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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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Advisor Sivo has been around a long, long time.

Not quite as long as Voltron’s advisor, of course. In fact Sivo isn’t sure anyone else has had the unfortunate circumstance to live as technically long as the redheaded Altean has. He has still, however, lived many dozens of decaphoebes, and has undergone countless phases and ways of living throughout his life. He has known the entirety of being a child, the ins and outs of adolescence, the panic of growing into yourself as a young adult. He’s familiar with the strange, non-linear growth a person undergoes — not physically, as that varies from species to species, but the process of maturity is nearly universal. Sivo is familiar with the awkwardness, the uncertainty, the shyness.

He thinks he might know why the young Blade member is shrouded in the shadows of the ballroom, staring longingly at the partiers.

He approaches the young man, obviously so as to not startle him, and simply leans next to him for a few moments once he is near. The young man turns his eyes slightly to look at the advisor with curiosity, a wariness in his indigo eyes, but does not tilt his head.

“Hello,” Sivo greets after several minutes of uncertain but not uncomfortable silence. “My name is Sivo. I am the advisor to the Queen of Mlkaway.”

The young Blade inclines his head. “Keith,” he says. His voice is low, soft; someone who is not used to introducing himself, to speaking up.

Sivo’s lips quirk up. A loner, then.

“The rest of the Blades are dancing and making merry,” Sivo points out, although he knows he does not need to. His statement is more about the unspoken — why aren’t you?

The young Blade — Keith — has no problem picking up on it. Some amusement bleeds into his eyes at Sivo’s nosiness. “I’m not much of a dancer.” Keith’s sentence is short — not clipped, not dismissive, but not exactly open, either. He will not be continuing the conversation on his own, and he may not have the patience for endless questions.

Sivo exhales, leaning back and deciding to read the man’s silence, to simply watch with him. He observes him out of his peripherals — something the Blade most definitely notices and allows — noticing the way he taps his foot rapidly, as if he’s waiting for something. A slight smile has remains on his face, as well, as if he can’t quite force the usual blankness a Blade would have when their mask is off. He looks back at Sivo every so often, but mostly his gaze is trained out to the ballroom; watching, observing, smiling.

Sivo squints. He had originally assumed that Keith was simply too awkward or shy to join in the celebration, like Sivo once was himself, but now the advisor is not so sure. Keith’s posture is not hunched, like someone who is uncomfortable. In fact he looks relaxed, pleased. He’s watching wistfully, almost, gazing into the crowd, but there is no desire to join, really. How strange. Sivo leans closer, trying to trace the man’s eyes. Whom is he watching, then, if he’s not simply watching the crowd? Whom has this young man singled out?

Keith must notice his struggle, because he chuckles slightly to himself. He tilts his head in Sivo’s direction, gesturing for him to lean close, follow his pointing finger. Before he can say anything, a loud, high-pitched laugh rings through the crowd, cutting over the music and dancing and chatting, and Keith’s smile gets wider.

“That’s the Red Paladin of Voltron,” Keith says, softer even than before; not quieter but saccharine, almost. Besotted.

Oh.

“I see,” says Sivo, not even bothering to hide his smile. “A Paladin. Quite the…choice, for people to admire.”

Keith pulls back a bit, but his smile doesn’t fade. His eyes follow the Paladin, tracing the vibrant way he moves, twirling from partner to partner at every song change, dress spinning about dizzyingly; slender brown hands tapping along to the beat of every song and mouth smiling blindingly wide at every person he sees.

The Red Paladin is the star of the evening, drawing stares and sighs from every party goer, mutters of envy from every unfortunate soul who does not get a chance to wrap him in their arms. The Paladin makes quite the effort to spread the wealth, however, never dancing with anyone twice except perhaps his friends; regularly spinning the Blue Paladin around, dresses swishing, lifting and throwing the squawking but laughing Green Paladin in the air, startling a deep laugh out of the Black Paladin with a sudden dip, twirling under the arm of the Yellow Paladin. No, the Red Paladin makes endless time for his friends. Everyone else is blessed with his smile, but only just enough of his time to make them desperate for more than they will ever get.

