc that’s a mortician? that or is just desensitised to death and knows a lot about it, like i imagine whenever the brothers in early season 1 used to do like very specific threats mc would be like “uh actually that’s not how that works” essentially acting like a bit of a smart ass completely glossing over the actual threat

thanksies in advance (´∀｀*)

Clown Anon MCs - [ Clowncore MC | Death-Fixated Science Geek MC | LeVeyan Satanist MC ]

(I'll be real I have no memory of the specific threats and I was too lazy to go look for them but I will follow along the lines of the prompt anyway.)

I'm going to do this one in bullet point form. Hope that's okay.

(CW: a bit gross at times. not quite gore.)

Now I Am Become MC, Destroyer of Worlds: A Death-Fixated Main Character in Obey Me!

Read below the cut.

They're extremely curious about demon anatomy. And not in a kinky way. They want to see how similar the structure and layout of demon organs are to human organs. They want to get full body X-rays when those wings and tails pop up. They want to get it on video when they appear and disappear. Because what the fuck. Yeah, yeah, they get it, magic exists, but still, what the fuck?!

They fully expect Beel to keel over and die one day from overeating. There is no way any single individual can consume the way he does and survive. They're actually hoping that if he does, they'll be able to carry out the post-mortem and see what exactly was going on with that stomach of his. I mean, yes, they'll be very sad he's gone, but at least he'll have died as a martyr to science!

Dead shadow hog? Taxidermied. Dead fire newt? Taxidermied. Dead devil zebra? Brought home, dissected, taxidermied. The brothers don't really like to go to their room because of the constant dizzying stench of formaldehyde that comes from it.

Sometimes they'll just sit and stare at one of the brothers. If asked what they're doing, they'll simply say, "Observing." Reactions to this range from Beel's "Oh, okay," to Levi's "I'M GOING TO MY ROOM AND NEVER LEAVING FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE."

So Solomon's immortal, is he? How immortal, exactly? Is it just that he'll never die from old age? Could he die of a disease? Surely he could die from injuries, right? Has he tested this? Can they test it? Please?

....Please?

Wait, wait, wait. Satan came from where? How? Why? What the hell? Lucifer, take your shirt off, they need to do some investigating. Satan, you too. Lucifer, show them your back. No scars? Not even from ripping your own wings off? Hm. Satan, do you have a bellybutton? ...That's weird, you definitely didn't need an umbilical cord. And you're saying he came out full-sized? Stop telling them it's magic! Magic is just science that people don't understand yet.

Actually, all of you get in here and strip, this has been a long time coming. MC needs to figure out what the hell is happening here.

Why not?

Pleeeease?

Satan, let's talk about one of your murder mysteries! They do this exactly one time, and never again because MC kept interrupting to point out plot holes and inconsistencies. It was so annoying. It kind of ruined the genre for him for a little while.

Leviathan, MC wants to ask you about how you survive underwater. Levi--- Hey, where are you going? Levi?

They write their paper on comparative anatomy of demons, angels, and humans. Diavolo gets a little queasy after the first page and gives them an A. He doesn't want to read the rest, he trusts they did a thorough job.

[howtodrawyourdragon]

The Post In Which I Deduce How Old Baby Hiccup Was When Valka Disappeared

You know, in order to write this Httyd Retelling, I have to do some preparing. I have to collect plot points for future storylines, keep certain canonical facts in mind and take a closer look at certain scenes.

Like the flashback scene in which Valka gets taken, for example. Because that'll be a vital scene for the prequel-type fic that I'm currently working on.

And I don't think I've ever realized how truly young Hiccup was when his mother was stolen from him. And I'm not talking about how he was a baby, because that fact is obvious.

I'm talking about how it's possible he was barely 6 months old.

And there are a couple of things about the flashback that point to this.

When Cloudjumper finds Hiccup and appears to play with him, I notice that Hiccup is:

Laughing

Grabbing Cloudjumper's wing talon

Clapping once (which could be a fluke as he is waving his hands around wildly)

Appears stimulated by Cloudjumper's attention and actively seeks interaction

Now, the laughter I won't waste much time on because I don't really see it as an indicator. On average, it starts as early as 4 months, but in my experience that highly depends on the child. I've seen a 3 month old laugh, I've seen kids not start laughing until they were almost 1.

Points 2 through 4, though, are much more interesting as what Hiccup is exhibiting is actually not "true" play, but rather hints that Hiccup is still actively learning to interact with the world around him. This may seem strange for people who don't interact with babies and toddlers on a daily basis, but children actually have to learn to play and this starts by interacting with the world around them.

Putting a variety of things in their mouths, sucking on things, grabbing things (like Cloudjumper's talon), shaking things, etc. This is usually how a baby between ages of 4 to 6 months old begins to learn how to play.

You can try to offer toys to a 3 month old, but chances are they won't do anything with it or even react much too the toy at all. Older than 6 months old, it's possible you can see them actively pick what interests them to inspect rather than simply put whatever they've been giving in their mouths.

In my personal experience, it's not until around 4 months old when babies start to show interest in the things around them. (Which doesn't mean you shouldn't try to stimulate your child by at least offering a toy before that time, we do.)

Something else of note in this scene is:

Hiccup can't sit up

No teeth

Hiccup simply lying there swaddled in a cradle is actually a big indicator that, not only is he not sitting up yet, but he doesn't appear capable of rolling over.

And if you think "Oh! but that's because he's swaddled in furs!" Wrong! Babies of any age are surprisingly determined. If a baby wants to roll over, they will fidget their way out of the swaddle and roll over. In no good conscience would Valka or Stoick leave Hiccup in a cradle unattended if this child showed signs of rolling over.

Now babies can start rolling over as soon as 4 months. (If you know what that looks like, it's quite an endeavor, takes a lot of manuevering, which the previous unattended Hiccup didn't appear to be doing)

And I know you may be thinking; "doesn't that mean Hiccup is younger than 4 months in the flashback?" I don't think so simply because of how he reacts to Cloudjumper, whose attention and stimulation he actively seeks out. Rather, I actually think Hiccup is a little bit of a late bloomer physically.

He was canonically born prematuraly, to the point that his mother feared he wouldn't make it. And often when a child is a late bloomer physically, they actually usually end up ahead of the other kids in other areas. Like mentally, verbally, or with their finer motor skills.

In my experience, children who can walk by the time their first birthday comes along, take longer to even begin to start talking. (which takes the form of making sounds. Not forming words, but voluntarily making sounds)

Meanwhile kids who are barely crawling by their first birthday are usually already showing signs of forming words (usually done by trying to repeat sounds they hear others in their life say) and verbally responding back to the people in their life (though through sounds and not actual words)

Being late in his gross motor skills while actually excelling in his finer motor skills and speech seems in line with the Hiccup we know and love. Even between the ages of 15 and 18, he still appears to be a bit of a late bloomer. The example I'm thinking of is how he can work years in a forge, yet struggle to pick up a single weapon versus to 3 years later when he's a swordsman himself and picks weapons up with no problem now.

That brings me to the lack of teeth.

On average, babies will begin to teeth between the 4 and 7 months old. From my personal experience, it tends to start much closer to 7 months than the minimum 4 month mark. I've even looked after plenty of children who didn't start to teeth well beyond the 7th month mark. (even had one who didn't start teeth until they were almost 1 and then suddenly got multiple teeth in at once.) Hiccup has no teeth.

So lets line all of the evidence up.

In the flashback, Hiccup:

Actively seeks interaction with Cloudjumper

Actively interacts with the world around him, but doesn't know play yet.

Responds positively to Cloudjumper's stimulation

Doesn't yet appear to even try to roll over

Has no teeth

And all of these points point to the very likely scenario that Hiccup was only 4 to 5 months old when he and Stoick lost Valka.

4 to 5 months old.

That's hella young to be losing your mother, a terrible time to lose your wife and mother of your very young child and, honestly, a terrible time for a mother to have her abduction be preceded by watching her premature son and her husband almost die due to her lack of actions.

I realize that I'm ending this post with a hot take, maybe even an unpopular opinion, but as it already takes months for a parent who gave birth to feel somewhat normal again even without breastfeeding their child... No wonder Valka, in this highly sensitive and vulnerable time, internalized that both Stoick and Hiccup would've been better off without her.

Valka, who:

Was still on month 4 after her pregnancy, meaning her hormones would've still been all over the place

Had to breastfeed with a lack of better options at the time, meaning it would remain that way for quite a bit

Had a traumatic labor that involved nearly losing her son

Her son who was born much too early, which would come with complications (right down to getting him to eat at all, for example)

Almost watched Hiccup and Stoick die in a fire right before she got abducted by a dragon, which would've meant hours if not days or weeks of believing she was going to get eaten

Doesn't mean she just gets to stay away for 20 whole years, but it definitely puts a different perspective on her sudden departure from Hiccup's life.

Everyone in the Haddock family was hurt that day. Though, the biggest victim of all was that literal 4 month old boy.

Video from SoloMinike-Movies & Shows scenes HD for reference.

[lovemyromance]

Do people not understand the whole "Illyrian baby with wings" vs "unsuitable pelvis" or whatever was literally just a plot point?

It was an excuse (horribly crafted imo but I digress) to push Feyre back into the background and bring Nesta into the spotlight. Like, be so fr. If Feyre wasn't pregnant, she would've gone on all the missions Nesta went on in ACOSF.

SJM needed her sidelined, and thus, enters the Feyre pregnancy plotline.

Then, SJM needed a way for Nesta to redeem herself. And I'm not sitting here arguing with people on whether or not Nesta needed to redeem herself, I'm simply pointing out that SJM wrote Nesta's bargain with the cauldron for a reason. She wanted to show how Nesta is sacrificing her own power to save her sister. The ultimate sacrifice for an act of sisterly love.

Feyre needed to be in a position to need saving, in a setting where Rhys couldn't do anything to help. Hence, Nesta's bargain with the cauldron. Hence, the entire stupid Illyrian incompatible bones argument in the first place.

Clearly - SJM does not actually care about the anatomical make up. She does not care that she paired Nesta & Feyre (two humans turned fae) with 1.5 Illyrians (Cassian + .5 Rhys).

It wasn't a problem in ACOMAF. It wasn't a problem in ACOWAR or ACOFAS. Literally it only became a problem when SJM needed certain things for the plot to happen in ACOSF.

And I use the word "problem" very loosely. Because this is SJM land, and given her angry monologue (via Bryce) in CC3, we can see it's clear that the author herself doesn't support these misogynistic takes. A woman's "anatomy" in a romantasy novel will never be the breaking point for a ship.

If that were the case, then SJM would've written Feyre to still be with Tamlin (no wings). Nesta wouldn't have gotten with Cassian (wings).

Y'all can say you don't like Elriel, you can say Elain is boring, you can say Azriel is a hoe, you can say Lucien is perfect, you can say Azriel's mate is actually Rhys's dead sister. Say whatever you want - but please stop spreading this stupid narrative that SJM would write a couple not ending up together because a woman can't carry his children.

SJM is literally adopted herself. Do y'all really think she wanted the takeaway from ACOSF to be "oh biological children are the only reason people get together?"

