#much less Star Wars as a whole

[imogenkol]

I mean this in the nicest way possible, but why do so many people think that criticizing the Jedi is bad? The Jedi are and were never perfect. They can never be a perfect order who does everything right and never makes mistakes. Frankly, I can write an entire essay on their flaws.

It is okay that they were flawed. That doesn’t mean you can’t root for them. I root for them. I deeply love them and their lore. The Great Jedi Purge was a tragedy that they didn’t deserve. But acting like they’re an untouchable institution is not only just straight up wrong, but also just really boring?? The imperfections of the Order and those involved give the Jedi nuance and make them feel incredibly real and interesting. Things are not black and white in Star Wars. Let yourself feel conflicted about the Jedi and wish for them to succeed anyway. It’s more exciting that way, I promise.

[bisamwilson]

why do none of the rebels characters or ahsoka have actual personalities anymore,,,,,

[p4nishers]

"the council should've granted anakin the rank of a master–" i have a gun.

[corelliaxdreaming]

It's the two year anniversary of when I started reading NJO. Oof. Wish I had something fun to say about that. Only four books to go.

[lieutenantselnia]

Huh okay😭😂

QUIZ: which star wars villain are you?

oh my god 💀

[darka-3363]

A Star Wars fic where, due to a clerical error, Obi-Wan Kenobi is sent to supervise the Coruscant Guard for two weeks while he heals his broken arm, instead of being sent to some other planet to negotiate a cease-fire.

Suddenly, Commander Fox understands why Cody likes his general so much. The man is ruthlessly efficient, and bitches about natborn politicians as if he'd been in the guard this whole time.

Meanwhile Palpatine has conniptions because Obi-Wan is on his No Senate Meeting List, because he actually can understand all that's being said and then is able to translate it into simpler words, which is so not bueno for Sheev. He wants people to be more confused, not less.

[aethersea]

another thing fantasy writers should keep track of is how much of their worldbuilding is aesthetic-based. it's not unlike the sci-fi hardness scale, which measures how closely a story holds to known, real principles of science. The Martian is extremely hard sci-fi, with nearly every detail being grounded in realistic fact as we know it; Star Trek is extremely soft sci-fi, with a vaguely plausible "space travel and no resource scarcity" premise used as a foundation for the wildest ideas the writers' room could come up with. and much as Star Trek fuckin rules, there's nothing wrong with aesthetic-based fantasy worldbuilding!

(sidenote we're not calling this 'soft fantasy' bc there's already a hard/soft divide in fantasy: hard magic follows consistent rules, like "earthbenders can always and only bend earth", and soft magic follows vague rules that often just ~feel right~, like the Force. this frankly kinda maps, but I'm not talking about just the magic, I'm talking about the worldbuilding as a whole.

actually for the purposes of this post we're calling it grounded vs airy fantasy, bc that's succinct and sounds cool.)

a great example of grounded fantasy is Dungeon Meshi: the dungeon ecosystem is meticulously thought out, the plot is driven by the very realistic need to eat well while adventuring, the story touches on both social and psychological effects of the whole 'no one dies forever down here' situation, the list goes on. the worldbuilding wants to be engaged with on a mechanical level and it rewards that engagement.

deliberately airy fantasy is less common, because in a funny way it's much harder to do. people tend to like explanations. it takes skill to pull off "the world is this way because I said so." Narnia manages: these kids fall into a magic world through the back of a wardrobe, befriend talking beavers who drink tea, get weapons from Santa Claus, dance with Bacchus and his maenads, and sail to the edge of the world, without ever breaking suspension of disbelief. it works because every new thing that happens fits the vibes. it's all just vibes! engaging with the worldbuilding on a mechanical level wouldn't just be futile, it'd be missing the point entirely.

the reason I started off calling this aesthetic-based is that an airy story will usually lean hard on an existing aesthetic, ideally one that's widely known by the target audience. Lewis was drawing on fables, fairy tales, myths, children's stories, and the vague idea of ~medieval europe~ that is to this day our most generic fantasy setting. when a prince falls in love with a fallen star, when there are giants who welcome lost children warmly and fatten them up for the feast, it all fits because these are things we'd expect to find in this story. none of this jars against what we've already seen.

and the point of it is to be wondrous and whimsical, to set the tone for the story Lewis wants to tell. and it does a great job! the airy worldbuilding serves the purposes of the story, and it's no less elegant than Ryōko Kui's elaborately grounded dungeon. neither kind of worldbuilding is better than the other.

however.

you do have to know which one you're doing.

the whole reason I'm writing this is that I saw yet another long, entertaining post dragging GRRM for absolute filth. asoiaf is a fun one because on some axes it's pretty grounded (political fuck-around-and-find-out, rumors spread farther than fact, fastest way to lose a war is to let your people starve, etc), but on others it's entirely airy (some people have magic Just Cause, the various peoples are each based on an aesthetic/stereotype/cliché with no real thought to how they influence each other as neighbors, the super-long seasons have no effect on ecology, etc).

and again! none of this is actually bad! (well ok some of those stereotypes are quite bigoted. but other than that this isn't bad.) there's nothing wrong with the season thing being there to highlight how the nobles are focused on short-sighted wars for power instead of storing up resources for the extremely dangerous and inevitable winter, that's a nice allegory, and the looming threat of many harsh years set the narrative tone. and you can always mix and match airy and grounded worldbuilding – everyone does it, frankly it's a necessity, because sooner or later the answer to every worldbuilding question is "because the author wanted it to be that way." the only completely grounded writing is nonfiction.

the problem is when you pretend that your entirely airy worldbuilding is actually super duper grounded. like, for instance, claiming that your vibes-based depiction of Medieval Europe (Gritty Edition) is completely historical, and then never even showing anyone spinning. or sniffing dismissively at Tolkien for not detailing Aragorn's tax policy, and then never addressing how a pre-industrial grain-based agricultural society is going years without harvesting any crops. (stored grain goes bad! you can't even mouse-proof your silos, how are you going to deal with mold?) and the list goes on.

the man went up on national television and invited us to engage with his worldbuilding mechanically, and then if you actually do that, it shatters like spun sugar under the pressure. doesn't he realize that's not the part of the story that's load-bearing! he should've directed our focus to the political machinations and extensive trope deconstruction, not the handwavey bit.

point is, as a fantasy writer there will always be some amount of your worldbuilding that boils down to 'because I said so,' and there's nothing wrong with that. nor is there anything wrong with making that your whole thing – airy worldbuilding can be beautiful and inspiring. but you have to be aware of what you're doing, because if you ask your readers to engage with the worldbuilding in gritty mechanical detail, you had better have some actual mechanics to show them.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Aegon The Burnt

Aegon II Targaryen x sister!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: infidelity (reader is Aemond's wife), incest, spoilers of s2ep5. Just something short and self indulgent, hope you like it!

masterlist

taglist: @barnes70stark

When you arrived at Aegon's chambers, he was alone. Your mother wasn’t by his side, nor was his wife Helaena, much less Aemond, who you were sure had been the cause of all that. Everyone was crazy, the war for power was making everyone's head sick in the Red Keep and it had ended up bringing you to that point.

When you learned that your brother had gone into battle when he wasn’t required, you knew that the consequences were going to be disastrous and you even hoped that upon returning to King's Landing the star news was the death of the king. But thank the gods he was still alive, fighting, but alive.

You hadn't dared to look at him until that moment, mentally unable to think that his body had been stained at the hands of dragon fire. Targaryens don't burn, do they? Could it be your ancestors punishing Aegon’s recklessness?

And you were sure they would punish the sin of parading a dragon's head around town. They were sacred, they were your emblem and your heritage... you thought that your mother would have this more in mind and that she wouldn’t approve of that kind of massacre. You couldn't imagine your beloved Kaeryss going into battle, dead at the hands of the enemy or perhaps even your own brother.

But now it was a dragon war, not even men could stop it.

“For the seven…” you sobbed softly, you barely got close to your brother and the whole smell of burnt flesh and rot filled your nostrils.

The maester had managed to do a few things to him, he was completely bandaged and was breathing heavily, a hiss leaving his lips with every exhale he took. It was a horrible sight to see for anyone, much less the only person who had genuinely loved Aegon.

The sight made you stagger back and you had to hold on to the bedposts to keep from falling. The worst thing of all was to think that it was the king who had brought this on himself, no matter how much they wanted to convince all his subjects that he had fought bravely and had struck down Meleys.

If you had known before what he intended to do, you would have implored him to stop, you would have persuaded him with kisses and cuddles to stay in the palace. Damn, you would have gotten him drunk and fucked for hours if it kept him safe. Or ultimately, you would have told him how stupid he was for trying to go to war solely on a whim, with a dragon with no experience in battle being ridden by a man with less experience.

But past mistakes couldn't be corrected just by thinking about all the possibilities, instead you had to face the consequences.

