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bitethedustfools · 2 months

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TWST Story idea (9)

Warning: inhumane treatment and view, abuse, human trafficking, obsession.

Twisted Wonderland, where non-magical people do not exist.

Imagine how NRC looked upon Yuu, the first non-magical human to ever exist. It was like seeing an exotic animal, the only one of its kind.

Yuu is not a being with a thinking mind, but an animal with no brain in the eyes of Twisted Wonderland. Seeing how Yuu reacts to the world with barely any knowledge only cements this fact.

Prefect? What a joke. Yuu is the Headmaster and the Housewardens' pet.

Yuu'll do the errands, Yuu'll be the scapegoat for every blame, a doll to be dressed and shown off, a frog to be dissected, a plushie to be cuddled and torn apart, a lion in a circus, doing tricks it abhors by the ringmaster.

Yuu can scream and threaten and hurt them and risk dying, but it's alright, Yuu are their beloved pet. It's nothing but a mild tantrum. Yuu will calm down soon anyway. It's always like that, and if not, a few rough handlings will do the trick. If the most vicious, unruly dogs can learn to behave and be obedient, so can Yuu.

Even if Yuu had become the most ugliest thing molded by their hands, Yuu will still be loved. Isn't that wonderful?

The others caught wind of this. The Royal Sword Academy wanted to see this non-magical thing, amazed and then astounded at their condition that is akin to an abused and leashed dog. Their kind and gentle hearts could never bear to see Yuu in such situation.

They wanted to sweep Yuu off their feet, ride on a white horse like a knight in shining armor, and place them in RSA where they will watch over Yuu and take care of their needs.

Rollo Flamm of the Noble Bell College, who dreamt that the world will be better without magic, began to show interest, obsessively so. It grew worse when he saw the state Yuu is in, proving that magic is indeed evil, and thus, bringing his hatred for magic to further heights.

He would find ways to meet, observe, and transfer Yuu to their college under the guise of 'justice'.

The Playful Land would prepare for the arrival of a new puppet. They'll put a stage for Yuu to stand on, dress them prettily, and handle them gently like precious goods. The spotlight is on Yuu, smile. Yuu will–is loved. The money bid on them will be the proof.

Fellow Honest stood back, Gidel hidden behind him. He would save Yuu, but at what cost? He couldn't save himself nor Gidel from this place.

It does not stop there. It spreads, people around the world would flock to NRC to see this precious, unique little thing by the name of Yuu.

Royalties and those who have money wanted to buy or demanded them to show up so they can see Yuu up close. Reporters would barged NRC daily and so on.

Getting kidnapped, harassed and no privacy is part of the norm.

How would Yuu ever break free and return home?

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst yuu #writing prompt #yandere twst #everyone loves yuu #twst rsa #rsa #Yuu got isekaied but the place they landed is fcked up #Yuu is a celebrity but in the wrong way #make the story more fcked up #touch the darkest part and show it in details

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ethanhuntfemmefatale · 1 year

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sometimes i think about an AA universe where Edgeworth didn't have to be shuffled off every 5 seconds so he could maintain credibility as a rival....where Phoenix didn't have to win every case...yes AA is a game yes i understand why it did that for the narrative. but when I look at those lonely scared 24 year olds from AA1 i can't help but think that their version of a happy ending would be to be able to get used to each other. to face each other over stupid cases and small things. Sometimes one winning, sometimes the other, until it hardly matters anymore, all that matters is finding the truth together. I want them to take each other for granted!!! i want them to look at the other across the courtroom and say "time to face this bitch for the hundredth time i guess!!" these poor bastards have never had anything approaching emotional stability before let them have each other damn it

#idk im just. emotional #i feel like at that age?? at that place in their character development??? romance aside that would be legit be #the best happiest situation for both of them. and i feel things when i imagine it #we see so much of the grand gestures intense moments side of their relationship #they're always helping each other in their darkest moments and stuff like that but i wish they could also have #a very mundane professional dynamic. bitchy and prickly and earnest cause they both care a lot. and loving in their way #it's sad to me that so much of fic revolves around the idea that 'when phoenix and miles start dating miles will finally stay' thats #so tragic!!!!!!! am i the only person who thinks that's tragic #the game had to keep them apart for Narrative Reasons but i know my boy miles edgeworth and he would want to get bored of that spiky hairdo #and that handsome face. from seeing it in court so much.#narumitsu #wrightworth #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #ace attorney #aa1 #aa2 spoilers #aa3 spoilers