Come on now 🤨

[imagineredwood]

Hc for sub!Juicy being an absolute needy, clingy mess? Where all he wants to do is eat your pussy and (if you’re comfortable) rim you Like you can’t even sit down without him shoving his face into your cunt. Tyyy

I am typically...not a dominant person in the slightest so I had to wing this lmao 👀 But the idea was hot and it's Juice so I had to try and deliver. This got longer than a mf. Hope y'all like itttt 💕 If you don't......just lie 🤗

NSFW under the cut duh

He worships you

Always has

He thinks you're the best thing that's possibly ever happened to him

How you support him

How you love him

How you take care of him

How you defend and look after him

He's completely and utterly devoted to you

He's willing to give you everything and anything that you ask for

He will always physically protect you, of course

But often times he's simply submissive to you

Letting you take the reigns

Tell him what to do

Order him around

It's his favorite thing, feeling like he exists only for you

Sometimes he's bratty

Telling you no or giving you a hard time

Only to end up a whiny, whimpering mess beneath you

Begging you for mercy while you torture his sensitive cock that can't possibly put anything else out than it already has

His tummy a sticky mess

But other times, like today, when he's back from a run that took far longer than he anticipated

There's not a bratty bone in his body

He only exists for your pleasure

It's the only thing that matters

He's clingy and needy, something that is apparent first thing in the morning when it's his tongue that wakes you up

Head hidden under the blanket, hands softly resting on the insides of your thighs to give himself room as he laps at you

That's how the morning starts, which isn't too different than every other morning after he comes home from a run

But when you plot yourself down onto the sofa to watch your favorite show and suddenly he's down on his knees before you not even an hour later, fingers sliding into the waistband of your panties, eyes pleading up at you

"Lift up a little bit, baby. Let me get these off. Please. Please. I need to taste you again."

You realize he's a bit more needy than he's ever really been before

But you oblige, lifting your hips up so he can slide them down and bury his face into you once again

By the time he does it for the third time, a mere 5 hours since you've both woken up, you're actually surprised

Feeling his hands come to grip your hips as you stand at the counter preparing lunch, tugging at your panties again

"Are you serious?"

He chuckles into your neck, lips grazing and kissing at the soft skin

"Can't help it, babe. I just can't get enough of you."

And you tease him, shrugging him off gently.

"No. You've had enough."

His whine reminds you of a puppy, and if you turned around you're sure his eyes would too

"Please? Please, baby. I'll be good, I swear. I'll be so good for you. I'll do it just how you like and I won't stop or tease, I promise. Please. Let me be a good boy for you."

And who could deny him?

So you lean forward and rest your top half on the counter, Juice dropping to his knees instantly behind you as he pulls down your panties for the third time

You hiss as his mouth goes to attack your clit again and he apologizes sincerely into your puffy lips, his voice muffled

"Sorry, know you're sensitive. I'm sorry."

He dials it back, his mouth softer now lest you deny him

Sucking and kissing at your lips and inner thighs

His mouth drifting a bit higher until he's licking gently at your other hole, mouth vibrating against you as he moans

His tongue sliding up and down against both openings, finger digging into your hips to keep you in place against his mouth

Groaning and whimpering in ecstasy as you begin to grind back against his face, giving him everything he needs

General taglist

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[madtotry]

thinking of you, with my head underwater one. — two. — three. — coming soon.

hiccup haddock x reader

a/n. featuring toothless. gn reader. reader's dragon is one i created/came up with myself, youre welcome to ask about it! i plan for this to be a series - and to reveal more soon (if you have any questions/confusions about the plot youre welcome to pop into my inbox with those too) let me know if you want to be added to a taglist for my writing/this series

it hadn't been easy to get you to simply let hiccup look at your dragon — elsa — from afar without panicking, let alone convince you to go on a short flight with him.

so now, as you glide just above the surface of the sea, your gaze remains ahead; keeping an eye on elsa beneath you, and hiccup to your side, in your peripheral vision.

he hasn't said too much, and he probably means it as some sort of polite courtesy in an attempt to not overwhelm you, but it only serves to heighten your nerves at the possibility of him just waiting for the right time to attack you and steal elsa.

"what's her firepower?" he finally asks, at a volume that you think might have been in an attempt not to scare you, but is almost so quiet it gets whipped away even in the calm breeze.

you query a, "what?" in confusion, but he reads it as you not hearing him properly.

"firepower," he repeats kindly, and leans down to mutter something to his dragon, "like this."

a moment later, toothless opens his mouth — causing elsa to twitch just an inch away anxiously — and shoots a blast out of his mouth that flies ahead and disperses in a purple burst a few seconds after.

you tense once you understand, having never seen elsa do anything like that, let alone even just the normal fire you've caught other dragons spurting.

hiccup however, notices your sudden — extra — uneasiness, and doesn't pick up on the real reason.

"you don't have to tell me," he tries to catch your eye with a comforting smile, "i'm just asking because i've never seen a dragon like yours before."

you try to cooperate, "neither have i."

hiccup's head already spins with new questions, but goes easy on you with a simple, "could you tell me about her?" that he hopes is open-ended enough that you don't feel pressured.

elsa lets out a low, quiet, murmur that only you catch that tells you she's just as uncertain as yourself.

you don't know how he keeps being so patient and perceptive, but hiccup notices both you and your dragons' hesitance yet again, and speaks.

with a smile, he says, "this is how he got his name," nodding to toothless, who turns to look in your direction with a grin, mouth wide as he retracts his teeth and extends them back out a moment later proudly.

you can't help but feel the slightest upturn of your lips at toothless's pure joy, and a small hum from elsa and a ruffle of her wings tells you she feels the same; though appears to be better at hiding it than yourself.

"cool, right?" hiccup smiles back at you.

"i can show you more, this guy's full of secrets," he scratches a little crook in toothless's neck, who purrs happily at the affection, "aren't you!"

it slips out in a moment of comfort that you don't entirely hate, when you finally say, "she floats."

it takes a second for you to realise what you've said, and another to notice how nonsensical it sounds. but hiccup's reaction doesn't reflect this, if anything the sparkle in his eyes is just that little bit brighter - like he knows he's making progress. and his smile has not once faltered, but it has grown just a bit softer, perhaps more genuine?

he leaves room for you to elaborate, so when you don't — whether that be from the high-tide of anxiety splashing at your chest, or inexplicable embarrassment — he says:

"could you show us?"

elsa's sudden jolt away is unmistakable, and it doesn't take even a breath for you to tune into her uneasiness, and to tense yourself.

your head shakes without you realising, and all you can muster is a quick mumbled, "sorry," before elsa flies the two of you away; hopefully to somewhere you two are familiar with, somewhere safe.

you don't catch the way both his and toothless's expressions fall as you exit, nor the way he still politely stays where he was an makes no effort to chase after you - lest he scare you or elsa any further. he simply watches with a hint of sadness, and hopes you will be around the next time he flies through here.

[somefanficrecomendations]

February Monthly Recap

I had a lot of fics this month. Every one of these deserves a dedicated post of its own but in the interest of efficiency this roundup will have to do!

BATMAN

Uptown Girl by orphan_account (Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain), 60k, Case Fic, Friends to Lovers Stephanie Brown has three problems: a supervillain father with a deadly scavenger hunt in the works, a mysterious rich girl who's way too interested in her life, and one really, really painful hobby. Alternatively: a different kind of Spoiler origin story.

The Lois Angle by cabezas_de_vaca (gen), 15k, Bruce & Lois Friendship, Case Fic What she had with Bruce was novel, exhilarating. She had fallen in love several times, and that was like a great swoop of a wing, a flash and flush and then long tumble, but this was like a warmth that welled up from within. This was Bruce grappling up to her thirtieth story Metropolis apartment, stowing the Batsuit in the bathroom, and watching StarTrek with her. This was her driving to the manor when she couldn't sleep, only to find she could do it there. This was having a friend. Or: Despite the long shadow Batman casts and the demands of being one of the youngest Pulitzer winners ever, Bruce and Lois manage to steady each other, in the way that only friends can. Also, there's a case they need to solve. 

the scientific method by orphan_account (gen), 20k, Sibling Bonding, Duke-centric 5 stupid ways Duke's siblings discovered how his powers worked, and 1 time he figured it out for himself. "You have no idea," Dick said. "I had to live through all of their teenage years. They were each independently obsessed with Mythbusters at separate points in their life. I'm pretty sure Cass and Tim have wanted a meta to experiment on since they were 14, but Bruce always said no."

Meet Me Where You're Going by Hinn_Raven (Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain), 68k, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining When things get complicated in Hong Kong, Cass requests help from Batman Inc. Unbeknownst to her, Bruce dispatches not one of her brothers, but Stephanie Brown, who Cass has not spoken to since she gave up the Batgirl mantle. Steph is eager to reunite with her best friend, but things between them are complicated. Not the least of the problems is the fact that Steph might be falling in love… but of course, Cass is straight, so Steph really shouldn’t dwell on that. Friendship and romance, conspiracy and adventure await the two of them as they try to unravel a complicated plot that seeks to stop Batman Incorporated before it can truly begin.

when you move, fall like a thunderbolt by orphan_account (Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain), 5k, Villain!Steph, Canon Divergence In another universe, Stephanie Brown's plans to kill her father aren't interrupted by Batman. Which means nobody stops her from tripping and falling headlong into running her own gang, and then a little more intentionally rising to the top of the underworld. Meanwhile, seeing as Bruce only has one kid who actually wants to carry on the good name, Cassandra Cain takes over as the Batman of Gotham's future. This would be a fine turn of events if it weren't for the fact that they've been dating on-and-off for ten years.

falling without caution by coffeecrowns (gen), 17k, Bad Parent!Bruce, PTSD Jason is twenty, decidedly less into murder, trying to avoid developing agoraphobia, and putting together some pieces into a life. Tim is sixteen, riding the edge of burnout, and in a show of his truly baffling survival instincts, decides Jason is friend shaped. 

MICE ON VENUS by NEOCULTUREDAUS (gen), 3k, Tim & Damian Bonding “Timothy, if this is revenge for me trying to kill you, I need you to know I’m not sorry.” Damian’s eyes were clamped shut, hands fisting Tim’s hoodie so tightly that if Tim tried moving, he simply wouldn't be able to. “I’m not trying to get revenge. And open your eyes, you can’t ride a skateboard with them closed.” Tim patronized, prying Damian’s hands off him, you know, like someone evil who didn’t care for the wellbeing of his younger brother. Or The one where skater Tim takes his artist younger brother graffiti painting

So Sweet Saluteth Me by Lishalalalalala (gen), 7k, Good Dad!Bruce Sleep deprived™ Jason hangs out with Dick then they surprise Bruce at work with early lunch and some love. This fic is inspired by farmers’ markets on those summery days and the belief that if I run fast enough the sad can never catch me. (I mean you are telling me that Bruce Thomas/Alan Wayne wouldn’t be absolutely BASKING in joy if his kids just decided to randomly show up at Wayne Enterprise and pay him a little midday visit? )

to count by miles or days or people (when will i stop missing you) by jcp_sob_rjl_lmep (gen), 22k, Angst, Hurt/Comfort When Duke is kidnapped off of the streets of Gotham on his way back to the Manor from visiting his parents, it sends the entire Batfamily into a panic. With very little evidence to go on and time slipping past them, there's no help coming as Duke is forced to make a grand escape and get himself home before his kidnappers find him once more.

birds and brothers and other assorted synonyms by Ao3time, hoebiwan, quandaries_and_contradictions (gen), 21k, Series, Found Family A Reverse Robin AU in which Damian is a tired older brother, Duke is a ray of sunshine, and Dick is a baby talon.

Emergency rooms and chicken nuggets by Lilac_hyacinth (Bernard Dowd/Tim Drake) 7k “So…” Duke drawled, sounding suspiciously wide-awake for the day shift kid at two-thirty in the morning. “If I said Damian and I are in a bit of trouble, on a scale of Jason to Cass, how likely are you to kill us?” Clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes to try to wake himself up, Tim grimaced. “What the fuck did you do?” “Nothing.” Or Tim and Bernard get out of bed at two in the morning to go across town and pick up Tim's reckless little brothers.

Pick a Pocket Full of Pennies by Trekkele (gen), 24k, Found Family, Fluff, AU-No Powers The life and times of Dick Grayson, unintentional ringleader to a gang of pickpockets, and how he learned to let go and get adopted. Or something. 