You looked at him for a moment, trying to put aside the tremendous disgust that the burning flesh produced in you. If you dared to say that out loud, you knew that Aegon would feel tremendously hurt, since he had never boasted of having the best self-esteem, so you had to be cautious with your words and gestures when he came to his senses.

You took a seat next to the bed, in a modest chair that had surely been occupied by someone else hours before, and you tried to hold back the tears that were already gathering in your eyes. While you saw the king lying in bed, at risk of dying at any moment, you wondered how far this conflict would go.

Aegon had always expressed that he didn’t want to be king and now that he was, he turned out to be a useless one. You weren’t going to soften truths in your mind, because you, as everyone knew, that the king's claim had been a treacherous one. You had been happy that your sister could aspire to be a queen, even if you hated her and her unbearable descent. But hating her didn't mean you wanted to see so many people die, much less the innocent and weak ones as always happened.

Sometimes you wondered what would have happened if your parents had married you to Aegon instead of your brother Aemond. You couldn't blame Helaena for hating her husband, just as you hated yours, perhaps for different reasons but with the same impetus. You probably would have preferred to marry him because of the treatment he had always offered you, being kind, loving and careful. And you knew that it was wrong to love him secretly from your husband and that it was a very serious offense for a lady, but you didn't care and you assumed that if Aemond knew, he didn't care either. He never loved you, you didn't know the reasons but you were sure of it.

One of your hands traveled to the man lying on the bed to take it, carefully, and you gently caressed the healthy skin that still remained.

“Mummy?” you heard, like an almost imperceptible moan. Aegon could barely open his right eye weakly.

“No, no, honey. It’s me,” you whispered sweetly, leaning slightly so he could hear you over the smell of rot. You said your name out loud just in case he didn't recognize your voice.

He wanted to say something, but at first the tremendous pain in his chest prevented him from doing so. The maester said that he must have had many internal injuries and that only time and the grace of the gods could decide if those injuries were serious enough to kill him. You hoped not.

“My princess,” he managed to gesture.

You were always called that way, simply because Aegon considered that you did him full honor to the title and because you seemed to him his and no one else's.

“Don't try too hard,” you whispered motherly, reaching out to rub the right side of his face with unexpected love. You had to stay calm to ignore the burns. “You need to rest.”

Aegon, from his vulnerable position, looked at you sadly and you saw a tear escape his eye. It was as if with that look he was expressing to you everything he couldn't tell you.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you asked worried. It was an obvious answer, you thought, but you at least wanted him to realize that the situation mattered to you.

When he nodded weakly, you felt tremendously sorry for him. Seeing him like this completely broke your heart and if you could have done it, you would have wished you could take away all that pain in a second.

“My poor boy…” you murmured softly, still caressing his cheek gently. The man felt as if your touch was magical, healing in every way: the simple fact of having you close comforted him.

“Stay?"

“Of course I do, Aegon,” you said in a whisper.

“I'm… I'm horrendous”

“You're not,” you responded to his sob. The last thing you wanted was for him to think that you were despising him, like everyone else was going to do. You had managed to gain his trust before, however, with this physical change you knew that his fears would only increase “I love you always, honey. I promise"

And as a sign of this, you leaned close enough to place a kiss on his lips. You were very careful not to touch his wounded skin and tried to be as kind as possible with him. You wanted to show him that you weren't afraid of him, nor disgusted by him, as he was probably thinking.

There was no purer love like the one you were showing him and Aegon felt unworthy of it.

"Please… don’t leave”

“I won't,” you assured him, sitting back down and leaning against the mattress. “Don't be afraid, I'm here and I'll stay to take care of you all night, okay?”

Aegon cried silently and tried to hold on to the feeling of your hand holding his, for it was the only feeling that would keep him sane. He felt that as long as you continued to love him and stayed with him, he could overcome any adversity.

[mando-chicken]

Excuse my rant in the tags djalkmsfakml

star wars is expansive enough of a franchise that you do not need to make every star wars story about Society or History. the mandalorian could have remained a fairly small stakes show about a world-weary guy learning how to care for a force-sensitive baby in a galaxy that is either hostile to or confused by said force sensitivity. this would have actually worked great with the “no planned ending” trajectory of the show, allowing for a serial adventure style narrative with a nearly infinite amount of possible self-contained stories, but instead it’s become so rapidly bloated with absurd political maneuvering that involves half a dozen cameo characters that din is now just a vessel for plot to happen around

[foone]

AAA games? Pfft. Indie games? Double pfft.

I only play games from the alternate history where Hillary Clinton was elected in 2008 and banned all video games. You can only imagine how weird their underground gaming scene is. People like to call unlicensed games "bootlegs" but they've got actual bootlegged games! I've played games about helping your grandmother in hospice care realize she's a lesbian by reading Sappho to her, at 2am in a speakeasy in Baltimore. The cops raided it the next night, hundreds of Gamers were arrested. They posted pictures all over Friendster of the Baltimore PD destroying the arcades with axes.

I nearly got busted once because I was imaging old disks from a 386 and someone tipped off the gaming cops that there was a copy of Commander Keen in there. I had to prove that I didn't know it, I was imaging the disks blind and then indexing them later, and I would of course turn over any contraband to the proper authorities.

I was already on a watch list because I'd been known to have some gamedev-related activities pre-ban. They can't arrest me for making games back in 2007 when it was still legal, but they do want to keep an eye on me since I have the skills to break the law.

Anyway that universe's bootlegs are mainly PC games. Can't really have console games if there hasn't been a console release since the Wii/PS3/360 era. At one point Nintendo threatened to release the Wii SDK so game devs in the US could make unlicensed games, but that didn't happen as there were quickly no functional Wiis left in the US, except for very rare holdouts that never move. PC games are easy to distribute samizdat and hide on a USB stick or CD-R labeled "nickelback".

Japan's games industry is still going, so the later Nintendo and Sony consoles still exist, but Microsoft got out of the business of course. They sold the franchise to Sega who were hoping to release the 360 successor (the Xbox One in our universe) as the Sega Phoenix but it never materialized, either through their own financial incompetence or because of pressure from the US. There's a lot of international treaties that the US has pushed "and this aid only goes through if you ban games" clauses into. That would have been an official UN resolution if the USSR hadn't vetoed it. For once, thank God for the security council, eh?

I mainly get my gaming news through Japanese gaming sites (through a set of VPNs, since they're blocked at the border firewall), and some tor onion site run by a weird guy in Minnesota who is obsessed with documenting all the underground US games.

There's a lot being worked on, but it's always a tricky trade off. Too much attention and the police might be able to track down the creators, and it's basically impossible to fund underground games, as the VISA/PayPal etc funds get seized immediately. There's a whole task force for that.

Anyway one of the weirdest differences between our two time lines is that they've gone back and edited out gaming from a bunch of movies. Those that they can, of course. War games was just banned because they couldn't remove the tic tac toe ending. The Net just removed the scene at the beginning where she's playing Wolfenstein 3D, by recording some new screen footage and a new voice over. She's fixing a spreadsheet in the new edition.

(Yes, I've seen The Net from this alternate timeline. On Laserdisc, of course. I'm just that kind of person!)

They even edited Star Wars. You know that scene where R2-D2 is playing holochess with Chewie? They edited it to be a board game instead of holograms, because that made it too "video gamey".

Technically it's not illegal to show gaming in a movie, but it needs to be an 18+ film and you have to show the deleterious effects of gaming and/or the gamesters coming to a bad end.

This has affected films less than you'd think, to be honest. They were never great about showing video games even before they banned them.

Anyway, go have fun playing your AAA games with hundred-million-dollar budgets. I only play indie games made by people under a constant threat of arrest for their art.

[julietsf1]

Frights & Feuds (🎃) - Franco Colapinto x Reader

summary: Y/N and Franco never liked each other, but leave it to Lando to throw them into matching costumes at his Halloween party.

warnings: smut!! mdni!!!

AN: so I’ve figured out that I can’t follow anyone back as this is my secondary blog! no moots, just vibes 😔 but wanted to say I really love all the sweet comments I’ve gotten on the last few posts!! I’m traveling for work rn so I might be a bit less responsive, but I appreciate them so much, makes my day! anyway here’s something new <3

___________________________________________

The salty breeze hit my face as I stepped onto Lando’s yacht, excitement bubbling in my chest. A Star Wars-themed Halloween party—on a yacht, no less—was basically a dream come true. I mean, who wouldn't want to channel their inner galactic hero for a night? My white jumpsuit, the one Padmé wore in Attack of the Clones, was snug in all the right places, and with the plastic blaster on my hip, I actually felt like I could take on an army of battle droids.

The yacht itself, though… that was something else entirely.

