#and Charles’ is getting long too

[leclercskiesahead]

Hair at the back of the cap

[slythereen]

“lewis hamilton will bring glory back to maranello!” bro that’s his retirement home

[il-predestinato]

[dont-offend-the-bees]

The Kind of Light That Means Just Love (When My Baby Smiles at Me)

Had a prompt in writing group today and felt moved to write a sweet little Charles/Edwin fic! 1.4k, no warnings ^_^

Also readable on Ao3 (for registered users only - sorry, it's a last-ditch flimsy anti-AI scraping measure!)

~

Click!

Edwin blinked, partly in surprise – partly to dislodge the blots in his vision left behind by the sudden, rapid flash of white light that had danced across the pages of his book. He looked up to find the culprit grinning at him from across the room.

“Charles,” Edwin admonished, gently closing his book with a finger tucked between the pages to hold his place. “I have asked you to stop fooling around with that contraption and get some work done.”

“I have been!” Charles defended, gesturing broadly at the higgledy-piggledy array of items around him. Evidently, taking stock of the contents of his bag of tricks was an expansive task. “Taking a break.” He snatched the small square of paper from the Polaroid camera and began to shake it with abandon.

Edwin rolled his eyes. Ever since they’d acquired that camera as payment for a job ‘well jobbed’, Charles had scarcely put it down. Edwin, admittedly, had been intrigued by it at the start – it was certainly a testament to how far photographic technology had advanced since his own life and subsequent death. It was quite fascinating; seeing the slow, hulking monstrosities he’d been forced to sit rigidly still in front of for aeons in his youth, compressed into such a portable and efficient form. But after a few days of study, digging around in its component parts, comparing its output to that of sepia-tinted newspaper clippings from his day – as well as the baffling digital displays on Niko’s portable telephone – the novelty had worn off, and he’d turned his attention to more pressing matters.

But Charles remained enamoured. He’d had the thing slung round his neck for at least a week, and showed no signs of taking it off anytime soon.

The amateur photographer in question grinned infectiously, as the chemicals on the paper settled. “Ah, yeah. That’s a good one, that.”

He held it up proudly, and Edwin was treated to a lovingly framed image of the chair in which he sat, with an open book floating above it.

“I hardly see why you bother,” said Edwin, crossing his legs the other way and letting the book fall open on his knee. “Neither of us show up in photographs. I highly doubt that’s going to change with repeated exposures.” And a good thing, too, as Edwin hadn’t consented to be photographed in just his rolled-up shirtsleeves. His states of improper dress were quite strictly reserved for quiet, studious evenings in the privacy of their rooms; unlike Charles, he had standards with regard to flashing every dip and plane God gave him in mixed company.

“Well. Thought that counts, innit?” Charles bounced to his feet and over to the secondary cork board that had recently been added to the office. Unlike the first, which was full of case notes and theories, this one was exclusively populated by Charles’ photographic whims. The only faces that appeared were those of their living friends – Crystal, Niko, even one snap of Jenny wearing stiff shoulders and a reluctant grimace while Niko hugged her from the side.

Charles and Edwin featured only in the notable absences. Empty chairs, floating objects, the spaces between their friends in the group shots. The only one in which they were ‘visible’, by a loose definition of the word, was the one where Charles had insisted they cut eye holes out of white sheets and drape them over their heads. “Like Beetlejuice!” He’d said; and he’d sounded so excited that Edwin hadn’t even asked him why on earth one would juice a beetle, or what it had to do with playing dress-up.

The new photo found its home amongst a cluster of similar absent Edwins – a floating magnifying glass, an empty desk, a hand of Cluedo cards with no holder. “Brills,” Charles grinned, stepping back and crossing his arms to admire his collection.

“I really don’t see the point of this exercise,” said Edwin. “Who’d even know that’s a picture of someone?”

“I know, don’t I? I can look at these and be like –“ he pointed at the floating magnifying glass image – “That’s the time Edwin got all fussy about Niko’s rent contract ‘cause he thought her landlord was pulling a fast one. And this –“ his finger moved to the Cluedo cards – “This is the time Edwin knew what the answer was for forty bloody minutes, but he held off on making his accusation because he wanted to watch me go round and round in circles, like a knob. See what I mean?”

“Is your point that you keep these as evidence for blackmail?” Edwin asked.