SPIDER-MAN

Death Before Inaction by hppjmxrgosg (gen), 37k, BAMF Peter Parker, WIP “Fuck off, Nicky.” “Hasn’t anyone ever told you spider-napping is illegal?” “You can’t hold me here, I know my spider-rights.” “God, you guys are so old. What are you? Like 27?” “Scale of 1 to 10, how upset would you be if I told you I banged your mom?” - Or, I got my grubby little hands on the spider-man time line and fucked around a little bit. Not much (everything) changes.

[atsucry]

Beyond The Thorn Vines

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝐈𝐈.

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝐈.

Malleus Draconia x gn!reader

warnings: heavily ooc malleus and does not exactly follow his cannon backstory. Everything is in favour for the ff plot. Also probably ooc lillia just to make sure. I have absolutely no idea how malleus's magic works so I jst winged some stuff so...

content: Angst.

It was just like any other day. Home lessons from Lillia and spending most of his time in his room, long curtains that drape over equally tall windows, caging his room in black. Though at least he had something to look forward to today. Meeting up back at that river after sunset to play the little games you've planned with him.

He moved quietly across the room, peeling back the gossamer curtains to take a peek at the time of day. And would you look at that? It's almost sundown. The sea of trees stretched out into the distance, the rest was covered by fog. The monotonous routine was not for the young boy.

He followed the same steps to sneak out of the castle and avoid the attention of the supervisors of the castle, he followed the same route he took to escape yesterday, only hoping that the schedule had remained unchanged.

He slipped through the corridor from his room to the lower hall, being careful to not creak the door as much when he closed it. his small feet pitter-pattering on the polished tile, so shiny that it reflected the darkly painted walls that always showed Malleus an indifference towards him. Though, the nooks and crannies of the carvings in them didn't match that cleanliness of the floor beneath his feet…for some reason.

He ducked behind large antiques or pillars if he ever saw the guards patrolling whatever room he was in, careful not to accidentally be caught under their gaze.

After passing through many rooms—He finally stood at the front of the dungeon. This was how he managed to find an alternative escape—through pure curiosity. He peeled the door open to reveal a spiral staircase that only led down. He navigated through the almost labyrinth like dungeon, occasionally tripping over some fell over prison bars and chains but never injuring or scraping himself.

He wondered if he forgot the path he took to that small breach in the cell walls. Everything was starting to look the same, that or he simply didn't pay attention last time he did go through here.

A rat came through, though. He darted his eyes to where the little rodent came from, and lucky him it just so happened to be the exit he was looking for. He quickly turned back to the rat. "Thank you, but I'm sure the guards will beat you for invading such lavish property."

He squeezed his body through the bars of the cell like last time. It has gotten much easier.

He had to mentally prepare himself to go through the crawlspace again, he sucked in a breath before wriggling himself through. He felt like a worm, he crawled up the tunnel that led up. The scent of wet soil filled his senses, almost as if it had just recently rained. His eyes landed on a familiar gravel course.

Rising up, he swiped off the dust and dirt that had collected on his palms and in between his fingers. As he tread along the path, he made sure to be mindful this time about the little loose rocks that could easily trip him.

You arrived at the river a little too early, so you resorted to skipping rocks and pebbles you picked up from the river bed—or even going in yourself to see if there was any addition to the place, of course there was none but you had somehow expected better. Other than a few flatworms, there was nothing much to be seen. You could only entertain yourself by collecting all of the most 'colourful' pebbles you could find and fit them in your hand. Perhaps this could be something new to present to your play partner.

You raised your head out of the water. "This sucks…I'm bored out of my mind." pouting at yourself, looking 'round to find anything else that was interesting.

You remembered the times you would sometimes perform songs by yourself—or to the little water critters. The wind chimed as it passed by, the tree branches waving down at you.

You reached out to the edge of the land, folding your arms to pillow and rest your head upon it, sighing out of boredom. You pour out all the things you collected in front of you.

Out of the corner of your eye, a water shrew had made an appearance before you. "An interesting fellow" you think to yourself. It scurried away before you could take a second glance at it.

The sound of moving gravel caught your attention, you whipped your head up at the origin of the noise, you squinted your eyes just to see those recognizable horns jogging closer, sitting atop a breathless boy.

"How was the journey, hm?" You said in a playful manner. "You look like you had to outrun a boar." You pointed out the sweat trickling down his forehead. "What's got you in a rush?"

He came to a full stop before you, placing his hands on his knees and bowing his head to catch his breath—huffing and puffing a little.

"I haven't the faintest idea. I suppose I was just eager to meet up again."

You raised your brow slightly at that.

"You know, for someone the same age as me, you sure do talk very fancy."

"No, just a bit formally."

"Formally it is then."

Malleus caught up to his breath, finally. When he looked down to glance at you, you had quickly collected back all the small rocks in your hand and held it up to him.

"Which one is the prettiest to you?" You suddenly asked.

He paused before ultimately deciding to play along with whatever you had planned. He carefully inspected the pile of stones before picking up a green coloured one at random. rolling it around in his fingers.

"This one is the prettiest."

Your eyes lit up at his answer, it wasn't much but at least he participated.

"Is it cause it matches your eyes or what?"

An immediate silence overcame the both of you. His mouth slightly parted.

You blinked, it felt as if you've made a terrible mistake of the kind. You slowly set the pile of pebbles back in front of you to continue to observe his face. Crickets sung in the background and it made almost everything worse.

"Matches my eyes…?" He repeated, his voice a murmur. It's almost as if he was saying it to himself rather than to you. He broke out of his frozen state to continue examining the stone. "I suppose it does." He pocketed the stone. "I haven't given things like these much thought."

You tilted your head at him, puzzled. “You’ve never thought about what’s pretty?”

He shook his head slowly. “There hasn’t been much need for it. The castle is… functional, not beautiful. And I’ve been taught to value strength, wisdom, and power—things that are useful.”

"Useful things can be beautiful too." You said it like it was the obvious, which was true, by the way.

“Perhaps,” he finally said, his voice softer now. “But it’s not something I’ve been taught to see.”

"Well…I'll teach you what I know, You'll teach me what you know!" You said enthusiastically. He seemed to nod, a genuine smile now forming on his face. "That sounds like a plan."

The two of you spent the rest of the evening by the river, sharing stories, playing games, and finding beauty in the small things around you. Exposing him to the activities and games you played with the other nymphs.

This continued on for months; honestly, Malleus was surprised no one had caught on yet. He was glad that no one had. Because these meetups became the highlight of his day. He learned how to do outdoor games, like skipping stones, all that stuff. You taught him how to dance one time, which was fun.

On the eighth month of this routine, you'd have finally become friends. Each Other's first friends.

Today was just like any other ordinary day, you tried switching it up every now and then to keep things interesting. Although, today, Malleus had something else planned for the activities.

You were recalling all the events that happened to you today to Malleus before he spoke up, "Would you like to see my unique magic?"

"...Unique magic? Ah, so…magic you made up on your own, I'm assuming?"

"Exactly. You pick up on things fast." His face turned into a look of uncertainty, "Though… I am aware of its capabilities. It can be... intimidating. But I have control over it."

"Alright…show me." You said, Nodding.

"Very well, follow me. I need more space to perform it."

He took your hand in his before leading you to who knows where. "...You do know where we're going, correct?" He said, looking back at you. "Of course I do…I think. But you can trust my sense of direction."

You eventually made it to a forest clearing, your companion hummed in satisfaction as he let go of your hand, making his way to the centre to conduct his magic.

"...just to be sure, you DO think this is a safe idea?"

"...Safe enough."

Malleus’s eyes gleamed with an intensity you hadn’t seen before. He took a step back, lifting his hand towards the sky. You could feel the air grow heavier, charged with a kind of energy that made the hairs on your neck stand on end.

"Just a little warning im giving you, this will put you in a deep sleep until I end the spell."

It was only now that the realisation hit you that maybe this wasn't the greatest idea. But maybe it was too late, he was already mid-incantation. You could perhaps try interrupting the entire thing—

By then it was already too late. "Spinning wheel of fate," He started, "keep pulling the thread of disaster. As king of the abyss, I shall bestow this upon you—"

"Hey—! Don't you think it's too dangerous to perform a spell that you aren't that familiar with—"

"Fae of Maleficence."

The air seemed to freeze in place as Malleus completed the incantation. Dark, green thorn vines shot up from the ground, the earth beneath you almost crumbled due to the force.

You barely had time to react as the first vine shot toward you, then several more followed after.

**

In such a short notice, your world turned black.

Where were you?

Though, as time went on, you slowly stopped caring. It was tranquil; you accepted the deep slumber, you welcomed the serenity.

Malleus stood in the clearing, his eyes wide as he saw you encased within the thorny sphere. A wave of unease passed over him, but he quickly brushed it off.

He approached the spherical, thorny prison, running his fingers along the cracks of the vines. Taking a deep breath, he began to focus on the spell’s reversal. His voice was steady, filled with the confidence that his magic would undo the spell without any harm. “Fate’s thread, rewind... Release the one I hold in this abyss.”

The vines slowly retracted, revealing you bit by bit as you softly fell onto the grass, your body limp. He still felt that stomach dropping feeling, but he just ignored it again. He was so sure that this was just temporary.

"Psst, wake up." He whispered. "How was that for magic?" At this point he looked stupid for trying to have a conversation with an unconscious person. That was when everything started to settle in.

He quickly tried shaking your body, hoping that you made some movement, even in your sleep. You were breathing, but you gave him no response. Surely he made no mistake in the spell.

"Please wake up…" He begged, kneeling down beside your body and examining your state. "Wake up…" He pleaded once more. Trying again one more time. "Wake…up…—?"

A cold hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder, peeling him away from your body. He was flung backward, landing with a painful thud. Curling up from the shock, he looked up to see a group of Naiads surrounding you. Their presence was ominous, and he knew he was in deep trouble. These were your family, or at least, people close to you.

They knelt down to observe your condition, cradling you in their arms before turning to him. Their gaze was cold, but at the same time held a fiery rage.

"You must leave." A voice emitted from the heart of the circle.

"Leave and never walk alongside our kind again." Rising to her feet, with you in her arms. As he looked at her more, it seemed that she was your mother. His eyes widened at the realisation.

"You cretin! Magic like this isn’t for children to play with!" Another voice rang out, filled with righteous anger.

Malleus had to be careful where he tread with his words. He wanted for everything to work out, he wanted it all to be okay. Though, he knows he is the only one responsible for such a disgrace. "Please! I apologise! I didn't mean for this to be the outcome but if you allowed me more time I could potentially reverse it—!"

"You've done enough here." The mother said. "Leave." She repeated one last time. "Leave while you still have feet,"

Her voice was stern. She threatened the young boy one last time before all the others slowly got up on their feet too. Vanishing into the forest. Along with you, too.

It hit him that he missed the opportunity to defend himself just a bit more, that he could do something to fix it. To return you to your original state.

The mage finally collected himself before stumbling through the forest, luckily having left some foot tracks and backtracking it. pathetic sniffles and whines echoed throughout the trees. But even they seemed to bend and shriek away from him. The very energy that fueled his magic, feared him.

He ran, occasionally tripping over but immediately picking himself back up.

That's when he saw the river you and he used to play together at. The spot where you introduced yourself so cautiously, the second time he decided to meet you, months of building up your bond till you finally offered to be his friend. But when he got closer to just sit and reminisce for a while more, the water had suddenly flowed harsher. Almost to bat him away from itself.

He gave up.

What more could he do?

Was he really meant to be feared? all alone? It was hard enough making friends. But it’s how it goes. Living things take such time to grow and to bloom, but it could easily be destroyed by one wrong step from a careless person to crumple its beauty.

He was sick and tired. He marched his way home, back to the cold embrace. Each step carried weight that was heavier than the world of magic itself.

This time he didn't take the secret hole in the wall to sneak back in. He was too frustrated to go through all of it. He walked up the steps to the large gate and screamed for the guards to let him inside.