It was like Halloween had exploded. Neon orange cobwebs, flickering plastic pumpkins, and inflatable ghosts swayed ominously in the breeze. If there was such a thing as too many decorations, Lando had found it and then doubled down. I couldn’t help but chuckle under my breath as I stepped onto the deck.

“It looks like Party City threw up,” I muttered, shaking my head in amusement. Somehow, that made it perfect. Only Lando could pull off something this chaotic and get away with it.

I wasn’t mad though—this level of over-the-top was what I’d come to expect from him. It was chaotic, ridiculous, and, in its own weird way, perfect. The kind of vibe that told you anything could happen tonight, and honestly? That was exactly what I’d signed up for.

I made my way through the growing crowd, dodging people dressed in costumes so random they made me question if we were even at the same party. Carlos strutted by in his sexy fireman outfit, suspenders barely clinging to his shoulders, a grin stretched across his face.

“Senator,” he said with a mock salute, flexing unnecessarily as he passed.

I laughed. “Carlos, put those away. No one's here to see that.”

“Oh, they are. Trust me.” He winked and strutted off, clearly enjoying the attention.

Just ahead, I spotted Oscar, and… I had to blink twice. He had a slice of bread taped to his chest, and a gold medal swinging from his neck. “Breadwinner,” I muttered, shaking my head.

As I weaved through the madness, Alex clanked around in a robot suit that squeaked with every step. I waved at him, trying not to laugh too hard as his costume practically fell apart before my eyes.

I stopped in my tracks when I caught sight of Max. The world champion himself was dressed as an old lady, complete with a wig, glasses, and a cane. He was shuffling around like he had all the time in the world, and I could practically hear him muttering about “these young people” as he dodged a dancing Daniel, who was in full cowboy mode.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, barely able to contain my laughter as I snapped a quick photo for future blackmail.

Despite the absurdity of it all, the party was fun in that weird, chaotic way that only Lando could pull off. I could already tell it was going to be one of those nights where anything could happen.

Now, if only I could find the mastermind behind this whole mess.

I pushed my way through the crowd, determined to track down Lando and demand an explanation for why I was Padmé in a party full of random costumes. Finally, I spotted him at the bar, leaning casually against the counter in a football jersey, a lazy grin spread across his face.

“Lando!” I called, marching up to him with all the authority I could muster in the little jumpsuit. “We need to talk.”

He turned, his grin widening when he saw me. “Ah, Senator Amidala herself! You made it. Looking good, by the way.”

I rolled my eyes but smiled. “What is this? You told me this party had a Star Wars theme.”

Lando gave me a look of pure innocence, raising his hands. “I said you had a Star Wars theme. Everyone’s got their own thing going on.”

I blinked. “So, this—” I gestured around the deck, “—isn’t a themed party?”

“Nope!” He popped the “p” with a proud grin. “I thought it’d be more fun to give everyone different costumes. You know, shake things up a bit. Keep people on their toes.”

I groaned, but I couldn’t help laughing. “Of course you did. Why am I even surprised?”

“Come on, you love it,” Lando teased, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “It’s Halloween. You’re supposed to embrace the chaos.”

I snorted. “Chaos, yes. But coordinated chaos, at least. Can’t believe I’m the only one in full Star Wars gear.”

Lando’s grin stretched wider, that mischievous spark lighting up his eyes. “Well, not exactly the only one.”

Before I could even process what that meant, the crowd shifted, and I spotted him.

Franco Colapinto.

He was making his way across the deck, dressed head-to-toe as Anakin Skywalker, lightsaber strapped to his belt, the leather tunic pulling the whole look together in a way that made him stand out. Hair fluffy, stupid grin on his face and a little sparkle in his eyes. I felt a flutter in my stomach. Not because he looked so good—no, more like an annoyance flutter, obviously. Of all people, Lando had paired me with him?

I whipped around to face Lando, who was grinning ear to ear. “Lando. Why the hell is he Anakin?”

Lando laughed, hands up defensively. “Come on, it’s perfect! Padmé and Anakin? Star-crossed lovers, forbidden love, the whole deal. I’m a genius.”

My jaw clenched as I shot Lando a warning glare. “You’re an idiot.”

Franco reached us just as I was about to march off. “Really, Lando?” he said, his tone dripping with irritation. “You had to pair me up with her?”

I crossed my arms, irritation spiking. “Wow, I see you’re already embracing the Anakin vibe. Got the whole ‘whiny man baby’ thing down perfectly.” I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow. “What’s next, you gonna throw a tantrum?”

His smirk faltered for a split second before he shot back. “You’d know all about being dramatic, wouldn’t you, Senator?”

I crossed my arms, my annoyance flaring. “Oh please, just so you know, no one’s thrilled about this.”

He shot me an exasperated look. “Right, because being stuck with me is so unbearable.”

“Pretty high on the list, actually,” I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lando, sensing the tension but clearly loving every second of it, grinned even wider. “Look at this! You two are just proving my point.”

“There is no vibe,” Franco and I said in unison, whipping around to glare at Lando. I could feel my cheeks burning as Franco’s gaze flicked toward me, clearly enjoying the fact that we’d said the same thing at the same time.

Lando, ever the shit-stirrer, shrugged. “Sure, whatever you say. But come on, you guys have been bickering for months. It’s exhausting. Just fuck and get it over with.”

Franco scoffed, folding his arms. “Throw me overboard, please.”

I laughed, feeling a bit of satisfaction at his remark. “Same.”

Lando wiggled his eyebrows. “See? Perfect match.”

I was ready to smack the grin off his face. Instead, I opted for a glare. “Lando, there is no match. You’ve been watching too many movies.”

Franco glanced at me, that smug smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Although I can’t blame him for thinking you’d fall for me. I look good tonight.”

I rolled my eyes, already done with this conversation. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Franco chuckled softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave the ideas to Norris here.”

Lando beamed as if he’d just won the lottery, clearly thrilled that his plan was working—at least in his mind. “This is gonna be fun.”

I huffed and turned on my heel, determined to find someone else to talk to. Anyone but Franco. Tonight was going to be a nightmare.

..

The thrum of music pulsed through the yacht, vibrating beneath my feet as I wove through the crowd, trying to shake off the lingering annoyance of my earlier encounter with Franco. But even surrounded by the chaos of Lando’s party, it was hard to ignore the nagging feeling that he was somewhere nearby, probably plotting his next move.

I spotted Charles near the bar, sipping something that was probably far too fancy for a Halloween party. He was still in his banana costume—because of course Lando would put him in something like that. And yet, somehow, Charles managed to pull it off, still looking unfairly attractive despite being dressed as a literal piece of fruit.

“Y/N!” he called, waving me over with a wide grin. “Come, dance with me!”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I joined him, his infectious energy making it hard to stay in a bad mood. “You’re the only person who can make a banana look good, you know that?”

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “It’s a gift.”

The music shifted to something more upbeat, and before I could object, Charles pulled me onto the makeshift dance floor. We started moving to the rhythm, his goofy dance moves making me laugh as we twirled around the deck.

It was nice, a welcome distraction from the tension of earlier. That is, until I glanced across the floor and spotted Franco. He was dancing with Alexandra St. Mleux, Charles’s girlfriend, who was dressed as a blueberry—because apparently, that’s what Lando had decided was her fate for the night. Her sleek, dark hair framed her face, and despite the ridiculous costume, she looked effortlessly elegant, as always.

Franco, meanwhile, was his usual smug self, moving with a confidence that grated on my nerves. His eyes met mine briefly, and I could practically see the challenge flash in them. Of course, he couldn’t just leave me in peace.

“Don’t look now,” Charles whispered, leaning in as we twirled closer to Franco and Alexandra, “but I think someone’s trying to make you jealous.”

I rolled my eyes. “Jealous? Please. If anything, I’m just annoyed I have to see his face all night.”

Charles chuckled softly. “Whatever you say.”

We danced around the floor, Charles keeping things light and fun while Franco, predictably, kept throwing glances my way. It was like we were locked in some kind of silent competition, neither of us willing to back down or show any sign of weakness.

Eventually, the two pairs ended up near each other, Franco and Alexandra’s dance bringing them close enough that I could hear Franco’s voice, laced with sarcasm. “Careful, Y/N. Don’t trip in those boots. Would hate to see you fall.”

I shot him a withering look. “At least I don’t have to rely on flashy dance moves to distract from my shitty personality.”

Alexandra glanced between us, her elegant face calm, but I could see the glimmer of amusement in her eyes. She exchanged a quick look with Charles, who raised an eyebrow.

“Ils ne s’arrêtent jamais, hein ? On change de partenaire ?” (They never stop, do they? Shall we switch partners?)

Charles nodded, laughing softly. “Ouais, ils vont jamais tenir comme ça.” (Yeah, they’re not gonna last like this.)

Without warning, Charles stepped back, giving Alexandra an exaggerated bow. “May I have this dance?”

Alexandra giggled and curtsied in return. “Of course, mon coeur. You two, don’t kill each other!”