Truly the belle of the ball.

“I know,” Keith says, eyes still glued to the Red Paladin’s vibrancy.

Sivo hums. “Are you going to ask him to dance?” He tries to keep the doubt out of his voice, but he’s not sure he manages.

The Blade does not seem to take offense, however, and only ducks his head, playing with a ring on his finger. “I don’t need to.”

“…Ah,” Sivo says, as if he understands, even though he most certainly does not. As far as he’s noticed, the Red Paladin has yet to ask someone to dance, most people having deigned to ask him, almost clambering over each other for the opportunity.

But Keith offers no more explanation. The rest of Sivo’s questions, although sporadic, are answered only with vague hums or shakes of Keith’s head, so he stops bothering. He simply leans back against the wall, mirroring the Blade’s crossed arms, and enjoys his company. This is why Sivo became an advisor, after all. The chance to meet and spend time with new people, however briefly, has always entranced him. Each interaction changes him in some way.

“Alright,” announces a voice over the speakers, lively music fading into something softer, more intimate. “The night is coming to a close. This will be our last song. Grab your final partners and spin then around one last time, everyone. I’ll play a good one.”

“It was good meeting you, Advisor Sivo,” Keith says, pushing off the wall.

Sivo blinks at him. “Oh, and you as well. Be careful, dear boy.”

Keith nods once, then hurries off, cutting through the crowd as politely but firmly as he can. At first, Sivo assumes Keith is trying to exit the ballroom before the last song to avoid the crowd, but very quickly he realizes that’s not the case, as Keith pushes further and further to the centre of it. He snakes by spinning people in dresses, ducks under elbows, slides away from waving arms. He’s taller than most of the gathered crowd, and the only one dressed in armour, so he’s easy to track, making a beeline to the Red Paladin.

Sivo huffs to himself. He can admire the effort, but he is not the only one clambering to be the last to dance with the Red Paladin. Several others are pushing their ways through, glasses of sparking fruit wine — a clear favourite of the man’s — clutched in their hands, almost as offerings. Keith has barely made a dent at the edge of the crowd, he’s never even going to catch the other man’s attention —

“Keith!”

The call cuts over the music, loud and clear and elated, making several couples and groups look around in confusion. Sivo can’t quite see who’s making the noise over all the people, so he stands on a chair, straining to see over the crowd.

“Keith, Keith, you made it!”

Finally, the cause of the commotion is made clear — the Red Paladin, one hand clutching the hem of his dress so he can run, the other waving frantically in the air, practically sprinting across the dance floor, crowd parting for him easily. At the other end of the crowd stands Keith, no longer pushing through the throng of people but standing firmly in one place, fond grin lighting up his face and squishing his cheeks, arms spread slightly. Sivo rushes forward to hear better.

Finally the Red Paladin is near him, but he does not slow down even slightly, sprinting full speed at the young Blade and colliding into him, arms clutched around his neck. Keith, clearly anticipating the jump, doesn’t even flinch, grabbing the Red Paladin’s waist tightly and pulling him close, swinging them around to offset the momentum. He buries his head into his neck, squeezing tighter, and his shoulders slump as he lets out a loud sigh of relief.

“Hey, Lance,” he sighs, smile evident in his words.

The Red Paladin — Lance — laughs again, loud and high pitching and bright, kicking his feet out in excitement. He presses dozens of kisses to Keith’s hair, his temple, his cheek.

“You made it! You made it!” He laughs again, almost in disbelief. “I can’t believe you made it!”

Keith pulls back slightly, not going anywhere but enough that he can lean down again and press his lips to Lance’s, gently, reverently. “I promised, didn’t it?”

Lance smiles so wide you can see all his teeth, so wide his brown eyes are nearly shut, so wide the joy practically drips off him.

“You did promise.”

“And you promised you’d save the last dance for me.”

Lance taps his finger to his chin teasingly, as if he’s trying to recall said oath. “Did I?”

