#can we not have both??? what's the theme here!?!?

[formula-ghost]

The Driver (FC43 x fem!reader)

SUMMARY: After years of being with your boyfriend, Franco Colapinto, you should feel secure and ready for your budding future. When old anxieties creep in, will your relationship withstand the pressure?

WORD COUNT: 9.5k 

WARNINGS: Semi-public car sex (reader and Franco are both switches, fingering, p in v). Angst, mentions of cheating. Heavy mentions of marriage, incredibly Champagne Problems coded but I have to stick to the Måneskin theme. Probably incorrect geographical depictions of Spain. Reader has an anxiety disorder/struggles with mental health. Same universe as Supermodel/RYD (in RYD, Franco’s Aston Martin contract is only one year, so we’re just skipping ahead here). 

A/N: You all asked for Franco car sex and instead I gave you emotional pain :) I don’t think I’ll ever stop writing for RYD!Franco, I just love him too much. After this I’ll keep writing for Wildflower and then maybe do a few one shots before the next series perhaps? Either way, hope you enjoy!

TAGLIST: [COMMENT TO BE ADDED TO MY FRANCO TAGLIST!]  @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @xivilivix @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse @uncreativetm  @ncrsbrg @tillyt04 @amz824 @ellelabelle @aliwritex

If you gonna set fire to the night, baby let me be the lighter

If you’re already high and you wanna fly, I’ll be the hit that takes you higher

If you wanna love when you touch the sky, you can be my midnight rider

If there’s nowhere to go when you wanna go wild, I wanna be the driver

After getting his first multi-year Formula 1 contract—complete with a hefty sign-on bonus—there were three things that Franco Colapinto needed to buy. 

The first was a house for his parents. 

He led his mother around the massive home, showing her every little detail that he had noticed when he chose it, all perfectly arranged according to her taste. At first, she wasn’t sure what her son was doing; he had wanted it to be a surprise, so he didn’t tell her anything. 

“Yes, Franquito, the home is beautiful,” she said, craning her neck to look at the high ceilings, the sunlight from the massive windows illuminating her face. “But why would you buy a house here in Argentina? You’re hardly ever home, you can just stay with us in the off season.”

Franco, like his mother, was a pragmatist. He’d never buy himself a mansion in Argentina unless he had retired from F1 and decided to settle down. But his career was just getting started. 

She continued, “I mean, you and YN don’t need this much space—”

“It’s not for us, Mami,” he said, finally letting loose the smile that he’d be fighting all day. He was never able to keep secrets, too much of a chatterbox. “It’s for you.”

“Franco—”

“Mami,” he said, already anticipating her hesitation. “It is the least I can do. I can never repay you for all you’ve done for me.”

“That’s my job. You don’t need to repay me.”

“Maybe I don’t need to, but I want to.”

Tears had begun to well up in his mother’s eyes. She knew it was impossible to stop him. It was every athlete’s dream to make enough money to buy their mother a house one day; she wouldn’t take that from him.  “I’m so proud of you, mijo,” he said, enveloping her son in her arms. “You have made me proud beyond measure.”

It was Franco’s turn now to tear up, though he blinked them away and smiled. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I figured something was up,” she laughed, “this house is too much my style for you to buy it. I think YN would like it, though. How is she doing?”

“She’s good,” he answered, unsure of how to proceed. His mother let him pause, knowing he was about to say something. “I’m… thinking about asking her to marry me.”

“Oh, wonderful!” she replied, her smile now stretching ear to ear. 

“We haven’t talked about it yet, though. So don’t get your hopes up. She might not say yes.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” his mother questioned. “You’ve been together for years, through thick and thin.”

“I don’t know,” he said, scratching the back of his neck in nervousness. “We just…haven’t talked about it. I’m nervous.”

“Well, don’t ask her until you’ve talked about it. But I see no reason why she’d say no.” She reached out to smooth over a piece of his hair that was stuck up at an odd angle. “Take your time,” she continued. “If you all aren’t ready now, there’s no harm in waiting. You have the entire rest of your lives to be together.”

Franco gave her a weak smile, his expression still plastered with nervousness. “But when you do get married,” she continued, as if it was a fact, “I expect grandbabies.”

He laughed, despite knowing that she was dead serious. That would be a bridge to cross later.

For now, he had a second purchase to make: his first real car. 

Franco, despite being a Formula 1 driver, had always been down to earth. When he drove for Williams, they had to fight him over taking the bus every day. Even in his early days, his future had been too unstable to spend all his hard-earned money on something like a flashy car, especially since he’d be away so often that he’d hardly be able to use it.

But now, he knew that the time was right, and he’d more than earned it. So, when Franco woke you up at the crack of dawn to go to the luxury dealership in Madrid to pick up his new car the second that they opened, you obliged him despite the hour being far too early. 

As the salesman handed him the keys, Franco beamed as if he was holding his newborn child, his eyes wide with love and anticipation.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered, running his hands up and down along the hood of the flashy luxury car.

You stood back, afraid to even touch this car that was more expensive than your net worth. 

“She’s perfect. She’s the most perfect car I’ve ever seen.” He looked up at you, smiling like a giddy child. “Isn’t she perfect?”

You smiled back, amused by Franco’s happiness. “It certainly is a nice car.”

“It’s not just a nice car. She’s a machine.” You chuckled back at him. “Let’s go for a ride.”

You were honestly a little scared of getting in the car. But when Franco crossed over to open your door for you and help you inside, you couldn’t tell him no.

Sitting inside, you had to admit that it was a really nice car. Franco yapped on about the technical abilities of the engine, but it was in one ear and out the other—despite his many years in F1, you couldn’t say you had learned anything about the machines that your longtime boyfriend drove for a living. But you loved to hear him talk, especially when he was this happy, so you nodded as if you were listening intently. 

Franco went to back up the car, putting his hand on your headrest and leaning over his shoulder. The move showed off his prominent muscles and instantly melted you. Even after all these years, it was the little things that you never got tired of. 

He sped along the highways, giggling to himself as he heard the engine rev and felt the smoothness of the ride. His smile never wavered as he increased his speed and weaved through the slower cars. 

He skipped the exit that would lead back to your home, though. “Where are we going?” you asked.

“I want to show you something,” he said, being intentionally vague with his intentions. 

You raised an eyebrow. Franco wasn’t one for surprises; he talked too damn much to ever keep them. If he hadn’t told you before now, it must be something serious. 

He moved his hand over to hold your thigh, another one of those little things he did that still made you crazy no matter how many times he did it. “Trust me, amor,” he said.

Of course, you trusted him. So when he exited the highway and began driving into the Spanish countryside, you said nothing, instead choosing to enjoy the feeling of his hand rubbing soft circles into your thigh as the trees blurred past you and the engine purred.

After a while he finally slowed his speed, bringing the car up to an empty overlook off the main road. Through the tinted windows, you could see that this place was hidden, nestled off by the trees so that you could only get here if you knew where you were going. The view was gorgeous; miles and miles of lush greenery, and in the far off distance, the city that you had just left. 

“Wow..” you whispered. “How’d you find this place?”

“I used to run on these roads out here when I was younger,” he said, admiring you as you admired the view. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“I don’t get to come here much anymore,” he said. “I never thought I’d come back here one day as a Formula 1 driver.”

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. His face had the slightest tinge of blush, so subtle that only you could see it. 

“Come on, let’s get a good look,” he said, turning off the engine and opening his door.

You got out of the car and softly gasped again when you saw the view with your own two eyes, rather than through the tinted glass. It left you breathless.

You sat cross legged next to Franco on the grass, taking in the sights of the countryside around you. For a while you were quiet, just soaking in the sounds of nature. 

Then Franco broke the calmness. “Have you ever thought about getting married?”

His voice was soft, but his words startled you. “Married?”

“I mean, we’ve been together for a while. About time, no?”

Truthfully, you had thought about marriage quite a bit. The mere idea of it scared you. And talking about it scared you even more. 

“You sound enthusiastic,” you joked. 

“You know what I mean.” He looked down, clearly also nervous for this momentous discussion. Still, he kept his voice light and steady. “I love you. I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“I’d hope not,” you chuckled. But your attempts at diffusing the tension with humor failed.

He adopted a more serious tone. “YN, I want to marry you,” he said. His eyes looked up to meet yours, and for some reason, you felt your heart drop into your stomach. “I’m not proposing right now, but it’s something we should start thinking and talking about.”

You looked out into the distance and took a shaky breath. Why was this so difficult?

“So, talk to me, amor,” he said. 

“You want to marry me?” you asked, your voice small and squeaky.

“Of course I do,” he replied, brushing your hair out of your face. Now there were no barriers between you. “You’re the love of my life.”

You wanted to cry. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know. It’s just so…final. What if something goes wrong?”

“Then we work through it, like we always do.” He was right. Your relationship with Franco had certainly had its rocky patches, but he treated you like a queen. You two overcame every obstacle, including your own mind that often worked against you. You often felt like you didn’t deserve someone so patient and kind. 

“Things change when you get married.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m not saying any of this lightly. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

Even after years of loving him, it still surprised you whenever Franco told you that he thought of you. You could never get used to existing in his head when you physically weren’t there.

“What do you think about?” you asked, moving closer to him.

He reached his arm around your waist, resting his hand on your hip. “I think about you, in a white dress. We’d be in the church in Argentina.” You knew the one. He’d gone there growing up, and had shown it to you several times when you went to visit his family. “And we’d have a ridiculous party, into the morning,” he said smiling, leaning his head down closer to you. “And, a while after that, maybe a few months or a year or so, you’d be eating for two.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop your eyes from watering. “That sounds…”

“Perfect?”

No. You were going to say real. That sounds real. And it scared you. 

Truthfully, you could imagine the wedding, and the babies, and the many happy years of being Franco’s wife.

But you could also imagine the distance. The exhaustion. The bitterness. 

“Growing up, I never thought I’d get married,” you said, shifting the conversation. “I just… I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to marry me,” you laughed. 

“I do,” he said. The effect of his words weren’t lost on you; the same words he would say to take the vow. “I want to marry you.”

You had told him a long time ago that your insecurities weren’t something he could fix. He remembered that, and he respected it. But still, it always broke his heart when he realized that even after years of loving you, those old wounds refused to heal. 

“Why?” you asked. Your head was beginning to hurt from holding in all the tears. 

“Why?” he echoed, incredulous at why you’d even need to ask such a ridiculous question. His voice held no malice, though. “Because I love you.”

“Don’t you get tired of this?”

“Of what?”

“Of…me being difficult for no good reason?”

“You’re not being difficult. Marriage is a huge deal, obviously. I don’t want us to rush into it if you’re not ready.”

“What if I’m never ready?”

He sighed. “Then…well, honestly, that would break my heart. I’d want you to work through whatever is holding you back. But I’d be with you every step of the way.”

You looked away into the distance. Part of you wanted to run and disappear in the thick foliage of the Spanish countryside. The other part of you wanted to bury your head in Franco’s chest, finally letting go of all the reservations that had haunted you for years. 

You knew Franco. You loved Franco. You trusted Franco.

So why were you still so afraid?

“Mi amor,” he said, gently guiding your head so you had to look at him. “Do you want to get married?” He tilted his head closer to you. 

You knew what he was asking. Not if you were ready right now, not if you were scared; but deep down, in your heart of hearts, did you want to marry Franco Colapinto?

“Yes,” you whispered. Just as he didn’t have to explain, neither did you. He knew what you meant; yes, but I’m scared. Yes, but I’m not ready. Yes, but I’m afraid I’ll never be ready.

He brought his lips to yours, gently kissing you as you let the few tears that had been welling up in your eyes finally go. When he pulled back, he wiped them away.

“We don’t have to make a decision now,” he said. “We’ve got time. I want us both to be ready.”

You kissed him again, this time more forceful. There was nothing sexier than a man with emotional intelligence. 

He pulled away again to finish his thought. “Just keep thinking on it, okay? We can talk about it as much as you want.”

“Okay,” you said, smiling as he looked at you.

“What?” he asked, his own playful smile dancing across his face.

“You’re so hot when you respect my boundaries.”

He laughed. “Mi amor, that’s the bare minimum.”

“Keep going,” you joked, “I’m so close.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, leaning down to kiss your neck. “I’ll start misbehaving.”

“Maybe I want you to,” he said, sharply inhaling as he gently bit the skin on your neck, sure to leave a mark.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he nibbled on your earlobe. 

“Get me home and show me how horrible I am, then,” you teased, reaching out to touch his waist. 

“We don’t even need to get home.” He reached up to hold your neck with one hand as he continued kissing up and down your jaw.

“Here?” you said, darting your eyes around. 

“In the car,” he said, his voice already getting breathy. 

“No,” you urged. “It’s new.”

“Exactly. We have to break it in, no? Or bless it,” he said. His hands were beginning to roam underneath the hem of your shirt now.

“You’d never forgive me if I messed up the seats.”

“They’re leather, it cleans easy. I can get it detailed.” He stifled your next complaint with a deep kiss. “No one is ever around here. And the windows are tinted,” he whispered into your mouth. 

You laughed. “You’re a freak.”

“I’m your freak. And don’t lie, you love it,” he said, snaking his hand down to tease its way under your skirt. “I can tell how much you love it.”

You stopped him before his hand could go any further—after all, you were technically still in public. 

“Get in the car, whore,” you joked, before Franco hopped up and nearly sprinted to open the car door and set his seat back as far as it could go. 

He sat in the seat and patted his lap. “You joining me?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, getting up to meet your lover at the car and carefully climb onto his lap, occupying his lips with a deep kiss that he moaned into. 

“Did you plan this?” you asked. 

“Plan what?” he said, a devilish grin across his face. 

“Bringing me out to your scenic spot to fuck me in your new sports car?”

“Wasn’t planned at all. I’m a spontaneous man.”

“Mhm. How many other girls did you bring here before we started dating?”

“Less talking, more fucking, yeah?” he said. You probably didn’t want to know the answer. But that was all in the past. Franco was yours—he had been for years now, and he wanted to be yours forever.

There would be time to think about that later. Right now, all you could think about was the beautiful boy sitting beneath you, looking at you as if he needed you as simply as he needed air. You could feel him hardening beneath you. 

You shifted your weight to straddle him, grinding down on his length, eliciting a sharp exhale from him. 

“You’re so needy today, Franco,” you said as you ran your fingers through his soft curls.

“I’m always needy for you.” He brought his lips back to yours, hungry for the taste of you. His lips trailed down to your jaw and neck. “YN, you don’t know what you do to me…”

“I think I can feel it,” you joked, softly grinding your clothed pussy over the growing bulge in his jeans. 

“Don’t tease me,” he begged, roaming his hands up the hem of your blouse.

“But it’s so fun,” you said, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “I love to see you fall apart underneath me.”

“Fuck, YN—”

“Less talking, more fucking, no?” you said, mocking his statement from earlier. You met his mouth in a kiss, and he moved his hands down under your skirt, running up and down the soft skin of your thighs. When he finally teased his fingers over the wet spot that was already growing in your panties, you softly inhaled, showing your desire for him. 

“I’m not the only needy one,” he teased, breathing in the smell of your perfume and shampoo, his head buried in your neck. 

You softly moaned as he moved your panties to the side and began circling his fingers around your clit. 

“Franco, fuck…”

“What happened to all that talk, huh? Or are you too busy trying not to cum on my fingers?”

All you could do was breathe as his fingers found their way inside of you, pumping in and out to prepare you for his cock. 

“Don’t try to stop it,” he said, “let go. Cum for me.”

You obeyed, your legs shaking as your walls pulsated on his fingers. You whimpered into his neck, steadying yourself by holding him. 

He kissed your cheek, but wasted no time in unzipping his jeans and plunging into you while you rode out the waves of your orgasm. He let out a breathy moan as he felt the sweet warmth of you wrapped around him. 

You were overcome with sensation; the burn of his cock stretching you out, the last dregs of pleasure now mixed with the pain, and the burn in your legs from sitting in the same position for too long.