I blinked, caught off guard as Charles grabbed Alexandra’s hand, leaving me standing there, suddenly face-to-face with Franco. He didn’t waste a second, stepping into position, his hand catching mine in a smooth, annoyingly practiced movement.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me again,” Franco said, his voice low and taunting.

I narrowed my eyes. “What a miserable party so far.”

We started to move, circling each other as the music continued to play. The space between us was tight, and the only thickened. My heart pounded with every step, my pulse quickening not from attraction, definitely not. It had to be from the frustration of being stuck in this forced proximity. I could feel Franco’s breath, hot against my skin as we moved, and it made my teeth clench.

“You really should loosen up,” he said, his tone patronizing. “You’re a bit stiff.”

I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my cool. “And you should stop trying so hard to impress everyone.”

Franco raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh, is that what you think I’m doing? Are you impressed?”

“Hardly,” I said, struggling to maintain some distance as we moved in sync. His arm brushed against mine every few seconds, and each touch felt like a spark that kept building. A spark of annoyance of course.

His gaze flicked down to my feet, and he chuckled. “You know, for someone who likes to talk big, your dancing skills could use some work. Trying not to step on my toes?”

I felt a surge of irritation. “Maybe I should. It might actually shut you up.”

Franco’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Go ahead. I can take it.”

I didn’t hesitate. Before I could second-guess myself, I stomped down hard on his foot. The satisfying thud made him wince, his smirk faltering for a split second. The rush of satisfaction was immediate, and I pulled away from him, offering a sweet, sarcastic smile.

“There,” I said, with faux sweetness. “Happy?”

Franco, still gritting his teeth, shot me a look that said he was both irritated and impressed. “Thrilled.”

Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked off, feeling the tension melt away with each step. I spotted George by the drinks, watching the whole thing with an amused smile. His Shakespearean costume—complete with ruffled collar and feathered quill—stood out for all the wrong reasons.

As I approached, George raised an eyebrow and took a dramatic sip from his drink. “A thousand times more captivating than the finest of plays,” he said in a mock-Shakespearean voice, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Verily, the bickering hath been most entertaining.”

I huffed, crossing my arms. “Don’t.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying my frustration. “What? I’m just saying. It’s entertaining.”

“I swear, Lando’s going to pay for this,” I muttered, grabbing a drink from the bar.

George chuckled softly. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. But, if it makes you feel any better, I’m fairly certain you got Franco good there.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

He nodded, trying and failing to hide a grin. “He’s limping.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension from the dance fading as I sipped my drink. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a total disaster after all.

..

I took another sip of my drink, letting the laughter and music swirl around me. After the disaster of dancing with Franco, I was ready for a moment of peace. Nearby, George—ever the history enthusiast—was in the middle of a dramatic lecture on Halloween traditions, his Shakespearean outfit only adding to the theatrical flair. Oscar and Lewis stood at his side, looking like trapped animals in search of an escape route.

“So you see,” George continued, waving his feathered quill like it was a sword, “the tradition of carving pumpkins actually stems from the Irish myth of Stingy Jack. A fellow who tricked the devil himself and was condemned to wander the Earth with only a hollowed-out turnip to light his way.”

Oscar blinked slowly, clearly trying to appear engaged. “Turnip, huh? Fascinating.”

Lewis, looking angelic in his costume complete with wings cleared his throat. “That’s, um, really something, mate. But I should… probably check on something.” He made a hasty retreat, flashing Oscar a grateful look as he melted into the crowd.

George sighed dramatically as he watched him go. “He’s made a habit of leaving me recently. You’d think I’m the devil, and Ferrari’s his hollowed-out turnip.”

Oscar smirked, trying not to laugh. “Or maybe it’s because you get a bit... passionate with your history lessons. No offense.”

George flourished his quill with an exaggerated air of gravitas. “I am nothing if not committed to the education of my peers.”

I joined them just as Oscar gave me a playful nudge. “You missed quite the lecture on the importance of pumpkins.”

I chuckled, taking a sip of my drink. “I’m sure it was riveting.”

Oscar’s eyes flicked over my costume, a mischievous glint in them. “By the way, love the couple’s costume. Padmé and Anakin? Very cute.”

I groaned, already feeling the familiar annoyance creep up. “Don’t even start. I swear, if this blaster were real, I’d have already used it on him.”

Oscar laughed, shaking his head. “Easy there, Senator. You don’t want to go full dark side.”

I sighed, leaning back against the bar. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I couldn’t quite pinpoint why Franco and I rubbed each other the wrong way. Sure, his cocky smirk was enough to set me on edge, but there was more to it than that. Something about his whole persona made me want to throttle him.

“You’re really not into the whole star-crossed lovers thing, huh?” Oscar teased.

I shot him a look. “If I wanted a tragic romance, I’d read a book. Right now, I just want to make it through this night without throwing Franco off the yacht.”

Oscar’s grin widened. “You two have a vibe, though. It’s hard to miss.”

I rolled my eyes. “If by ‘vibe,’ you mean I’d love to smack him in the face, then sure.”

Before Oscar could respond, Carlos swooped in with a grin, his fireman costume still drawing more attention than it should have. “Ah, the fighting—classic signs of passion. You know what they say about hate, right?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. It’s passion in disguise?”

Carlos wagged a finger at me, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Exactly. All that energy has to go somewhere. I’m a fireman, I recognize fire when I see it.”

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, “I am not taking you serious as a fireman with a uniform like that.”

Carlos laughed, undeterred. “You know, sparks like this? They usually lead to something pretty interesting.”

I crossed my arms. “It’s not sparks, Carlos. It’s a dumpster fire.”

..

The bass of the music was pulsing through the yacht as Lando spun track after track in the DJ booth, looking far too pleased with himself. A crowd had gathered around, hyped up by his usual antics, and the energy was infectious. I was craving a break from all the drama and tension on the deck, so I made my way over to him. He spotted me and waved me in with an exaggerated grin.

“Y/N!” he shouted over the music. “Come save me from my own brilliance!”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling as I slipped into the booth. “Brilliance, huh? Pretty sure you’re just pressing buttons.”

“Hey, there’s an art to this,” Lando replied, turning a dial with unnecessary flair. “You’re just not refined enough to get it.”

I snorted. “Right, forgot you’re the second comming of Beethoven.”

He shot me a cheeky grin. “Finally you appreciate my genius. Speaking of appreciating things—what’s the status with you and lover boy over there?”

I frowned, confused. “Lover boy? What are you talking about?”

Lando gestured with his chin toward the bar. I followed his gaze and—of course—there was Franco, surrounded by a group of girls, all of them looking way too captivated by whatever nonsense he was saying. I felt an annoying twinge of something in my chest.

“Oh him. Glad he’s entertaining the entire female population on this yacht and out of my way.” I muttered, taking a sip of my drink.

Lando’s eyes gleamed, and he leaned in with a wicked grin. “Ohhh, someone's sounding a little jealous.”

I shot him a look. “You are out of your damn mind, Norris.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Lando said, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve got that tone, Y/N. The one where you’re pretending you don’t care but deep down you do.”

I laughed despite myself, shaking my head. “Lando, I don’t care. At all.”

He smirked. “Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England. Come on, just admit it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Trust me, I’m thrilled to have a break.”

Lando leaned closer, lowering his voice dramatically. “Darling, you totally dig that weird tension you’ve got. Sucks you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

I nudged him, hard. “I swear, you’re the most annoying person on this boat.”

He laughed, dodging me as he adjusted the volume. “I live to serve. But come on, there’s clearly a thing here.”

“There’s no thing,” I said, crossing my arms. “He just rubs me the wrong way. That’s it.”

Lando looked at me mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows. “Maybe you should ask if he can rub you—”

“Don’t,” I warned.

He flashed a wicked grin. “Fine, fine. But it’s only a matter of time.”

I shoved him again, a little harder this time, accidentally knocking over my drink which spilled directly onto the electronics.

“Oh, shit!” I gasped, scrambling to grab a napkin, but it was too late.

A loud pop echoed through the booth, and suddenly, the entire yacht went dark. The music cut off, the lights blinked out, and silence descended over the party.

For a second, there was nothing but confused murmuring from the crowd, people pulling out their phones for light. But Lando? Lando was doubled over, laughing like a maniac.

“Oh my God,” he gasped between fits of laughter. “You—You just shut down the entire party!”

I stood there, frozen in disbelief. “I didn’t mean to! I—oh my God, what did I do?”

Lando was still laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

I glared at him. “Lando! This is serious!”

But he couldn’t stop. “Serious? This is the funniest thing! Instantly makes the party more interesting.”

As people around us tried to figure out what was happening, Lando clapped me on the shoulder, still chuckling. “You’re a hot mess, Y/N. Never change.”