They obeyed fearfully. Even if he was just a child, he still held such great power over most.

His stomps echoed throughout the entire property, like a large beast was the one causing it. As he walked, he bumped into his guardian in the middle of the hallway.

"Ah! Malleus! ah…how dishevelled you are…where have you been?" Lillia asked,concern was evident in his voice.

"...Out."

"Yea…Where, exactly?"

"In the forest…"

Lillia wore a deadpanned face as he put his hands on the boy's shoulder. "Your details are lacking."

Malleus couldn't hold it back much more. A river of tears streamed down his face, It was rare for him to see malleus in such a state.

Snow then started falling from the sky.

"I just wanted to show them something interesting, I didn't know that the magic that I created—could—oh…I don't know…"

Lillia of course did not let that slip, who has Malleus been seeing?

"...Who, exactly, did you show your ability to?" He bit his lips in anticipation. What if the prince got into a tangle with some evil being—no—well that didn't follow logical sense. He wouldn't cry over hurting someone who wished harm upon him. Perhaps a little friend.

"...a kid named (Y/N)." At the mention of a name, Lillia quickly shot Malleus with an almost terrified expression. If they introduced themselves to Malleus, Malleus must've done the same. "Have you told them your name too?!?"

"Of course I have…Why wouldn't I—?"

"You can't just go around telling strangers your name! As fae, when we tell people our names that means we give them power over us!" He informed the naive boy.

Malleus recoiled slightly at Lillia's words, his tear-streaked face showing confusion and a hint of fear. The realisation of what he might have done—what he had given away—sank into him with the weight of it.

"But... Lillia, (Y/N) isn't like that," Malleus protested, his voice trembling. "They're my friend…Used to be. But they would never use my name to hurt me." Malleus felt a sting in his heart when he said the last sentence, his thoughts cruising back to what he'd done.

Lillia's stern expression softened. He knelt down to be at eye level with Malleus, his hands still resting on the boy's shoulders. "Malleus, it's not about trust. It's about understanding the consequences of your actions. Even if (Y/N) doesn't mean harm, others might. Your name is a powerful thing—our names are tied to our very essence."

Malleus sniffled, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "But I didn't know... I just wanted to share something special with them. I wanted them to see what I could do, to know that I'm not just someone to be feared," He tried explaining. "But it just did the exact thing that I was clearly avoiding!"

He could see the turmoil in Malleus's eyes, the desperation to connect with someone.

"Oh Malleus…What to do with you…"

The young boy continued to wallow away in his room, bitter walls were the only embrace he could get other than the comfort of his own coverlet, he no longer found sunrise and sundown to be something he'd look forward to other than just another passing of time.

Decades have followed, Malleus only had to focus on improving his skill, ability, and magic. He'd known very little about the changes in the outside world other than watching hundreds of seasons pass by everyday till He'd almost fully matured. Being accepted into Night Raven College was as easy as breathing for him, being the top student and the housewarden was no easy feat for any normal individual.

In between those years, he'd eventually have forgotten about you. Although, the nuisance of feeling a strangely empty space around him bothered him to no end. He'd blame it on just lacking friends. But even then, he'd still harbour that sense of emptiness even if he was surrounded by his closest dorm mates.

Note: AGEHHAHA I finished this at 9:30. ALSO APOLOGIES AGAIN FOR ANY WRITING MISTAKES I MAY HAVE MADE😶

thank you for reading though❗️❗️💯 I WILL EDIT ALL ERRORS TOMORROW.

[wordsandrobots]

IBO reference notes on . . . spaceships

@gonk2020 kindly responded to my plea for the means to procrastinate over the essay I should be finishing with a suggestion I take a look at the ships of Iron-Blooded Orphans. So I'm going to do exactly that! Warning for an image-heavy post and spoilers for the whole show and both spin-offs.

[Note: I've compiled this primarily from English-language sources, including fan-translations. There will certainly be additional details I've missed in material that hasn't received a translation.]

A dash of context

Mecha shows and sci-fi in general often revolve around an aircraft-carrier gimmick, where a larger vessel (treated in naval terms) functions as the base for various smaller craft (treated in aviation terms). Terrestrial-based shows will often make the carriers aircraft in their own right (Eureka Seven and Argento Soma spring to mind) to emphasise the advanced technology on display, while extraterrestrial adventures like Macross go full-bore on substituting ships for spaceships. It's a good conceit, providing visual diversity as well as a moving headquarters from which the heroes can operate.

Gundam falls squarely into this pattern from the start. The original anime's White Base functions in space and on Earth as a flying warship, deploying the Gundam, Guntank, Guncannon, and various 'core fighters' along what are recognisably aircraft carrier catapults. Other ships in the setting are shown to operate similarly, with flight decks, conning towers, and a sea-vessel-like aspect (albeit remixed into a weirder style for the Zeon side). Thereafter, the wider Gundam franchise has mostly followed suit. Successor series like Gundam SEED, Turn A Gundam, Gundam 00, and Gundam Reconguista in G all follow Mobile Suit Gundam in portraying flight- and space-flight-capable aircraft carriers of some variety as a key part of their fictional militaries.

Where Iron-Blooded Orphans deviates from this trend is, like fellow outlier Gundam Wing, by eliminating the terrestrial part of the equation. Gone are concessions to atmospheric travel; here, spaceships remain in space and are treated closer to a Star Trek 'tall-ship' model, with shuttles providing the necessary bridge from orbit to the ground. As in Wing, this is not a concession to physical realism: IBO features full-blown artificial gravity and functionally-perpetual sources of energy. Rather, it serves to retract the 'get out of logistics free' card previous flying aircraft carriers provided to their casts. While Gundam has always erred on the side of making logistical concerns count (damage to the White Base is emphasised alongside the frailty of its supply lines), here they are absolutely key to how the plot unfolds.

Tekkadan not having access to the unbounded resources of their opponents in Gjallarhorn matters. That they cannot take their ship, the Isaribi, with them to Earth is a highly significant step towards the desperate nature of Season 1's final battle. They have to rely solely on what they can transport down in a shuttle and then scrounge along the way. Similarly, it is significant in both seasons that one cannot simply land a spaceship where reinforcements are required. This introduces delays, heightening the tension and the stakes. It's a canny choice, for the kind of story being told.

World mechanics

For want of an official classification scheme, I'm going to group the ships that appear throughout the series based on size, function and power-plants:

Surface-to-orbit shuttles

Small non-Ahab reactor ships

Medium Ahab reactor ships

Large Ahab reactor ships

Huge pseudo-colony ships

This done, we can look at commonalties shared by some or all of these groupings in terms of how they are depicted.

Life support: The most important detail, as far as establishing the setting's technology goes, is that living in space is relatively straightforward. Ahab reactors provide artificial gravity. Concerns about oxygen, food and other consumable supplies are never raised as a serious issue. A brief moment in spin-off game Urdr Hunt even suggests that ships maintain some sort of protective forcefield (capable of resisting a lightning strike – it sort of makes sense in context), which could imply cosmic and solar radiation can also be neutralised. Basically, to all intents and purposes, space travel is a completely solved problem.

Offensive and defensive capabilities: Battles are carried out almost exclusively with conventional ammunition (shells, missiles); there are no laser/beam weapons due to the deflective effects of nanolaminate armour, which also conveys a high degree of physical resilience. In the original Gundam timeline, mobile suits are devastatingly effective anti-ship weapons; it is outright stated that ships are no match for 'suits, due to the latter's manoeuvrability and damage output. Here, the equation is somewhat more balanced. Most ships can retract their vulnerable conning towers and their missiles can target and obliterate 'suits in open combat. However, particularly powerful or well-equipped mobile suits may still threaten ships single-handed and sustained attack by more generic models is sufficient to knock out weaponry and propulsion. There is also mention of 'anti-ship napalm', a short-range weapon presumably intended to burn through hulls, and ships prove extremely vulnerable to the Dáinsleif mass-drivers, which can punch deep into their interiors. Nonetheless, it would be fair to say IBO ships are atypically sturdy for the Gundam franchise.

Toughness: Exactly how sturdy may be illustrated by Eugene crashing the Isaribi face-first into a space station in order to draw a Gjallarhorn fleet away from a battle.

This works. Spectacularly. The Isaribi leaves a massive gash around the station core, causing enough havoc the whole structure starts to lose orbit. Meanwhile, Tekkadan pull away with barely even superficial damage. And sure, the square-cube law is on their side, but at the same time, it's hard not to be impressed, especially since we are talking about a ship of Calamity War vintage. Ramming is not only feasible as an offensive tactic, it seems to be actively designed for.

Power output: In addition to their durability, spaceships show off an abundance of power and thrust, owing to the aforementioned Ahab reactors. Wisely, the writers opt not to give exact figures, simply indicating one ship towing another is no big deal. We see the Dawn Horizon Corps' flagship towing three ships of comparable mass at once, with similar feats carried out by other vessels in their fleet. This of course feeds back into the ramming tactics, since all that additional motive force enables one ship to shunt another with relative ease (presumably provided the impact goes at an angle to the direction of the target's own main drive).

Mobility: Above all, ships are of a piece with the other mobile weapons. Despite the nautical terminology, they do not always behave with stately grace, instead zooming about and engaging in manoeuvres entirely unbounded by gravity. This is what struck me the most about the show's depiction of spaceflight: it captures a sense of speed that sci-fi shows usually leave implicit out of deference to an impression of scale. Here, craft hundreds of metres long execute rapid arcs and spins with an ease comparable to the much smaller mobile suits. Furthermore, they can be operated using the same Alaya-Vijnana man/machine interface technology, with Eugene twice straining his augmentation to fly multiple ships simultaneously. The attack on Earth's defensive lines that culminates in ramming Glaðsheimr One involves using a captured assault ship as a shield to protect the Isaribi from incoming fire. It's a phenomenal sequence, showcasing the advantages of abandoning weight when writing space battles – and demonstrates that ships in the Post Disaster timeline can dance as well as they punch.

Now, on to the specifics.

Surface-to-orbit shuttles

Mars shuttle

Fittingly, we start with the vehicle that first takes our protagonists to space. Straight away we have to discuss how it is launched from Mars, namely by being shot up a large, upward-curving runway. This is an example of 'sky-ramp launch', which is pretty much exactly what you think and represents a theoretical means of removing the need for multi-stage rocket assemblies. Both parts of the process are reusable: an orange sub-flyer helps propel the shuttle up the ramp and then separates to glide back to the ground while the main body flies onwards.

It's a fascinating idea that I don't believe has ever actually been tested in real life and perhaps makes more sense in a Martian setting where the lower gravity would undoubtedly render it more practical. However, this is by all appearances the standard method regardless of planet, as the Earth-based Vingolf facility has a similar ramp. So we can assume this, like life-support, is an established, widely-practical technology.

The shuttle itself is a chunky affair, a streamlined cockpit and passenger module giving way to a wider, squarer cargo section big enough to comfortably hold two mobile suits. Its wings are articulated and kept folded vertically for launch, only opening out once it has separated from the launch vehicle (which also unfolds wings for the descent back to Mars). In orbit, the shuttle proves capable of outrunning a Gjallarhorn patrol, albeit one distracted by the sudden appearance of Gundam Barbatos, but is vulnerable to both mobile suits and the cannons of a pursuing ship.

What happens to the shuttle after the Isaribi arrives in the nick of time and Tekkadan disembark is unclear. Neither it nor its flight crew appear again, so we must assume they detached and returned to Mars while the battle raged on without them. Likely this would have been relatively easy since all hostile forces were concentrating on chasing the Isaribi and couldn't stop to deal with anything else. Those two pilots must have had quite the hair-raising story to tell when they got home.