Keith laughs, pressing his forehead to the Red Paladin’s. “Mhm. We made a deal, remember?” He starts to hum, over the music — which someone has lowered so that all curious eyes can watch the show, as oblivious as they are to their audience — “You can dance with the guy who gives you the eye, let him hold you tight.”

His singing voice is low and sweet, rough around the edges, joy making him confident and shameless. Lance squeezes him tighter, swaying as Keith continues to sing softly.

“You can smile every smile for the man you held your hand underneath the pale moonlight.”

Lance looks almost overwhelmed with joy, leaning up and interrupting Keith with a gentle kiss, cupping his face gently. Keith waits until he pulls away to continue, although he doesn’t let Lance go far.

“But don’t forget who’s taking you home,” he holds the last note, lifting their linked hands and encouraging Lance to spin under them, which he does with a laugh. He pulls him back tightly, back to his chest, this time, arms crossed over Lance’s torso, leaning over his shoulder and pressing a lingering kiss to his freckled cheek. “And in whose arms you’re going to be.”

Lance leans back into him, comfortable, and they sing the last line of the verse together.

“But darling, save the last dance for me.”

Lance kisses him again, long and searing, then pulls away, grabbing Keith’s arm and pulling him back to their friends, who are watching them with fond exasperation. Keith seems to have noticed where he is for the first time and flushes brightly, but he doesn’t look embarrassed. If anything the flush is pleased, almost, and directed at Lance, happy that Lance is giving him his total undivided attention, more than he’s done for any other suitor of the night.

They finally make it to their group, who all greet Keith enthusiastically, and then the final song resumes from the speakers. Keith and Lance turn to each other, again, and both of them sigh something like relief, plastering to each other so that there’s not a single spot where they’re not touching, barely swaying to the beat of the song, more hugging than dancing. Eventually the other couples and dancers look away, looking to their own friends and partners and pressing in close, following their example.

Sivo smiles gently to himself as the last dance wraps up and Keith and Lance don’t move, only interested in each other.

He’s been around a long time. He will be around a lot longer, he’s sure. He will no doubt witness thousands of couples, young and old and in between, all devoted to each other, all with love that could light up a sun.

But he can safely say the Red Paladin and his lover are the brightest he’s ever seen.

———

save the last dance for me

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strawberryspence · 1 year

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It’s bad. It’s really, really bad.

The sky is red and there’s so many black vines all over the ground. It hisses silently as it slithers around. There’s a monster at the end with mouth as a face, it oddly looks like a flower she used to draw in class, but it has so much teeth. Its body is thin, almost human like. It’s arms stretching long.

It’s chittering as it walks around, walking towards her.

She turns around, running away from the creature but her feet steps on a vine. The monster turns to her, it’s mouth opening widely towards her.

“No! Dad! Pa!” She runs away, as fast as she can. She turns her head to check the monster, but it causes her to slip and fall.

She uses her arms to shield her face as the monster looms over her face, screaming her head off until—

Until she wakes up. It’s just a dream. She tries to catch her breath, chest heaving, as she wipes sweat off her forehead.

She looks around her surroundings. She’s in her bedroom, familiar pink and yellow walls illuminated with stick on stars that has been there for 10 years now. The same walls she’s been staring at for the last 16 years.

She’s too old for this.

She knows she’s too old for this, but she wraps herself in the knitted blanket Grandma Joyce gave her for her 13th birthday. She takes the baby bear she got for her 2nd birthday from Uncle Dusty, the same one she’s never let go, the one named Dart for some reason.

It’s quiet in the house, as she walks to the end of the hallway. The only light is coming from an old lamp that stands in the middle of the hallway.

Her Pa never really liked the dark, they’ve never really explained why, but it’s always been a tradition to leave a light on for him. The light illuminates the hallway wall, filled with different kinds of pictures, some of it older than her. Pictures of graduations, weddings, birthdays, every holiday, always spent together with their weird conjoined family.

It’s not like she’s complaining. She has like 6 different uncles, and another 6 different aunts. She has the best Grandma, and two of the best Grandfathers she can ask for. They’re all not blood related, but they’re the best family. Also, she has like a 15 different cousins and it's always fun when they're all together.

