a concept I was thinking about is maybe being best friends with franco and being the first person to find about his promo to f1 / celebrating with him ☹️
ohhhh friends to lovers with franco save me. i’m just thinking about the fact that the days leading up to the announcement you start to see that franco is acting… odd. he’s taking longer to answer your texts, he’s talking a lot less than he usually does, he just seems….. distracted. and you’ve tried asking him what’s wrong, if he’s worried about something, and each time without fail he’ll stare at you, lips slightly open, his expression caught somewhere between hesitant and frustrated with himself. but each time he’ll just smile one of his pretty smiles, laugh it off, “no, no, nada, nada”, say it’s nothing to worry about. but you can see him drumming his fingers against the table, eyes drifting to his phone more often than not.
you have your theories. so far, you’ve narrowed it down to two: either he’s seeing someone new, or something is up at work. and you don’t know which one is worse.
but then the following afternoon the two of you are going somewhere together—maybe it’s a bar, maybe it’s a restaurant, maybe it’s a local museum you wanted to check out—and on the way there franco stops the car at a red light. he’s drumming his thumbs against the steering wheel, and you can see him glancing at you every few seconds. he’s been spacey—more so than you’ve ever seen him. there’s more gaps when he talks too—more “emm…” and “ah….” separating his words, like he’s second guessing his sentences in english.
but then he says it. he’s not even looking at you when he says it. he’s looking straight ahead, and only then do you notice just how fidgety he looks.
“i’m gonna be driving in f1 for the rest of the season.”
and then as he finishes he turns to you, even though the light has turned green, even though there are cars honking behind him. there’s a relief in his face as he says it, a barely tempered smile pulling at his lips.
you scream. you tug at his shirt. you’re shaking him, and you don’t even know what to say other than oh my god oh my god oh my god and franco is laughing, and his whole body is shaking with untethered joy. and you’re grinning so widely as you listen to him explain, what it means going forward, how it happened, how long he’s known—how long he’s wanted to tell you.
“you can’t tell anyone. no one, yeah? my team told me i couldn’t even tell my dad yet, so you…” and he keeps talking, rambling, and your heart warms seeing him because yeah, this is the franco you know.
send me rambles/concepts ✉️
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Foolish taking the time to consider the power in his hands, thinking over what the consequences will be and who he’s going to accuse. Remembering what Cellbit had said to him in Purgatory - we are not fish - and believing he understood what that implies. Talking briefly with Bad, who’s willing to take the fall. Leaving it up to chaos, returning to the room in Cellbit’s castle and flipping a coin. Saying it wouldn’t have mattered if he had used a coin or marbles or any other method, “destiny arrives all the same.” The coin landing face up, cementing Cellbit’s fate.
The Ordem Paranormal: Calamidade music in the background as he looks at the coin and deliberates: Escolha Errada - Wrong Choice.
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Thinking about Fëanor's speech in Tirion and I'm coming to the conclusion that there must have been huge tension coupled with uncertainty of what comes now in the city up until that moment.
What has just happened is an event of catastrophic proportions, the world they know has just shattered, and it doesn't seem as if there was any organised effort among the elves to even asses the damage, let alone pick up the pieces. They are kingless, they are leaderless, no one has told them what to do. The Valar are convening, but they don't know that, or if they do it isn't helpful for the general mood, because waiting is the hardest thing of all. And then Fëanor appears and takes control of all that energy, and that makes history.
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I’ve given it some time and some thought and, while I am not going to call him that, I think I can forgive the name Eustace. It has grown on me (slightly) by positive association. My boy cannot help what they (the world and also his father) have done to him, so I will be strong and also supportive.
“Winner” though.
“Winner” is gonna be a hard sell.
But I was thinking about it, and there is a situation where I would buy that as a last name, particularly in this universe and for this family. This is Blaise we’re talking about, whatever his name will eventually be, and he knows Von Karma. He knows Von Karma and Von Karma’s Perfect, Shiny, No-Loss Record, probably because Manfred has made a point of bringing it up every time they’ve seen each other for the past however-many years, which I’m certain has been plenty.
Every time there’s a new case, probably.
That’s a lot.
Blaise seems pretty easy going on a day-to-day basis (on the surface) (usually), but that’s got to get annoying eventually and never let it be said that Blaise will miss out on an opportunity to escalate a situation. Also he’s the Chief Prosecutor. Also he keeps waving around that lighter like he’s threatening to burn the office down, do you really think whoever is in charge of legal name changes in the unnamed, unholy conglomeration of a country these games are set in is going to argue against his decision? That paperwork is going through just as soon as it can be processed at the speed of “fast” lest whoever is throwing up red tape finds themself at the wrong end of a little accident.
The next time Manfred Von Karma walks through his office door to brag, Blaise will have the pleasure of tapping his brand-new nameplate and the satisfaction of watching the prosecutor scowl. Winner, right there in the name! Just like it says on the tin! Undeniable! Yes we are just a couple of shining success stories, aren’t we Manfred, just a shame that you have to toil over that reputation to keep the Von Karma name perfect whereas all I have to do is make sure no one makes a typo, am I right! Incredibly, infuriatingly annoying, a constant source of joy until that perfect win record is eventually tarnished.
(Plus, free bonus psychological warfare on his son! Win-win all around. Appropriate, what with the name.)
(I also like to think that later, once all of the dust settles after a tense few years in the legal world, the new Chief Prosecutor helps put through another name-change document: “Sebastian,” with his mother’s maiden last name.)
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