Earth shuttle

Although it shares the same general outline, the craft that takes Tekkadan down to Earth at the other end of their journey is much larger and beefier. Comfortably able to accommodate several launches (vessels on par, size-wise, with the Mars shuttle) and with room for multiple mobile suits to attach to the hull, this is a relatively gigantic vehicle for traversing the atmosphere. The passenger module looks laughably small, stuck on the front of cargo section that brings to mind that line from Rocket Rider's Prayer about a 'highly polished brick'.

A pair of large external propellant tanks are attached to the upper surfaces of the wings, giving the impression it can achieve considerably greater thrust than its Martian counterpart, as would be necessary for ascending from Earth. We don't get confirmation of whether this shuttle also launches with the aid of a booster, although there seems no reason to assume otherwise. Regardless, its heavy-duty nature is obvious.

As the shuttle goes through re-entry, the viewports are sealed with heat-shields to protect the occupants. Once inside the atmosphere, it is capable of splashdown. I don't think we should necessarily take this as a standard procedure so much as a consequence of Tekkadan's intended destination and lack of experience with these matters. Nevertheless, it proves perfectly buoyant in the waters off Makanai's island retreat.

The shuttle was provided by the Montag Company, ostensibly in exchange for half-metal mining rights on Mars, although in reality this is just McGillis Fareed putting Tekkadan where he needs them to be. Interestingly, the Moon Steel manga has the Montag Company arranging lift-off from Earth for the protagonists at one point, suggesting there are ways to circumvent the official channels in the other direction as well. Normally, transfer to and from the ground like this would appear to go through orbital stations like Jutland One.

Two more of the smaller shuttles are seen on Mars when Yamagi and Eco deliver Gundam Flauros back to Chryse during the battle with Hashmal. One of the larger type is featured briefly early in the Moon Steel manga, while another appears on Vingolf during McGillis' uprising. Here we see it can fold its wings too (even if the angle this is drawn at makes that look a bit peculiar) and we get a look at the landing gear left unseen in previously. This shuttle is coloured an all-over grey, lacking the orange on the external tanks from Tekkadan's version, but this may be a colouring error since it or a very similar shuttle is shown later with the orange in place, as per the earlier model.

Small non-Ahab reactor ships

Launch

The boxy 'launch' is a utility craft deployed by virtually every major group we encounter over the course of the series. They are used by the Dort colonists, by Tekkadan and the Montag Company, by Gjallarhorn, by workers at the Oceanian Federation's industrial centres, and by the Turbines. In Moon Steel, a launch is even the main characters' principal mode of transport for a couple of chapters.

I'm actually making an assumption that launches do not use Ahab reactors. Given the size of the mobile suit-grade reactors, there's no reason a ship of this scale could not include one. However, we never see launches generating artificial gravity and based on that and the lack of mention of such a device (from what I can tell) in the Mechanics & World captions, I'm prepared to place them in this category. In any case, contrasting sharply with the shuttles, they have an entirely space-based design – basically a moving shipping container with thrusters facing along the cardinal axes.

Launches act mainly as transport, ferrying goods and people between colonies and ships. 25m long, they are large enough to carry mobile suits (see Moon Steel), can act as refuelling posts, and even operate in an offensive capacity. The weapons loaded during the Dort uprising are described as 'debris missiles', suggesting a role in keeping the area clear of collision hazards. Due to Gjallarhorn's sabotage, we never learn how effective these would have been in a combat scenario.

The launch belonging to the Dort Colony Network news team features an antenna on top of the cockpit and a couple of spotlights bolted to the cargo section. It also has the company logo sprayed on the side and I find it a bit of a shame this kind of flourish wasn't added more widely, since otherwise the only external variation is in colour scheme.

JEE-M103 Kutan Type-III

Manufactured by the (presumably) Europa-based Teiwaz subsidiary Euro Electronics, the Kutan is the first ship on this list to serve an exclusively military purpose. That is to say, while the official description indicates this type of craft can be used to carry a variety of different loads, we see it used exclusively as a delivery mechanism for mobile suits. Not to mention that it has a pair of inbuilt vulcan guns on its forward arms and can be equipped with additional cannons if required.

The 'Type-III' in the name refers to the configuration with large boosters and propellant tanks added on the back, plus triangular side armatures to store mobile suit weapons. The inner body is otherwise identical to the Kutan Type-I. Although it is engineered to transport a only single 'suit inside its arms, a second may easily latch on to the upper hull. A Type-III is used to return Gundam Barbatos to the Isaribi following a refit aboard the Saisei, indicating it can traverse considerable distances in a useful time-frame. We later see one reach an isolated refuelling station from Mars, when Tekkadan rush to the Turbines' aid. Though comparatively tiny, it operates on a scale similar to much larger vessels.

Unusually, this is done without an Ahab reactor. The Kutan is built instead around a hydrogen engine, which gives us some idea of how space-travel might have looked prior to the adoption of the more powerful reactor. This also has consequences for the Kutan's defensive ability, since nanolaminate armour is normally reinforced by a supply of Ahab particles. While the armour is not completely useless without that boost, the Kutan would be much more vulnerable to attack than its cargo, which explains why, Shino's stunt in Earth orbit aside, these transporters are not used as combat vehicles.

Indeed we can see from Shino attempting to fight Ein while still attached to a Kutan that it hampers his mobility considerably. The supplemental boosters are an explosive hazard and he is quickly trapped within the transporter's arms by Ein's grappling cable. There is a kit-only configuration that applies the various components from the Kutan to a 'suit in what might be a more usable layout, as a backpack and leg-extensions. But on screen, the more sensible tactic is clearly for the transporter to race in, release its cargo, and retreat as quickly as possible.

Skidbladnir

The Urdr Hunt mobile game includes another Kutan, this time in a civilian setting. Personal vessel of archaeologist Kozo Mendo, Skidbladnir is a variant that might even be a Kutan Type-II, since it shares the main body of the Type-I/III but is fitted with a different set of arms.

The ship has additional fuel tanks and what appears to be an expanded living module or cargo hold. We do not see the interior beyond the cockpit, so exactly how many amenities Mendo has crammed inside is left to our imagination. Regardless, the modular design of the Kutan has allowed it to be remixed into a craft capable of reaching debris zones or ancient shipwrecks and manoeuvring close enough to get a good look at them.

It is implied to be a somewhat ramshackle affair, breaking down twice over the course of the game and leaving Mendo and his Hunt guide Slice in need of rescue. Aside from the irony of repeated failures affecting a vessel named for "the best of ships" (Grimnir's Sayings 44.2, The Poetic Edda, Oxford World's Classics 2008, p58), this adds to Skidbladnir's outlier status. No other vessel we see is in such bad shape as a baseline (it goes without saying, this thing is useless in a fight, immediately getting downed by a pack of plumas when certain archaeological investigations prove horribly successful).

Exactly how Mendo came into possession of his ship remains unexplored. According to the kit manual, Kutans are primarily operated in the Outer Sphere, so it could be that he acquired one in the vicinity of Mars or Jupiter. And perhaps the technical difficulties explain how he was able to afford to buy it. For now, we can only speculate. What is certain is that Skidbladnir is a rare example of the Millennium Falcon 'small owner-operated spaceship' trope appearing in Gundam, and thus opens up a host of possibilities for small-scale private – and extremely hazardous – space-travel within the Post Disaster timeline.

Medium Ahab reactor ships

Biscoe class cruiser

Our introduction to IBO's spaceships comes in the unassuming form of the Wilm, which delivers Gaelio Bauduin and McGillis to the Ares base in orbit of Mars. Like the Kutan, the Biscoe class is designed around mobile suits: two 'suits can be stored in the lower section of the hull and launched by folding that entire section downwards. Beyond this, the Biscoe does not carry any armaments, although it can deploy signal flares. In terms of range, the Wilm reaches Mars from Earth within the space of two weeks, a feat not to be sniffed at, although it's never clear if this being markedly quicker than Tekkadan's initial estimate for the opposite journey is due to Gjallarhorn having access to more direct routes or the Biscoe's speed relative to the Isaribi.

While the Biscoe is presented as a Gjallarhorn product, it has also found its way into civilian use. Both the Montag Company and Moon Steel's Tanto Tempo own Biscoes, with the latter's use of one in an action sequence demonstrating the ship possess the ability to fire smokescreens as well as flares. This is not the last time we'll see Gjallarhorn vessels in the hands of outside entities.

Past prominent appearances at the start and in the third quarter of Season 1, Biscoes are relegated to bulking out fleet scenes. I should note that the official designation of 'cruiser' seems a bit of a misnomer, since in modern naval parlance, this means a large, multi-role vessel. The term would surely fit the Halfbeak much better than this glorified cargo ship.

An intriguing detail translated in this Reddit post is that Biscoe can go in and out of a planet's atmosphere. This makes sense of the large landing struts built into the lower hull (kept retracted in its on-screen appearances). I raise an eyebrow at the idea of this ship descending to the surface. Scale-wise, it's smaller than the shuttle Tekkadan take down to Earth but I'm not sure how it would lift off back to orbit in the absence of anti-gravity mechanics. Then again, with the presence of 'inertial control systems' capable of cushioning a mobile suit's fall from sub-orbital heights, maybe there is a case to be made that the setting does have the necessary technology to allow something like this to move easily within a gravity well and we just don't see it happen.

Erda II

Owned by Afam Equipment, management company for the Radonitsa Colony in orbit of Venus, the Erda II is a modified Biscoe class ship. In its original configuration, it sports three additional thrusters, two on top and one below, and the pre-existing engines have been extended along the sides. The section above the bridge has also been built out, creating an additional deck. The result is still recognisably a Biscoe and retains the ability to deploy mobile suits by opening up its lower hull. However, unlike the base model, the Erda II can only hold a single 'suit. This seems mainly due to the addition of a catapult mechanism designed to quickly eject its passenger to the rear of the ship, a feature more commonly found on larger warships.

That is my interpretation of the Erda II's halved carrying capacity, anyway. The shots of McGillis' Biscoe launching his Schwalbe Graze play havoc with the scaling, such that the mobile suit appears about 50% smaller than it should be. It looks like the animators got the perspective wrong, a not uncommon occurrence in the early part of Season 1 (c.f. McGillis being portrayed as taller than Gaelio in some of the scenes on Mars). The Urdr Hunt game serves us much better for consistency, as we see several mobile suits interacting with it from the outside, such as Gundam Asmodey being forced to ride on top of the hull for a few instalments.

To address this, the ship is later retrofitted with an expanded hold – basically a large shipping container bolted on the back. This doubles the ship's length, easily fitting both Gundams and their corresponding catapults, and has its own set of thrusters to make up for the removal of the Erda II's ventral engine. It is hard to say if this has a detrimental effect on the ship's speed or manoeuvrability since it never does anything that would demonstrate either. It is equally hard to say why a company ostensibly concerned with municipal infrastructure should need to be able to launch mobile suits into battle in the first place. But that is tied to the presently-incomplete backstory of Hajiroboshi (nee Marchosias), which Erda Afam, namesake of the ship, likely piloted during the Calamity War.

Further details from the official description are that the Erda II is armed with a single machine-gun and that it dates from the founding of the company, suggesting Biscoes are quite venerable. Interestingly, the standing crew consists of only two people, the elderly Dexter and Sinister. While we might expect little manpower to be required for the Skidbladnir or a relatively small vessel like this, McGillis is able to briefly operate a full-size warship single-handed. Eugene is able to fly two or three at once. Clearly, a high degree of automation exists, as it does for mobile suits – another facet of space travel being trivialised in this setting

Large Ahab reactor ships

Calamity War shipwrecks

There isn't a lot to say about the shipwrecks shown in Urdr Hunt, mainly because they *are* wrecks and we thus do not know what they looked like when they were intact. I'm not even sure which way up the second ship encountered is supposed to go.