“No, point is, I remember.” Charles tapped his forehead. “Got it all in here. Don’t need a bloody photo to remind me what you look like, do I? Seen you every day for the last thirty years.” He cast Edwin a flippant smile, soft round the edges like the warm browns of his hooded eyes. “Know your face better than I know my own.”

Edwin ducked his head, tamping down on the peculiar feeling in his face and stomach. Like an abrupt upset of the humours – an anomaly of the ectoplasm. At least, that’s how he would’ve characterised it some months or years ago. Now, he was more than painfully aware that it was probably more akin to the spectral equivalent of… blushing. Lord help him.

“Then why take the photographs at all?” Edwin pressed, setting his book aside and giving Charles his full attention. He winced at the sharp tone of his own voice. It was quite unintentional – he had no desire to judge, only to understand.

Fortunately, Charles knew his voice as well as his face. He shrugged, unoffended, eyes roving over his collection. “We’re still here, ain’t we? Not alive, but… we should have memories too, yeah?” He reached out, twitching the corner of a photo. One of Edwin – or the absence of him. Him and Niko, that is. Edwin remembered it well; remembered Niko perching birdlike on the arm of his chair, hugging his arm, nudging her head against his and beaming for the camera. She’d insisted he pose his fingers alongside hers, although in the end result of course only hers were visible. One half of a broken heart.

“Shouldn’t just be for the living, should it?” said Charles, smiling that strange, sad little smile of his at the picture. The one he was so careful not to let people see. “Making new memories to keep.”

Edwin rose, stepping carefully over Charles’ assorted chaos to join him at the board; and Charles watched his advance with that easy, open curiosity on his face. When Edwin’s hands clasped around the camera strap, Charles bowed his head and let him take the device without a fight.

Sometimes, his trust felt as real and visceral in Edwin’s hands as a living, beating heart. But now wasn’t the time for poetics.

Quickly reacquainting himself with the various switches, Edwin held the viewfinder to his eye, framed his shot, and took the snap. Charles did a remarkably good job at not flinching with the flash – but Edwin supposed this style of photography had been more commonplace in his lifetime. He just stood and watched, bemused, as Edwin retrieved the photograph and gave it three short, sharp shakes.

When the image of their photo board revealed itself, not a Charles to be seen despite the fact the camera had been pointed squarely at him, Edwin cocked his head and contemplated it. He had to concede that Charles had a point; though there was no Charles in the photo, Edwin could easily fill in the gaps himself. How could he not? He’d watched the white light paint Charles’ familiar, beloved features; highlighting the amused twitch of his lip, the fond warmth in his eyes. The glint of his gold chain against his white vest, cutting stark across the warm tones of his skin. The confused acceptance with which he’d stood perfectly calmly, waiting for Edwin’s motives to reveal themselves.

Edwin stepped up to the board and held out his hand. Wordlessly, Charles dropped a drawing pin into his palm.

“This,” said Edwin, glancing sidelong at Charles as he carefully pinned the photo up beside the silly shot of the two of them in their butchered bedsheets. “Is the time Charles made a surprising amount of sense; whilst talking utter nonsense.”

Charles smiled, brighter than a camera flash; the after-image of which Edwin would be carrying on the backs of his eyes for days to come.

~

Hope you liked it! Comments and reblogs are super duper appreciated! ^_^ 💛

I have no idea if I'm gonna write/post more fic for these guys, tbh my interest is relatively casual atm and my time/concentration is limited, plus at any given moment I may be lured in by the siren call of horror movie fic on my alt account. But they're very sweet and I have the odd plot bunny so we'll see!

[subsequentibis]

i'm not feeling my lineart today. you get scribblies

[mcgnussen]

SOLDIER: “there will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword, he will tear your city down" righteousness. strength. violence. you see a door and break through it. you wonder, sometimes, if anger is the only thing you can feel. remember that love is passion too. you made your own rules and will follow them to death. you try and forget that there is only one rule, and that it is "FIGHT". you are tired of fighting. you try to forget that too and keep going. you dream of quiet. your love is where you heal. god knows you deserve to. (really. you deserve to.)  

kevin is a soldier through and through as is fernando. however, max could either be a soldier or king, but i ultimately would make the argument for soldier. pierre is wavering between soldier and poet, but i think he lands on the side of soldier. esteban is also all soldier. carlos could also be either a soldier or a king, i think it would be pretty 50/50, but the way he talks about racing makes me side with soldier. george is also a soldier, he has a goal in mind and will do everything to reach it. i chose to place the 2022 drivers as i don’t know the rookies well, but my guess would be that nyck is a soldier too. he had one chance and took it.