It was all the more motivation to bounce up and down on his cock, finding a steady rhythm as he guided his hands to your hips.

You rested your head next to his, moaning into his ear with every thrust. The small space of the car may be cramped, but you couldn’t help but appreciate the intimacy of the moment. Franco’s eyes were closed in sensual bliss, his breath ragged as you increased your speed.

You wanted to watch him come undone from the sinful pleasure that your pussy brought him. 

“YN—” he moaned, his hands digging hard enough into your hips to leave bruises, “Oh, God, YN, you always feel so fucking good. So good for me.”

You whimpered from both the praise and the pleasure. You had to slow down—the fast stamina was too much on your legs, which were now burning from the awkward position you were stuck in. 

“I think you were made for me,” Franco whispered. “And I was made for you. See how well we fit together?” He took control, lifting you up as if you were weightless and bouncing you up and down on his own. You yelped at first, then your surprise gave way to bliss as you both chased your release. 

But Franco was relentless in his praise. “You’re my fucking soulmate. I wanna fuck you every day for the rest of our lives.”

“Franco, I’m so close—”

“Cum for me, mi amor. Again.” His own voice was strangled with desire, so close to his own peak.

With a high pitched whine, you obeyed, and the heavenly feeling of your walls contracted around him brought your lover to the edge soon after. 

And when you did both finish, you held each other, too tired to even move from the uncomfortable position from the car. 

Franco was a talker. You always knew that. He loved nothing more than to fill your ears with sweet nothings when you made love. But the context of the conversation that just transpired weighed on you, even with the comfort of Franco’s hands rubbing small circles into your back as you both tried to catch your breath. 

“You okay?” he asked, and you murmured in response, unable to form any coherent words in the aftermath of everything. “Let’s get home and we can take a shower, yeah?”

A warm shower sounded heavenly right now. You awkwardly shimmied your way into the passenger seat and took one last look at the view, thankful that the overlook was still deserted. You sighed as you settled in and buckled your seatbelt, relishing the relief of finally being able to stretch your legs. 

“Hey,” Franco asked as he readjusted his seat and turned on the car. “Are you okay, really?”

“Yeah,” you said. It was true; you were exhausted, overwhelmed, and hurting, but it was all worth it for him. 

He leaned over to kiss your cheek and smiled before putting the car in reverse. 

The third item that Franco had to buy was the ring. 

Truthfully, the conversation hadn’t gone as smoothly as he would have liked. In his dreams, you'd jumped for joy when he’d broached the subject, and you’d live happily ever after.

But despite his disappointment, he understood your hesitancy. He was just as afraid to ask the question as you were to say yes. He knew that your struggles with self esteem and anxiety were lifelong. He knew all this about you from the very beginning, and he loved you anyway. 

Still, it was times like this when it broke his heart that he couldn’t fix it. 

It didn’t matter. You’d come around eventually, you always did. And you had been honest when you said you wanted to marry him—there was just a lot of stuff in the way, mentally and emotionally. 

So yes, he’d wait a while before he popped the question. But that didn’t mean he had to wait to buy the ring. 

He knew the exact one. You had fallen in love with it years ago, when you had worn it in a PR shoot for one of his high profile sponsors. Though time had passed, he still remembered the sadness in your eyes when you had to give it back after the photoshoot. He had vowed to himself that day that he’d earn enough to get you that ring.

And now he finally had. 

A few days after your conversation, he found the now faded card that he had stuck in his wallet and called the number. When the same brand rep picked up, he exhaled, letting go of his fear.

“Franco! How nice to hear from you. I was beginning to think we’d scared you away.”

“No,” he laughed. “The opposite, actually.”

“Let me guess. You’re ready for that ring?”

‘How’d you know?”

“I’ve been doing this a long time. When a woman looks at a ring like that, and she’s with a man that truly loves her, it’s just a matter of time.”

He had swiped another ring of yours to get the measurements, and he completed the entire order over the phone on his drive back home from a day of pre-season meetings. He had three months before the beginning of the new season, and he wanted to propose before that so you could start wedding planning once the season started. Would three months be enough time for you to think about it? He didn’t know. 

But he couldn’t wait any longer. The giddiness was eating him alive. 

You could tell something was amiss, but the idea of a proposal was the last thing on your mind. 

Franco was hiding his phone from you. Which meant that Franco was hiding something important from you, and he was doing a horrible job of it. 

Your lover was never the type to be quiet or secretive about…anything really. He talked too much. You had to physically restrain him every Christmas from spoiling what he got you weeks in advance. So if there was something that he was truly trying to hide, it was something major. 

And it scared you. 

The thought that you had been holding back for years finally broke through one night where he put his phone face down at the dinner table after his phone lit up with several notifications. 

“Who’s texting you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice innocent despite the rush of dread that was rising in your stomach.

“No one,” he answered, too quickly for your liking. You didn’t respond. 

You knew Franco was attractive. Every girl would kill to have him. He was kind, funny, beautiful, and flirtatious. But he was yours. Right?

Franco had never crossed the line before. You trusted him with your life. But something within you just felt deeply, deeply wrong, and it came spilling out later that night when he tried to touch you. 

His phone was left on the nightstand, untouched since dinner; his focus was on you, running his hand up and down your side, gently dressing his lips to your shoulder as you faced away from him.

“Not tonight,” you whispered, unable to keep your voice from shaking. 

“All you alright, mi amor?” he asked, pulling back your shoulder to make you face him, seeing how you were desperately trying to keep the tears at bay. 

“I’m fine,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek.

Even after all your years together, Franco never quite knew when to press on and when to keep quiet when you said those two infamous words. And he didn’t have much time to think, because you rose from the bed and left the room, mumbling about needing a minute to get fresh air. 

You stepped onto the back porch and took a deep breath, steadying your heart rate and calming your nerves, if only for a moment. The night air was serene; you felt vile contaminating the peace with your anxiety.

Would this last forever? You couldn’t remember a time when you hadn’t felt this push and pull. You wanted to tell Franco to go, to relieve himself of the burden of your mental illness. You wanted to bottle up every insecurity, every doubt, every negative thought into a vault that you didn’t share with anyone. 

But you couldn’t. If Franco left you’d be broken. You couldn’t stop yourself from letting these thoughts and fears control you. In the past, therapy had helped, but you knew this was a weight you’d always have to carry. And that made you miserable. 

So yes, maybe it was for the better that Franco move on, find someone better, more stable, and build a life with her. 

“Mi amor?”

Franco’s voice broke your hopeless contemplation. 

“Talk to me,” he said. 

You just shook your head. He must be so tired of reassuring you, endlessly, knowing that it didn’t help one bit. 

“YN,” he urged, “you know I don’t like it when you try to shoulder everything alone.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. That was all you could say. “I’m sorry that I’m like this.”

“Like what?”

“Impossible.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean. We have the same conversation over and over again. Don’t you get tired of it? Of having to reassure me and it never helping? Of me crying over every little thing? Franco, I’m a mess!”

“YN…” he sighed, “When have I ever said any of that?”

He was right. He had never expressed any frustration regarding your mental struggles. He had always been there when you needed him. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Have you just been up in your head, or did something happen?”

You contemplated lying, but you knew better. “You set your phone face down at dinner.”

“I— did you think I was…?”

“It’s not you, Franco. It’s never you. That’s the worst part. You have to deal with all of this and it’s not your fault at all,” you said, not even allowing him to say aloud what you both knew was true. 

Franco took a deep breath. “YN,” he said, calmly, “let’s go back inside and go through my phone.”

“No—”

“Yes,” he commanded. “I want you to be 100% confident that I love you and only you.”

“Franco—”

“Let’s go.”

He had a firmness in his voice that only made your anxiety worse, and immediately you felt horrible for even insinuating anything to the opposite. But he was your rock of reason in times like these when your anxiety took over, and so you followed his command, unlocking his phone when he handed it to you. 

As expected, there was no incriminating evidence, just far too many unopened emails and messages left on delivered. Even his recently deleted texts showed nothing. 

The buzzing that you had been so afraid of turning out to be…emails from a jewelry company?

“I ordered a custom necklace for your birthday,” Franco explained. “They’ve been so difficult, though. They lost the order and then sent me the wrong thing. It’s been hell.”

You handed back the phone with your head hung low, ashamed. “I’m sorry I ruined the surprise.”

“You know I would have ruined it beforehand anyway,” he said. “I’m not upset at you.”

“You should be. You deserve someone who trusts you.”

“You do trust me,” he said, “I know you do. It’s not you that’s saying this.” 

Fuck. Franco really did know you too well. 

“You know why I stay with you, even with all this?” You looked up at him, curious for the answer. He had never been this direct before. He continued, “Well, first of all, because I love you. But even during times when I’m frustrated, I remember everything we’ve been through, when you forgave me and were there for me when I didn’t deserve it. I was so close to losing you and it terrified me.”

Once again, your eyes were watering. He said, “I promised myself that if you really gave me a chance, I’d never forget it. I’d be there for you and be the best boyfriend I could be. Because…” he paused, searching for the right words, “I know that some of why you feel these things is because of how I acted in the past. I’ve done my best to make it right, but some things never leave you.”

“When did you become so damn wise?” you said, laughing through the tears as he smiled and wiped them away. 

“You bring out the best in me.”

The conversation was laid to rest then. Franco held you until you fell asleep, safe in his arms. As he heard your soft breaths even out, he grabbed his phone and frantically searched for a necklace to buy to cover his lie.

He hated lying to you, but in this case, what else was he to do?

The necklace and the ring arrived a few weeks later, right before you all were scheduled to take a flight to Buenos Aires to spend the rest of the break with his family. 

But he had a plan. The break in Buenos Aires would be one to remember—for your “birthday” he was also flying out your friends and family for a few days. He had the whole idea plotted out, with help from many others, to plan a surprise karting birthday celebration, with all your loved ones there. Then, he would propose.

It seemed so perfect—surrounded by all your loved ones, doing a fun activity, the perfect balance between public and private. He knew you’d love it. He knew you’d say yes. 

He was giddy as he carefully packed the two jewelry boxes in his luggage, surrounded by clothes for safe keeping. 

And as the day of the birthday party came closer and closer, he could barely hold in his excitement. Everyone knew but you; he had colluded with every guest, telling them his plan and getting their blessing to finally ask you to spend the rest of your life with him.

Everything was perfect. The day before, you parents and friends arrived, and Franco told you everything but the grand reveal. 

He gave you the present, a beautiful necklace that complimented your tastes perfectly. You split a bottle of wine amongst loved ones, and your parents brought out their own gift: a photo album of pictures that they’d never been able to show Franco. 

You cringed at the embarrassing baby photos and records of bad middle school haircuts, but you couldn’t help the tipsy smile on your face. You leaned your head on Franco’s shoulder as he flipped through the pages.

Franco’s mother got out her own photo albums, showing picture after picture of him as a baby, his blonde curls and toothy grin smiling from ear to ear. 

“You were such a cute baby,” you giggled, and he blushed.

“Were? I’m still a cute baby,” he joked, kissing you on the cheek.  You scrunched your nose and smiled.

You were so in love with this man that it hurt.

That night, when you all retired to your room, he rubbed your back, enjoying the simple quiet between you two.

“I love you,” you said to him out of the blue. He smiled; he said those words often, and you always said them back, but it was rarer, more meaningful, for you to say them unprompted. 

“But it’s not fair. You were a cute baby and you’re cute now. You can’t have both,” you giggled. 

“We’d make cute babies,” he teased, and you blushed. 

“You trying to find out?” you responded, the alcohol in your veins giving you more boldness.

“Not when you’re this tipsy,” he said. “Besides, I need to put a ring on your finger first.”

At the mention of marriage, you sobered up quickly. You hadn’t really been thinking about that conversation you’d had back in Spain—in fact, every time you thought about it, it just made you more anxious, so it had the opposite effect of you actively avoiding it. 

Of course, you were still scared. You loved Franco more than words could say, and that was the problem—it was so good that eventually, it would have to not be good. It was a backwards logic, yes, you had convinced yourself that at some point, things would only be able to go down. 

You didn’t want to lose this beautiful thing you had created. But Franco had said he wasn’t planning to propose any time soon, right? In your mind, you still had plenty of time. 

But Franco did not, and the next morning was chaos.

His phone was blowing up with last minute organizing and words of encouragement from your friends and family in the proposal plan group chat. He was sweating bullets, constantly checking his pockets before you all left for the kart track to make sure that yes, he had the ring. He contemplated putting it in his bag instead, but he didn’t want to lose it, so he ultimately settled on his pockets.

He knew that he needed to stop checking them or else you’d notice and ask. You were always observant, in that way. 

But every time he sat down, the stupid box kept falling out of his shorts. The pockets were too small. He’d just have to check one last time before he left the house and be careful. Yes, everything was going to go according to plan. 

And as you all arrived and he changed into his race suit quickly, all he could think about was the speech he had tried to memorize. You were a woman who appreciated words; he wanted to express how you made him feel, but in his head, he kept stumbling over them. 

YN, you make me so happy. No, too simple.

YN, will you make me the happiest man in the world? No, too cliche.

YN, I never knew happiness until I saw your smile. No, too melodramatic. 

He’d have to figure out the words as he said them. For now, he’d just focus on enjoying the moment with you. 

And that wasn’t hard; you were as giddy as a child as you sped around the track, spinning out and pushing the poor kart to go faster and faster. 

Franco had arranged a tournament of sorts; of course, he had spoken with everyone beforehand to rig you as the winner. 

On your end, you knew everyone was letting you win. You were awful at karting. But it was your birthday event, after all. You didn’t care, you were having fun. 

It came down to the “championship” battle: you versus Franco. Of course, you knew your boyfriend would let you win, as he always did, but you loved the rush of adrenaline as the wind whipped past you anyway. You couldn’t stop smiling as you crossed the finish line and took off your helmet, flipping your hair out. 

You heard Franco stop his car behind you and get out, too. 

“I can’t believe YN won!” Franco’s mother said, smiling wide. 

“Thank you all for so graciously giving me that win,” you joked, looking to all your family and friends circled round, cheering for you. Franco was behind you still. You almost turned to him, but his mother interrupted. “Let me take a picture!”

This was the moment. All he had to do was take the ring out of his pocket and get down on one knee. 

He reached in his pocket and pulled out… nothing. 

His pockets were empty. 

He looked back at his father, the fear of God in his eyes, and patted his empty pockets. No one said a word. 

His mother, now done with taking the picture, leaned over to give you a hug. She sent a death glare to Franco over your shoulder, but still gave him the time to sprint back to the locker room to try and find the goddamn thing. 

He ran faster than his F1 car could drive, cursing under his breath at how stupid he could be. He could still save this, though. 

He found his bag and shook out the contents, frantically searching, until finally, at the bottom of the bag, he saw the box. He must have stuck it there while changing and forgot about it.

He let out a breath with enough power to shake the entire building. He opened the box to get a quick glance just to make sure everything was okay.

Except, everything wasn’t. There was no ring in the box.

He had grabbed the empty necklace box. 

Knowing you were far enough away to not hear him, he sweared very, very loudly. Unbeknownst to Franco, his father had followed him back to the locker room.

“Did you find it, mijo?” 

“I brought the wrong box,” he said, “This is for the necklace.”

His father sighed. “Franco��”

“I know, I know.”

“We can still fix this. Give her the ring at dinner!”

“I guess I’ll have to,” Franco said. He had never been more disappointed in himself. He had ruined everything. 

“Hey,” his father said, “chin up. You’ve still got this. The ring will be the perfect end to the perfect day, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, still not entirely convinced. But you would be wondering where he went soon; he couldn’t stay and mope too long.

His father left him to go relay the information to the rest of the group. Franco took a few deep breaths as he changed, mentally readying himself to see you again. He put on a smile as he saw you waiting for him outside the track with the others. 