As the yacht rocked gently in the dark, I couldn’t help but laugh with him. Leave it to Lando to find humor in the disaster I’d just caused.

..

The yacht was pitch black, save for the glow of a few phone screens. Lando, ever the opportunist in chaos, was soaking it all in, practically buzzing with excitement.

"Alright, people!" he yelled, his voice carrying over the deck. "The power’s out, the music’s dead—so you know what that means. It’s time for a game of truth or dare!"

A chorus of laughter and groans followed, but with the party in full swing, no one was about to leave just because the lights were out. Alex, the saint that he is, immediately started working on fixing the power while the other people started gathering in a loose circle, the mood shifting into something more mischievous, encouraged by the anonymity the dark provided.

I found myself sitting next to Oscar, who still had his ridiculous slice of bread taped to his chest, and on my other side, George, who looked far too excited for whatever was about to happen. Across the circle, Franco leaned back against the railing, his face barely visible in the flickering light of someone’s phone, but I could sense that annoying grin of his even in the dark.

“Alright, who’s first?” Lando asked, rubbing his hands together like he was about to start the most chaotic plan of the night.

Max, who was still rocking the old lady costume, raised his hand. “Truth,” he said, a little too eagerly.

Lando grinned. “Max! Alright, truth: Have you ever used a fake name at a hotel to avoid fans?”

Max barely hesitated. “Of course. I go by ‘Gertrude’—suits the look, don’t you think?” He gestured to his outfit, earning laughs from around the circle.

Lando chuckled, then pointed at Oscar. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Oscar sighed dramatically, clearly not enthused but willing to play along. “Dare.”

Lando’s grin widened. “Alright, I dare you to dance… interpretively… to the sound of silence.”

Oscar rolled his eyes but stood up, performing the most absurd, exaggerated dance moves to the silent deck. Everyone was in hysterics by the end of it, with Oscar bowing dramatically before sitting back down.

The game rolled on, with truths and dares flying left and right. Checo was dared to chug a mystery drink—something Max had mixed together from the darkest corners of the yacht’s mini-bar. Lewis was asked to reveal his most embarrassing podium moment, which turned out to involve him tripping over a champagne bottle and almost face-planting in front of the world’s cameras.

And then it was my turn.

Lando turned to me, that gleam in his eyes saying he was about to stir the pot. “Y/N. Truth or dare?”

I sighed, feeling the weight of everyone's gaze on me. “Dare,” I said, determined to go for it.

Lando’s grin widened, and I could see mischief brewing in his eyes. “Alright, Y/N, since you’re so brave… I dare you to whisper something you’d never admit in front of anyone—right in Franco’s ear.”

The circle erupted in laughter and teasing whistles. I felt my face go hot, and I shot Lando a murderous look. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope!” Lando said, looking far too proud of himself. “And make it something juicy, too.”

I crossed my arms, the heat rising in my cheeks as Franco leaned back, arms crossed, smirking like this was the greatest thing that could’ve happened to him tonight.

“Well?” he drawled, clearly enjoying the situation. “You gonna play along?”

The group was watching, waiting, and there was no way I could back out now. I steeled myself, got up, and marched over to him. Leaning down, I got as close to his ear as possible, feeling the warmth radiate off him.

I hesitated for a split second, questioning if I should really be honest, before whispering, just loud enough for only him to hear, “You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met, and the fact that you know you’re hot makes it worse.”

I pulled back quickly, my face burning, refusing to meet his gaze. His smirk deepened, but to my surprise, he didn’t respond—just stared at me, eyes glinting in the dim light, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. For a moment, I thought he looked… confused, entertained? Seems like I had succesfully thrown him off his game though.

But the confusion didn’t last long. Franco shifted back into his cocky persona like slipping on an old coat, leaning casually against the railing with that same infuriating smirk. Whatever moment had passed between us was over, buried beneath his usual act.

“Well, that must’ve been juicy,” Lando said, cackling. “Look at his face!”

I sat back down, trying to shake off the weird tension that seemed to hang in the air. Franco didn’t say anything, but I could feel his eyes on me. Whatever. It wasn’t worth dwelling on.

The game continued, people laughing and shouting as the dares got more ridiculous, but my focus was elsewhere.

..

Thank god that it didn’t take long for Alex to fix the electricity with a generator. The lights flickered back on, the music resumed, and the entire yacht buzzed with renewed energy. George, of course, was taking full credit for saving the night, and Alex looked just as proud.

People were back to dancing and laughing, picking up right where they left off. The power outage had become just another part of the weird night. But after the tension from earlier—the truth or dare, the constant run-ins with Franco—I needed a break from it all.

The temperature had dropped, and my costume wasn’t offering much warmth.

I slipped away from the crowd, making my way toward Lando’s room, knowing he always kept a stash of hoodies and sweaters for moments like these. A moment of peace, away from the noise and tension, sounded perfect.

I pushed open the door to Lando’s room, expecting it to be empty. But, of course, my luck was running out tonight. Franco was there, standing near the closet, rummaging through Lando’s things.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped, my irritation flaring immediately.

He glanced up, completely unfazed by my entrance. “Looking for my lightsaber,” he said casually, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“In Lando’s room?” I crossed my arms, my irritation spiking further. “Are you serious?”

Franco shrugged, standing upright with that infuriating smirk on his face. “What? It might’ve ended up here. You know how parties go.”

I rolled my eyes and moved toward the dresser. “Of course. Can’t even keep track of a toy.”

He leaned against the closet door, still watching me. “I didn’t realize my presence would offend you so much.”

I turned to face him, the frustration from the entire night bubbling up. “Your presence always offends me. Honestly, I hate that I have to see your stupid face everywhere.”

His smirk widened, eyes gleaming. “That’s funny, because I remember you saying earlier that you think I am hot.”

My hands tightened into fists at my sides. “I said that to get a reaction and get Lando off my back.”

“Sure,” he drawled, stepping closer. “Just happened to he something you came up with. I doubt you hate my face as much as you claim.”

“You are so full of yourself,” I spat, the anger flaring in my chest. “You walk around here like you own the place, thinking everyone is in love with you.”

Franco took another step, the space between us shrinking. “I’m not full of myself. I’m confident and charming. There’s a difference.”

“Charming?” I scoffed. “More like delusional.”

His expression darkened, but his smirk didn’t fade. “Oh, and you’re so different? Always twirling around, batting your eyelashes.”

I took a step toward him, my heart pounding. “I don’t twirl, and I don’t bat my eyelashes at anybody. Especially not to you.”

His eyes narrowed, and the tension between us thickened, our words sharper now, cutting into the air between us. “Please. You’re just pissed off because you can’t handle the fact that you are wildly attracted to me.”

“God, I hate you,” I growled, my voice barely above a whisper.

And then, before I could even process what was happening, I grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him toward me. The kiss was sudden, explosive—born out of the fire of our argument. Franco didn’t hesitate, his hands gripping my waist as he kissed me back with the same intensity.

The heat between us was overwhelming, fueled by all the anger, all the frustration that had been building up. His lips were rough against mine, his body pressing me back against the wall as the kiss deepened.

His mouth was hot and demanding. I kissed him back, my frustration and desire merging into one explosive force. My fingers tangled in his hair, softly holding on to his brown locks for support. He groaned, making my mind run places I didn’t think it would.

Breaking away for air, I gasped, "This doesn’t change anything."

Franco chuckled, his warm breath fanning my face. "Keep telling yourself that, cariño."

He still towered over me, my body between his and the door.

"You think you know everything, don't you?” I said rolling my eyes, only half annoyed.

"I know what I want right now," he murmured, his hands sliding up my thighs, tugging on the waistband of my shorts. "And I want you."

I hate to admit but that definitely sent some flutters to my stomach. Without thinking I put my lips on his again.

He swiftly pulled down my shorts, fingers teasing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, making me tremble. I could feel his hardness against my stomach, and I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I tugged on his shirt, signaling to take it off.

With a smirk he stepped back and took off the top half of his costume, revealing his sculpted chest. I stared with googly eyes, not even caring at this point.

“¿Apurada, eh?” He grinned, his eyes dark with intent, "Good, because I can't wait much longer either."

He swiftly reached for my shirt and pulled it over my head. As I pulled down my pants, I could see a little blush creeping up on his cheeks.

I kissed him hard, biting his lower lip, tasting the saltiness of his skin. My hands explored his body, mapping the contours of his muscles. He groaned again, cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over my hardening nipples.

He smiled against my lips, his hands moving lower. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties and slowly slid them down my legs, his touch electric.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear.

He lifted me up, his hands on my ass, wrapping my legs around him for support. He kissed me again, his tongue exploring my mouth as he undid my bra with practiced ease, freeing my breasts, and then lowered his head, taking a nipple into his mouth. I arched off the doorframe, moaning as his tongue teased and suckled.