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storm-driver · 1 year

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from here

#this is so fucking important to me #im... so happy about how the manga tackled THIS scene #kingdom hearts #this part of kh3 always felt odd to me tbh #it felt like the writers wanted to do something and just. didnt go all the way #there were ideas and they just didnt fully write them down and put the same amount of effort into them as they did in other places #THIS feels so fucking... emotional. and for what reason?#it's just. sora cares about roxas.#it's just true. he cares about roxas and feels bad about the situation that him and roxas both were put in.#he never found it fair that he got to exist while roxas was told to unalive.#and while the sora writing in khDDD and kh3 definitely told us that #definitely told us that sora DOES NOT like this situation and he would be willing to do anything to bring roxas back #it wasn't this.#this feels like a friend you barely got to know. realising that you had it so rough.#and desperately trying to break down any barriers between you two and grab your wrist #to hold onto you tight and refuse to give up on searching for you and trying to help you out of your darkest places.#sora is so fucking insistent on proving that roxas is not just his nobody.#roxas is roxas.#donald being sorta confused makes complete sense #because he didnt see how roxas fought with every fibre of his being against sora to just try and beat him and prove his right to live #he didnt see sora bearing the weight of roxas' life and feel the betrayals and lies and deception that he barely understood as it was.#to anyone else. roxas probably is just sora's nobody.#sora may very well be the one person who knows that isn't true.

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diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls · 5 months

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I'm having thoughts about

Haymitch holding Maysilee's hand as she dies.

The way that Marcus tries to grab Lucy Gray's hand to try and help her escape with him when he runs after the bombing.

Wovey taking Lucy Gray's hand as they enter the arena.

Lucy Gracy staying with Jessup and holding his hand as he dies.

Cinna taking Katniss's hand in the time before she goes into the arena.

Peeta and Katniss publicly holding hands on the chariot.

Katniss holding Rue's hand when she's dying

Peeta and Katniss taking each other's hands again as they're about to eat the poisoned berries.

Finnick grabbing Katniss's hand to get her away from the jabberjays.

All the tributes joining hands at the interviews.

Katniss holding the morphling's hand as she's dying.

#something about that being a symbol of the rebellion #but all it is really is a symbol that humanity is good #that everyone has good in them #and that the darkest and scariest times can bring out the best in people #instead of the worst #and that love and kindness still exist in terrible places #like katniss and peeta holding hands on the chariot was MONUMENTAL #and that's a big reason why #the hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #catching fire #lucy gray baird #haymitch abernathy #cinna thg

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beaulesbian · 1 year

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I can see it in his eyes.

Trigun Stampede || episode 1.04

(something something, when they can read Wolfwood like an open book, except he does care. He cares so much.)

+ bonus, episode 9: when Wolfwood tries to distance himself from the “friend” part as Zazie mentioned.

+ + bonus bonus, episode 10: when Wolfwood doesn’t see himself as a human, talking about them as something else than him. And Vash still reaches between him and any conflict (like above in ep 4 between him and Roberto).

+ + + bonus bonus bonus, episode 12: Wolfwood caring about some (human) lives, episode 12:

Wolfwood to Vash in ep 4:

So you’d risk your life for theirs? Self-sacrifice on self-sacrifice… You’re a weird one. You only get one life. You have to fight for it, no matter who you hurt in the process.

Wolfwood to Vash in ep 10:

Do you think sacrificing yourself will make everyone happy?

#first of all - always love when someone says they can see it in his eyes and this guy always wears sunglasses even in the darkest places #this started as the i can see it in his eyes thing. but then i like needed to put together some of wolfwood's journey from s1 #vashwood #trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #zazie the beast #nicholas d. wolfwood #nicholas d wolfwood #wolfwood #vash #mine #gif:trigun #trigunedit #uahahhh thinking about them is pain ;-;#i didnt even plan on making this gifset im just rewatching episode 4.. why is that episode so good that sends new ideas to my brain #what else i could make parallels about OTL #tristamp #tristampedit

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alphacrone · 9 months

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when creativity is your only coping mechanism it can be difficult to relearn making art for joy instead of survival

#ok to rb #writing tag #went back through some of my old writing from the darkest days of my mental health #i really love what i wrote then and feel like it's more meaningful than what i write now #but i'm in such a good place now i wouldn't trade my health for my work #it's just difficult to relearn how to write without carving out my insides to do so