Doing my due diligence and checking the art-books, neither of these are based on unused concepts for, say, the Halfbeak or the Skipjack. They appear instead to be entirely new designs, depicting vessels owned by Angelica Elion and Makie Fareed, Calamity War Gundam pilots and progenitors of the 'Seven Stars' lineages to which they gave their names. The Elion ship is in a worse state, falling apart as it drifts along the orbit of a comet. Its systems are offline, its generators, barely functioning. The Fareed ship, on the other hand, retains a breathable atmosphere and enough power to allow Mendo to boot up the computers in some form of administration room. From this he learns it fought a mobile armour during the War.

We should not be surprised the power in these vessels lasts as long as it does, given they are almost certainly using Ahab reactors. Nor do I think it unexpected that warships would have played a role in defeating the mobile armours. That Mendo can access the Fareed ship's systems may speak more to his familiarity with old software than anything else, but it could also be an indication of how little has changed, technologically, since the War.

Beyond this, the wrecks do at least confirm spaceship design was once more varied than it is in the present day.

Freighter

Speaking of the present, the 300m long cargo ship is as ubiquitous as the launch. Seen in vast numbers as the backbone of the Turbines' operations and in use even by space pirates like the Brewers, this is an entirely uniform design, rarely so much as changing colour between appearances.

Utilitarian, featuring sixteen container modules arranged either side of a rounded-off rectangular core, with a bridge at one end and two standard thrusters at the other, it is an unglamorous vessel and tends to fare quite badly when it shows up in more than an illustrative capacity. See for example Akihiro's family's freighter getting overtaken by pirates, or a couple of Turbines' ships being sunk by Dáinsleifs. These ships are pretty much defenceless, requiring mobile suit escorts to stand a chance of making it through hazards.

This draws attention to something Iron-Blooded Orphans does differently from its stable-mates; to whit, spending time on everyday space-travel. In most Gundam series, civilian traders rarely occupy much of the story. The narratives focus on military action that has suspended normal life. To an extent, this is of course what IBO does as well. But it also portrays space as a realm of industry and commerce. Cargo makes up the bulk of the traffic crossing the solar system. There are designated shipping routes, the Ariadne Beacon network that allows Gjallarhorn to track, protect and (as seen in Moon Steel) charge vessels for the privilege. There are routes outside the beacon network, more perilous and tricky to navigate, allowing the Turbines to dominate Outer Sphere smuggling. There is, in fact, a whole ecosystem based around the transfer of goods, with impoverished, homeless women at the very bottom, exploited as expendable crews.

We must also consider what isn't shown. The Skidbladnir is the only ship serving a nominally scientific purpose. Tourism is a valid solution to Radonista Colony's woes, yet none of the characters have the opportunity to be real tourists. Interplanetary passenger travel – in itself, separate from VIPs getting military escort – is never touched on. Our attention remains fixed on the functional, unglamorous side of a space-based economy, as befits IBO's wider themes, with the freighter as the functional, unglamorous emblem of this strata of society.

Armoured assault ship

Our second major 'default ship', almost all the warships fielded by non-Gjallarhorn groups are variants of this fish-like type. This includes 'hero' ships such as the Isaribi and Hammerhead, which I shall cover separately, and the Mercurius, Tanto Tempo's main combat vessel. Like most other mobile weapons in IBO, these armoured assault ships date from the Calamity War. Even assuming their compatibility with the Alaya-Vijnana means they were developed during that conflict rather than prior to it, this makes them over three hundred and twenty years old. If I have not stressed it enough already, technology in the Post Disaster setting is phenomenally durable.

Armed with two sets of twin-barrelled cannons on rotating tracks either side of the main hull, several point-defence turrets behind those, missile launchers, and a pair of harpoon anchors, these ships can perform a range of combat roles, from long-range bombardment to close-quarters grappling. Naturally, they also function as mobile suit carriers, usually coming with a ventral catapult deck and an articulated 'fin' for 'suits to latch on to during recovery via a hatch in the rear of the ship. Going by the Isaribi, they have three mobile suit hangars, each accommodating three machines.

For propulsion, the ships most often have two large thrusters situated where the 'tail' joins the main body, although those in the Dawn Horizon Corps' fleet have a single thruster at the tip of the tail instead. Smaller thrusters at the front of the side blocks are kept shuttered until required to alter the vessel's trajectory; they also permit flying backwards when the main weaponry needs to be aimed at a pursuing enemy. Vernier jets are placed all across the ship, with significant arrays of them stretching along the tail, providing the aforementioned manoeuvrability these ships enjoy.

One thing never clearly established is how large a crew an armoured assault ship is supposed to have. The best guess we can make is taking the Dawn Horizon's total membership (2500 people) and dividing it by the number of ships they own (10). This gives us 250, but includes both their mobile worker corps and their human debris, so may not be representative of the average ship crew, specifically. Still, the number is slightly lower than the compliment of a much smaller modern destroyer (destroyers are around 150m long; the AAS is 340m) and accounting for automation and the extra space required for life-support and supplies, seems quite a reasonable figure.

[It's not especially relevant but the original Star Trek's USS Enterprise, at 289m in length, supposedly had a crew of 203.]

NOA-0093 Isaribi

At a glance, the chief distinguishing feature of the Isaribi (formerly Will-O'-the-Wisp) is a shortened prow that renders it even more fish-shaped than its class-mates. It otherwise has all the same weapons and fixtures of a standard armoured assault ship. This leads us immediately to the question of why it has such a distinctly shortened appearance, aside from the boring Doylist answer of 'to make it stand out because it's the protagonist vessel'. Sadly, I can't think of an interesting suggestion here. We simply don't see the Isaribi doing anything that another such craft would be unable to. From Eugene's operation of the hijacked Brewers' ship, we know for certain they can all move with similar deftness, and even the ramming tactics would surely be as effective with the standard bow shape.

Perhaps ramming suggests a possibility: maybe in its former life as Will-O'-the-Wisp, it lost the forward section in battle, with the current shape being a money-saving fix. On balance, though, it's more likely this is merely another variant and the Isaribi naturally provides our clearest look at the capabilities of a ship like this. I've already alluded to the retractable bridge; during battle, artificial gravity is also disengaged so that power can be routed elsewhere. Oddly, everything then stays weightless even while the ship is performing combat manoeuvres, suggesting inertial control remains in operation to offset the varying acceleration (that's technobabble for the writers not wanting to throw everybody against the back wall every time the thrusters engage). Oh, and relatedly – via the inbuilt seat-belts that stop pots and pans floating away – the galley hob uses gas flames. I wont' talk in detail about the interiors but I find this too idiosyncratic not to mention, the replication of such a mundane (but efficient!) means of cooking in a sci-fi environment.

Other facilities aboard the Isaribi include a mess-hall, a gym, spacious single-occupant cabins, and common bunk-rooms. There is also at least one main cargo hold to go along with the mobile suit bays. The bridge aside, it is not obvious how the viewports shown in some of these rooms map to the ship's exterior when the glowing sections appear to be running lights not windows. Docking ports, though, are present, midway along the tail. Smaller craft like the Biscoe can also interface directly with the mobile suit recovery hatch. Concept art indicates the small rectangles beneath and fore of the port and starboard anti-aircraft guns are human-scale airlocks, and that there are ladders built into the hull, allowing access to the top of the ship. These are probably how the crew assembled in front of the bridge for the funeral after the battle with the Brewers.

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't point out that Tekkadan decorating the ship with their logo is far from an isolated case of 'warpaint'. Every armoured assault ship has some form of unique livery, from bland greys and whites for the Dawn Horizon's rank and file to the Rakou Pirates' skull insignia, rendered in pink on an expensive black background. Far from mere youthful exuberance, the boys are clearly engaging in a time-honoured tradition.

NOA-0132 Hotarubi

With Tekkadan's rising fortunes comes an additional ship. Combining the forward section of a standard armoured assault ship with reinforced cargo modules, this new vessel's purpose is to transport a greatly-expanded mobile suit force. The 'suits are stored in rows of containers within the modules and launched through large side hatches – a notably slower means than the Isaribi's catapult (especially since they must be recovered the same way) that trades-off against capacity

This is far from the only example of non-catapult-based deployment. While catapults certainly aren't the exception – Gjallarhorn's Halfbeaks easily skew the ratio hard the other way – they are not an essential component of space combat either. Mobile suits can produce extreme acceleration on their own, allowing them to quickly entire battle without external aid. This said, catapults and transporters like the Kutan must offer an advantage – likely in terms of conserving propellent, on top of sheer rapidity.

The Hotarubi's layout also dispenses with a tail section, replacing it with two long, vertically stacked thrusters extending directly from the forward hull. These are the same shape as the normal armoured assault ship engines, only about 50% larger. The scaling changes create a greater visual similarity to both the Kutan and the mobile suit boosters applied directly to Gundam Gusion when Tekkadan flies to the Turbines' rescue. I don't know if anything follows from most ships boasting a single pair of main thrusters beyond observing the commitment to symmetry that characterises Post Disaster ships. For the Hotarubi specifically, we can compare it to the similarly-arranged cargo freighter and note how much beefier it is, the engines' extra size allowing it to move as swiftly as the Isaribi when required. It is described as being able to make the trip from Mars to Earth in about three weeks.

Taking the brunt of a Dáinsleif barrage during the 'final battle' with the Arianrhod Fleet, the Hotarubi is abandoned, then scuttled via a self-destruct system to disperse a cloud of nano mirror chaff that blocks local laser communication and sensors. This necessitates piloting the Hotarubi via tether, then setting it loose to fly towards Gjallarhorn's lines on autopilot. Even as it provides cover for Tekkadan's retreat from the terrible situation in which they are caught, the ship's loss represents the final collapse of the success that led to its acquisition in the first place.

TIR-0009 Hammerhead

Naming conventions for ships in Iron-Blooded Orphans include the Norse origins of Skidbladnir, the familial connection of Erda II, and the Gundam mythology gag that is Mercurius. Meanwhile, Gjallarhorn's battleship class names (Halfbeak and Skipjack) borrow from types of fish, which is striking when set alongside Isaribi, meaning a fire set by fishermen to lure in larger catches. Isaribi itself is a continuation of a poetical theme set by Will-O'-the-Wisp and furthered by Hotarubi – the light of a firefly. And then, for the second 'hero' version of an armoured assault ship to appear, there's the crushingly literal Hammerhead.

Where the Isaribi truncates the standard design, the Turbines' flagship extends it, adding a wide, reinforced block to the front for the express purpose of ramming enemy vessels. The ship's main thrusters have been moved to the rear of said block, where they sit inline with the side modules. This does not appear to impede the Hammerhead's mobility at all, although it does activate additional thrusters situated at the other end of the modules (switched front to back from the normal placement) to increase its pushing power when in contact with a target. In this manner, it is able to crush one of the Brewers' armoured assault ships against a nearby asteroid.

To accommodate this hammer-head, the other weapons has been redistributed. The main cannons have been raised and lowered, providing it with a clear line of fire (something also seen on Dawn Horizon's single-thruster ships), and missile tubes have been placed on both the ram and the superstructure in front of the bridge. The bridge tower, which is slightly larger than the Isaribi's, features a unique cross-bar sensor array – each armoured assault ships sports a different kind of antenna but they are usually in the form of vertical blades. Other than this, the tower has the same functionality as on similar vessels, retracting for battle irrespective of any additional protection the ram confers. Sadly, this is not enough to save the ship from Iok Kujan's Dáinsleifs.

In keeping with its role as home to the polygamous family from which the Turbines take their name, the Hammerhead is more comfortably appointed than most ships. It is also extremely formidable, requiring Tekkadan to launch a high-risk covert boarding action during their initial engagement with it and thereafter proving its mettle against the Brewers. Under the control of a single pilot, it's reduced to a sitting-duck, taking massive damage from conventional and extraordinary artillery. Yet even after Naze is killed, it remains locked on course for Iok's forces, just barely deflecting off one Halfbeak to ram another broadside-on, destroying both vessels in the resulting explosion.