“So, we’ll all head back and get ready, then meet for dinner tonight?” his mother said.

“Sounds good,” Franco answered, wrapping his arm around you as he walked you back to the car. 

Thankfully, when you got back to his parent’s house, you immediately wanted to take a shower and wash your hair, giving him time to search the entire room. Which he did, from top to bottom, and he still couldn’t find the ring.

It was just…gone. He had gone through every compartment of his suitcase, every pocket in his clothes, every hiding space. Still, it was nowhere to be found. 

His parents even helped him look, carefully parsing through every possible place until it was too late. You were nearly ready for dinner, and they all had to rush to get ready to make it to the restaurant in time for the reservation. 

Franco texted the groupchat the horrible news—he had fucked up. He had lost the ring. There would be no proposal. 

Kind words flooded his phone, but they meant nothing to the depressed Argentine. He had planned this out so perfectly; how did it end so badly?

And the worst part? He couldn’t even tell you. 

The atmosphere at dinner was more somber than usual. His sister had bought a bottle of nice champagne that would now have to go unopened. He would just have to propose some other time.

That’s what he reminded himself, every time the thought came up and threatened to choke him. Maybe next time he would fly his family out to Spain instead. He wasn’t in any rush. And you’d never have to know how badly he fumbled. 

Well, while you didn’t know the details, you could tell something was up. You mentioned it to Franco on the way home.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, and Franco cringed internally. He was always bad about hiding his emotions. 

“No, I’m fine,” he answered. 

“Well, everyone at dinner just seemed…off.”

“Probably just tired.”

You just hummed to yourself, refusing to allow your thoughts to wander any further. You, too, were tired. When you got back to the house, you both started to get undressed, taking off your fancy heels and jewelry.

You took off your necklace—the beautiful gift that Franco had given you, that you’d now treasure forever—but the box wasn’t on the nightstand where you had left it yesterday.

“Franco, have you seen my necklace box?” you asked from the bedroom. He was in the bathroom washing his face, and only barely heard you over the running of water. The mention of the box just made the whole night worse.

“Yeah, it’s in my bag,” he said, and you raised an eyebrow. How had your necklace box ended up there?

You leaned down to his bag, rustling around until you found the familiar box, though it was heavier than you remembered. 

When you opened it, you were nearly blinded by the glint of a beautiful diamond engagement ring. 

It was familiar; the same ring you had fallen in love with years ago. And it was in Franco’s bag. He had…bought you an engagement ring.

He was going to propose.

You could feel your heart rate increasing by the second. But you weren’t ready. You had only talked about it a few weeks ago. You were scared. 

It was okay, though. It was okay. You would just put the ring back. You’d find a way to hint to him that it wasn’t the right time. You could just fake it. He’d never have to—

“YN?”

You looked up at Franco’s face, widened with shock. You didn’t respond.

“Where did you find that?”

“In your bag.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. 

“I—” Franco was too stunned to speak. You quickly closed the box and put it back in the bag.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see anything. This never happened,” you said, your voice rapidly talking without even thinking. You got up to leave the room, too anxious to stay seated, talking to yourself even after you were out of earshot of your lover.

Franco sat on the bed and sighed. Now he had majorly fucked up. First of all, how had no one found the ring in his bag, even after 3 people looked in there? And second of all, how did you find it?

But that wasn’t the biggest issue anymore. His plan had already been ruined, but he knew by the look on your face that your surprise was not a good one. He saw that fear that nestled itself into every crevice of your expression. 

You weren’t happy to find that ring. Not because it had ruined the surprise element—you just didn’t want him to propose.

He now had two options. He could do what he knew you’d want: act as if nothing ever happened and never broach the subject of marriage for several years to come, allowing you to shove away all those scary feelings until you’d deluded yourself into thinking you were over it. 

Or, he could do what he needed to do, and talk to you. 

He took a deep breath and followed you outside.

You were sitting on the back porch. Not crying, just quiet, looking out into the backyard. When Franco sat next to you, you didn’t say anything. He reached out to grab your hand, and you let him, softly admiring how he curled his thumb around your palm in soothing circles. 

“The plan,” he began, “was to ask you today. At the karting track. But I brought the wrong box.” He softly smiled at the absurdity of it. “When you were getting ready we were all frantically looking for it. I don’t know how we missed it.”

You just hummed in response, unsure of what to say. You needed to be honest. You needed to say the difficult things.

You began, though your voice felt choked. “Franco, if you would have asked me today, I would have said no.” You felt his hand tense up. “I mean, I would have said yes, because everyone was there. But…”

You trailed off, your words fleeing from you now. 

“I don’t understand,” Franco confessed. “We’re happy. You’re happy with me, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“Then why don’t you want to marry me?” His voice dripped with sadness, and all you wanted to do was hold him. You turned your head to face him, and the deep sorrow in his eyes nearly brought you to tears.

“I do want to. I just…”

“I’ve done everything I can to be good to you. I’ve tried to always be there. I know I’m not perfect, but—”

“It’s not you, Franco. It was never you.”

“Then why? What can I do?” His voice cracked, seeping with hopelessness and frustration. “If it’s not because of me, then what am I supposed to do?” 

You got up. “Come here,” you said, and led him to the living room. The home was quiet; his parents were asleep, and the vast emptiness of the home was eerie. 

You grabbed the photo album that your parents had given you, and sat down on the couch, motioning for Franco to sit next to you. 

You opened it to a picture of you at your 4th birthday party. In the photo, you grimaced though the uncomfortable sensation of a plastic party hat. “Do you see her?” you asked him. He nodded. 

“I remember feeling like this when I was that little. This…fear. I desperately wanted friends but was too afraid to talk to anyone.”

You flipped to the next page, pointing to a photo of you sitting alone in a park, a forced smile across your face. “What do you notice about this picture?” you asked him.

Franco leaned in closer to look. “I don’t know,” he said. 

“I’m alone. See all the other kids in the background?” 

You kept flipping until you found the first photo of you when Franco knew you. You were fifteen, smack in the middle of your awkward teenage years, in the stands at one of his races. 

“I remember that,” he said. 

“That’s me, spending time with my first real friend,” you said. “I didn’t know it yet, but I had a huge crush on him,” you joked.

“He was going to ask you to marry him today. And you just told him you would have said no.”  

“I know,” you said, trying to be gentle with your tone. “But what I’m trying to say is that you’re not just asking me. You’re asking her. And she feels so alone, and she’s scared to trust anyone.”

Franco sat with the thought for a moment, before getting up to grab his own photo book. He opened it to the first page, and pointed to a photo of him as a toddler, wrapped in a scarf, toothy grin spread wide. 

“And that’s who asked you.”

You felt a knot of emotion in your stomach break. All you wanted was to cry. 

“This goes both ways, YN,” Franco continued. “I understand that you’re scared. But I can’t fix that fear. Only you can.”

The dam broke, your tears flooding forth. He was right. So you told him.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you said, and he wrapped his arm around you, rubbing your back through the tears. 

“I’m not perfect either. I shouldn’t have rushed it, I was just excited.”

“Don’t apologize for being excited to propose,” you laughed through your tears. “I should probably go back to therapy.”

“If you think that’ll help,” he said.

“It will,” you sniffled. “I just… I’ve been so afraid that I’ve been ignoring all the signs. I should have seen this coming. You’re never that excited to let me beat you in karting.”

He smiled at your banter. You continued, “But really, you’re right. I’ve just been avoiding this because I’m scared, getting up in my head. I just feel so happy and that scares me, because at some point it has to fall apart, right? You’re never happy forever.”

“You’re not unhappy forever, either. Of course we’d have rough spots. But that’s the beauty of marriage,” he said, “you vow to be there for each other through it all.”

“How did I get so lucky to have you?” you asked, meeting his gaze. 

His eyes were full of compassion and love. “I’m the lucky one.” He leaned down to kiss you. 

You didn’t really believe him. You still didn’t understand how someone so perfect could love you, someone so…broken. But one day you would. You had to.

The next year was difficult. You began your healing journey again—a journey you were convinced you’d be on your entire life. But you’d do it for him, and for you. 

And slowly, bit by bit, the wounds began to heal. 

It wasn’t linear. With Franco’s new contract, he had lots of attention and responsibilities. He was away from home more. He was tired, stressed, more short-tempered. There were arguments. Some days it felt like you took one step forward and two steps back. 

But you made it through. For every argument there was an honest conversation. For every night away there was a sweet gesture or text message to remind you that he still loved you, and from it grew a solid, blooming trust. For every mistake—on both ends—there was an apology and a commitment to be better. For every night of tears, there was a night of laughter with the man you loved most in the world. 

And by the end of the season, you and the relationship were stronger than ever. 

Of course, things weren’t perfect. But the fear that had once held you hostage was an adversary you knew you could overcome. 

Franco kept the ring in his nightstand. You had found it again one day while cleaning. It wasn’t really hidden, as if to say, we’ll get to this later. It was no secret now.  You just put it back in its place and smiled, going on about your day. 

But Franco had been giving the proposal much thought. He decided against inviting anyone again, wanting it to be a tender moment of vulnerability between you and him.

No, he wanted this time to be simple. Honest. 

He just hoped you were ready. 

A few weeks before the beginning of the next season, he took you out to the place where all this had begun; the outlook in the countryside, where he first told you that he wanted to marry you.

This time, he double and triple checked to make sure the ring was there in his pocket. 

The sun was setting over the Spanish countryside, painting the sky rich shades of orange and yellow. The air had cooled with the impending coming of night. 

He opened your car door and set up a blanket on the ground, where you sat and he laid his head in your lap, letting your fingers run through his hair as a way to calm his nerves. 

He took a deep breath as he sat up, and you knew what was coming. Again, he had rehearsed a speech, but almost instantly forgot it the second he opened his mouth. 

“YN,” he began, looking you directly in the eyes, “I… I love you. So much. More than words can say.” He was nervous, swallowing before he continued, letting his eyes wander off to the picturesque view. But he had more important things to be looking at. 

“I can’t imagine a version of my life without you in it. I grew up with you. I want to grow old with you. You’ve made me into the best version of myself. We’ve gone through so many things and come out on the other side so much stronger. And I want this,” he said, reaching out to wipe away the happy tears that now flowed down your cheeks. “I want to be with you. Even though we’re both imperfect, even though we both have our problems to work through, YN, I want to do this with you, forever. I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up next to you. I want to have children and grandchildren with you. I…” he trailed off, not knowing how to finally say what he really wanted to say.

You smiled through the tears. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring, flipping it open and showing it to you. 

“Marry me,” he whispered. 

Your smile widened. “Yes,” you answered. “Yes.” 

He kissed you with a fervent passion. When he pulled away, his smile couldn’t be contained.

“She said yes!” he cried out, though you both were alone. “I did it! She said yes!” You laughed at his antics.

In a few weeks, you’d have the official photo shoot where he got down on one knee. You’d show the world the carefully constructed version that was all they got to see.

But this was real. And maybe it was imperfect; maybe he hadn’t really asked, more instructed, and maybe he hadn’t gotten down on one knee, and maybe, yes, you had found the ring beforehand. 

But this was real. In all the ups and downs, the hurt and healing, this love you shared with your now fiance was real. The world didn’t get to see that. 

And maybe that fear was still within you. It was smaller now. And when you had seen that shine of the ring, maybe you had felt it rise within you again. But you knew now that it was just a feeling, something you could control. You didn’t have to ignore it or let it reign you. It was just there. 

It wasn't real though. And this was. The cold metal of the ring slid onto your finger. The feeling of Franco’s lips on yours. The strain in your face muscles from all the smiling. His hand around your waist, pulling you closer as the sun dipped below the sky, leaving you and your lover alone in the dark—yes, this was real. 

And this was yours; he was yours.

For the first time in a long time, you knew you had nothing to fear. 

[accio-victuuri]

January 2025 CPNs round-up 🚥

The first month of the year went by just like that?! but we are so lucky cause in 1 month we got 2 LRLG submissions and 2 events that they both attended. What a great way to start 2025!

• starting off the year strong with CCTV series new year greetings from our dear actors

• guo jing x xie yun new cp

• i am not here nye performance candies

• coco crush ring importance for bobo’s performance during nye 💍

• 010225 lrlg submission translation and the cpns involved

• amiri logo x wo men writing

• paparazzi that the last time he saw xz chatting so much was in 2018 with wyb

• the 2018 dinner with cql crew video released 🥹🙏🏼 - there is some side cpn to this cause it was released not even 30 minutes after ybo refuted a rather absurd dating rumor. Liu dachui is the pap that released it and he is a v popular blogger. DH also guested on his channel before so you can say they have some friendly connection. i know bloggers like LDC are a pain in the ass for companies but you gotta keep your enemies close am i right? so some cpfs are thinking that the timing of release was to take some attention away from the hs. which didn’t actually cause the HS was up for a long time. take this with a grain of salt. 🍉

• wyb’s main accessory for his NYE performance was a hat brooch. this reminds us of the whole hat cpn😂

• same light leak editing design for these two videos between ybo and xzs. it’s not a secret that we think they sometimes share staff when it comes to editing. and it’s a rainbow? 🌈

of course other artists has access to this video editor design or whatever. anyone could make it logically. but why are the similarities always between them?

• coincidental matching years later

• speculations from xz’s portrait magazine interview

• weibo night candies part one / part two

there is also this that i wasn’t able to add, how they have the same staff assisting them. idk if this person also assisted other artists but it’s interesting how she was assigned to both xz and wyb.

there’s also some unsavory twisting the narrative thing that solos are doing regarding the seats. bec they are so obssessed with us and our candies lol.

• cpns from xz’s portrait magazine feature

• ybo has a movie ticket theme

• why do they twist their feet like that 🙃🙃🙃

• minor cpns from china internet and audiovisual festival

• 1/28/25 lrlg 🎉🧧🧧🧧 - this one is mostly incoherent because of the very random convos with no context. which is the norm for lrlg. but there are sweet moments too! they care for each other so much 🥹🥹🥹🥹

• 1/29, jam hsiao reposted his collab stage with yibo and bobo commented with this:

mr xiao! hahahahahaha! what a coincidence. of course we are just clowning!

-END.

See you all next month! 👋🏼👋🏼👋🏼👋🏼

[starflungwaddledee]

masterpost for my oc centric shipping event. featuring my waddle dee oc/sona starstruck dee and her bald empty head, which is apparently totally perfect for putting kisses upon!

2025: shipaganza prompts are open for february!!! please read the rules down below! i will be prioritising catching up on prompts from last year first. for OCs in particular, new prompts (for me to draw) are currently closed to non-mutuals until i finish prior submissions, but people can feel free to submit their own art!

*✩˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧₊˚ what is this? ✩˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ⋆˙⟡

the shipaganza is basically a totally self indulgent, oc-centric shipathon. for the month of february i take public prompts and draw art of my oc in cute and/or romantic situations with other kirby characters, both canon and oc. i have a tag for anything even tangentially related to oc shipping on my blog here under #🎀💖, where you can find previously filled prompts and a few other similar pieces! when i first started exploring the possibility of "shipping" my character i was super nervous!! so to get better at it, i asked the community to send me prompts, especially romantically coded ones, and it was a surprise hit! since then i kinda decided that she's just everyone's easy breezy girlfriend. ocs and canon alike, she's free real estate. look at all the folks she can pull by being autistic! peace and love on planet popstar. yippee! cringe but free.

*✩˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧₊˚ how's it work? ✩˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ⋆˙⟡

while the event is ongoing, i take prompts and try to draw them. no guarantees! i can only draw what i have ideas for. if you want to submit a prompt, check the rules out down below and trot over to the ask box! other artists are also welcome to draw their OC with starstruck (or starstruck with a canon character, if you really wanted!) and submit it to the event, but please read the rules down below first!! despite its intention to focus on romantic themes, this event is strictly safe for work, and frankly there's a relatively limited amount of actual "romance" involved. this is probably because i am aromantic and broadly headcanon kirby characters as not knowing what a "date" or "marriage" is. but we make do.