POET: "there will come a poet whose weapon is his word, he will slay you with his tongue" loneliness. strength. joy. you are powerful but struggle believing it. you think you're not enough. here's the truth: you are. you sing songs and hope they carry faith, because you have run out if it, and yet you still throw your heart out to the world and hope it makes it through. you convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create. you are tired of stumbling through life. you dream of a ground you can stand on. one day, you will dance. your love is where you feel - without fear.

yuki could either be a poet or soldier, i think a lot of people would probably say soldier, but i actually think poet is more fitting. mick could be poet or king, i put him as king first, but then i ultimately changed him to poet. however, i would not be surprised if he took the quiz and got king. zhou is a poet through and through and same with alex. they both give off big poet vibes. daniel is a poet or king, but ultimately i think he would get poet as an answer if he took the quiz. checo was hard to place as you could argue all three with him, but i think in the end, he would either be a poet or king, but i chose to go with poet.

KING: "there will come a ruler whose brow is laid in thorn, smeared with oil like david's boy" duty. strength. resignation. you were told to do things and you did them. the world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will. you have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. is it nature or nurture? you don't know. you are tired of being steady. you dream of feeling alive. not that you aren't, but sometimes it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs. your love is where you breathe. come on, breathe. in. out. it starts now.

charles and lewis are both kings all the way through. lando is either a king or poet, but he has more king vibes because he was literally given the world, he is blessed with immense talent and born into privilege to pave the path for him and now the rest is up to himself. valtteri is either king or poet, he is the least soldier out of all of them, but after his stint at mercedes, i think he is more king than poet now. seb is a king and i will accept no other answer. now this might be controversial but lance is for me the ultimately king. he has been “crowned” with, more or less, a permanent f1 seat and sometimes i wonder if he is just living out his father’s dream without his heart being into it. he was giving a racing helmet and was told to drive. nicholas was super hard to place, but in the same vein as lance, the path was cleared for him due to wealth and he has simply walked it, never meeting any hindrance, and so maybe never considered if this is what he truly wants. logan feels like he would be a king too, but he is the one i know the least, but that would be my gut feeling from the few things i’ve seen of him. oscar also feels like he would be a king, he has been given a chance because of his immense potential, but had to take the chance at the cost of his countryman, which does feel like a big “crowned with a thorny crown moment.” nico hulkenberg also seems like he would be a king, he is tired of being steady and wants to risk it all to finally get that podium.

TAKE THE “SOLDIER, POET OR KING?” QUIZ HERE!

[sydney-carton-of-sour-milk]

📣ANNOUNCEMENT📣 THE BIG 2024 PROJECT

At long last, I'm announcing what I've been working on🥁

Starting February 6th and continuing every other Tuesday through at least mid-December, this blog will be highlighting the work of various illustrators of A Tale of Two Cities over the many decades since its initial publishing!💫

As it stands right now, the archive will span from the very beginning in 1859 all the way through about 1992 (with a heavy density at the turn of the century) and will contain just under 500 individual illustrations by 20 individual illustrators — in styles ranging all the way from pen to painting and abstraction to realism✍️

All of these numbers will continue to grow, however, because this is an ongoing project! In fact I expect the queue to continue through a good portion of 2025 as I keep finding and archiving more and more — there's just so much out there! For this reason I am not posting these in a sorted order — I looked at what I have right now and ordered them to feel random and balanced, with some themed for certain months😎

Also! A large percentage of these (about half of the artists and well over half of the total illustrations) are coming from sources difficult or impossible to find on the Internet and are instead coming from my own scanning work: When I would discover in my research editions that I knew to have work by new illustrators whose pages weren't available for online viewing, I would seek out and buy those editions for super cheap online and scan them on my own printer's scanner — so for a lot of the old illustration work that this blog will be posting, it will possibly be the first time some of these have ever been uploaded for public view on the Internet!🤩

As far as keeping the archive organized on this blog, the organizational tag for these posts will be " #illustrators ", and I will also tag each post with the highlighted artist's name and with the decade in which each set of illustrations was initially published (as far as my research tells me)🏷️