The door to their bedroom is at the other end of the hall. It’s not a big house, her Pa has some kind of vendetta against big houses. But it’s big enough that Tietie Rob and Auntie Nance has their own room, and Uncle Dustin and Aunt Suzie has their own room in the same level even if they don’t live here. Big enough to also have her younger brothers bedrooms side by side.

The basement’s another story though. Uncle Lucas and Mimi has their own rooms, and even if Pa says he doesn’t really like Uncle Mike, he also has a room with Uncle Will. Auntie El has her own little house built in the backyard, because apparently, “She deserves the best. And she deserves her own little house.” She doesn't fully understand why, but eh, she got her second name from her so—

She stops in front of the door, she knows she doesn’t have to be nervous. Her parents has always been unbearably sweet to her. She’s at that age right now that it embarrasses her if they even smile at her direction. But she knows, they’ll understand.

She twists the door open. The room is dark, with a night light lighting up the whole room in a yellow hue. Her parents are in the big bed, in the middle of the room. From where she is standing, she can see her Dad cuddling her Pa, her Pa cuddled deep into her Dad’s chest.

She can’t help but smile. Sometimes she thinks she’ll have a hard time finding love, because she grew up with this kind of love. She was adopted, yes, but not once did she doubt her parents love for her. What her parents have for each other, for their family, it’s something that no one can replicate. It’s something straight out of a fairytale book. It’s pure real love, that would fight monsters for you and stay with you even after the fight. She can’t ever believe that people can look at them and think, “That’s wrong.” How can a love that pure, be wrong?

She pads closer to the bed, from the corner of her eyes she can see the bat with nails standing in the corner of the room. At the bedside table, is a picture of the three of them in her first guitar recital, behind it a picture of her holding her younger brother the day he came home and there's a picture with all five of them in the back. There’s a dish for jewelry, filled with her Dad’s thousands of rings and the red pick necklace Pa always wears.

“Dad.” She whispers, poking his shoulders, “Dad.” She pulls a little in his long curly hair.

He pulls away from Pa, and with bleary eyes looks up at her, “Huh? Wen?”

“Dad.”

He sloppily pushes hair out of his face, “Wen? What’s wrong? What time is it?” He turns to the bedside table to open the lamp, affectively alerting her Pa. The one who sleeps the lightest.

“What’s wrong!?” He sits up in one swift movement, squinting around like he’s looking for a weapon.

Dad puts a hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just Wen.”

Pa turns to her, eyes wide from sleepiness and alertness all at the same time, “Wen? What’s wrong?”

She clutches Dart closer to her chest, “I had a nightmare. This is embarrassing. And— I know I am 16 already. But—“

Her parents look at each other, before making a space between the two of them. Dad smiles at her, dimples pinching, “You’re never too old. Come, hop in.”

She crawls into the middle of the bed, sandwiched between her parents. She lays in the middle, staring at ceiling. It’s comfortable and she remembers sleeping just like this for years when she was younger. Her Dad turns off the lamp with a click, before they all settle down in silence.

“Do you want to tell us what the dream is about?” Pa whispers softly, turning to his side to face her, his hand rubbing on her shoulders.

“It’s nothing.” She whispers, embarrassment seeping to her voice.

“It’s not nothing if you were this scared that you came knocking at our door.” Dad reasons, his voice still deep with sleep. His hand plays with her hair, combing through it like he always does. Pa hums in agreement.

“It was a demogorgon.” She whispers, kind of out of breathe like she just ran a marathon, “We were in the Upside Down and it was running after me.”

Pa clicks his tongue, “Eddie, I told you to stop playing that campaign. It terrifies the kids.”

“But it’s my best one yet!” Dad exclaims.

“It’s the best one yet because you plagiarized it!” Pa argues back. Dad gasps, feigning shock, he's always so dramatic but it's one of his best features.

“You take that back, Steve Harrington-Munson!”

Pa rolls his eyes, “No, I am going to tell Will your taking his campaign and saying its yours.”

"But you like it too!"

"You know, I like it too. But the kids get bad dreams from it."