Dawn Horizon battleship

After covering the three named variants of the armoured assault ship, it is almost an anti-climax to end with one that never receives a proper designation. But I've left it to last because it represents several departures from the patterns observed so far.

The fin that on other ships appears to be used for mobile suit retrieval has been moved to the very end of the tail, suggesting it serves some other purpose; maybe as a radiator? The ramming prow has been built out to a significant degree, resembling nothing so much as a locomotive snowplough. The mobile suit deck appears to be completely inverted, with a hatch and catapult fitted atop the ship rather than below. 'Suits are launched along an extended deck, as if this was a true nautical aircraft carrier. Finally, as a consequence of that arrangement, the bridge conning tower is fixed in place, better armoured in its own right but unable to be safely stowed away.

To what extent this configuration alters the ship's capabilities is unclear. Functionally, the two present for the battle with Tekkadan – an orange flagship and a grey-yellow version that is disabled over the course of the fight – perform no action to make them stands out from the rest of the Dawn Horizon fleet beyond towing their single-thruster compatriots. We may assume the battleship to be somewhat tougher, at least from the front, but again, they demonstrate no special abilities, not even ramming anything over the course of their screen-time.

If we again take the Doylist meta-textual perspective, there's no deeper reason to this ship's unique appearance than creating visual interest and underlining Sandoval Reuter's position as Dawn Horizon's leader. And this might serve us from a Watsonian point of view, too: perhaps the impressive appearance is its main selling-point and the reason the pirate chose these craft as his own.

Halfbeak class battleship

At 400m long, Gjallarhorn's main warship is built on a slightly larger scale to the armoured assault ship, tapering from a pointed prow to a wide, almost bulbous stern. This gives it a more traditionally nautical outline (selected from various alternatives sketched by series concept artist Ippei Gyoubu), to my mind evoking an official and proper air; the sense this is what space warfare should look like.

I bring this up because the Calamity War shipwrecks belonging to Elion and Fareed – the most direct precursors available – do not share this aesthetic. Therefore it represents a deliberate design choice on Gjallarhorn's part, perhaps following the same concessions to appearances that can be seen in their uniforms, their aristocratic and heraldic traditions, and 'ceremonial' machines such as the Graze Ritter. This is not to claim the Halfbeak serves a purely decorative purpose; it is an effective battleship and not to be taken lightly. But I think there is room to consider it informed by the wider culture of the organisation, as a symbol in the same way that leads Lieutenant Crank to laud 'the Graze of Gjallarhorn'.

Regardless of whether there is anything to that idea, the Halfbeak appears equal and equivalent to the armoured assault ship in most particulars. Twin main thrusters allow it to keep pace with the smaller Isaribi and Hotarubi, and it possess the corresponding reverse engines. Its pointed hull is not only capable of ramming other craft, it can actively pierce their armour. Missile tubes, grappling anchors, cannons, and point-defence turrets are all present, although strangely, the latter are only placed on the upper structure, leaving the underside noticeably bereft of protection. This perhaps suggests the Halfbeak is expected to fight from range or that the designers felt overly-secure in Gjallarhorn's military domination. And, of course, the ship has a mobile suit catapult, operating on electromagnetic rather than mechanical propulsion, in a rare instance of a Post Disaster faction demonstrating ostentatiously 'advanced' (non-tactile) technology.

Speaking of ostentation, no overview of the Halfbeak is complete without looking at how the Seven Stars mark those they personally use. The ship assigned to the Bauduins is named Sleipnir, to match the Norse mythological figure present in their coat of arms, painted prominently on the hull. Similarly bedecked with her family crest, Carta Issue's flagship is identified as Vanadis in the SD Cross Rays adaptation of the show (another name for Norse goddess Freyja)*. It is later repainted with the Fareed Family crest after McGillis takes over her position.

Overall colour-schemes associate Halfbeaks with different fleets: blue for the Earth HQ Central Direction Defence Corps (latterly the Revolutionary Fleet), teal for the Outer Lunar Orbit Joint (Arianrhod) Fleet, and white and blue-grey for the Outer Earth Orbit Regulatory Joint Fleet. The Bauduins' personal vessel is, of course, a unique lilac. Beyond this the ships appear entirely identical, but there is a suggestion they vary internally, as the ship Isurugi Camice uses to reach Mars at the start of Season 2 is described as the McGillis faction's fastest. Its ID number (GHS-1889) is considerably higher than either Vanadis (GHS-0205) or the unfortunate vessel Vanadis collides with in the finale (GHS-0515), so if this tracks order of production, it could be that 1889's speed is linked to it being more recently constructed (for completeness, Liza Enza's ships is GHS-2015 and Iok's ship is identified via communications as GHS-0287).

Civilian Halfbeak

Like the Biscoe, the Halfbeak makes its way into the hands of non-Gjallarhorn groups, albeit in modified form. The JPT Trust, a Teiwaz subsidiary with connections to the Kujan Family, has possession of such a ship, which features a forward hull widened and deepened to allow it to carry an exceptional number of mobile suits. The TIR-0102 Golden Jasley – namesake of JTP leader Jasley Donomikols, with the ID following the Hammerhead's as a Teiwaz-registered ship – is the only vessel fielded in the face of an enraged Tekkadan yet manages to deploy enough machines to make for a proper, large-scale battle.

This version sacrifices the main battery and mobile suit catapult in favour of heavier armour. As with the Dawn Horizon flagship, the bridge tower is also rendered immobile, which proves fatal for Jasley once Gundam Barbatos gets within striking distance. In the absence of the catapult, mobile suits exit via a rear-facing hatch. A similar hatch is present at the stern of a normal Halfbeak to allow 'suits to re-board. Here, it has been moved forward, closer to the expanded hangars.

Despite being larger and more modern than the Isaribi or the Hotarubi, the Golden Jasley does not distinguish itself in the encounter. Beyond sheer capacity, it is entirely outmatched in the face of Tekkadan's determination to avenge the Turbines. The most remarkable thing about it, in fact, is its existence. The Biscoe we may write off as little more than glorified launch, but the Halfbeak is a formidable weapon. For it to be shared with other entities, even in diminished form, says a lot about how elements within Gjallarhorn view their responsibilities as peacekeepers.

Because this is not an isolated incident: Urdr Hunt depicts another modified Halfbeak in the hands of the criminal Zahn Clan, who are outright stated to have various officials in their pocket. Whether or not craft like this exist for legitimate purposes – as export models or a variant not widely adopted by the main forces – these examples represent highly dubious dealings between a supposed force for law and order and those they are supposed to keep in line. Hardly a shock, given what else we know about Gjallarhorn and its abuses of power.

Skipjack class battleship

Twice the size of the Halfbeak, the Skipjack is the largest craft in this category. Featuring six mobile suit catapults, each linked to a hangar with a ten-'suit capacity, and bristling with gun batteries and missile launchers, it overshadows everything else in terms of offensive power. Its grappling anchors alone are bigger than a Biscoe class. This is unquestionably Gjallarhorn's capital ship.

Chronologically, the first Skipjack we see in action belongs to the Issue Family, showing up during Urdr Hunt to menace the Afam Equipment gang outside a resort colony near Earth. At this point, it is under the command of family retainer Okina Uroka, and no explanation is offered for why such a colossal warship should be (retroactively) in the Issue's hands and not have been used by Carta when she was commanding the Outer Earth Orbit Regulatory Joint Fleet. If I were to speculate – and why stop now? – we could take this to mean the class was only rolled out after the events of Season 1. But it could equally be that the Skipjack's scale grants a range simply not required within a fleet whose primary purpose is guarding the Earth. One may have been assigned to the Issues, in accordance with their status as the most powerful of the Seven Stars, and simply reserved for ceremonial use, to escort dignitaries and the like.

The flagship of the Arianrhod Fleet, on the other hand, serves as Rustal Elion's main base of operations and like the Issues' version is marked with his family heraldry to indicate his Seven Star status. It is this ship we see the most of, including some dramatic close-ups as Gaelio and McGillis have their final confrontation. These emphasise the scale, with even the catapult tubes being huge compared to those on other vessels.

Tthe Skipjack is not without vulnerabilities though, or rather it is left vulnerable thanks to choices made by its commander. Like the Halfbeak and the armoured assault ship, the bridge module can be retracted and covered over. Gjallarhorn military doctrine, as followed by Carta and others, would seem to be that this should be done whenever engaging in serious combat. However, Rustal's personal sense of dignity encourages standing tall in the face of opposition and he thus his bridge remains elevated as he observes the battlefield. Iok's imitation of this allows Amida Arca to score a direct hit on the main viewport of his Halfbeak during the Hammerhead's final stand, but unfortunately her mobile suit doesn't have sufficient firepower to actually break through. Rustal comes within a hair's breadth of a much more fatal impact when Norba Shino takes a shot at him with a Dáinsleif, being saved only by a last-second intervention that knocks off Shino's aim.

One wonders if he reconsidered disregarding the safety features of his own ship after that.

Huge pseudo-colony ships

Saisei

The regular O'Neil cylinder space colonies that populate the Post Disaster world are each 60 kilometres long from base to tip. At 7km, Teiwaz's 'large planetary cruiser' is positively diminutive by comparison, yet still shares more in common with them than any of the previous ships.

For one, it is constructed around a spherical core, something commonly seen on space-stations and colonies. For another, it has a rotating habitat section, simulating gravity via centrifugal force (the physics student in me is required to state that this is a pseudo-force, existing as a reaction to centripetal force, but the effect is still to make the inner side of the ring section appear as a floor). Within this has been constructed what is essentially a small town catering to Teiwaz executives. Filled with lush greenery, the tiered levels contain houses, shops, bars, and brothels, and at the ground-level, at least one artificial lake, which surrounds the mansion and grounds inhabited by the organisation's leader, McMurdo Barriston. Short of the estates of the Gjallarhorn elite and the Chyrse governor's mansion, this is the most luxurious location the series visits.

Concept art shows a standard-looking bridge module tucked away in the block at the twelve o'clock position (when view front-on), albeit one that must be larger than normal given its relative scale. There is a single main engine at the rear surrounded by four smaller ones, which are in turn counter-balanced by forward-facing thrusters mounted on the pylons surrounding the ring. The same principles of spaceship design persist all the way up from the launch to this.

Part mafia status-symbol, part corporate headquarters, the Saisei displays artistry not found in any other ship, its huge, decorative windows and curving superstructure providing a degree of grandeur beyond mere size. Rather intriguingly, its name translates as 'reproduction' or 'restoration', raising the possibility it was created in an act of reclamation. Is this a former mining base or tool of colonisation re-engineered as a show of wealth? Certainly there is a less glamorous side to the place, engineering facilities for mobile suit upgrade and maintenance, as well as a space-dock that can hold multiple regular ships. But that fits Teiwaz's business, so need not represent any hold-over from a previous life. I like the idea, though, that Jupiter's most powerful organisation reworked some huge industrial facility in order to lord it over the Outer Sphere.

—–

*Throughout this, I've referenced data files from the SD GUNDAM G GENERATION CROSS RAYS game, as documented by Steam user Ralen at https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1973868125. I use this information only where it does not contradict the text of the anime itself (see for example the game stating there were nine single-thruster armoured assault ships in the Dawn Horizon's fleet, when there were in fact only eight, owing to the second battleship). Cross Rays' occasionally loose adaptation of canon events means it's worth being a little cautious when using the game as a source.

Anyway, thanks to @gonk2020 for suggesting this topic. I can honestly say there was a lot more to talk about here than I ever expected!