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pathetic-gamer · 4 months

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I do love that canonically Alan Wake is an asshole with a famously bad temper who parties too hard and gets arrested for assaulting paparazzi but who everyone thinks is very cool and hot because it means the jazzy dance solo on Mr Door's show is 100% true to character, but also because it means when Tom Zane shows him the clips of them partying it up together, the discerning fan may say "Well, Tom, you must be trying to deceive me! that is clearly Mr Scratch doing his silly little freak dance like in Alan Wake's American Nightmare," but I, an even more discerning fan, am here to tell you that Alan is a smart guy ok he wasn't deceived bc of the absurdity, he was deceived bc of the fact that yeah he would absolutely 1000% do that lmao

You think the sad confused terrified fella wandering around in the rain is the real alan wake? that guy ain't shit, he can't remember anything. he's a pale imitation. the TRUE alan wake, as he was before coming into contact with the dark presence, is on the surreal dreamscape talk show circuit talking shit about the movie adaptation of his old books right in front of the star of those movies.

#alan wake 2 spoilers #alan wake #alan wake 2 #scheduled post so i dont keep going on and on about this damn game tonight #btw i actually think alan *did* write Return. like giving in to despair and his darkest impulses and turning it into a vindictive #horror story with no care for anyone but himself and alice and tom? that's not much of a stretch tbh #it's like how the scratch who killed him while he was editing Return was actually fully just Him #being trapped in the dark place has forced him into these extremes in all directions but its all still Alan

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toruq · 4 months

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#drew this in the dark lol #if you’re going through this feeling i’d just like to remind you that you can find love anywhere #even if it feels like nobody is there #and maybe even you find it hard to find yourself there to love you #there’s also the world outside of our social bubbles #there’s horses and lakes and mountains and snow and sunshine #there’s love from places you’d least expect it and it is there still existing and loving forever after your darkest time #sso #ssoblr #my art #star stable online #sso anne #anne von blyssen #sso concorde

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small-spark-of-light · 6 months

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day 23 was to pick a color palette and stick to those colors(with some blending allowed)

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silverskye13 · 2 years

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Etho stumbled onto the beach, tired, sore, hungry, and one moment of weakness away from calling Tango and begging for mercy. Sure, the whole exile thing had been his idea. Sure, it had all gone downhill at approximately the same intervals he thought it would. And sure, he'd feel really, really stupid for making Tango help him dig himself into this hole only to whine to be dug out again, but who could blame him? Life in exile was hard.

Everything that could possibly go wrong had gone wrong, he couldn't get a moment of peace with all the half-panicked villagers milling around, and his gear was half busted. There were raids too. Death after death to vexes and evokers lost in the caverns. Dragging himself through mud and water and gravel just to trudge back up to the villager bell and have no clue where the final raiders were. Ravagers pitching him off the cliff at every other turn...

Etho sighed dramatically and sprawled out in the sand, letting himself sink body and soul into self pity and misery. His communicator was a brick in his pocket, taunting him with its presence. It stuck to his thigh with the uncomfortable, matted grasp of wet fabric. He was well and truly soaked after his last climb through the caverns, and his clothes clung to him like a second skin, salted with sweat and blotted with blood from cuts and scrapes. A crossbow bolt, broken at the shaft, pinned his belt against his chainmail. The tip of the bolt pricked him uncomfortably, worrying the bruise that had formed around its impact; though it was rendered nonlethal by the stubborn mail he was wearing, it still hurt. Laying in the sand like he was, he was just adding more grit to the mix, more minor inconveniences to add straws of weight to the almost-broken back of his resistance. More to scrub and clean and dwell on later, while he contemplated giving up.

The sky above was cloudless and brimming with stars.

Etho watched the tiny points of light flicker, and mapped the planets that didn't. His single player world was up there somewhere. So were all the other Hermitcrafts he'd been to - and those he hadn't. It was weird knowing he could chart his presence in the universe with points of light. There had been a long time, before so many worlds formed and fought into being, that he had charted his existence by thoughts and impulses and idle curiosity. Ethoslab - void first, player afterthought. He couldn't really pinpoint the moment he chose physicality, he only knew that he had, and had yet to un-choose it.