*✩˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧₊˚ filled prompts ✩˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ⋆˙⟡

divided into canon kirby characters and original kirby characters (characters created by other artists in the community) and sorted mostly alphabetically. just because a character is canon does not mean that the featured interaction/relationship is! all oc ships are sadly entirely non-canon to starstruck's storyline.

canon characters Big Hitters (ie: relationships most important to her canon storyline) first, then the rest just in alphabetical order. full comics are marked with a ʚ♡ɞ

✩ bandee ʚ♡ɞ ✩ king dedede ✩ kirby ✩ galacta knight // galacta knight ii // galacta knight iii ✩ meta knight // meta knight ii ✩ coo the owl ʚ♡ɞ ✩ marx // marx ii ✩ sailor waddle dee (feat bandee) ʚ♡ɞ

original characters includes submissions drawn by other artists, marked with a ✎✧˚. reach out any time to let me know if i missed a piece you drew, or if you want your oc removed from here!

✩ J // J ii (feat galacta knight) ✎✧˚ ✩ fal ✎✧˚ ✩ flower waddle dee ✩ whitolor

*✩˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧₊˚ rules ✩˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ⋆˙⟡

please read these before submitting a prompt, especially if you're submitting an OC of your own. prompts that don't meet these rules will likely be deleted! these rules also apply if you are drawing your own art submission!

🎀 ADULT CHARACTERS ONLY. the most critical rule. starstruck is in her 30s. any suggested characters must be adults in a suitable age bracket (28+). this goes for OCs and canon characters. if you think a canon character is a child, do not submit them for this event! additionally if i personally headcanon a submitted canon character as a child (such as Adeleine), i will not draw the prompt! all canon characters i'm drawing with starstruck for this event are adults in my world building.

🎀 no nsfw prompts flirty characters are great! bullies are fun and even violence is okay (something tonally similar to the marx prompt or galacta knight's birthday kiss, for instance). but i have a hard enough time even making the orbs smooch non-platonically; anything more explicit is clearly going to be out of my ballpark.

🎀 this event is Valentine's Day themed, explicitly! my metrics for romance are scrambled by aromanticism and my own experiences and preferences, but it is important to me that the shipaganza is understood as a romantically coded event (even if the characters themselves don't understand romance). while i love and adore character friendships, please do not suggest a character who you think would be "just good platonic friends" with starstruck for this event; i find this really infantilising in this context.

🎀 please don't be rude! yes, this is super cringe!!!! yes, my oc has 50 billion boyfriends! we are just playing with our touys!!! you can block the tag on my blog if you dislike this event or oc x canon stuff!! no shade; i completely understand that this is not for everyone so i make it easy to block! take care of yourself.

🎀 you can ask for a repeat character! this mostly pertains to canon characters, but i actually find this incredibly fun!! kinda like rooting for your fave!! a special rarepair just for you. if you wanna see more of a match-up that's already been drawn for, feel free to send in a new prompt for them and you might get lucky!!

🎀 scenarios are inspiring! for some characters i already have a lot in mind, but if you give me something to work with, i'll be better able to come up with something and feel more inspired to fill your prompt! this applies even more to OCs, especially if i don't know you or your OC well. please please give me some info about your oc and why you think they'd work together as a couple. like, would your oc make a move that starstruck fails to notice? are they accidentally dating? do they share an interest? is your oc a hopeless pining romantic, are they a charmer, are they a bully, so on and so fourth!

and that's all; thank you for reading!! as always feel free to ask if you have questions, but i hope folks will enjoy the event!

animated gradient heart banners from @/cafekitsune!

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Twenty Five)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Twenty Five: Y/N has been in the UK with Cillian for a few days as he continues the final leg of filming. She's supportive, but her symptoms persist and she's keen to find out why. When Cillian gives her an inch of an attitude, she offers him twice the impact back - and shakes him entirely. [Adult themes]

@meadowshelby @strangeions @lavender-haze-01 @watermeezer @cherry-cilly @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme

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Four days into your ’tour’ with Cillian in the UK, and you're miserable. Nausea and fatigue follow you daily, and when you do find respite from the constant feeling you might throw up, it is only because you do, in fact, throw up. You don't know what it is that Cillian has said to Steven and Tom Harper, but being invited to actually stay around the set on the first day in Wales feels like you've been allowed to step through the looking glass. While Cillian is almost constantly busy, alongside Packy, you do love that you've been allowed to park up a chair, with a heater, and can watch him from afar whilst listening to Tom and Steven - who flits in and out - as they film. The cool air is soothing enough that your nausea is kept at a minimum, but you've reached your limit in just accepting it. Having to be quiet but needing to occupy yourself, you tap into Google with a laundry list of complaints.

Nausea, vomiting, fatigue, light period, frequent peeing, migraines.

Your heart quickens when you're immediately greeted with multiple options all giving the same answer. Pregnancy. You smirk, then shake your head, then laugh quietly to yourself and swipe the page away. No way. Not a chance. No. Not even possible! Not a single condom has split, and you've not been without one for weeks and weeks. It's impossible - and your previous test had been very clearly negative. You tell yourself to stop stressing the impossible, but it stays firmly there in your mind. Surely it's just women's issues, you consider; fibroids, or PCOS, or perimenopausal symptoms, maybe. You know that can go on for years. But it sits there - in your head and as a pit in your stomach - and you try to work mentally forwards from the occasions around your birthday to figure if there has even been a single slip up in your safety. You hold your phone tightly between both hands and focus ahead, able to see Cillian in his full Tommy get-up, and wonder when they're going to call lunch. Then it dawns on your like a sickening wave - after the Dublin premiere, he'd finished on you and you hadn't exactly moved quickly to clean up. Okay, so he hadn't ejaculated into you, but you aren't so stupid that you don't know how sperm works. Fuck. …could it be? Could you be?!

Right at that moment, a break is called, and you rise from your seat as Cillian, looking very cold, begins walking towards you with Packy a couple of steps behind. You swallow it all down and smile as he grins at you, and you open your arms out as he approaches. When he openly hugs you tightly and gives you a soft kiss, you're actually surprised. He's Tommy right now, but he sees you and that makes you feel important. “Your face is freezing!” You laugh awkwardly as he pushes his cheek against yours whilst hugging you tightly again. “Stand here - Tom gave me a heater.” You pull him back towards the camp chair you'd been perched on. He does as he's told, not that you've stopped dragging him to allow him to protest, and he smiles as the low blower warms his ankles and calves.

“Will we get some lunch?” He says, nodding off into the distance. You can hear a slight edge go his accent, where Tommy still remains, and you both love it and loathe it entirely. You smile past Cillian as Packy comes up beside him and delights in the warmth of the heater.

“Hiya,” you welcome him. “Come on, it's a tad warmer here!” You laugh as he shakes off his cold body before the blower.

“Jeez, it's fucking Baltic.” Packy shakes his head. “Are y'alright, Y/N? Listening in there to Tom, are ya?” He laughs.

You smirk, “I wish! I don't understand half of what he's saying.”

“C'mon,” Cillian jerks his head, “Tea and food,” he insists with a spark of a mood on his face, and you feel bad when you realise he'd asked you a question just as Packy came over, and you'd unintentionally left him ignored.

“Sorry, love,” you apologise quickly, and place your hand onto his chest, over the thick material of his coat. “Yeah, okay.” You smile as you nod, “Coming?” You check with Packy.

“Ah, g'on ahead, I'll see you in a minute.” He says, before walking away from you both and over towards Tom.

“I'm sorry, Cill,” you apologise again, “I didn't mean to not answer. I didn't want to ignore Packy either.” He sort of rolls his eyes, raising his eyebrows at the same time, and he places his arm around your back as you both begin to walk. You're not sure if he's just full of Tommy, or if you've really dented him with your accidental ignorance. Whatever it is, you definitely don't feel like mentioning what Google seems to think is going on with you, nor that it might well be right thanks to his own actions that fatefully tipsy evening - he definitely wouldn't find it amusing right now. But your anxiety can't stick the not knowing with his mood, and your nerves are already shot. You bite, unfortunately. “Cill, don't be arsey with me, please.” You say as he sort of pushes you towards the catering truck.

“I'm not arsey,” he draws back his head and pulls a face at your comment, before glancing around as you both cross a paved section of pathway. “I'm just…it's work, Y/N, alright. I'm just focusing on work. Don't be taking things to fucking heart.” He's snappy and it makes your stomach sink a little, he sounds bothered by your presence even with his arm around you - even though he'd come over to you happily, smiling, and hugged and kissed you openly. He was pissed that you'd ignored him, but you can't work out if it's Cillian that's pissed at you - or fucking Tommy.

“Is there any need to be so sharp?” You challenge, and shrug yourself out of his arm. You come to a stop a couple of feet before the catering truck and the growling sigh he emits behind you makes you feel more annoyed by his reaction. You're edgy already and he's just making it worse. You're aware you're probably feeding this yourself, but it won't go away.

“Is there any fucking need for attitude?” He matches your piqued anger. “I'm fucking working,” he tries to whisper through gritted teeth. “I asked you a question and you didn't answer me, you apologised because it wasn't intentional. So what the fuck is all this about?” He holds his arms out at his sides. Tommy's twang is gone from his voice and replaced, instead, by a slowly thickening Cork accent. “Sure you're the one dragging this into something.”

“Because you're being an arsey prick, Cillian!” You raise your voice higher. It doesn't occur to you that everyone in the truck, through the open door, can hear every word and shift in your tones to one another. All you're focused on is how he's made you feel even worse. Somewhere in your mind you know you're probably making things worse for both of you, but your lid is off and it's not going back on.

“I'm working, Y/N!” He raises his voice so high you actually startle - you're not afraid of him, but you're surprised he's doing this so openly. “And if ye are going to make this fucking difficult, then you're as well going back to the fucking hotel!”

You fold your arms across your chest and stare back at him with your face set in a deep frown. “I apologised, Cillian. I didn't mean to not answer you. You're rolling your eyes and pulling faces like I didn't apologise or like I did it on purpose. I'm fucking sorry, okay? But you're the one being unreasonable here. Okay, I could have just shut up but why? Because Cillian almighty doesn't want me to speak?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He snaps loudly again, his accent thick and words singing. “This is my job, Y/N. I'm busy, I've to focus, be fucking professional… I have to focus. I'm sorry if that isn't something you can fucking deal with.” He kicks his foot into the gravel beneath his feet. “Fuck sake, what are we fucking doing this for? It's ridiculous.”

You drop your arms back down at your sides and push your hands into the pockets of your coat. “I'll go,” you say in a falsely calm voice. “Being here was a stupid idea.” You sniff. “And just so you know, I'm going to go and buy a pregnancy test.” you add, loudly. You turn your back and inside you're dying that then words have left your lips at all. Fuck! Fuck! He's going to be fucking fuming. Why did you do it? He's working, you stupid woman!

“Hey! Oi, Y/N what the fuck. Stop, for fucks sake..” You hear his feet on the gravel behind you, quick to catch your storming steps, and his hand grabs your elbow and whips you around to him. “What the fuck?” He doesn't remove his hand, but with his other hand he drags his cap from his head. “This isn't the fucking place,” he hisses.

“Get off,” you warn him.

He glances around quickly, aware you're not alone at all, and raises both eyebrows as he looks back at you. He sounds softer, calmer, maybe even worried when he speaks again. “Y/N…you don't…? How?” he sighs and shakes his head. “Are you being serious?”

You bite your bottom lip momentarily then nod your head as you let it go. “The feeling sick, I'm exhausted, I'm peeing every ten minutes…” you shrug.

“But…” he shakes his head again. He looks terrified.

“If I am,” you say and take a sharp breath, “I think it was after the Small Things premiere, when we got back home.” You shrug your shoulders. “You were three sheets to the wind, and you eat me out. Then you decorated my outers…” you say crudely. “If I am pregnant, then your little swimmers…swam. We didn't exactly rush to ensure they couldn't.”

You watch it dawn on him, slowly but surely, and his face goes pale while he shakes his head slowly. “Fuck!” He whispers. He lets go of your arms and paces on the spot for a moment. “Fuck.” He turns back to you.

“I'm sorry…” you mumble, like it's all your fault, like you did this alone.

“Stay.” He says quietly, and moves to stand directly before you. He cups his right hand against your cheek. “Stay here; we'll get a test on the way home later and…” he sighs. “Whatever happens, remember? I mean …fuck, but-but… Jesus Christ. Y/N, you're not doing it alone.”

You frown slightly, “It's just peeing on a stick, Cill.”

“I don't care.” He shakes his head. He moves his thumb across your cheek. “I'm sorry.” he sighs heavily again. “You really think…?”

Feeling a sudden wave of shock, your eyes begin to feel warm as tears swell. “Yeah, I do.” Your chin quivers. “I'm sorry, I know we…”

He shushes you softly, and his thumb pad swipes the tears that drift down towards his hand on your chin. “No, no,” he whispers. He removes his hand from your face but pulls you close to hold you against him. His arms wrap tightly around you and you burrow into the prop coat. “Don't say sorry.” He continues to whisper. He shushes softly again, his right hand moves up and down your back lovingly.

“Everyone must have heard,” you sniffle against him. You don't know what he thinks of that - you can't see his face - but he continues to whisper his gentle shushing sounds into your ear. There's a relief of some kind that is starting to come over you, but it doesn't outweigh the ever-present anxiety that grows bigger for what comes next. “I'm sorry, I don't know why I kept pecking at you,” you say and lift your head. He slowly loosens his arms and then stands before you, with his right hand resting on your bicep. “I know it matters to you, being a certain person on your jobs, I'm sorry if I've made you look bad.”

He shakes his head, “It's okay. It's fine.”

“None of this is fine, is it?” You scoff. “You don't want this.” you gesture towards your abdomen.

“Y/N, stop.” He cuts you off. “How many times do I have to say it? Whatever happens.”

“Yeah, love, I know. But you didn't mean a baby. I know you didn't. You know you didn't.” You shake your head.

“Stop,” he says firmly. “Please.” He looks like he might cry for a moment. “Y/N, we'll deal with what comes. Okay? I told you before, it isn't that I don't want a baby - it's that I don't want things becoming something else. But if that test is positive then… then we're having a fucking baby.”

“You look petrified.” You say, shaking your head.

“I fucking am!” He smirks, “Jesus Christ, I am fucking scared. But I told you I'd never see you go through what you went through before. Yeah, I'm scared of all the stuff that can change too. I'm so fucking scared.” He moves his hand from your arm to your waist, and slowly moves around to your stomach. “But if there's a wee you and me in there…” he blows a deep breath from puffed cheeks noisily. He shakes his head and you know he doesn't know what he's thinking, or feeling. “Please stay,” he says, dropping his hand. “Come with me now, we'll get a cup of tea and we'll probably have to bow our heads in shame for giving out in front of everyone.” He holds out his hand to you, waiting for you to hold tight and walk with him. You reach out and lace your fingers in his, and walk with him slowly. You know there's so much more to say, but he has to work. He has to focus, he has to do his job. Right now, sadly, you know that you're second in line. It won't be like that soon, but right now it is.

[frownyalfred]

Some questions and thoughts for the Coral Room

I noticed that there are often mentions of beta mothers. Alfred is jokingly compared or called one, beta mothers are all swarming Bruce in your last post, etc. etc.

But I also remember that Betas do not really have a childbearing role in your world. They're there so they can care for the pack as a whole and jump in if either Alpha or Omega (or both, poor Alfred) are indisposed for whatever reason (mentioned childbearing, childcare, drops, death (poor Alfred²))

So are there just Betas that do the majority of child care and are thus assigned the extra role of parent, additionally to already being in a pack that communally raises the pups?

How do Betas generally cope with the nuclear family constellation that's become the norm? They can adopt children, but not sire or carry their "own". Alphas and Omegas would also seek out each other for ruts or heats, since that's what's expected. So building romantic relationships would be pretty limited in the way modern society is structured.