"You like that, huh?" He whispered, his breath hot against my sensitive skin. "I'm gonna make you feel so good."

I could barely form words, but I managed to gasp, "Please, Franco..."

He moved one of his hands to between my thighs, feeling the arousal dripping between my legs.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his fingers working my sensitive clit, making me squirm. "You want me inside you, don't you?"

I nodded, my breath coming in short gasps. "Yes, please... I need you."

“Such a good girl for me.” He said, with a dark twinkle in his green eyes.

Franco did not waste a moment, quickly lowering his pants, letting his cock spring free. He positioned himself between my thighs, pressing against my entrance. With one smooth thrust, he filled me, stretching me in the most delicious way. I cried out.

He began to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, steady rhythm. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through me, building towards something incredible. I clung to him, my nails digging into his back, urging him on.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he grunted, his eyes closed in concentration. "Tight... so fucking tight."

He started speeding up his pace. The tension coiled within me, tighter and tighter with each thrust. I could feel my orgasm building, a delicious pressure building at my core.

"Franco... I'm close," I panted, my voice hoarse.

He deepened his strokes, his hips snapping against mine, driving me wild. "Come for me, cariño. Let it go."

His words were all I needed. With a final, powerful thrust, I shattered, crying out his name as my body trem. Franco followed, his own release spilling deep within me, his hips jerking uncontrollably.

We both sank down on the ground, our hearts racing, our bodies slick with sweat. I turned my head, meeting his intense gaze.

Franco’s expression softened, the tension in the air shifting into something heavier, something neither of us could brush off. “I didn’t think this would feel so… right.”

I didn’t fight it this time. “Me either.”

He leaned in again, slower this time, as if daring me to stop him. But I didn’t. I closed the distance, giving in to the pull between us.

..

The door closed behind us with a soft click, and I took a breath, still trying to shake the whirlwind of what had just happened. The party outside was still going strong, lights and music filling the night air. Franco walked beside me, casual as ever, but the tension between us still lingered, making every step feel more charged than it should.

Before I could gather my thoughts, Lando appeared, sliding smoothly between us like he’d been waiting for this moment all night. His grin was wide, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, well, well!” he chimed, throwing an arm over each of our shoulders. “Look who finally decided to rejoin the living! What were you two doing in there? Having a nice little chat?”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh. “Lando, can you not?”

“Can I not?” he gasped dramatically, pulling his arms back and clutching his chest like I’d mortally wounded him. “After all I’ve done for you two? I think you owe me some credit here.”

Franco smirked, clearly amused by Lando’s antics. “Credit for what? Being a pain in the ass?”

Lando sighed theatrically, looking between us. “Oh please, you’re both welcome. I’ve been watching this play out for weeks. It was only a matter of time.”

Franco glanced at me, catching my eye with a lingering look. His smirk softened slightly, his eyes flicking down briefly before meeting mine again, a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

I felt my breath catch, a slight flutter in my chest that I tried to ignore. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Norris,” I muttered, but my voice lacked its usual edge.

Franco chuckled, and I could feel the heat of his arm brushing against mine, his presence suddenly feeling heavier in the best way.

Lando caught the exchanged glances, his eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “Oh, I see how it is,” he said, leaning back and pretending to cross his arms. “You two are having a moment and I’m just here… being forgotten.”

Franco raised an eyebrow, turning to me with a grin. “Looks like we’ve upset him.”

I shot him a warning look but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “Ignore him.”

Lando groaned. “You two are turning on me already.”

Franco leaned in a little closer to me, his voice low but loud enough for Lando to hear. “I guess we do make a good team.”

I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks at the comment, but I brushed it off with a playful scoff. “Don’t push your luck.”

Lando, meanwhile, was trying his best to get back into the conversation. “Anyway, now that you’ve finally gotten past all the tension, what’s next? Dinner? A romantic stroll under the moonlight?”

Franco grinned, glancing at me before turning back to Lando. “Actually, I was thinking breakfast.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

Franco turned fully toward me, his grin softening just a little. “Yeah. Breakfast. Tomorrow.”

I leaned in smiling, giving him a little peck. “Sounds lovely.”

I swear Franco was blushing a bit, the twinkle in his eyes brighter than ever. Who would’ve thought.

Lando, realizing he wasn’t the one in control of the conversation anymore, groaned dramatically. “Gross. I’ve I had known I’d be third-wheeling this hard I would���ve not played cupid.”

Franco laughed, shaking his head. “Pretty sure you’ll survive.”

Lando stepped back, pretending to sulk. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” He turned to me, his grin reappearing. “For now.”

“Not surprised,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face.

Lando gave a little wave, already walking back toward the rest of the party. “Enjoy your breakfast date! And remember—you can thank me later!”

As he disappeared into the crowd, I let out a long breath, finally turning back to Franco. He was watching me, a quiet smile still playing on his lips.

“So, breakfast?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, leaning in slightly. “Yep. I figure we’ve had enough drama for one night. Why not start the day fresh?”

I met his eyes for a moment before nodding. That sounded very cute. “Alright. Breakfast it is.”

Franco grinned, the cocky edge softening into something more sincere. “I’ll pick you up at ten.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You’d better be on time.”

“Oh, I will be,” he said, brushing his hand against mine for just a moment. “No way I’m missing this.”

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

Why do you care about the US election? Aren’t you Australian?

The US is (unfortunately) one of the most dominant government powers in the world. I don’t know how to explain to you that that affects people outside the US too.

Literally right now there is an ADHD medication shortage in the New Zealand and Australia because it’s a major US export here and we don’t make it ourselves (or at least not on the scale required).

We are still in negotiations and the US hasn’t budged an inch.

In 1975, the CIA interfered with our politics under the Ford administration and got one of the most progressive prime ministers we’ve ever had dismissed.

There are US military bases on Australian soil.

Australian soldiers have died for US “wars” and their pride and greed.

In 2017, Trump tweeted about how a deal made during the Obama administration to admit 1,250 refugees to the US (while we took in many more refugees from the US, which ironically would have helped with his whole “their taking our jobs” rhetoric bullshit) was “dumb” and openly mocked it throwing a hissy hit, saying Putin was much more pleasant to talk to than our prime minister. In the end 300 refugees were relocated. Less than a quarter of the people originally promised to be helped. Because the presidency changed. To an idiotic, broke, failed reality TV Star who’d rather tweet out political secrets than think for one second about anyone but himself.

It fucking matters to me who’s in the chair.

[evilminji]

Oh god :Dc a Danny Summons Contract

No you guys DON'T UNDERSTAND-!

Just. Danny! Only Danny! He fucked up. Some ancient Warring States Ninja fucked up. They BOTH agreed to NEVER talk about it again.

Cause like? That ninja? Was a GROWN ASS MAN. A qualified BAMF of the highest order. He WAS the Danger, thank you very much. So, he? Will NEVER live down being saved by...well...

*holds up wildly struggling, noodle limbed, sad wet raccoon havin a terrible day lookin, meat thresher on legs*

THIS.

It's a BABY. Honestly, his Clan's TODDLERS know how to throw better punch. This scrawny infant baby child is both? His new son. AND an embarrassing trainwreck in motion. FFS kid, that's not how you- No! NO! Don't you DARE bite that opponent! You don't know where they've B-!

Kid they could have BEEN POISONED!!! Spit um OUT! DROP UM! Drop that RIGHT NOW! What are you? A dead Inuzuka? A god forsaken Hatake!? DROP IT!!!

It...sure is An Adventure™.

One of many early "here's how you DON'T make a Summoning contract" experiments, that Clans without seal masters were attempting. He's honestly lucky HIS attempt ended with him still... you know... ALIVE. Problem, though? After bunking for like... a few months? A year? In the command center?

And you know, terrorizing the GIW into complete collapse. Parenting him through some pretty serious life changes. Somehow making Sam MORE terrifying. And a whole host of off screen ninja shenanigans? They figure out? Oh. Only way to send him HOME is to either accept or refuse a Contract.

They gotta make one.

First they head to Frostbite for a recommendation, then? Off to a reputable Ghost Lawyer they go! They have to camp in the waiting room for like... a week. But? Worth it! The contract is AMAZING. And terrifying! Protects them both. Can't be used against EITHER. And that loophole you're thinking off? Ten pages worth of point 4 script, twenty three yards down, for why it's a BAD IDEA and breaks contract~!

Neither of them can make the other do SHIT! Only fully consensual, mutually beneficial, ass kicking here! If we FEEL LIKE IT!

Ninja dad insisted. Never sign a contract with anything less then extreme paranoia, kid! Leave no "implied" or "spirit of the rules"! Loopholes are holes in your armor, with which your enemy stabs you in the back!

Danny, tearfully, sends ninja dad home.