There was so much more of him. He was so much bigger than this little peninsula of shoreline. So much bigger than pesky ravagers, peskier villagers. He could give up and just recede back up there into the stars, bid farewell to Season 9. He'd started late anyway. Imposed a barrier he had too much trouble crossing. No one would blame him if he simply unspooled himself into the aether and rested for a while. For a season. Maybe two. The hermits were understanding like that. It was one of the things that made them mortal - the ability to empathize and understand.

Not that Etho couldn't do either of those things. It just took effort, like climbing uphill through a water stream. Like running from waves of vex summoned by a hidden evoker. He thought maybe his exile would help with that: the effort to pretend to be mortal. The effort to understand things the way they did, relate the way they did. To enjoy their company the way they enjoyed his.

No one would blame him if he decided he was too tired. They couldn't. It wasn't in their nature.

Etho blinked up at his stars, his universe, the pieces of him he'd left behind places where he tried his hardest to be player first, void second. He should make a decision. He should reach into his pocket and call Tango. Or he should drag himself to his feet and soldier on.

Or he could just sleep on the beach here. Sure he'd wake up cold and sandy, but hey, the sound of the waves was nice. It was a steady rhythm, the water muttering incomprehensible secrets to the sand and shells. He timed his breathing with the rolling surf, watched the sky, and tried to live in a single moment. His skin itched where it touched the sand. His scalp crawled where the water in his hair dried. He closed his eyes and sighed, bearing his discomforts as best he could.

He didn't fall asleep. He was lulled to the edge of it, maybe. His breath evened out. His thoughts spun towards nonexistence. His body was weighted with the feeling of sinking through the ground, through his subconscious into comfortable oblivion. Then, with every rush of the waves, wakefulness returned for him like a stray dog - meandering and lazy, but brutally persistent.

He was dragged awake alongside the presence of... something. He couldn't place it at first, so hazy in his exhaustion that he measured it as his own wakefulness at first. As he sat up in the sand though, he found whatever it was out there was distinct from himself. It was a great unspooling of something, a system of thought and presence in the water. The horizon was alight with it, a pale pseudo-sunrise that pulsed like heat rays off the surface of the water. Its consciousness brushed his, extended as he had been, and he felt the edges of something vast, fathomless, deep and drowning. It was cold in that crushing way the depth of the ocean is cold, a sunless dark smothered by water and distance, alight only by the predatory longing to feed. It was sharp-toothed, patient as a mountain in the breath before an avalanche, and when it brushed by him, it grinned.

The waves arced higher, roared, raced and crashed. White sea foam curled up the beach towards him, electrified by the thought and will that compelled it. Brightly colored fish, tinged silver-grey by the night, darted from them, roiling the water in great pulses and ripples. Entire schools of them fled the water, leaping into the sky as though driven by some great predator, backlit by that yellow phosphorescence in the deep that Etho recognized as eyes. Dozens of gazes trained in his direction, their lights spilling together. The sea boiled. The thing was nearing the shore. As it approached, it made itself familiar. Dark depths of frigid presence condensed and warmed themselves. Bright eyes winked out one after another until only two remained, unsettlingly bright, but human in their proportion. The crashing waves soothed, returning to a gentle rolling against the shore, and with each beat forward, they pulled this thing, now a him, towards dry land.

xB crawled out of the water with all the clumsy effort and strength of the first amphibians sniffing for shore in the times before history. His clothes were soaked. His hair was streaked with sand and kelp. His hands were planted firmly in his pockets. If not for all the sea water, and the hint of scales and gills like lace around his throat, he could have just strolled out of a building in the shopping district.

"Hullo," xB said anticlimactically, grinning with teeth that looked as though they couldn't decide how human they should be. They were situated in simple, straight rows, but the gums were too pale, and the white bone too sharp.

"Hey xB," Etho squinted his eyes, the closest to a smile he had to get with the mask on. It saved him the effort of trying to figure out how to arrange his face for human interaction. "Out fishing?"

xB chuckled, tilting his head to the side to let some trapped water out of his ear. It was just a few more indistinguishable drops to add to the damp ring of sand around his feet. "Maybe. You out star gazing?"

"I'm in exile."

"Ah. I see. So that’s why you’re so far out here,” xB shook his head, scattering water and sand from his hair. If the action was meant to dry him at all, it didn’t help. He sat down beside Etho, and the smell of salt and fish misted off of him in waves. “Should I leave?”