What are their struggles? What are their norms? How do the maneuver a world that's pressures Alphas, objectives Omegas and forgets Betas?

Excellent question. You'll probably have noticed that the references to beta mothers in the fic are purposefully toward older beta women, or those who are from a few generations back. They're the last holdover of the pack mentality before the nuclear family shift. And you're absolutely right, they serve as parents and/or communal carers in the pack hierarchy, despite not being childbearers.

But, now that packs are dying out and shifting to a more nuclear family model, beta mothers are feeling that shift the most. They don't have 'children' in the sense of alphas and omegas, in that they are children they sired. But back in the old ways, any child they parented was theirs, just as much as it was the alpha or omega's.

This new mindset definitely pressures betas to fall into relationships with other betas, and yes I'd imagine some would adopt. Others fall into nanny/caregiving roles for alpha/omega pairs but fall short of being allowed to use the 'beta mother' title, since it's essentially defunct. And those alpha/omega pairs rarely induct those folks into their pack, largely because they don't have one anymore outside of their mating bond.

Alfred is a good example of a pack beta / beta mother holdover from the earlier times. Thomas and Martha were old enough and from old family lines that they still thought of their possible children, their house, and their future as a pack. As we see in one of the spin off fics, Martha refuses to proceed with her pregnancy (jokingly) until Thomas names Alfred as pack beta. I truly believe their plan was to have many children, and to start a formal pack that way. Which they would be allowed to more easily by society, as they were old and "eccentric" as opposed to trying to fit into the modern working nuclear family mindset.

A big theme I was kind of putting off to the side in ASOH (but talked a lot about here) is how Bruce + Clark are bringing back some older traditions, thanks in no small part to Lex. They prioritize a pack mindset and rarely even think about the more modern family setup others follow. This puts them in conflict with folks like the huffy alpha junior (I forget what i named him -- Graham?) at the gala who is rude to Lex, only for his father (Senior) to treat Lex with older omega customs and respect.

So yes, in a long winded answer to your question: betas probably suffer the most in this new world, because they are forced to curb their instincts that would normally be flourishing in a pack hierarchy. Alfred did this for a while when Bruce was going through his own issues with being an omega -- but it's clearly not ideal for him, and certainly hurt him long term after operating as a pack beta for his parents.

This is also a bit of a joke for myself, but the beta mother joke Lex makes precedes him going over and introducing himself to them in order to win favor. He immediately asks them if any of their sons are single -- this is a subtle way (ish) to indicate that while he's younger, he respects the beta mother role and sees them as valid parents. Of course this wins them over right away, as we see briefly. Clark also wins them over by politely chatting with them in their beta capacity, though he's not as aware of the high society lines as Lex or Bruce are.

[ncoincidences]

Reasons why Blumbridge slaps -

Blumbridge refers to the ship Regulus Black/Dolores Umbridge.

There's an idea floating around that Dolores Umbridge would have attended Hogwarts the same time as Regulus Black, and I've seen a couple of posts on it, many by @plecotusauritus and today as I was soaking some sunshine, I thought to myself: why not, actually. And here you go, a mini essay on why Umbridge and Black were secretly lovers, or could-have-beens, or perhaps Umbridge is actually harboring an assumed-dead Black scion during OoTP.

All in good fun :-) Feel free to add your own reasons!

A. They're passionate about their interests and hobbies. Pair this up with good decor taste, and you've got Regulus’s room with clippings of Voldemort, his path to a better Wizarding World, and a beautifully painted Black Family crest, and green interiors. Why won't you pair that up with Dolores' setup of her offices - both at Hogwarts and at the Ministry - where she has the prominent theme of pink, and florals and of course, her special interest: cats and teapots?

Which brings me to my next point:

B. They have clear ideas of what they want to look like. I'm talking the colour schemes they've figured out for themselves.

Pink for Dolores, and not just any pink, it's the in-your-face pink, to portray the image of a saccharine, feminine witch, a purposefully deceptive image once you hear her vocalise her decidedly unsweet agenda.

Now, Regulus has a lot less screen time so we cannot be clearly sure if his passion for green and silver runs as strong so as to appear prominently in his daily attire, but from the glimpse of his room, and the fact that he's, well, a Slytherin, you bet he flashed his House colours as much as he could. Perhaps to rub it in the face that he was a true Black, honoring their traditions and respecting his forefathers.... unlike a certain brother of his.

C. Vocal about their agenda. Remus cannot get a job because of her draft of the Werewolf Legislation. Her reign at Hogwarts seeks to let people know that following Umbridge's rules are the only way to live. Regulus definitely lets his superiority over muggleborns in school known, and considering what Kreacher says of him in Deathly Hallows, his becoming a Death Eater is to seek out glory and power over those inferior.

D. Okay, the most interesting part, CANON will support me on this ship. Hear me out. Umbridge wears the Slytherin locket Regulus died for! It's practically fate the way it wound into HER hands, all the way from Grimmauld Place. The tragedy??? Plus in a world where Regulus didn't die and the locket wasn't a horcrux, you bet that he would give it as a courting gift.

E. Of course Umbridge denies that Voldemort is back!! (In An AU where Regulus is alive) She doesn't want her boy to be in trouble!!!!

F. Dolores' bloodthirsty approach (literally) and abuse of her authority contrasts against Regulus’s search for autonomy after Voldemort violates the rules of magic by creating a horcrux, and his failure to find authority over Muggles. So, Dolores being successful in pushing out the Muggleborn Registration act makes her all the more attractive to Regulus.

And, in a world where Voldemort didn't exist, if Regulus took a career in the Ministry, a workplace romance with an ambitious and cunning woman sounds like an easy setup for a good story.

There can also be a parallel drawn between the two on how they are less attractive than other characters, Umbridge described as a "toad" and Regulus as "rather less handsome than Sirius"...

In conclusion, to me, it seems like the strong dominance of Umbridge's character will balance the quiet resilience of Black's. And that maybe, amongst the felines covering Umbridge's decorative plates, one of them is the feline Animagus form of Regulus Black.

[rockwgooglyeyes]

warning!! this gets really long lmao - talking about themes in Arcane season two - arcane season two spoilers, kind of obvious but need to clarify. i dont talk about shipping in this at all btw! i have ships i like but like that's not here nor there, not relevant for this imo

I was watching an Arcane analysis video and while I wouldn't really go out on a limb and say that "I know what season two was about" like the themes and stuff because the themes found in a work are, inherently, going to be subjective and up to audience interpretation, and obviously, I'm not going to say that "I know Arcane's themes better than anyone else," I don't, that's not what this is about, but I would argue that season two does have a few universal themes. Some of those are carried over from season one, being relationships and love in general, what we are willing to do for love, but there are some that are focused on more so in season two than in season one.

This might have been said before- I don't really touch the analysis/meta side of the fandom, so I am sorry if I'm retreading old ground. Additionally, while I don't think that season two was nearly as perfect as season one, I enjoyed both and I think they were both solid, enjoyable seasons. The writing in season two was not immaculate but it was not bad, either. If not held in comparison to season one, I doubt it would be judged so harshly. Nevertheless, that's a whole other can of worms, and one that I would really rather not open.

Back to the themes- my argument is that, if season one is about siblings (sisters specifically), trauma, and change, then I would say that sacrifice, love, and the consequences of death, are the main themes in season two. These are all themes that are present in season one (Vander's sacrifice for Violet & Powder, the consequences of Vander & Silco's deaths, love is relevant w/pretty much everything) but they are focused on more heavily in season two.

These in particular are seen but not limited to Jinx's sacrifice for Vi at the very end, Heimerdinger's presumed sacrifice for Ekko, (the more sacrifice oriented ones), Jayce choosing to save Viktor, Caitlyn's fixation on Jinx and her descent into tyranny, Mel being forced to kill her mother, and Singed's obsession with keeping his daughter alive (the consequences of death).

These are the themes that stuck out to me as the biggest because, while there are the more philosophical, overarching ideas of fate and evolution and the multiverse, that's not really something that is widely accessible and they are themes, yes but they are not through-lines for every character. I mean, the fate one could be argued, General Medarda fated to be taken down by family, Jinx and Vander both fated to die, Viktor fated to fail (unable to achieve Hextech dream of helping the undercity, unable to achieve glorious evolution), etc etc, and I would say that fate is probably the trickiest of these themes to really dissect because it is carried out as expected as many times as it is subverted. It's also not really what I am trying to address here lmao

I would argue that there is the consistent theme of the consequences of death, which I know is a little bit of a long theme, themes are supposed to be one word most of the time, but I can't just say that this is the theme of "grief" because it's not just grief. It is about what people do in response to the death of their loved ones. Arguably, that could be what the whole season is about, really. Jinx is reeling at the death of Silco and her starting the war with topside, she has a death wish and she wants to "repent" in a way for killing Silco and for choosing to embrace being "Jinx" which is something she doesn't see any way of coming back from. She finds a will to live in Isha, who gives her a purpose and a reason to stay alive, and that gives her the ability to eventually attempt reconciliation with Vi. Caitlyn is screwed up over her mum's death, trying to maintain the relationships she once had in the face of all of her new responsibilities as well as the war looming, and with her preexisting obsession with Jinx being twisted by her mother's death, she wages war on Zaun and attempt to locate Jinx. In this manic grief, she forces Vi to make decisions that Vi isn't able to truly make (asking Vi to become an enforcer) and she kind of ends up burning all of her bridges, irrevocably changed by her trauma. Which, y'know, fair. At the same time, Vi is dealing with the death of "Powder", finally giving into Ekko's philosophy and vowing to hunt down her sister, which she isn't really able to do without Caitlyn there as a guiding light because Vi is fragile as it is, so when that relationship implodes, she throws herself into the deep end to avoid having to actually think about anything. That's interrupted by Jinx and then both of the sisters face a twisted version of their father, Vander, and try to process that.

Viktor is one of the most difficult ones because his story is so deepy intertwined with Jayce's, they have separate arcs but they are woven so closely together that they are nearly impossible to discuss without mentioning the other. Viktor is fatally injured by Jinx's missile and Jayce breaks his promise to destroy the Hexcore and using said Hexcore to save Viktor's life. This is two different sides of the "consequences of death" because one, Jayce's actions are the consequences of Viktor's temporary death, he acted rashly and in desperation, in a successful attempt to save Viktor's life but on the other hand, it gets into the consequences of death because, why was Viktor saved instead of anyone else, such as one of the council members? Why save Viktor instead of Caitlyn's mother? The consequences of Viktor's death was Jayce once again showing how devoted he is to Viktor specifically, against all odds, and choosing to defy death for someone he loves, which against the natural order of things and directly sets off a series of events that Heimerdinger warned of, and also, that Viktor was scared of.

When he returns, Viktor is himself but he is influenced heavily by the Hexcore, at the same time. He isolates himself and creates the utopia he dreamed of making with Hextech thanks to the powers of his Hexcore. He drives Jayce away on purpose, at first, but the more people who are added to the Hexcore, the more detached he becomes and the less he is trying to distance himself from Jayce. Jayce goes through the whole multiverse shenanigans and comes back grimy and determined to stop Viktor.

The arc for Jayce and Viktor in this season kind of mirrors Vi and Jinx, a bit, with the way that Jayce keeps choosing Viktor over and over, similarly to Vi choosing Jinx over and over, and like Vi hunting down Jinx, Jayce has a period where he turns against Viktor. At the same time, it's different, because it's almost as if this is the same arc that Jinx and Vi could have had if Vi did shoot Caitlyn and play along with Jinx's rules, because Jayce is finally absorbed into the Hexcore with everyone else and resolves most of Viktor's conflict by not giving up on Viktor. By choosing Viktor over everything else. By telling Viktor that even if he can't achieve his dreams, that doesn't make him broken, that his imperfections make him beautiful.

Ekko's story around the themes, I think, is more about the way that the butterfly effect works, how little choices make a big different, and how things could have gone if only things were different, as seen in his multiverse episode. That ties into the consequences of death via showing what could have happened if Vi were the one who died instead of Vander, how that would have impacted their family and their relationships, how it changed the trajectory of the plot overall. Additionally, Ekko is one of the characters grappling with the most grief at the very end, having lost Heimerdinger, who was a mentor to him, and Jinx, who he loved.

It's fascinating how Ekko's story shows specifically his response to loss (Heimerdinger) was to take action, make a practical choice. But also, he latches onto one of the most important people in his life who is still alive, Jinx, and while he is focused on saving the world, he's devoting a lot of effort to restoring Jinx, too, which isn't exactly the most practical decision he could be making. Jinx is notorious for her volatility and Ekko has seen that first hand, yet, he pulls her out of the gutter and will not let her give up. So, while he's more tertiary when it comes to sacrifice plots (Jinx and Heimerdinger) but when it comes to love and the consequences of death, he's pretty focal, as his story ends up largely being about his love for Jinx, his love for the world, and how he deals with Jinx's death and Heimerdinger's death.

I don't want to talk about Heimerdinger I don't like him I don't care.

I could talk about Mel and her relationship with her mother as well, the way it parallels Caitlyn's relationship with her mother, but this post is long enough as it is, so if I talk about that, I'm saving that for another day.

[stellaronhvnters]

⸻ LOOKS LIKE YOU’VE GOT MAIL… !

⸻ STELLARONHVNTERS PRESENTS: LOVE LETTERS !

The season of love is upon us—happy Valentine’s Day ! Love Letters is a themed prompt/request event. Send participating hunters a prompt & your selection of 1-3 inspiring words from our list, and they’ll write something short for you ! DURATION : feb 1st - feb 13th. On the 14th, all completed letters will be compiled in a single envelope and posted to the network blog !

HOW TO PARTICIPATE?

Reblog this post with the characters you’re willing to write for, send some requests to fellow rebloggers, and wait for the same—that’s it ! Please do NOT reblog if you aren’t going to participate. Reblogging this post is confirmation you’re open to requests for this event! Only members of STELLARONHVNTERS are allowed to send/write letters. We encourage you to use this opportunity to reach out to members you haven’t before! There’s no limit to how many requests you can send, but please be courteous, and remember they are not obligated to complete yours! Letters should be a minimum of 200 words and a maximum of 2000—keep it short and (maybe bitter…) sweet!

Remember to tag your letters with #hvntersloveletters !

PROMPTS:

( 💌 ) — YELLOW ROSE: though valentine’s day is usually centered around romance, there are many types of relationships that deserve to be highlighted and celebrated. ( ❤️ ) — IRIS: promises are just words unless they can actually keep them. ( 🧺 ) — DAFFODIL: you’re not sure if they love you back or not, but either way, some part of you will always be theirs. ( 🦢 ) — PURPLE LILAC: they’re falling first, and falling hard. ( 🌹 ) — RED TULIP: they’ve been waiting to confess for a long time—now’s their chance. ( 💌 ) — BLUE HYACINTH: you may just be idealistic, but you’ll always hold out hope for a future with them, no matter how long it’s been. ( 💔 ) — BOUQUET: what could the bouquet in your hands possibly symbolize? ( 🧺 ) — DAHLIA: both of you are dressed to the nines, going out to celebrate valentine’s day and one another however you see fit. ( 🦢 ) — VOLKAMERIA: watching from the pews as they marry their soulmate, you wonder if fate has a cruel sense of humor. ( 🌹 ) — PINK HYACINTH: who can kiss the other the most today? ( 💌 ) — CHRYSANTHEMUM: saying your final goodbyes on the undisputed day of love is ironic. ironic… but fitting. ( ❤️ ) — CHICORY: who needs money to have a good time? ( 🧺 ) — PURPLE HYACINTH: seems that you accidentally ruined their romantic grand gesture! quick, make up for it! ( 🦢 ) — RUE: misunderstandings, misunderstandings… ( 🌹 ) — FORGET-ME-NOT: it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. ( 💌 ) — OLEANDER: you know your baking is mediocre at best, but they still endeavor to taste your creation, despite how their eyes may water or how ugly their face may scrunch up. ( 💔 ) — YELLOW HYACINTH: do you actually want them, or do you want to be them? ( 🧺 ) — WALLFLOWER: they planned on taking you on a picnic, but the rain started pouring as soon as you placed down the blanket. ( 🦢 ) — VENUS’ LOOKING GLASS: they don’t usually flirt with you quite this much… ( 🌹 ) — HONEYSUCKLE: they’re making it a point to show you just how much you mean to them.