On the off-weeks, this blog will be posting its usual miscellany, with a sprinkling of behind-the-scenes and extras for this specific project. But starting next week and continuing every other Tuesday* through about the entire year, expect a new post highlighting the work of a given A Tale of Two Cities illustrator — and be prepared because sometimes the number of illustrations on a single post will be in the tens/dozens since Tumblr increased the max image count for a single post to 30! *with the exception of April, which is going to have a special schedule for reasons you'll see when the queue gets there👀

I'm just so excited to at long last get to share this incredible archive here! I sincerely hope you enjoy this fascinating and often breathtaking look at these tiny, beautiful pieces of art history!🌟

[autiwara]

For my second playthrough I went for a lvl 2 buzzcut on Arthur even though I love the lvl 7 hair and dare I say it’s my new fav… So of course I drew a bunch of buzzcut Arthurs, like you’re supposed to, right?

[ratcontrolledracecar]

here's the thing about dead boy detectives right (well the silly thing about dead boy detectives)- it very much feels like a show that is for a target demographic several years younger than me. like i quite frankly, at the point i am in life, would handle most of their emotional issues somewhat more maturely, so to speak (or at the very least i'd like to say i would be more mature about it). on the other hand edwin is such a bitch but i totally get it and i totally get him. cuz yea emotions are weird and the idea of kissing is deeply unappealing and third wheeling is fucking uncomfortable and whenever charles shows up i'm like aw what a nice boy :))

[thsc-confessions]

"I'm worried about controversial stuff coming up about this ship opinion situation, but here we go-"

"I dislike Toppat Henry x Charles/ Henry x Toppat Charles, especially that second one. The artwork I see of it (especially Toppat Charles x Henry, not so much on the other option) leans into toxic relationships for me and I dislike it heavily."

"As much as I love Henrles (tied with Polythreat for me), that situation of "Enemies to lovers" is the one type of Henrles ship that just.. turns me the wrong way unfortunately.." submitted by anon

[charles-leclerc-official]

Grid page for my F1 journal.

[roaringheat]

My Charles sketches are FINALLLYYY actually recognizable. It's still def a work in progress cause i'm not satisfied with how I draw him just yet but the euphoria of progress is incomparable

[nyoomfruits]

lil snippet from the second part of the 5+1 sleeping au i previously posted here (should really give this fic a name at some point lmao)

When Max wakes up, eyes slowly blinking open, he finds Charles’s face only centimeters away from his own. He yelps, scrambles backwards, and nearly topples off the bed, clutching a hand to his chest. “Charles,” he scolds, “What is wrong with you?!”

“Good morning,” Charles says, completely unperturbed, “I have some questions.”

“Right,” Max says, slowly getting his bearings. He’s still in last night’s clothes, in his guest bedroom, with Charles, and fuck- He must’ve fallen asleep here instead of going back to his own room like he’d planned. “Right, yeah, I’m sorry, it’s just. You fell asleep in the car and I didn’t know where you lived so I figured I could let you sleep here and then I had to carry you all the way up here and that was exhausting because you are heavy as shit, let me tell you. And then I was just going to close my eyes for a second but apparently I fell asleep and now we’re here and.” Max finally pauses, looks at Charles a little sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, yeah, don’t worry dude, I figured as much,” Charles says, waving his hand around dismissively. “My questions were actually more along the lines of ‘do you have eggs’ and ‘can I use your shower.”

Max blinks at him. “What? Eggs? You weren’t confused about falling asleep in a random car and waking up in an unfamiliar house?”

“No?” Charles says, shrugging. “I was with you, was I not?” Like that explains everything. Like despite not even really being friends Charles trusts Max so fully, so completely, that this whole thing is not even an issue to him. Max doesn’t really know what to do with that information. “Although I am now very curious about the part where you apparently carried me into your apartment,” Charles adds, raising an eyebrow, eyes twinkling mischievously.

“So, eggs, huh?” Max says, clambering out of bed, and Charles laughs, but doesn’t bring it up again.

[lucithornz]

Sometime in the next 7 days first chapter of the a/b/o fic drops, I am almost done, just getting some details right, then you can see this stupid premise I came up with.

[slowdrippingnoise]

just remembered this. funniest fucking result I've ever gotten on a uquiz. I can't remember which one it was now but you can probably find it. they were right btw

[livelaughlovefootball]

that slow motion pathetic white boy blink that only Charles Leclerc can pull off