[Index of other writing]

[gamerbearmira]

I'm so happy you liked the resident evil 8 Au! I totally agree that Miranda's new favorite is Mirabel (mostly because she has no obvious mutation and also partially because she's one of the few lords that isn't completely sterile I'm pretty sure most of them are Mirabel doesn't care but Miranda thinks it means she was a more perfect almost vessel and she is a physical embodiment of how far she's come) and I was thinking the same thing about her ability around moths and butterflies I was also thinking that she would be able to make her own silk kinda like a moth/butterfly and she can use the strands to cut like knives or simply make clothes depending on what she wants to do with it. I think the idea of the wings being dragonfly wings is amazing! I am imagining her true mutated form is very insectoid-like and she tries to keep it hidden from her family as much as possible. I agree that Miranda sprung it on her with her family showing up at random but I was thinking instead of Mirabel being the one to infect them it was Miranda or Miranda told her to do it because I feel like Mirabel thinks that she's cursed and is a monster for being what she is. I think their gifts go wonky like sometimes they work sometimes they don't think because it's protecting them from mutating. I think the relationship with Donna is spot on I don't think Monroe would try to manipulate Mirabel I feel like karl would do that a little more. I think also that Alcina at one point was fostering Mirabel when she was younger (only while her house was being built) so she saw her as another daughter until Miranda took her away which makes me think that she would be a little jealous of Julieta/entire family. 100% agree that in her mind her little portion of the village was like a miniature encanto and she treated it as such making hers the most prosperous and the most healthy area I imagine that she has a orphanage kind of near her house that she runs and keeps employed and stocked on things I imagined to try and keep loneliness at bay before her family showed up that she had maids she obviously has no extreme punishments for simple mistakes and allows them to frequently visit home and see their families and actually pays them well she of course is also forced to do experiments somewhere in the house like the other Lords and I think she has a basement specifically meant for that and she blocks the rest of her family from going to it. Speaking of the encanto I imagine that Miranda actually did a mass kidnapping to try and bolster the numbers in the village and to try and clean up a little bit of the bloodlines in the village. With the Ethan situation I think she would obviously try and petition for him to go to her house in the beginning but Miranda obviously does not allow it and she tries to help him as much as she can from the shadows until he gets to her house from there it went exactly how you put it.

OF COURSEEE I FREAKIN LOVE RESIDENT EVIL. I literally beat 5 and 6 with my friend, have watched a ton of play throughs, and am currently playing 2 and 3 (remake). You could say I like it a lil <333

ANYWAY I'M GLAD YOU AGREE❗❗ I mean she's always associated with butterflies, so why not associate her with bugs in general? At least in this au. I chose moths and butterflies as the main, but really it's a multitude of them. Also making her own silk, very cool 🤭🤭 you think when she'd make clothes and they'd just straight up be like armor because it's strong 😭😭 I mean it's strong enough to slive through things.

Karl probs would manipulate her, but she's just not with trying to take her down, even though he's constantly plotting against Miranda. I only say Moreau is manipulative because he tried to make Ethan feel bad for him and then tried to kill home boy (fun fact, that ENTIRE fight couldn't been avoiding if Ethan just took the flask from the window and dipped. What aas he lingering for anyway 😭😭)

Miranda forcing or honestly infecting the family herself would make sense. I imagine she tried to use the Madrigals as experiments, especially Antonio. And I wouldn't be surprised that of the villagers taken, Miranda just took a bunch of villagers to experiment on. Any that miraculously survived probably got dumped back into Mirabel's village. Which I'm glad you agree she thinks of as a Little Encanto <333 Mirabel HATES doing experiments, and especially after Julieta comes, does her best to heal the survivors and send them on their way. She doesn't like it, and outs it off as often as she can 🌚

Her final form being insect like is so cool 👁👁 I can't draw monster to save my life, but I can attempt ❗❗ again, just a mixture of a multitude of bugs. No eyeballs. Idk what it is with Resident Evil and eyeballs, they freak me out EVERYTIME without fail. I think she rarely uses it; it's a lot small than the others forms, but still pretty decently sized. She definitely hides that side from her family, heck she probably hides it from herself 🥸

Also silly idea. Miranda did probably make Casita just. Collapse, I mean it's a house and it's MIRANDA. I imagine all of the Madrigals have some kind of injury from the event, and if they did, they tried to argue with Mother Miranda (despite Mirabel's protests) and learned the hard way that she doesn't tolerate stuff like that and "punushes" them. She doesn't kill them, because she know that would break little Mirabel's heart, so she keeps them alive, but essentially silwnces the Madrigals.

Lady D being jealous is so real 😭 yeah, she's got her own daughters, but there's something different about Mirabel. Maybe it's because she so small and cute, maybe ut's vecayse she got to actually play some role in actually raising her, I mean her three daughters were technically adults, and Mirabel was only a kid. I think the Dimitrescu sisters and Mirabel do get along to some degree, considering they're both somewhat bug related. But only so close 😀

Mirabel genuinely trying to care for her part of the village is sweet <33 she really does try and give these people the lives she knows they'll never truly have. She visits the orphanage several times a week. And despite how gloomy and decrepit the village it, Mirabel's just a little bit brighter. And Mirabel DEFINITELY tried to take Ethan. But Karl just had a bit more sway than her, and Miranda knows of Mirabel's habits of "letting people go". Mirabel knew better than to argue, so after she was reprimanded by Miranda, she piped down. Lady D hated Karl a little but more after that. Imagine how surprised Ethan is when he gets to her part of the village, and she just so easily gicws up the heart flask of Rose 😭 and Mirabel HELPS HIM. He trusts her more than the Duke probably 🗿 Maybe when Mirabel can't directly help him, she sends out her family members to deliver "packages" (typically it's just something to help heal or some spare ammo she had swiped from Karl).

I LOVE THIS AU SO MUCH OMG IT'S GONNA STAY ON MIND 🤧🤧🤧

[bonesandthebees]

Need if there’s one thing I’ve always admired about your writing it’s how well you blend characters, setting, and plot, especially in TCFSV, Stars, and Glass. Is there a trick to it that I’m missing??

-alittlebitofwonk

hmm this is a tricky question. for one thing it's a little vague as to what you mean by 'blending' all these elements, so while I think I get what you mean I could be wrong so sorry if my answer isn't what you meant

this is a balancing act I think every writer struggles with and you never really get it down pat. kind of like what I've said about pacing, blending all these different elements of a story together is something you just kind of learn how to do by doing. I think one of the reasons it's something I can do without having to worry too much about it is because I've watched a lot of movies in my life. like, a frankly ridiculous amount. I know how stories are told. different narrative structures have been ingrained into my head over the course of two decades, so coming up with plots that blend into the characters and setting feels more natural I guess?

it's still something I have to think about though. I think if you're trying to blend setting and plot together, one of the easiest ways to do that is to establish your setting first and then figure out what in that setting you can use for plot points. I want to give an example with rose, but that'll be spoilers. so instead I'll bring up stars

(warning, spoilers for the stars and their children)

in stars, I believe I established fairly early on that wilbur and tommy were being kept in a guest wing of the palace, while the area phil and techno's rooms were in was a separate wing. later on in the story, after wilbur and tommy have their major fight, phil allows wilbur to stay in this separate part of the palace reserved only for him and techno. the setting itself makes sense, of course there's a guest wing vs a personal wing in a palace. but also it plays into the plot. it physically separates the brothers which only exacerbates the issues they're having with each other. the setting they're directly serves the plot, making them feel connected.

when it comes to blending characters and plot, I think what you mean is tying character development and/or relationships into the plot itself. not to get too into the definition of plot or anything, but if you want your character to have a character arc in your story then your plot needs to move the character down that path. whether the plot is caused by the character themselves (tommy in honey and tangerines chooses to spend time at phil's place which eventually leads to their reconciliation) or the character is being moved by outside forces (glass!wilbur being kidnapped by tommy at the start of glass) the plot should be pushing them along their arc. but the entire plot doesn't have to revolve around the characters arc either, and the character arc can be just a side effect of the plot. I think clinic is a good example of this, because the larger plot is the heroes vs villains narrative going on that tommy simply gets sucked into. but because he gets sucked into things, he's forced to have his own character development as he first rejects but later embraces his role as a healer.

also, something I'm still learning is how to tie relationship development and plot beats together. of course you can carve out separate quiet moments that aren't exactly plot related to show two characters having moments where they get closer, but you can also have those relationship growth moments happen during plot beats. in rose, I need tommy and wilbur to bond and get close. tommy is already in a precarious position as a potential heir, so the fact that someone attempted to get him killed with the bandits attacking their carriage is unsurprising and shows an escalation in the plot of him taking his place as a possible heir. but this is also what causes wilbur and tommy to become closer. kill two birds with one stone and all.

overall it's a tricky thing like I said, and really something you get a feel for the more you write. but try to think of ways to tie these different elements of a story into each other. how can your setting serve the plot? how can your plot help characters grow?

hope that helps!

[zoobus]

I'm not normally a victim of FOMO tactics, nor do I usually let being late to the party stop me from chatting about a piece of media but I'm genuinely sad I didn't get into Obey Me/Nightbringer earlier. It makes me want to write a million essays but the disposable and decentralized nature of gacha kind of makes it feel like you missed your chance to talk about it. I keep coming across years old, unrepliable comments that I want to jump on sooo bad but I can't because the moment is gone and most of these people have likely moved on to less overtly money-hungry games.

Which sucks! because one essay I want to write in particular is how this game is extremely skilled in arousing your desire to create, to actively engage with the characters and worldbuilding, to do fandom shit, and I find this enormously fascinating in itself. The story isn't good but to a certain extent, it's not supposed to be; it functions as an elaborate set of writing/art/rp prompts for its audience to expand on and tailor to their needs.

And I think Obey Me does this well! Amazingly well. I find discussion of narrative structure fascinating, the study of how we define writing as effective, good, or as failures, so I'm drawn to this story full of contradicting lore, one-note characters, and half-finished plots. The story isn't good but that hardly matters because it's not here to be a good story; it's here to throw you into imagination boot camp. It compels you to speculate what it could be, what this character could be, what a slightly different tone would look like, what other people think about it. It feels distinct from the average popular show fandoms where, to an extent, creators congregate simply because that's where the people are. Creating for your own sake is nice and all but validation is usually a stronger force. Usually.

I keep coming across old high effort researched posts about abrahamic religions and occultism from fans setting themselves up for inevitable disappointment. I keep coming across creators leaving notes on their work like "I haven't written a thing in ten years, but,". I keep losing it over heartfelt posts defending x and y canon story decisions with their whole chest, oblivious to the fact that they're misremembering their personal tweaks/headcanons as what happened in the game, like it's seriously so cute when they're so passionate and completely wrong.

I have no idea if fandom actually plays a role in the lucrativeness of a franchise (though as a personal anecdote, I 100% started Obey Me after a single piece of horny Mammon fanart crossed my dash), but it makes more sense to me now, less a projection of wishful/haterful thinking from those with strong opinions about Fandom. Maybe it really does matter.

---

Other essays I missed the boat on:

A Casino Right in Your Home: goddamn is the pre/sequel's gacha obscene

Satan: how to put a mid character into S-tier with one simple trick (make him insane)

Sorry Belphie defenders but you're imagining a better psycho than you were given

Solmare added a shiny new rhythm game but didn't fix the now four year old coloring error on Levi's hands lmfaooo the disrespect is crazy

Remember when you saw the Nightbringer trailer of them glaring in bdsm gear with freshly blackened wings, and you thought "ah, so this takes place right after they fought god and lost. After they went to war to protect their sister only for her to die anyway. After one brother in particular saves someone, but not her, the focal point of the war. They will finally take these to their logical, guilt despair rage pain and grudge filled ends." And you were correct until that very last sentence? lol

Remember when the Ruri-chan event gave you the option to tell Levi you're not cheating on him and then the rest of the event was just making out with his brothers? Then it ends with you kissing him in front of them? Bring that energy back!!!