Dad laughs, making her smile at the sound, "Ha! You're a nerd! 20 years of marriage and I really turned you into a nerd!"

Pa sighs, but when she looks over to him there's a smile on his face, "Eds, love, I let you name our children with Lord of the Ring names. Dustin's been trying to turn me into one since the day we met."

"Alright, alright." Dad turns over, playful smile still stuck on his face. He reaches over the middle to hold Pa's waist, his arm resting on her stomach.

"It's just a dream, pumpkin." Dad whispers, kissing her temple as she lets her eyes close to the sleepiness.

"There's no Upside Down. No demogorgons." Pa adds, leaving a kiss on the other side of her temple.

"You're safe here, Wen."

"I love you guys." She whispers quietly as sleep finally takes her.

"And we love you too, pumpkin."

Arwen Elizabeth Harrington-Munson falls asleep, fast and easy, in the safety of her parents arms, Steve and Eddie Harrington-Munson with the knowledge that as long as they're around, no monster or evil can ever harm her.

#STEVE AND EDDIE AND THEIR DAUGHTER AND THEIR SONS #I LOVE THEM SO MUCH #I LOVE THIS #steddie rants #steddie #steddie fluff #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson fluff #steddie headcanons #steddie headcanon #steddie ficlet #dae writes #daeheadcanons #steddie fanfic #outsiders pov

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melancholydonuts · 8 months

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writing this from an anime only perspective but the fact that there's literally zero outsider pov for jjk is genuinely a CRIME. Like there's so much it's perfect.

There was that one security guy who caught yuuji and nanami going into a crime scene, there's junpei's bullies, theres EVERYBODY AT SHIBUYA STATION.

HELLO???

Where's my social media fic? Where's my group therapy for shibuya survivors fic? wheres my fucking conspiracy theorist fics huh?? HUH?? DO I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING MYSELF AROUND HERE?????

Edit: adding on to this, more ideas (if anyone wants to write these please please please)

a fic from the girl at nanami's bakery pov, or takada(?, the guy from itafushikugi's first mission w/ the special grade)'s mom pov\

#at least there is fic #like it could be way worse #it's still young i gotta give it a chance #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #pov outsider #such an underrated trope i love it so much

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wizardnaturalist · 1 month

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finally started king of attolia and I absolutely love seeing eugenides from a much firmer deep outside pov. hes such a freak

#slash pos #there were obviously outside povs in the previous novel but the narrative tended to jump around a lot more and we wouldnt ever go very long #without actually knowing what eugenides was thinking #but here he really is a much more distant character with costis firmly centered as the viewpoint #also I love costis. so funny how much he despises eugenides. also also. costis/attolians polycule??#eugenides' type is people who hate his guts so. he would fit right in #anyways #the queens thief #the king of attolia

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chenziee · 11 months

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A Comprehensive list of my outsider POVs or; a list of people who have Suffered™

NAMI - Good friends (don't) kiss + Revelations (we could do without)

PENGUIN - A Burst of colour (happy birthday)

SMOKER - Just a quick supply run

NPC - Boyfriends (do) kiss

LAW - See no evil (zosan)

BEPO - This is my BDSM dungeon

COBY - Not so bad

USOPP - The (s)we(e)t taste of revenge (lawlu, zosan)

KID - At the bottom of the sea

CAESAR - Minding his own evil business

SHACHI - Please don't ask + The Power of the revolutionary army top executive

ABSALOM - HIRED! (icepaulie), 'WHITE KNIGHT' CAVENDISH IN TROUBLE?! (bartocav)

PEDRO - Bringing dawn

SANJI - Princess Monster

YAMATO - Drastic Measures

BIG NEWS MORGANS - World Economic Journal: Grand Line Edition

ONIGIRI - Hopeless

ACE & SABO - Menace

KOTATSU - The Plight of the (not) house cat

NDA, WIP, planned:

NDA

Tate

Jinbe

Yamato

Sanji

NDA

Honorable mention: not in his POV but SENGOKU suffered the most hands down - Take out as in on a date, right?