“I feel like you’re not going to,” Etho chuckled, laying back in the sand. He crossed his arms behind his head and gazed up at the sky, re-charting points of light he’d already mapped a thousand times in his head. “What brings you all the way out here?”

“I needed a vacation,” xB sighed and stretched, and bones that hadn’t existed a few minutes ago popped and cracked along his spine. “I love all those guys dearly, really I do, but they’re all so…” He trailed off, trying to find the right words. Finally he settled on, “... human.”

Etho nodded.

“They move too fast, and they work too big,” xB explained, as though he had to. “There’s so much emotionality going on there. I needed to just be…” he gestured vaguely to the ocean, conveying some other indescribable thing he was having trouble putting into words, “... you know. For a little while.”

“I get it,” Etho hummed, blinking skyward. He and xB were a lot alike, all things considered. The deep ocean and its half-life sentience, and the void and its time-damned knowingness, felt similar from time to time. To sensitive hands, both ice and liquid nitrogen felt cold. There were generous differences between the two things, but cold wasn’t one of them. “Well, don’t stop on my account.”

“I’m stopping on my account,” xB chuckled, even though there wasn’t much to laugh at. “I don’t wanna get lost in it, yanno? Ya’ll wouldn’t see me for the rest of the season.”

Etho nodded wordlessly.

“Unless,” xB said slowly, smirking down at him with bright eyes, “that was a really subtle way of telling me to shove off.”

Etho feigned hurt, placing a hand over his chest and raising his eyebrows, “xB! I would never--”

“Oh I see right through you, spaceman,” xB laughed. “Putting the hermit in hermitcraft out here. I see how it is.”

xB didn’t move to stand, but then again, that was the nature of the ocean. The surf didn’t leave the cliff because it wanted some alone time. It dug in and chipped away, until it had all the bones of the earth powdered to sand. So xB didn’t leave, and Etho didn’t try to make him. The void was more of a watcher than an actor anyway, and he could outlast xB’s patience. That wasn’t a sea-void metaphor, that was just them.

“I’m guessing you’re out here for the same reasons I am, then?” xB pressed on, heedless of Etho’s silence. “It takes some adjustment, but the exile’s a little extreme. I prefer full immersion myself.”

“I thought about not joining,” Etho hummed, finding a planet to fix his eyes on. It was a vaguely reddish light in the sky. “I’m joining late as it is.”

“Better late than never?” xB remarked, testing the waters with him, trying to figure out what he needed to hear. Or maybe he was just trying to make conversation. It was an odd little language barrier between them - two strange consciousnesses, one of void one of sea, conversing through the only experience they shared, pretending to be human. It was a language neither of them were the best at, but they tried regardless.

“It's hard, xB," Etho told him, like he needed the reminder. "My body is awkward, I hate pain, and you're right, they're all so much all the time. I'm nothing. So much of me is just distant points of light and quiet moments."

"You're an airhead," xB concluded for him inelegantly.

Etho chuckled, "Only sometimes."

"Fill it with redstone then. You're good at that."

"Redstone burns," Etho told him. "I'm not ready to burn yet. I can barely do noise."

"Aren't stars loud?" xB asked him. "I feel like giant burning balls of gas are probably loud."

"Is the bottom of the ocean loud?"

xB tilted his head thoughtfully, like the question had never really occurred to him. "Define loud?"

"Human loud. Like noise."

"The bottom of the ocean probably just sounds like your eardrums bursting, then."

"The void is quiet until you touch something."

xB wrinkled his nose, "But you're always touching something."

"There's not enough something in the void to touch."

"Should be full of water."

"Water is rare."

xB hissed unpleasantly, a disgusted sound that he wasn't quite human enough to make normal. It sounded too much like the charge before a guardian strike. "Water is life."

"Life is rare, and we'd make some mortal philosophers cringe."

The two of them chuckled, because they were talking nonsense - two immortal things pretending they knew mortal concepts like life and rarity. It was funny; pleasantly distracting. It was a distraction that only lasted until they were silent.

Etho looked up at the sky and sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, xB.”

The sound of the ocean filled the silence between them, calm and steady without xB stirring it up. Etho could imagine it was xB’s heartbeat, constant and droning, an unstoppable rhythm. Etho didn’t have a heartbeat. The vibrations of the universe were random and distant, and many of them weren’t even his to claim. They were worlds and broadcasts, and advanced communicators sending data and coding across lightyears of distance.