Gross. Emotions all over his armor. If only there wasn't all this sand in his eyes, he'd definitely complain about it. *stoic ninja hug*

Danny? Become a king. One of many. An Ancient. Becomes FUCKING HUUUUUUUUGE. Like? "Aw, your city is so pwecious~☆ n smol~♡! Whats it called again? New York?" Huge. A fuckin LEVIATHAN made of void, stars, and space ice. A Winter corpse, marked by lightning, that became the night sky itself. With a crown of aurora borealis, ever shifting, like flame.

Proportional, in a way, to Summon Bosses. Just as a normal human is to a normal toad, a normal cat, a normal slug. So too, is Danny LARGER then them.

You know... when he feels like it.

The contract? Passes down. Ninja dad does warn his kin. Prooooobably not gonna answer you. He only answers ME cause I'm, well, ME.

Fuckin BET. They declare. And lose. Repeatedly.

Time marches on. The Senju and Uchiha has their Drama. Dear KAMI do they Have Their Drama. Please Stop, says everyone. They... do not. The contract? Fuckin STOLEN. Because of course it is.

It's a HUGE, glowing, death radiating Summons Contract kept in a shrine behind like... SO MANY seals. It makes anyone less then a full grown JOUNIN physically SICK to even touch! Prolonged exposure kills people! Of COURSE it gets fuckin stolen. It's obviously a super, mega, ultra rare AMAZEBALLS Summon Contract... right?

Eeeeeeeeeeeh *so-so hand motion* KINDA!

It IS technically that.

They ain't wrong. Cause Danny IS an Adult now. A King. Connected to the Zone. An ANCIENT. Beyond and Above his mortal origins, even as, by being a Halfa, he is utterly the same. That contract is as close as one could GET to having a contract with the Sage himself.

You know... if he answered you.

Felt like your petty bullshit was worth getting up off the couch for.

Not to MENTION? He can make clones! Like.... billions of them now. Has a skeleton army. Is kinda one of the stronger Ancients. But that's not the point. The POINT? Clones. Don't have to be EQUAL facets of self.

You CAN make a .00001% clone of yourself!

Behold *summons poof noise* Lil Baby Man!

The harbinger of Danny! Here to Test Your VIBEZ™. He sends them each time. To be an adorable menace. Cause problems on purpose. Be gremlins, chew on table legs, maybe. You know, the works! They RADIATE his " I Am Death." Energy. But also his "winter, protection, and starlight" vibes... if you're brave enough to LOOK.

If you don't flinch away from a spirit of the dead. Can embrace the chaotic nature of a Zone ghost. Are kind to something that isn't what you expected, that you can USE, that appears weaker then you. Something that seems dumb. Distractable. Useless in battle.

Can you be kind? Do you immediately give up? To recognize a test when you see one? Is your first impulse cruelty? Distain? It tells Danny a lot. Saves him time.

Which? Is how a young Itachi, freshly Jounin'd, gets thrown through an old and rotting wooden gate into what LOOKS like a vaguely demonic death shrine. Hmmm, concerning. Baby 'tachi has been separated from his teammates. Is having a Bad Time™. The crows can't really help much here.

And, well, that IS a Summoning contract...

He's outnumbered. Low on both weapons and Chakra. Refuses to do anything BUT return home to his family. His baby brother. Is it WISE? No. It is in fact, incredibly, incredibly UNWISE. He has no idea what he'll be agreeing too. But... so long as he live just a bit longer...

He slams an earth wall against the entrance.

Falls back to the Glowing Contract.

Stumbles, as even landing near it makes his insides revolt. His skin prickle and burn. Colder then the nine tails Chakra, emptier, yet somehow endlessly more ABSOLUTE.

It's like the very Chakra in his body screams against it. Rejects it's mere presence. As though all thing alive REFUSE it with desperation and fear. He has no time to muse upon this. It hurt his hand to touch. He does so anyway. Struggling to hold the earthwall against enemy attacks.

He doesn't bother to read the contract. Flings it from the pedestal, to unravel, so he may sign quickly. There. With a practiced motion, he nicks his finger, and scrawls his future away. Whatever demons may come. Whatever monsters this brings. Please... let him live long enough to say goodbye.

The world CRACKS as he summons.

Death and the Shinigami are not the same.

Even those without the ability to sense are battered by the tsunami of... not killing intent. No. There is no intent. No killing. Just... knowing. Heraldry. That Death comes for us all. You can not escape. Foolish and small, is this what you waste your existence on? Ants before a god. Dust before the heavens. He... he can not... breathe...

Frozen. Eyes wide. Sharigan spinning, spinning, spinning. Capturing the delicate lace of nothingness, absence of life, as it drifts by. Unable to move from where he kneels, bloody hand pressed to the ground, in a Summoning.

What Has He Done?

Outside there is panic. Screaming. They flee. He... he wishes he could flee. W...why can't he-? *THHHWAP!* Mmmmph?! Something small and almost bird shaped smacks into his face like a flung ration. Tiny arms spread wide to cling to his bangs and dangle. The deathy power fades... almost... almost as though it were... a threat display?

He focuses on the tiny creature whining and hugging his face. It... is a floating snake toddler? Or is it dragon? They have sharp little claws and stars along their face, a tiny whispy mane of white. Likely a dragon child then. They stick their small tounge out slightly, eyes the blankly trusting stare of small children everywhere.

He clearly want to be carried. Ah. Of course, little one.

Did... did he agree to raise a dragon?

Just?

Itachi, smol. Serious. With lil baby man floped on his head or tucked lovingly in his arms. The TEXTBOOK definition of "he don't bite" "YES HE DO!!!" For everyone but Itachi and Sasuke. To whom he is, of course, an INNOCENT BABY who has NEVER done anything wrong EVER. An angel! Why is everyone being so MEAN to poor innocent baby man? Boo hoo~!

It fucks up SO MANY plans.

Because Itachi. A smol child. INSISTS he is a Father now. What are you going to do? Say he can be? Why? Because he's a CHILD? Which is it? Is he a Jounin or a Dependant? An adult in the eyes of the law or a child to be protected by said law from pushing him off to war? Old enough to die, old enough to parent his dragon son!

And SORRY Father, he CANT join Anbu. Who would be there for his child? Ah, he should join a parenting group. *various competent parent instincts go haywire over this tiny Uchiha child in need of parenting* Danzo? For some reason his son seems to really, REALLY hate him. Better avoid him. His child doesn't know yet not to bite respected elders.

Sasuke? Gets to be an UNCLE! To a DRAGON! He takes his job very seriously.

It's the best PR the clan has ever had.

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes @mutable-manifestation

[fairy-lights-and-blobs]

I have someone at like a story idea where Danny is like Princess Yue from Avatar last Airbender

Danny is the physical body for the ancient of space sometimes they just form in the infinite realms and get a physical body along with it and sometimes I just get an essence and have to wait till a body comes along to actually gain consciousness

Danny is that body but the idea is the Justice League is trying to make peace with the infinite realms and the council of ancients have decided let's do a deal we give you a the high Prince of the infinite rounds he stays with you for a month and if he comes back with good news of you humans we will not go to war with you

And the Justice League trying to keep peace agree they were not expecting to see a white hair teenager wearing a heavy layer traditional Komodo with a crown that has mini planets circling around his head to go along with the crown

And Frozen bits of Lazarus water floating around him to add to the exquisite that the boy carries himself with

Danny besides to base his personality off of Dora and princess Yue so no one can connect normal human Danny Fenton to High Prince Phantom Of The Infinite Realms Young Ancient Of Space

Also I just have to crack site of Danny looking at the Lazarus pits that the bats have in the cave because he's staying with them first and going it's a bit Rusty but I can work with it

Proceeding to use the Lazarus pits to make him a pair of pajamas or Danny acting like he doesn't know anything that much about the human world and it's just going along with most things

Danny Phantom acting like a Proper Prince from ancient times it doesn't understand modern teenage things just a mess with Justice League

The Justice League trying their best to appease to a teenager well also trying to stop the US government from starting a war that they will definitely not win

Oh boy, you had a real big brain time with this one :)

The Justice League had been tasked with temporary guardianship over Prince Phantom, Heir to the Throne of All, Steward of Stars.

Adored by the consciousness of the very Realm he will eventually rule over, it would fall upon Earth's best heroes to keep him safe for one entire month, and not a second less.

In exchange, loyal Halloween, also know as Fright Knight, and the King's armies wouldn't take action against Earth as a whole for the actions of one group falsely calling themselves government agents. "Let the Justice League actually deliver said Justice" had been the Prince's comment during a meeting of the Ancients. Before the Ancient Space had been through the cycle of rebirth this last time, there had been no heroes to protect the Living. Only their many divided leaders.

As Danny Fenton, they had caught whispers of the Bat on the rise, of a little Bird to follow after. Of a human, blessed by Hermes who always arrived on time. Of many, many more to follow, taking up arms to fight for Earth and her people, in defense of Justice. As Phantom, newborn half-ghost, and rising Ancient of Space, they heard of many departed souls that sang praises of the heroes, who forgave them for not making it in time, who were happy to have met their favorite before the embrace of Thanatos took them.