#one piece #lawlu #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #luffy #monkey d luffy #opfanfic #lawlu fanfic #outsider pov #zosan #icepaulie #katie pretends to fic #everything is lawlu unless stated otherwise #i honestly thought i did more but then again #i do have a bunch planned and/or ready to go live..#this post will be continually undated btw #three of the NDAs are gonna be revealed pretty soon too #which one is your favourite?#i have a soft spot for the until we drown series so At the Bottom of the sea is like. right there #but i have to admit i might like Take out as in on a date right? the most #tho it's not really outsider pov..#so At the bottom of the sea or The sweet taste of revenge..#tho i do like bringing dawn for different reasons #and Minding his own evil business was so much fun to write #ceasar is so slept on #he was a great crew pet #ahh idk #so glad i can finally say i can't decide which fic i love most instead of 'which one i hate the least' ahahaha

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chirpsythismorning · 7 months

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☎️🎲 🤼‍♂️ ✈️🚪 ➡️ 🫀🎮⌛️

The Promise by When In Rome

previous ⏪ now playing ⏩ next back to playlist

#byler #stranger things #bizarre love triangle playlist #mike wheeler #mike's pov #this song has so much going on i don't even know where to start #'when you need a friend don't look to a stranger. you know in the end i'll always be there'#feels very reminiscent of mike's insecurity at the end of s3 about will finding another party aka new friends aka a new best friend #angela might not have been who mike thought she was but that insecurity that will moved on from the party (mike) is still present #mostly because mike still doesn't know about will's true life in lenora (probably too scared to find out will is happier outside of hawkins #and so he wants to make clear to will that he's always going to be there #'and when you're in doubt. and when you're in danger. take a look all around. and i'll be there'#pretty self explanatory.#'when your day is through. and so is your temper. you know what to do. i'm gonna always be there'#even if will breaks down (s3/s4) and tells mike everything that he's feeling and it backfires #mike is always going to try to make it right (minus s3 blatantly... for angsty endgame reasons...)#'i'm sorry but i'm just thinking of the right words to say. i know they don't sound the way i planned them to be'#mike may not be the best with words in the moment #but that doesn't mean what he's feeling and thinking is foreign to him #he's constantly battling his feelings and how to communicate them. like that's the whole problem in and of itself #sometimes (usually) when mike's put on the spot he lashes out and then he has to overcorrect it #but will is really the one that mike makes the effort right after wronging him to promise they will get through it together #he might not be able to fully realize (accept) the implications of that right now...#but what the promise is telling us is is that no matter what they go through #mike will always see will in his future at the end of all of this #the ending of s3 was the promise hidden in the subtext of their friendship and s4 continues that #'i promise you. i promise you i will'#'we will. we will.'#4x04 #gif

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simplydm · 2 months

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Know I’m saying this with the utmost adoration, but Jimmy started getting too good at the game, so they brought on Mogswamp as the new cringefail wet cat

#every time I see mog from an outside pov he is being such a wet cat #I love him so much #speak up dm

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variousqueerthings · 5 months

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the way i read the doctor's and the tardis' relationship is that it's impossible to describe outside of the tenets of queer theory obviously, but specifically functions to me (shockingly) within a paradigm of aroace concepts that shift slightly -- but not as much as other relationships the doctor has -- with each regeneration, and considering the tardis is a space-and-time-ship and the doctor is a being that changes their face upon near-death, yes it's alien, but it's also in highly familiar/human as a symbolic structure and as a deconstruction of what relationships are traditionally deemed worthwhile, by being incredibly difficult to describe, other than that it's the most long-lasting and important relationship in either of their existences

to try and begin to describe perhaps, the tardis is home and freedom and escape and travel companion and co-driver and machine and history and change and mystery and exploration and curiosity/joy at the universe and safe haven and nigh-unknowable godlike being that has chosen the doctor

the doctor is likewise these things, except for the last -- the doctor is knowable, the tardis knows this person (they know each other, but i think the tardis has the edge because the doctor acts in ways when alone in the tardis that nobody else would see, not to the same extent), and for all that the doctor is that long-lived and grapples with whatever is close to immortality but not quite, they're not so godlike in the end

where would the tardis go without the doctor, where would the doctor go without the tardis? whatever they are, is the story for me