Etho allowed himself a moment to think, really, he was quite lonely. Even sitting beside someone he should have every reason to relate to. And if he had trouble even seeing bits of himself in xB, well, there really wasn’t much hope for him this season, was there? It was a gloomy thought, but it wasn’t a new one. Yes… maybe rest was his best option after all. Like starting a new day, just a few years from now. What was time, really, to someone made of timelessness? The hermits would understand.

“You ever stop and think how cool it is,” xB spoke slowly, gazing up at the sky, picking his words with the same care that astronomers identified planets, “that we live in a universe where, in its two darkest, most desperate places, there are stars?”

Etho sat up slowly, peering out at the ocean. He could see the stars in the sky reflected in smears of light on the water. He got the distinct feeling, though, that they weren’t what xB was talking about. "You mean starfish?"

xB nodded, smirking, like he was aware it was a bit ridiculous. "The deepest oceans I've ever swam, there have always been starfish. Like deep, deep down, where the water's so heavy it sits on your chest like it hates you. They crawl around down there, tenacious little guys. Almost as tenacious as stars making themselves in nebulas, and burning up and making worlds, and burning those up too."

Etho smiled, "Are you giving me a pep-talk, xB?"

"Oh definitely not. It's only a pep-talk if I walk enigmatically into the ocean afterwards," xB stood and stretched, loose sand falling from his clothes and dusting the top of Etho's head. "I'll see you in a few days then, when your exile is over?"

He asked it like it was a real question. Like he didn't already know the answer. Etho shrugged, "Maybe."

xB graced him with one more chuckle, followed by a lazy salute, "Good luck, Etho."

xB walked into the water, shedding his humanity with every step. It seemed less like he disappeared into the water and more like he diffused into it, a collection of thoughts and ideas that colored the surface like spilled oil before melting into the tide and vanishing. Etho watched the place he vanished, watched the breaking of dawn start to lighten the sky on the farthest horizon. One star, then two, then three disappeared into the sunlight. Etho sighed, stood, stretched out his back and felt every pop and ache in his spine as he did so.

"Tenacious as the stars, huh?" Etho asked the ocean in front of him.

He got back to work.

#the barking writer #ethoslab #etho #xbcrafted #void creature etho #sentient ocean horror xbcrafted #once again i force a convergence with two of my headcanons #anyway this is 100% inspired by the fact that I watched Blue Planet with my sister last night #and i did say the quote outloud: isnt it wonderful we live in a world where in its darkest places there are stars #no i dont just wax poetic in fics for the low price of my friendship i will say dumb shit to you in real time

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dindjarindiaries · 9 months

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If The Mandalorian has zero fans, then I’m no longer on this earth

#I will always love this show through and through #finding the light in even the darkest places #THAT’S MY SHOW!!!#the mandalorian

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rachelbigpeep · 1 year

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couldn’t figure out why my occultist kept giving critical heals to only my vestal until I realized he’s obviously in love ?? ?

#except then he ended up dying in a long championship cove run while she was in the party ;~;#rip Gillian forever in our hearts but especially in Mache's #darkest dungeon #occultist #vestal #video games #my art #my post #what if . . . you were a priestess of light and I was an occultist studying the dark arts #but my favorite dark place to lose myself was in your brown eyes 👀😳#what then

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miamierre · 10 months

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omg can I have an angsty prompt request...post-breakup piarles, reuniting after x years, realizing the feelings are still there...and maybe its not too late...hehe 😋

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

It’s been about two years since Pierre took off his ring for the last time.

He’d done it before then plenty, of course—nothing aggravates an argument with the perfect mirror of yourself quite the same as a grand gesture like that, tugging off an engagement band and leaving it on the counter before storming out. But two years ago, things had just…come to a head. Pierre loved Charles, he did, but keeping up with him had become too much work. Life outside of racing had gotten very big very quickly for him, and there’s only so much a person can do in the shadow of their partner before things get testy.

And when you’re engaged to your lifelong best friend, sometimes testy is just the final straw. Charles had been in the middle of one of his big Ferrari collaborative projects, spending more nights in Maranello than at their shared flat in Monaco, and Pierre fell asleep alone in bed once again with the ache of not being enough.

So he’d left. Took the ring off, wrote Charles a little apology, and packed the things he was confident were his before disappearing into the cool November night. He’d changed both of his phone numbers a few days later when Charles started blowing his phone up with messages and voicemails. And then he’d gone off the grid entirely.