WORDS:

(These are mostly here for vibe purposes! It’s more about the association of the words’ meanings together than the words themselves—have fun with it!)

accismus —  an ironic rhetorical device, in which one feigns indifference, or makes a pretense of refusing something one desires. aeipathy  —  an enduring and consuming passion. amaranthine  —  undying. anagapesis  —  loss of feelings for someone. apricity  —  the warmth of the sun in winter. cafune  —  running fingers through a loved one’s hair. catharsis  —  emotional release. charmolypi  —  the joy that emerges out of sadness, and (conversely) the sadness that merges out of joy: an integrated feeling that cannot exist without both sorrow and joy, dwelling together and giving rise to each other. cicatrize  —  heal by forming scar tissue. clement  —  mild, gentle, or merciful nature. clinquant  —  shiny and glittery; showy. cordiform  —  heart-shaped. coruscate  —  to give off light; to reflect in flashes; to sparkle.  druxy —  (of wood) having decayed spots or streaks of a whitish color; rotten, decayed. ebullience  —  a boiling or bubbling up; (figuratively) the quality of enthusiastic or lively expression of feelings and thoughts. eunoia  —  goodwill towards an audience, either perceived or real; the perception that the speaker has the audience's interest at heart. evanesce  —  disappear gradually; vanish; fade away. feuillemort  —  of the color of dead or dying leaves; dull yellowish or orangish brown. indelible  —  incapable of being lost or forgotten. iridescence  —  exhibition of colors like those of the rainbow; a prismatic play of color. kalon  —  the ideal of physical and moral beauty. kalopsia  —  the delusion of things being more beautiful than they are. laconic  —  using as few words as possible; pithy and concise. lacuna  —  a gap or absence in understanding.  litost  —  a state of torment created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery. lucent  —  emitting light; shining; luminous. mellifluous  —  flowing like honey; sweet, smooth and musical; pleasant to hear (generally used of a person's voice, tone or writing style). metanoia  —  a fundamental change of mind. niveous  —  snowy; resembling snow. paracosm  —  a detailed imaginary world. petrichor  —  the smell of earth after rain. redamancy  —  the act of loving in return. reverie  —  a state of dreaming while awake; a loose or irregular train of thought; musing or meditation; daydream. sanguine —  confident and helpful; a blood-red color. saudade —  an emotional state of melancholic or profoundly nostalgic longing for a beloved yet absent something or someone. selcouth —  strange, unusual, rare; unfamiliar; marvellous, wondrous. serein —  light rainfall from a cloudless sky after sunset. serendipity —  a combination of events which have come together by chance to make a surprisingly good or wonderful outcome. sonder —  the profound feeling of realizing that everyone, including strangers passing in the street, has a life as complex as one's own, which they are constantly living despite one's personal lack of awareness of it. taciturn —  silent; temperamentally untalkative; disinclined to speak.

EXAMPLE:

could i request (prompt) + (word), (word), (word) for (character)? thank you!!

[critter-genfic-events]

Recs featuring Veth Brenatto

We're starting off February with Veth Brenatto, or Nott the Brave! Nine (Nein) fics that feature her as a mom, a halfling turned goblin turned halfling, neurotic, a rogue, a matchmaker and meddler,and more! Check them out beneath the cut, and as ever - if you like them, let the authors know by kudosing or commenting!

Jailbreak Fever by greatqueerator (4165,Teen) Warnings: choose not to warn Pairings: Nott & Caleb Widogast

On how Nott and Caleb met in jail

Reccer says: I liked it

Thieves' Cant by Schistosity (2968,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Veth/Yeza

In which Nott is a rogue well before the goblins (or at least the beginnings of one.)

Reccer says: Part of a series on the Nein and languages, with bonus Veth backstory

nott the best matchmaker by nicole_writes (1046,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: the Mighty Nein & Veth Brenatto; Fjorester

Veth isn’t meddling. She isn’t. She just loves Jester and wants to make sure that her friend has the very best and if that means interrogating her friend’s potential love interest, then she’s willing to make that sacrifice.

Reccer says: Funny and a wonderful last line

call her briar long enough by Lorical (507,General) Warnings: Pairings: Veth & TM9

Veth thinks about being called Nott after she reclaims her body

Reccer says: I liked it

Mother, I was Never One for Mercy by Myzic (11891,Teen) Warnings: violence/combat Pairings: Veth & The Nein, Veth & Caleb

An exploration of various characters' relationships with magic, from Veth's perspective as she asks them to teach her

Reccer says: awesome dialogue and fascinating descriptions of spellcasting

The Truth, The Whole Truth, Nothing But The Truth by Chaos_Breeds (2090,General) Warnings: fantasy racism against goblins Pairings:

Or, the one where a drunk townsperson tells the group that goblins can’t feel love while in a tavern, and Nott is desperate to prove otherwise.

Reccer says: Great hurt/comfort with people comforting Nott

Tugged by navel, a running length, a chain by Myzic (19972,Teen) Warnings: Heavy focus on body image issues and internalised fatphobia Pairings: Nott | Veth Brenatto/Yeza Brenatto, (plus a few smaller ones)

A character study on Veth and her body image issues, both pre and post revethification.

Reccer says: This fic is THE veth study in my heart. It treats her with so much care and respect, and several of the smaller character interactions in here are just a joy to read. Shout out especially to Veth’s friendship with Marion. Incredible. It also shows how her self esteem issues affect her family indirectly which is really good (and also painful <3).

A Good Kid by somesortofsellsword (1421,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

When the Mighty Nein visits the Lionett family in Kamordah to gather information about the witch that's cursed Nott, Nott finds kinship with Beau. Sometimes a family isn't the one you're born into. It can also be the one you find.

Reccer says: It's interesting to think about how Veth would have taken Beau's home life, considering her own experiences as both a child and a parent, and I think this fic does a great job exploring it

Just Swim Towards the Storm by CitizenMocha (2603,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Fjord & Nott

Fjord takes first watch and Nott picks at her wounds.

Reccer says: It's a great view of Nott and Fjord mid campaign 2, when they're just starting to work out their issues and be slightly open with each other, but are still jumpy and suspicious

This is one of our weekly communally-generated gen rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. Please note that the summary and content notes are provided by the reccer, and may be different than what the author has provided. Please assume good intentions all around. <3

And hey, anyone includes you!

On the 15th, we'll be back with Sendings! Maybe messages to Pike, or Jester messaging everyone else, or those long weeks when sendings were offline in campaign 3?

Then, it'll be Fearne Focused, Road Trips, and then Chetney!

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

If you're looking for some more, check out some fics written in the critter genfic bingo tag, or the older rec lists! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

[shoechoe]

Diavolo: Personality, Themes, Motivations and Beliefs

(This is the first of a series of posts about Diavolo’s character, though they can be read in any order. The links to the rest are here.)

In this post, I will try to define Diavolo’s themes and character traits. This will be a mix of attempting to pinpoint authorial intent and personal interpretation.

Word Count: ~3600

Identity and Connection

Diavolo has a few major themes present in his character, but I have always believed that his most compelling one is the idea of identity and connection to other people.

How characters relate to each other is a major theme in Jojo as a whole. Vento Aureo in particular explores the concept of trust and connection being risky, but a worthy gamble; there's always a risk in putting your trust into someone, but as much as it can be someone's downfall, it's a fundamental part of life and can be your greatest strength. This is expressed in all of the cast, but especially in Giorno, the protagonist, whose ability to make friends and inspire others is constantly noted as his main strength.

Diavolo is arguably the series' most ideological "opposite" to this theme that it has ever written. Going beyond other villain characters who simply don't form desire for socialization like Tooru or hide their true selves from others like Kira, Diavolo sees any connection to others at all as a danger. As a result, he scrubs his identity and presence from the world completely and never lets a single person see his face or interact with him in any way.

Theoretically, I could criticize Diavolo's writing right here. Having nobody in his mafia know anything about his identity despite him being their Boss, a highly communication-necessary position, is absurd and realistically impossible. But for all my complaints of how shakily written Passione is, it's such a Jojo-level impossibility that I can suspend my disbelief. Instead, I find Diavolo’s self-erasure a fascinating character trait.

It’s important to note that we have no evidence Diavolo sought to erase himself because it was his only option. Bruno once insists that he did this because there are specific enemies he knows are already after him or something else specific to hide, but they find no evidence that this is the case. As of what we know, Diavolo is simply incapable of trust; even the slightest connection to anybody at all is a perceived threat to him, including any knowledge about him being in the open.

While there are also your regular themes of good vs. evil, this is what I'd argue is the boldest contrast Diavolo has to almost everyone else in the cast. While the others choose to trust, build connections, and find strength in allies, risking betrayal, Diavolo chooses to cut off anyone from reaching him before they have any potential to harm him.

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Compassion

At first glance, Diavolo’s lack of sympathy towards others isn’t unique among Jojo villains. However, there are some differences between Diavolo’s value of people and, for example, DIO’s. While DIO is similarly self-centered, he understands other people very well, which he uses to charm and manipulate. In contrast, Diavolo also attempts to manipulate and convince his enemies into submission at several points, but they always fall flat.

Take, for example, when he attempts to demotivate Bruno during his reveal arc by convincing him that he’s too injured to continue fighting- to no avail.

Or at the end of the Risotto fight, where he asks Risotto to return his iron to him with promises of "dignity", which also doesn’t work.

Or the moment from the very final fight where he begs Bruno to let him have the Stand arrow, seemingly confused that he doesn’t see how he’s the only one “worthy” to be ruler.

I like to envision these moments as tied to his isolation and rejection of friendship. Diavolo, someone who has likely not communicated with others beyond threats and orders for years, both sees himself as an intrinsic ruler chosen by fate yet is utterly unable to understand other people.

In Diavolo’s first scene, he does not understand why Bruno cares about Trish enough to betray him after protecting her. Instead, his first assumption is that Bruno betrayed him simply due to craving power, a motivation more similar to his own.

Here, he displays an inability to sympathize with other people and their motives, particularly when they involve acting out of caring for other people. When he does attempt to understand the motives of others, he seems to draw on his own traits and beliefs. This can explain his bafflement as to how Bruno doesn’t see him as a worthy owner of the arrow; to him, he’s so obviously fit to rule that he can’t understand how other people don’t see the same way.

Diavolo also only expresses a semblance of “respect” for people who have power. He commends his enemies when they have impressive abilities and pose a challenge to him.

It is questionable if this trait is genuine or if it is simply an attempt at manipulation like his other attempts to convince his enemies to do what he wants, but it is a line he uses repeatedly. And fitting with his self-centered worldview, his first line of praise for others is their power because power is what he values most.

Diavolo values other people through traits he values in himself, the only point of view he understands is his own, and the selfless natures of the main cast are completely beyond his grasp. I do not think any of this is particularly a stand-out trait among Jojo villains, but in some sense, it is subtly unique.

Unlike the selfishness you see in DIO, Kira, or Kars, Diavolo’s selfishness results in scenes like the bizarre grovelling about how only he “deserves” the arrow and utter confusion that nobody else can see his deservedness. This results in the common perception of Diavolo as particularly “pathetic” compared to other villains, and it’s not hard to see why. I don’t think there are any other villains who are completely consumed by and, in some way, hindered by their own selfishness as much as Diavolo is.

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Tangent About Dio and Diavolo

As a side note, beyond the obvious parallel drawn between their “God” and “Devil” naming schemes, I believe that a lot about Diavolo’s character is also meant to contrast Dio:

Dio creates a cult-like following around his charm and ability, while Diavolo relies on intimidation and impersonal detachment. Dio also has a noted startling amount of charm and worshipers while Diavolo is near-universally despised and all of his attempts to convince characters with words are ineffective. Dio is extroverted and charming while Diavolo hides and threatens.

Some of Vento Aureo’s story progression can be seen as an inverse to Stardust Crusaders: The Crusaders were attempting to track down DIO’s stand from their knowledge of his identity. Meanwhile, the first thing Bucciarati’s group learns about Diavolo is his Stand, where they then attempt to track down his identity.

Dio enjoys mind games and inspecting his enemies while Diavolo is brutally fast and efficient.

Also note the (often pointed-out) stair scenes with Polnareff:

This is sort of a background detail, but it is ultimately not explored enough to be a defining feature of Diavolo’s character. (You will notice this a lot with Diavolo; details will be suggested to you, but nothing is done with them in a way that’s conclusive or even very prominent, leading you to question if it was even intentional.)

---

“Results”

The most important and unique facet of Diavolo's ideology is his expressed belief that "effects" mean nothing in the face of their results. Essentially, he believes that the process of something doesn't matter as long as you get the "result" that you desire.

Beyond his monologues directly stating it, this is most obviously reflected in his Stand, King Crimson (literally having the ability to erase “effects” and leave only “results”) but it's also seen in other aspects of how he thinks and behaves.

He is brutally quick and efficient, wasting no time to cut straight to what he wants, like his murders being swift and sudden. As a result, despite having some of the lowest screentime, he has the highest major character kill count out of any main villain in the series.

He takes disgust in mindless hedonism with no material “result” to justify it, like when he finds Cioccolata and Secco’s simple sadistic enjoyment in torture to be incomprehensible- but he is still willing to utilize them when he needs to kill his traitors. (It is also notable that he takes such disgust in them despite doing things that are about on their level, just if they serve him a purpose- like his severe iron loss leading him to eat a live frog and drain a child of his blood while tying his mouth shut so he can’t scream.)

I also think this can be interpreted into his other behaviors. There is no point in the long-term work of gaining trust and having relationships when you can get the same “result” of raw power by cheating and intimidating your way to the top. There is no point in working to hide and keep your daughter safe when a more self-beneficial “result” is to simply kill her quickly and quietly.

This belief is directly challenged by the story, with his final punishment being related to it. When Abbacchio has his conversation with his murdered comrade, he’s told by him that when you only search for “results”, you will lose sight of the “truth”.

Then, Gold Experience Requiem- built as a direct counter to King Crimson and the only ability that can surpass it in the part- has the ability to remove the “results” to actions, leaving only the “effect”. As a direct callback to Abbacchio’s conversation, it echoes the sentiment “You will never reach the truth”.

Out of all the themes in Diavolo’s character, “effects” vs. “results” is the one that is probably the most cohesive (and probably the most intentional). I don’t dwell on this very much because I feel like it is very obvious and the fanbase is well aware of it, but it is a major overarching theme of the story.

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False God

I think the most interesting way to view Diavolo’s character is that in his attempts to secure his power, he is fighting against the nature of being human itself.

For much of the story, Diavolo is seen by everyone as nothing but a faceless authority only known as “The Boss”, his looming presence and power being the overarching threat of his character. “The Boss” is his ideal state, and it is the one he is in at the beginning of the story; in a sense, he is the “status quo” that Giorno wants to change. This could be read as an imitation of a godlike status- impersonal and meant to be obeyed without question, his power being silent but constantly present throughout the country.

Jojo often expresses the idea that human identities are shaped by connections and relationships, most obvious in parts like Jojolion. Jojo’s other villains also commonly have themes of shedding humanity to attain a higher status, like Dio’s ascension to vampire-hood literally phrased as a “rejection of his humanity”. Though Diavolo is never shown to be literally inhuman, I like to read his goal of cutting himself off from all other humans as both a ruthless securing of his power and a similar kind of attempted humanity-severance.