#the tardis #dw #doctor who #deliberately didn't use community terms outside of aroace for this one #and very deliberately didnt use the word love either because i dont think it applies -- it's just not it for this #i really do want to find some better words to describe this i really struggle to and i want to write something from the tardis' pov #i think for all that the doctor's wife is called the doctor's wife -- reductive stupid heteroamatocisnormative monogamous nonsense #and that the tardis is represented through attractive woman and it starts with the kissing -- see above description #the conversation they have at the end of the episode #and the tardis pulling on a lever just to make the doctor smile #that was ooooh that was good #i just wanted to say hello #ofc this was a very important moment but also the doctor and the tardis have this beautiful way of communicating that is #on the tardis' part non-verbal (non-traditionally-verbal?) and that is interesting too #(that is the tardis hums and has alarms and the like but it's a very overall complex language of cues and travel destinations and systems)#anyway sooo relieved that the tardis in the doctor's wife didn't say i love you or the doctor to the tardis #so much bigger on the inside and hello were very very good

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singsweetmelodies · 6 months

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different anon, but there are so many (okay, not that many) fics where charles used to be with pierre and ends up with max, or pierre is pining while charles gets with max that i just really like when it's max->charles <--> pierre. something about how lestappen only has racing (if that) but pierre and charles have a relationship that developped beyond racing and they maintain the effort to keep it going despite increasing engagements. it's about pierre being chosen and not having to fight for validation or love.

oh my god, anon, YES. i was reading your ask nodding all the way through it like 🙏‼️ you are SO correct, friend!! in fact, this is something @boxboxbrioche and i have discussed at length - how we'd LOVE to see a fic where the "standard" (and in our opinion sickening, sorry, lol) trope of pierre-pining-for-charles-who-loves-max is INVERTED. let's have max pine for charles who is perfectly, beautifully happy with pierre!!!! because exactly like you said, anon: lestappen don't have any sort of relationship outside of racing, and even in racing, it's... they're friendly coworkers, at best. not friends. (charles has repeatedly said that pierre is his only real friend on the grid!!)

pierre and charles, though - they're genuinely friends and they genuinely love each other's company. like you said: they make an effort to stay close despite increasing engagements and hectic lives. they make an effort for each other - and if that isn't love, then what is? (not whatever charles and max have, that's for sure.)

perhaps i'm a bit petty, and too much of a pierre girl at heart - but oh my god, i HATE the way pierre tends to be portrayed in charles/max fics. either he's an asshole, or he's not even there (lol) or there's this whole idea that he might love charles but he can never have/deserve charles. i'm sorry, but to me that's BULLSHIT. charles has chosen pierre over and over - what more do you need? in short, anon, i couldn't agree more with you when you said "it's about pierre being chosen and not having to fight for validation or love." you are so so so SO right for that take 🙏 i am right there with you, and i crave a fic where it's never even questioned that pierre is the one who charles chooses. and it's max who has to fight for scraps of validation/love (because let's be honest, this is the most accurate portrayal, anyway!)

maybe briony and i will write this fic one day 👀❤️ but until then: thank you SO much for sharing your thoughts, anon, and i think i can safely speak for briony too when i say that we both agree COMPLETELY and you are 100% correct 🙏❤️

#asks & answers #anon #darling piarles anons 🥰#OOOOOHHHHH the charles -> max -> pierre depiction in fic is something we have ranted about SO MUCH #like i said: we agree with you COMPLETELY; anon #why on earth is pierre the one who has to fight for validation and love!! NO!!#he's the one who charles chooses unconditionally ffs #*i* think it would be super cathartic to write a fic where MAX pines hopelessly for charles who is happy and in love with pierre #(also i have a thing for outside POVs on a happy piarles relationship 👀 i LOVE it)#so yeah! perhaps this fic is coming to you from briony & katie circa 2026 #🤣😭 xD #anyways. LOVE YOU ANON!! tysm for sharing your thoughts <33333

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