I love you, but I cannot do this anymore. That’s what he’d said. Two years later, sitting in the dining lounge at LVMH headquarters, he thinks it’s probably the right call. He no longer feels like a WAG working under his own collaborative brand with the company’s latest popstar ambassador whose name he doesn’t even really recognize. She’s nice, at least—Pierre is waiting for her now, actually, so that they can walk through the latest scheduling draft for the upcoming Winter show. He’s still not fully involved in the behind-the-scenes work, but if he can figure out something splashy to present at the next meeting, he's convinced that he’ll—

“Pierrot?” A familiar voice breaks through his thoughts, coming from somewhere to his right. Pierre turns.

And then his stomach drops, because standing before him is Charles Leclerc—ex-fiance, former best friend, the love of his life once upon a time, standing there with a bag hanging off his shoulder and his sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Part of Pierre instinctively wants to fix it, either push them gently back where they belong on his face or pull them off and carefully tuck them into the vee of his shirt.

He does neither.

“Charles,” he greets instead, pushing back in his chair casually. He’s not going to get up, he’s not. It’s not like Charles is there for him, after all. “What are you doing here?” He pauses, then realizes how rude it must’ve sounded to just blatantly ask why he’s in Pierre’s workplace. “How have you been?”

Charles, to his credit, doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are lit-up, sparkling the way they always used to when they were together on the track. “I’m good,” he says as he takes a few steps closer to be within proper conversational range. “Ferrari is exploring potential luxury brand partnerships, and since I was already in Paris…” he shrugs. “Just looking, is all.”

Ferrari. Pierre hasn’t followed along close enough with their old sport for quite some time, but the name still makes him grimace. All the time that team had sucked away from him—from them—the thought still makes him bitter enough to taste it. “I see,” he hums in reply, picking up his little espresso cup and sipping at it. Charles just keeps looking at him, though: like he’s curious. “I have been working here alongside some of the lead designers of the season.”

Charles oohs softly. Pierre hates that he can tell it’s genuine even after all this time apart. “They found the perfect model,” he murmurs, a small smile playing on his face. “I’m happy they have you, Pierrot.” He looks like he wants to say more for a moment—it’s been two years and Pierre hasn’t really thought about his almost-marriage for longer than a day at a time, but suddenly having Charles right back in his space is crumbling the foundations of his new life like they’re made of plaster. “How have you been?”

“Good,” is the immediate answer that comes out of his mouth. It’s not entirely false, really, but…Pierre can’t help how his eyes trail up and down Charles’ body, how they catch at the silver chain hanging around his neck. The top button of his shirt is undone, revealing the faint little patch of chest hair that Pierre used to tease him about when they were younger. Nestled in it is…

Is the engagement band Pierre bought him all those years ago. Pierre’s gaze darts to his left hand instinctively. He swallows when he sees it ringless in the places that matter. The sight of the gaudy golden ring against his still-pale chest flings Pierre back in time, when he’d first slipped it on Charles’ trembling hand and whispered be mine forever? Charles had promised him, then, that he would—the memory makes him feel nauseous. Forever had felt like a long time when Pierre had weighed his options before leaving—a long time to be waiting in the wings, a long time to be a love of Charles’ and not the love.

And yet, the last two years without him has felt like a lifetime in the most agonizing of ways. He’s reminded of that yet again with the sight before him: Charles still wears the ring around his neck, and Pierre has his tucked away in the drawer beside his bed, folded in one of Charles’ old bandanas he’d stumbled upon after moving out. It’s silly. It’s devastating. The love Pierre had spent so long packing away in moving boxes is starting to leak out at the bottom.

“Charlie,” he says softly after a long moment, gesturing to the empty seat across from him, “come join me for lunch.” Charles just looks at him, blinking his sweet, slow, cat-like blink until Pierre gestures again, more earnest than before. “Please, mon cheri. It has been so long.”

After another long, breathless moment, Charles’ face softens even further. He pulls out the chair across from Pierre and sinks into it. “It has,” he says quietly. “Pierrot, it has.”

#piarles #10 x 16 #fic #!!!!!! lowkey ever since that piarles fic where theyre divorced with kids i have been intrigued by the idea of them breaking up only to #come back together. like their love would be so messy and big and all over the place. the night is always darkest before the dawn etc etc #ANYWAY thank u my love this was funnnn #ask reply #teamnick

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