Diavolo himself has very self-aggrandizing dialogue, describing in his monologues that his life will “never ebb” and that he is destined to rule. This may seem weird for a character not shown to be literally inhuman, but under the lens of Diavolo attempting to surpass humanity, this dialogue makes sense. He both sees himself and wants to be seen as godlike.

This works in tandem with the connections Diavolo has to an Antichrist-like narrative, which I’ll get into.

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Fate

This interpretation of a desire to shed humanity can also be tied over into his desire to control his own fate and belief that he was chosen to be above others.

Beyond its ability to blindside its enemies, the core reason why King Crimson is so powerful is that it grants Diavolo the ability to surpass his own fate. Naturally, this is something that Diavolo prides himself in, expressing a belief that he was “chosen” to rule.

There is some contradiction with reality here, though; he believes he was chosen by fate, but his ability is to cheat fate. He declares himself destined to rule, but he is constantly fighting to defy and alter his destiny.

Diavolo’s active disdain for the idea of being led by fate also coincides with his major desire for control. The strongest changes in Diavolo’s temperament occur when control slips from his grasp; when we first see him, expressing his dominance and power over Bruno during his very first encounter with King Crimson, he’s icily calm and composed.

Throughout the story, this is his default state- unless an enemy manages to gain some kind of upper-hand on him, where he will have a temporary burst of rage or panic.

This rage usually subsides when he regains the upper hand and becomes confident in his victory. It only becomes sustained rage at the very final fight, when he is completely cornered and defeated, where he’s yelling in a barely-masked panic.

This rage at loss of control leads to the common mischaracterization of Diavolo being a very angry character as a general rule, but this is not really true. This temperament is a branch of his larger desire for control and freedom from fate.

Considering the heavy connection between Jojo’s fatalistic and religious themes, an easy interpretation can be made with Diavolo’s goal to control his fate and a desire to surpass or attain the will of God. When he loses control, this is being taken from him.

This is also somewhat tied to his ultimate punishment at the hands of Gold Experience Requiem. Not only is his Stand destroyed, but he is unable to move or control anything in any way as he is killed over and over for eternity. (There’s also some situational irony in his previous expression of never dying- technically, he gets just that.)

---

Mortality

I’ve often seen theories that Diavolo is some representation of (or literally is) the Antichrist in disguise, and on some level, I think this makes sense. Diavolo created Passione and brought the lost souls in the country together before Giorno could, much like the Antichrist is prophesied to do in common Christian belief. Bruno’s belief and faith in Diavolo’s Passione as the justice in the world can be easily connected to the Antichrist being a false savior, alongside the Jesus narrative present with Giorno.

However, while his character can definitely be read as paralleling the Antichrist, I do not think Diavolo is actually any kind of supernatural entity. Among there being no evidence for that idea beyond his odd backstory, I find it far less compelling, especially considering his failed chase for higher power in the final fight with the Requiem arrow.

In the final fight, he chases after a final securing of his power that would give him true godlike abilities, only for that power to instead go to Giorno, the true savior. In this defeat, Diavolo proves that he is not chosen by fate to rule, nor will he ever receive the power of a god. His true mortal nature is finally exposed as he is doomed to be killed in humiliating ways for eternity.

The death loop is also where his aggressive secrecy about his identity and his rejection of allyship slips. He begins to cry out for help and yells “I am Diavolo!”

But nobody knows who “Diavolo” is, and nobody hears his cries. Just like he’s always wanted to achieve, he is completely and utterly alone, without anyone who knows or can help him, forever.

---

The Past

As Diavolo states himself, his biggest fear is his past. It is the major thing that he interprets his failures through and what drives his anxieties- and, in a way, it’s what causes his downfall. It is likely some intentional irony or weakness in King Crimson’s ability that it gives Diavolo the ability to escape his future pitfalls, but he is defenseless against things that have happened in his past.

Diavolo’s fear of the past is likely a big reason why “paranoia” is a trait commonly read into his character more than what was probably intended. Indeed, it is something that he is haunted by throughout the story, and you see his nervousness hiking as the protagonists uncover more and more about him. However, this still isn’t exactly depicted as unfounded or irrational- it’s what the protagonists explicitly hunt to find first to take him down, after all.

I would say that the past is a real, potent threat for Diavolo, but it is a beast he created himself. His attempts to erase it only make it come back to bite him harder. His most major attempt to overcome his past with his murder of Trish is ironically what leads to Bruno turning fully against him, leading to his defeat.

Diavolo’s past itself isn’t necessarily the inherent threat, something accentuated by how the actual events of his past are never shown; his inability to accept his past turned it into one.

The past is also an important theme with the rest of the main cast, as we are given backstories showing how they fell down into the path of being a socially outcast gangster. However, we are shown throughout how they develop past their despair and seemingly hopeless situations to end up doing a good deed and finding hope by saving Trish. They are ultimately able to make peace and move on; Diavolo cannot.

(The only exception to this is Fugo, who was initially planned to be a traitor but ended up simply leaving the group instead. I believe Fugo’s lack of a developed backstory in the manga was a part of this initial plan in that he did not “move on” from his past to do a good deed like the others did.)

---

Inevitability

The major roadblock to all of Diavolo’s motivations and the story’s slope down to his defeat is started by the existence of his daughter. She shakes the entire foundation of his perceived isolation; not only does she pose immediate danger to his anonymity, but her existence means he was never truly successful in severing his ties from the world at all.

Diavolo's attempted murder of Trish is the most personal example of his evil in the story. The reveal of his true plan functions like a twist, being the moment that completely breaks the characters' trust and loyalty to him. (He’s technically not a twist villain because we know Giorno was already planning on defeating him, but this is a major change in how we see his motivations and nature.)

Trish is the major person that “grounds” him throughout the story as an unbreakable connection and relationship. She is our first piece of evidence of Diavolo’s past and personhood, and therefore, what he wants to destroy the most. She is the biggest existing representation of everything he wants to destroy, yet can’t.

Trish being such a catastrophic existence to Diavolo is also, like his past being a danger, a beast that he created himself. His attempted murder of her is what finally turns the main cast decidedly against him; arguably, if he hadn't set out to erase himself in the first place, her existence would never have been such a life-ruining event for him.

---

Contradiction

One of my favorite themes to interpret into Diavolo’s character is a nature of confusion and contradiction.

His complete anonymity is very effective as intimidation for a main antagonist, but it is also fundamentally self-destructive, in a sense. He erases himself, destroying his relationships and his goodwill, to become untouchable.

Despite him having so much power, most members of Passione we see care very little about the Boss, if not actively dislike him. La Squadra betrays the Boss after years of resentment, Cioccolata and Secco plan to attempt it, and even Tiziano and Squalo, members of his elite guard, act more out of care for each other than to him.

The only kind of explicit attachment to the Boss that we see is through members viewing him as a symbol or an extension of Passione itself. The sense of betrayal Bruno feels at his discovery of the Boss selling drugs to children and the attempted murder of his daughter is not due to attachment to the Boss as an individual, but rather his false belief in the morality of Passione and his leadership.

Perhaps most importantly, as a stark contrast to the fun, personality-based characters of everyone else in part five, Diavolo is very hateable. It’s something you see all over the fanbase. He kills four widely popular characters with no remorse and his uncaring nature gives him the feeling of utter unlikability. The people who support the death loop as an appropriate end to his character largely defend it not on the proportionate severity of Diavolo’s actions, but on his personal unlikability as a character. Not only is he hated by the cast, he is hated by the audience.

This creates a contradiction. Despite thinking of himself as a king above all others, Diavolo lives life as a dangerous balancing act. What he does to prevent betrayal, being ruthless and cutting himself off from everyone, ironically sows more betrayal by causing resentment. He wants to be erased from the world, yet he wants power, something inherently attention-drawing.

Him being cold and impossible to reach does make it monumentally difficult to hunt him down, but it also means he has no true ally, only making hatred and betrayal more likely. He is both immensely powerful and threatening yet utterly pathetic. He is hated yet obeyed, and despite holding power over everyone, he also must fear everyone.

Contradiction is a theme I will progressively expand and elaborate more upon throughout this series of analysis because you can find it throughout most of his major character aspects. However, in isolation, this is where I think it is the most obvious.

---

I understand why people struggle to define Diavolo’s personality and themes in a cohesive way. What you choose to prioritize in his characterization is up to personal decision and it’s easy for people to read traits that were not actually intended or forgo his actual unique traits entirely. As a result, his character creates many vastly different opportunities for interpretation.

In my next post, I’m going to talk more specifically about what I think are the major flaws in his character writing.

[https-kittyx3]

Omgg hii Is this where requests go?

I wanted to ask for a dandys world looey x circus! reader

Readers from another company and is paired up with looey and maybe they get a little competitive since they're both circus themed 🎪

keep your rivals close!

YESYESYESYES oh my god i absolutely adore looey i am SO excited to get this request!! he's my favorite toon and i main him 🩷 he's so adorable also can we talk about how adorable his festive skin is? his little TOP HAT is SO PRECIOUS AAH gushing aside, yes!! you are in the correct place!!

reader is implied to be a main toon from their company, and this is set before all the chaos happens

i'm mixing a written scenario with headcanons!! and also putting both platonic and romantic things in here just in case :3

lowercase intended || art cred

your toon handler was far too insistent on bringing you over to garden grove.

it's not that your company has never collaborated with dandy and co., but this is your first time being brought along. ever since your release, you've skyrocketed in popularity — you were becoming more sought after than the rest of your crew. sure, it may be a temporary surge in popularity, but your toon handler was dead set on taking advantage of the situation.

so, here you were; tossed into garden grove with the expectation to perform a circus act alongside looey in the next coming days.

"hey! you're looey, right?" you extend a limb towards looey expectantly, "it's nice to meet you! i can't wait to perform with you!"

looey grabs your hand in return, shaking it gratefully, "likewise! it's so great to see another circus toon!"

that greeting was the most positive interaction you've had. after that, it all went downhill — but subtly. slowly.

to practice for the performance, you and looey decided to show off what you both can do. it started off simple: balancing on a ball, juggling pins... until it became a competition of who can do it better.

looey shows off his ability to turn his balloon limbs into shapes, while you create an entire replica of him with your balloons. you juggle five pins at the same time, while looey doubles it and juggles ten.

looey balances on a unicycle, and you balance on it while standing on the seat. you walk across a thin tightrope while balancing juggling, and looey does it while doing a handstand.

this goes on, and on, and on — you both manage to one-up each other each time you try something, leaving you both competing to see who's better. but there's a problem: you're both really good. it's clear that this small rivalry is never going to end.

you and looey go until you've both collapsed to the ground, exhausted and overworked. looey is visibly deflating, and you can barely pick yourself up.

"you're... haahh... really good," you admit, picking up your head enough to see him similarly flopped to the ground. looey grins at you, his ears picking up slightly, "thanks! you're really good, too!"

PLATONIC

from then on, you became pretty good friends with looey

your little competitions never stopped, of course, but they always started with one of you saying "want to see who can do [x] better?"

it always lands in the two of you going until one of the other toons stops you, or you both get too tired.

you and looey came up with a secret handshake that you do every time you visit garden grove, or the rare times that looey visits you

after a successful first performance, you and looey became a common duo seen doing performances and having collaborative episodes together — the children absolutely love seeing you and looey perform together.

it's a point of pride for you both :3

ROMANTIC

i headcanon that when looey is flustered, he deflates a little bit

the competitions you both have still happen, of course, but you always make sure not to exhaust each other out of concern.

you also end up playfully arguing about who gets to take care of who when it does end up happening

looey absolutely loves giving you hugs. he's even worse than goob when it comes to you, because it's almost like he doesn't want to let go

looey is rather insecure, though - he gets worried that no one is watching him when he performs, and by extension he worries sometimes that you don't recognize all of his efforts

hold his face, tell him "i see you, looey, and i love you", and you'll need to go get the helium pump... he completely deflates when you praise him.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Middle Man: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: You're called to Indiana where a woman goes missing. Maybe it's something about this case or maybe it's all in your head, but you can't help the feeling like something isn't right. On the upside, Rossi is throwing a Halloween party, and you can't wait to be with everyone and celebrate Spencer's favorite holiday with him.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

Emily and Spencer walk into the club and ask to speak to a woman who is willing to talk. There are several girls pole dancing on stage while other women are wearing nearly nothing as they serve food and drinks. Since they have alcohol at the club, they can't be naked but they can wear clothing that doesn't hide anything. Spencer thinks it's better if Emily speaks to the woman since she is one, so he stands back and listens.

"What would it take for you or one of your co-workers to go home with a customer?" Emily asks.

"Nothing. I have a boyfriend."

"Does he know that you work here?" Spencer asks.

"Yes, It's how we met. He doesn't have a problem with it. Do you?"

"No, not at all. I'm from Las Vegas. I don't have a problem with it. I just, um, these are questions that we have to ask."

"We are not judging you," Emily says. "We're just trying to find Stephanie. Now, you said you met your boyfriend here. So, you did go home with a customer once before."

"Those were the early days. Everyone's a little wild in the beginning."

"Not the veterans?"

"We know how to play it safe."

"Was Stephanie the type of girl who played it safe?" Emily asks.

"She never really went through a wild phase. All she cared about was getting home to her daughter."

"Did anyone try and take her home last night?"

"Everyone tries every night. I know she got asked to go to a party. We all did, but she turned them down."

"Them? There was more than one?"

"Yeah, two guys. They got dances from each of us."

"What kind of party were they offering?" Emily asks.

"I never got a chance to find out. It's bad business to discuss private deals on the floor."

"Can you show me where you and Stephanie gave them their dances?"

The woman gets up and walks over to the far end of the room where small booths are. Each is a singular booth that has coverings on either end so that whoever sits next to someone can't see each other or the girls that are dancing on them.

"I was in here while Stephanie was in that one."

"Could you sit down?" Both Emily and the woman sit down so that they can't see each other, but they can both see Spencer. "I can see the whole room but I can't see my partner. If you're working as a team, you both want to see the girl you're gonna take home. Why would they do it somewhere where they can't see each other?"

"We should take a look at the club surveillance footage." Spencer and Emily get the manager of the club to show them the footage of that night. "There are only two cameras. There's a lot of blind spots. How do you keep an eye on all the girls?"

"We got the one guy in the back and one guy on the floor at all times," the manager says.

"It looks pretty full. Are you always this busy on the weekends?"

"Only on theme nights."

"The unsubs probably picked crowded nights to make sure they blend in. They're smart. They make a plan of attack before they get to the club, and then they separate and choose their prey," Spencer says.

"I doubt they were very happy when Stephanie turned them down. Alpha personalities don't handle rejection well."

"They abducted her from the parking lot just like the others. It didn't matter what she said. Stephanie was going to that party whether she wanted to or not."

The second you step foot in the cornfields, you don't feel right. You're not scared of a lot of things since you can sense who is around you. Plus, seeing the worst of the worst every single day has made you tough against jump scares and silly horror movies. However, there is something about this cornfield that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Someone is here and they're not supposed to be.

You look around the place but you can't see anything but the people next to you and a shit ton of corn.

"How the hell did they find this place? We must have taken thirty different turns to get here," Rossi says.

"We're definitely looking for a local. We should position black-and-whites in the area. We might be able to spot the unsubs before their next hunt," Derek says.

"Garcia should pull surveillance footage of gas stations, too. With all this driving, they have to be getting their fuel somewhere."

After a pause, Derek speaks. "I don't get it. These guys enjoy the thrill of the chase. I'll buy that. What I don't buy is them taking such a big risk."

"They wouldn't let their victim loose unless they were certain she couldn't get away."

"What would make them so certain?"

"Manpower," you say, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on you. "It would take one person to drive the truck. It would take another guy to handle the spotlight to track her in the field. Another one to chase her. I think there are more than two unsubs."

"Do you see more than two energies?"

"I see four. Three red and one blue."

"That's good enough for me," Derek shrugs.

After finding shit moved in your apartment, you're a bit paranoid that someone is either following you or watching you. Goosebumps appear on both arms and you rub them to try and get them to go away.

"Cold?" Derek asks.

"No. I'll be right back."

You leave their side and head further into the cornfields away from Derek and Rossi.

"Is she okay?" Rossi asks.

"I don't know."

The further you walk away from them, the closer you feel like you're getting to the person who is watching you. There might not even be a person there. It could be an animal. It could just be your paranoia getting the better of you. Still, you won't know unless you go searching for it. You travel enough so that nothing but corn surrounds you in the field. You whip around when you hear someone whispering but no one is there.

Okay, this isn't funny. Your heart is racing, sweat is forming on your hairline, and your eyes are wide. You only get like this when you feel like your life is in danger. You're not sure if you're letting the energies of the victims affect you or if this is real life.

Corn stalks move to your right and you look over to see a very tall man, maybe six-foot-six standing there. Since the stalks are very tall, you can only see this man's face. He is scowling as if he hates you. He is there but is gone the next second, making you doubt if he was really there to begin with.

Before you can go over there and see if he is real or not, someone appears right behind you. You turn and scream in terror, only relaxing when you see it's Derek.

"Whoa, mama, are you okay?"

"Was that you?"

"Was what me?" You point behind you where the man was standing but Derek looks even more confused. "Come on, the car is this way." He takes your elbow gently and leads you in the opposite direction. "Are you okay?"

"I just want to get out of here."

"Okay."

You three head back to the station after, but the feeling of someone watching you doesn't go away. It's like you're stuck in the cornfield still. Spencer and Emily are already back from the club, and he immediately walks over to you when he sees the ashen look on your face.

"Are you okay?"

"I think so." You tell him exactly what happened to you in the field. "I mean, I'm crazy, right? Someone wasn't stalking me in the field?"

"You're a lot of things, Y/N, but crazy isn't one of them."

"So, you think someone was stalking me out there?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was nothing."

"It's probably my nerves, right? Using the victims' energies to make me paranoid? It's nothing, I bet."

"Yeah, I bet it's nothing. You're okay."

Spencer kisses your lips quickly and joins the rest of the team. He sits down in front of the computer and pulls up the security footage of the club to watch again.

"We know these guys are local, so we should be looking for anybody working in the fields or agriculture."

"The only problem is that more than half of Indiana is farmland," Sheriff Jeff says.

"Garcia, were either of the other clubs having theme nights when the girls went missing?" Emily asks the technical analyst over the phone.

"All of them. Meredith was abducted on Dollar Draft night, Amanda on Ladies night, and Kimberly on Fantasy Football Friday."

"You were right, Reid. They're targeting nights that the clubs are at capacity so they won't be easily recognized by the security cameras." Spencer doesn't answer. "Reid?"

"I think I found our two unsubs." On the screen are two women giving dances to two men. "These guys have gotten dances from half the girls in the club. They're very careful to hide their faces from the cameras, and this guy seems to be communicating with someone across the room."

"If his partner is sitting in the booth next to him, who is he talking to?" Emily asks.

"Garcia, do you have another angle?" Hotch wonders.

"No. The other camera faces the door."

"If there's a third unsub, we could be looking at a pack."

"That makes sense. I saw four energies in that field. Three red and one blue--three men and one woman. If these two in the booths are underlings, they would look to the pack leader to choose the target. That's why they abduct the women from the parking lot," you say.

"Stephanie only knew about the first two men. If there was a third, she never would have seen them coming."

"Garcia, any luck with the DNA database?" Hotch asks.

"There's nothing in a five-state radius, but I am opening my parameters to nationwide. That is gonna take some time, though."

"That's the one thing we don't have. We have twenty-four hours before Stephanie ends up in a cornfield. We might even have less time than that."

"What do you mean?" the sheriff asks.

"Two unsubs working toward a common goal is one thing. Add a third and all bets are off. We only found two traces of DNA. One of them probably doesn't know about the murders. The pack hierarchy will start to break down. They'll question their leader. When that happens, the Alpha will have to reassert his authority, and Stephanie will be the object of his aggression."

"I just can't believe someone from our community would be involved in this," Jeff scoffs.

"Don't underestimate a pack leader's influence. These guys are being manipulated into playing his game. We think at least one member of the pack didn't know that the women were being killed," Rossi says.

"Why here? Why now?"

"Each of the women was abducted on Monday morning and not killed until Wednesday. Why are they working during the work week and not the weekend?"

"Maybe they're busy?"

"Or maybe they know they can do it during the work week which means they don't have a normal nine-to-five job," you say. "That also means they have limited income and they blend in with a young crowd. If one of them is from out of state, that would explain why they didn't start their killing until the summer was over."

"What would explain it?"

"They're college students. We need to give the profile now."

Jeff gathers his men and women so that your team can give the profile.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[lemotmo]

I have never sent you one of these before so I hope I did it correctly. I found this very helpful because I also don't always understand the nuance or subtlety of a scene. Glad to know it's not just me.

Q. I'm not sure if you can even do this but I have autism and I struggle immensely with understanding subtext, framing, sarcasm and anything else really that I'm supposed to be able to pick up on in media. The direct dialogue or action in a scene tends to be what I take as fact. I understand that's not the case and things are always there that aren't being spoken or directly stated. Can you try to explain the Buddie stuff that points to them going canon? I want it but I don't know how to spot those clues. Does this even make sense? Please feel free to ignore this if it's not something that's explainable.

A. Hi, anon. Your question makes perfect sense and I am more than willing to try and see if I can explain or offer some context into some of the scenes. I have a friend who has Asperger's and he struggles with all these things as well so we try to explain things to him as often as he needs. For the sake of length, and not wanting to make this thread too long to keep up with, I will relegate my examples to a few things from seasons 7 and 8 only. Otherwise we would be here all day. I will start with episode 7x4 because that's the episode that is most widely misinterpreted.

As everyone now knows the episode ended with Tommy kissing Buck, keep in mind that we had spent the entirety of the episode up to that point watching Buck apparently being jealous because Eddie was spending time with another guy. The direct dialogue of the scene leading up to the kiss, when Buck tells Tommy that trying to get his attention had been exhausting, is the argument people use to show that the episode was really about Tommy. But Tommy himself doesn't believe that. The audience sees Tommy surprised by that statement, because he was also aware Buck was bothered by Eddie spending time with him, but he clearly thought Buck was bothered for the same reason the audience thought Buck was bothered, because he wasn't the one Eddie was spending time with. That's why Tommy responds with a confused/surprised "Me"? The episode played very much like Buck was jealous of Tommy NOT Eddie. The most obvious example of this was the scene in the firehouse when Eddie is on the phone in the locker room and Buck is trying to get his attention while working out. The show never tells us who Eddie is actually talking too. We don't know who's on the other end of the conversation, neither does Buck. The only thing Buck sees is Eddie laughing and having a good time while ignoring him. Tommy wasn't at the firehouse so he was never going to see Buck trying to show off around the weight room and Amazon priming a basketball to himself so he could pretend he was interested in something he knew Eddie was interested in. The other interesting thing about that episode was the way Eddie was framed, in other words shot and filmed, throughout. He was consistently lit in golden/sunlight, colors associated with warmth and happiness/joy. Tim made a point of telling everyone that the episode was from Buck's perspective which means that's how Buck sees Eddie. Buck associates Eddie with happiness and warmth and joy. The joy theme is important to remember because it comes back into play during season 8. I'm not in any way suggesting that once Buck became aware of his male attraction that he didn't find Tommy attractive, he clearly did in some capacity. But it is not out of character for Buck to over correct himself in the wrong direction. Both times he asked his partners to move in with him were direct results of his belief that he needed to make up for some wrong he had done to them. He asked Taylor to move in with him after he kissed Lucy and he asked Tommy to move in with him after his reaction to the Abby news, and Josh's speech about what they owed the older queer community. Josh said many things in that speech, a speech I did not love, but he said many things and it was telling that the only part of that speech that seemed to register with Buck where Tommy was concerned was the part about what they owed to the community that came before them. It was wrong to ask on both occasions. Taylor said yes. Tommy said no. We will get back to the Tommy one shortly but those are perfect examples of Buck over correcting himself in the wrong direction in order to avoid dealing with the actual issues.

When we arrive at season 8 we get the scene of Buck hearing all the different noise and static in his head when he's trying to calm himself down while Gerard is yelling. The only voice that is clear and audible for the audience is Eddie's voice. Eddie's voice is the one used to calm and recenter Buck. It was an intentional choice to make it Eddie's voice. not his boyfriends voice but Eddie's voice. Episode 8x6 was the biggie though. The episode is titled Confessions. It was the only episode of the season so far where Buck and Eddie didn't say a single word to one another, but I'll come back to that. Eddie was the focus of that episode, it is important to note that episodes 7x4 and 8x6 were directed by the same man. It was intentional on the show's part for these two episodes to sync in some capacity. They have kept the Buck storyline and the Eddie storyline linked since the beginning of season 7. Their storylines are connected. We see Eddie at the juice bar pick up a bottle of juice and hand it to the cashier. He changes his mind though and swaps it out for a bottle of water (a good note to have here is that in the first episode when the crew is running the stairs Buck is holding a bottle of juice, not water, once they make it to the roof). Father Brian watches this interaction and decides he wants to talk to Eddie. We then see Eddie sitting outside at a table, with plenty of empty tables around him, but Father Brian asked if he could join him anyway. Father Brian attempts small talk, and Eddie, unprompted, tells him, 'sorry, I'm straight'. This is not something television has straight characters do. It's not necessary to declare your heterosexuality. In fact it is far more common for television to use dialogue like that to foreshadow a sexuality realization for that character. It is a very common beginning to a sexuality arc. Father Brian then wants to know why Eddie swapped his juice for the water. Eddie tells him he felt like water instead and Father Brian then equates Eddie denying himself the juice as a way of denying himself joy. He tells Eddie that he's punishing himself. Then they talk about why Eddie has the mustache. Eddie tells him he wanted a full beard but the LAFD doesn't allow full beards. A very interesting conversation indeed for a character who has just explicitly stated that he's straight. We all know the term 'beard' and its history within the queer community. Father Brian then tells Eddie to do one thing that brings him joy. That entire scene was written like foreshadowing. I will skip ahead now to Buck and Tommy's break up. Tommy explains to Buck that at some point he is going to figure out what it is that he really wants and even though he won't mean to, he will hurt Tommy once he figures that out. Tommy has known since 7x4 that something is there for Buck where Eddie is concerned. But he also knows Buck is not ready for that realization yet. He makes a point of telling Buck that he's his first not his last. They also made a point of having Buck say sometimes those can be the same, meaning your first can be your last. Tommy says sometimes that can be true but not most of the time. Meaning there is an exception to that rule. The right person can be your first and your last. Tommy was not the right person. Fast forward to Eddie shaving off his mustache and doing his risky business dance.

Buck goes to Eddie following the breakup. Eddie answers the door in his underwear and he and Buck do not speak. Buck holds up a beer bottle and walks in. They don't talk. They sit on the couch in silence drinking their beers. That is the final shot of the episode. An episode entitled Confessions, and the only episode of the season where Buck and Eddie don't say a single word to one another. Again the framing of that scene is also important because of what surrounds them in the scene. Buck and Eddie are on the couch. It's right it's where they belong but the timing is not right. The blurry picture of Christopher between them on the table behind them is intentional. Christopher is missing from their little unit. Then there's the picture of Texas on the wall behind Eddie. Texas, and everything it represents for Eddie, looms over them. Those are the obstacles that have to be dealt with first. They existed in that shot because Buck, and especially Eddie, cannot escape them. They have to be dealt with and fixed first. They didn't talk because they have things they need to do first.

The last shot of the mid season finale being Buck sitting alone on the Diaz couch was also foreshadowing. Eddie is going to Texas. Yes, that scene also indicated that Buck is finally at a place where he won't be able to ignore or misinterpret his feelings for Eddie any longer. Eddie isn't there yet. Texas has to be dealt with first. Therefore Eddie couldn't be physically on the couch with him in that scene because Eddie has to leave first. Eddie has to be the one person who leaves Buck and chooses to come back to Buck.

I hope this made sense, anon. It was still longer than I anticipated. Please feel free to ask me anything at any time. I am more than happy to try and explain something as best as I can, if I can. I have no idea if this was helpful but I hope you were able to get something out of it. 🩷

Thank you Nonny! This is lovely!

Such a great breakdown of the overarching Buddie storyline for Buck and Eddie. Such a great resource for people who have trouble recognising subtext and nuance in a storyline.

I am going to add my own breakdown of the entire last Buddie scene of episode 8x08. Right after it aired someone with autism contacted me with the question if I could break that specific scene down for them.

You can find it here: breakdown of 8x08 final Buddie scene

If anyone ever needs more help in this department, feel free to send an ask. Just like Ali, I'd be happy to try and explain what the viewer is meant to take away from a scene.

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[cantfightmoonlight]

"No I'm not a zombie," She scoffed. The corner of her lips lifted ever so slightly as she pulled him into the confessional. "Well, outside of the norm anyhow, like you. I mean I have died multiple times now. I don't recommend, but not any time recently," She promised him. "Oh. I get it now. No, Dilan decided to throw me a surprise Funeral themed birthday party," She explained. "But, it is just a theme. Technically, she was planning to throw me this party three birthdays ago. It was right when I came back from the dead the first time. Dilan and this girl Paloma realized I had never had a real funeral. I died mid-transition from becoming a vampire. My exe accidentally turned me right here in Lunar Cove and, when I died, I don't think she wanted to get in trouble, so she buried me in the backyard. I didn't even get a tombstone and Lo thought that was a complete and utter travesty, so she and Dilan came up with the idea to throw me a small Funeral birthday party where we could celebrate my new life while mourning what I had lost. Only it never ended up happening. They both forgot and, then the next year, the vampires were put under a spell and Dilan stabbed me, which is a whole other story in itself. But, three years later, here we are. I think it was thrown a bit too late, but she was trying."

"Sorry it freaked you out though," She admitted as she gave Todd's arm a small squeeze. Only at the mention of eating him, her brows lifted. Her face scrunched up a little hurt by the connotation. "Rude. No. I was going to ask if you wanted to hide in here with me, but I can take the offer back. Though wait, really? You would actually care if, you know, I kicked the bucket?" She asked, genuinely surprised at that. "You know, you might be one of the best people in this town, Todd Miller, and I mean that geniunely."

Todd's brow shot up, and for a few silent moments, he simply stared at her, perhaps trying to decide whether or not she was a hallucination of some kind. "Are you...are you, like, a real zombie now?" He did refer to himself as such from time to time, of course, and he supposed, if he died again for real—like Bri was meant to have—he would perhaps find himself hungry for brains. "I thought you were supposed to be dead. For real, for real. This is...this is your funeral, ain't it?" He offered dully, shoulders slumping as he settled into an awkward

As she grabbed him, Todd let out a soft yelp, eyes widening as he found himself tugged into the confessional. "Are you...are you gonna eat me?" When Bri spoke, however, he gave a low scoff. "Duh. Hello-o-o? I'm hot as hell. The most. I steal hearts all the time. Not...not real hearts, though. Aliens stole my appendix, and I wouldn't do that to nobody. Like, gag me, right? Not brother behavior." He studied the cupcake suspiciously, as though he though it might rear up and attack him. But when it did not, he took it and sort of cradled it in his arms. "No...no, I don't. I only smoke one thing, and you ain't really allowed to at funerals. Are you faking your death? Is this, like, like...a spy thing?"

He met her eye. Todd sighed. "I'm not in the mood to sweep shit. I was all worked up on account of you being...you know, like, dead. I thought that was real sad. For the world to have one less rad person. Made my stomach all bunchy and everything. How come you aren't dead? I ain't mad about it! Just...just confused as hell."

[hoshigray]

this fucking manga bro..

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

At your side [End of Season 2]

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