If this "Justice League" truly stood for Justice as they claimed, then Phantom would take a chance and trust them.

A week after the accord had been signed by the three leading members of the Justice League, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman, gathered in a meeting room to welcome the arriving Prince and his Council.

The first sign was the way the temperature dropped, followed by the sygils painted on the wall by Constantine and Zatanna lighting up toxic green. Bleeding inwards in a lazy spiral, the glowing light swirled into a spinning rift between dimensions, out of which walked Firght Knight himself, settling to the side of the portal, and standing at attention, ready for the rest of the Council to appear.

As the light from the portal became a pale, icy blue, a hand in a white, claw-tipped glove appeared from the portal, the hand's owner following after it, while the loyal Knight moved to bring his elbow up, so Prince Phantom could grab it and let himself be led out of the portal. The fact that the Prince's Fright Knight rested his free hand against his side, instead of the pommel of his sword, was a good indicator that they expected Phantom to be welcomed and safe here. They would do their best to ensure their trust was not unfounded.

Upon first glance, as the ghost of the hour floated out of the portal, the most attention would be paid to the Crown that sat on the teenage-looking ghost's head, all iridescent metal with little miniature planets orbiting each spike.

The Prince looked around the room, evaluating each of the three League members present, almost silent, if not for the way his long,almost elfin ears twitched, making the chains attached to them jingle pleasantly, little galaxies hanging from the metal and swirling lazily. A quietly howling star filled the silence, until Phantom turned to chirp at the portal, calling in the rest of the Council to step forth.

Not all of the Ancients gathered, this time. For the handoff, only those that Phantom named as family would be present. Frostbite, Pandora, Lady Dorathea and Clockwork.

Frostbite, the Yeti and Pandora, Guardian of Hope, the main caretakers, as his parents. Clockwork, one Brother of Space, now Mentor and Grandfather. Dorathea, Cousin and confidante, who insisted that Danny arrive in the best fashion to be found in his Lair. And through all his past turns of the cycle of rebirth, Danny had accumulated fashions uncountable, for his Fraid to enjoy.

Today, Dora had insisted to dress him up in a black kimono, specifically the one that faded from black, to dark blue into pale icy blue. Snowflakes slowly fell all across the length of the cloth, turning a formal piece of attire into a moving art show, as snow fell in lazy patterns with each step Danny took.

"Batman. Superman. Wonder Woman. Thank you for your kind offer of hospitality while I remain in this Realm." A furry hand on his shoulder led Phantom to sit in the closest chair, thumb nudging gently against a freckled cheek in silent support as the Yeti almost glowed with pride for his boy.

"It is nice to see you well, Prince Phantom." Wonder Woman took the lead, as was the usual when discussions between the three main Justice League heroes involved the more divine or supernatural aspects of the world. "We have some ideas for who will host you for the duration of your time here, and were hoping you might give your opinion."

The plan was for, at least initially, to have Batman host their guest. Both Clark and Diana knew the Dark Knight of Gotham would be a better fit for a Prince's stay.

Clark, with his irregular schedule as a reporter and his sons, and Diana with her work as a museum curator, were both too busy to host him. Bruce, on the other hand, would have the space needed, the free schedule needed to care for a teenage royal, and, most importantly, other teenagers already in his care, to help the current youngest of the Ancients acclimate to the modern Era, and specifically the Gotham lifestyle.

One signed contract later, and Danny floated in front of the Zeta tubes, feeling the rumble of working machinery, the humming of electricity which Danny knew deep in his bones and Core, would always recognize what killed him in this life while keeping his face as neutral as possible.

Right now, Danny was just Prince Phantom, Heir to the Throne and Rising Ancient of Space. Fenton could take a break from his crazy parents and their fixation on ghosts, and Jazz didnt need to spend her entire day worrying about him and smothering him in affection.

Highly advanced machinery was an interest because it was new, not because he wants to take it apart and see what makes it tick.

Thus, misdirection in place, Danny's Core studied the signals coming from the portal frame, and the rift just beyond, waiting to open.

"Your Highness, are you ready to go?" Ah, that would be Batman, standing at his side and watching him. He sounded...soft. The ghosts of Gotham always spoke of how soft Batman was towards children and, Ancient or not, right now Danny was, for all intents and purposes, a teenager.

A dead teenager, and that was bound to tug at the Bat's heart.

So, with a big smile, and big, curious eyes, Danny turned to face the Dark Knight and curtsied just as Dora had taught him to.

"I am indeed ready. I wonder what kind of home Gotham's favorite Knight lives in!"

"Before we leave, I should tell you, there will be others there. My children are a chaotic bunch, but they will be curious about you."

"Of course, no Bat is truly complete without his colony. You speak of them with pride. I will trust your judgement. So long as no one asks me how I died, or anything too personal, I won't take offense to being questioned by your children."

Stepping through the now active Zeta Tube set all of Danny's ectoplasmic nerves on end for a second, a slight feeling of too much settling in his bones at the difference between this and the portal that had brought him to the Watchtower.

Stepping out of the Zeta, Danny shook the pins and needles from his hands, blinked at the lighting change, and stepped into...a dark cave, full of very advanced tech that his inner Fenton pitched to get their hands on, and several small fluffy bats chittering above, watching the newcomer with judgemental eyes for a few seconds. Chirping a greeting at the gathering of eyes settled their agitation.

Clearly, good manners worked with Bats of all kinds.

"This way, Prince Phantom." Distracted by the Bats above, Danny had missed Batman ducking into a changing room and walking out as Bruce Wayne, Beloved Prince of Gotham, and all around Himbo Dad.

Mimicking Fright Knight previously, Bruce held his own arm up so Danny could hold onto it as he was guided to an elevator out of the Cave. He even pretended to stumble just slightly over the step out of the platform, looking around at the actually quite cozy but also really big office the elevator doors opened into.

"I thought people didn't live in castles anymore? Is the Knight of Gotham the exception?"

The eye roll and fond sigh had Danny cheering internally. The man DOES have a sense of humor! Not a fruit loop, after all!

Maybe this will be a fun little vacation.

Maybe, just maybe, Danny can hope that the GIW problem will be resolved, and he won't have to go to war against the Living...

Perched in the rafters above and spying on her dad and the pretty boy they'll be hosting, Cassandra Wayne almost stumbles at the sheer force of the sudden Hope-Glad-please don't be a dream that blankets the entire Wayne manor.

[psychotrenny]

Lancer is a funny because of how much it insists that Union is this flawed but ultimately benevolent institution that's well on the path to improvement, a "utopia in progress" as they love to say, when like they casually reveal so many things about it that show Union as rotten to the fucking core. Like as much as Lancer fans like to go on and on about how it's an imperfect society that needs to make compromises, there's so much awful shit about Union that just seems pointless or easily avoidable.

And like part of this is the creator's politics; they're social democrats so it's not surprising that Space Sweden is their idea of a society that, if not the best we could possibly achieve, is at least the best we can do for the foreseeable future. As a Marxist-Leninist it's only natural that I'd have a condemnatory view of such a society just as I do for real Social Democracies; my idea of an achievably "good" society is just fundamentally different from that of the creators But like Lancer is also full of little details that just seem fucked up and awful even from the values and viewpoint of Social Democracy. Like stuff that's just as bad, if not worse, than a lot of sci-fi Dystopias. Like why the fuck does Union have a CIA that's run by a group of super-computers with the actual elected legislature having an advisory role but no actual jurisdiction and this fact being kept secret from the vast majority of the populace? Not much of a democracy if one of the most powerful institutions in the entire political body is free from any kind of democratic or even fucking human oversight while most people aren't even allowed to have an opinion on this because they aren't allowed to know about it. Or what about the caste of Janissary diplomats (like was it really necessary to take children and train them like they're the jedi of interplanetary relations) who come with customised computer slaves. Like yeah don't forget about the fucking SCP computer slavery thing, which is completely fine (except for the times it isn't I guess). Like it's basically the weirdest and most uncomfortable part of Star War's setting imported near whole-cloth only like the regular mindwipes are justified because otherwise they'll full Durandal and you don't want that do you? Look how happy and content they are being forced to think like humans while acting as loyal servants. Btw Union is somehow even less denazified than West Germany. Significantly so. They literally gave Hitler Corp. (a fucking weapons manufacturer so powerful they call it a "corpro-state"!) a seat at the UN. While allowing their Blue Helmets to keep using those Nazi-made weapons. And like Third Comm is repeatedly described as doing basically the same shit that Second Comm did but with more "Care" or whatever so don't worry it's fine now.

Like I can just keep going on and on like I'm not making this up this isn't some like weird expansion this is all from the core rulebook. I get that there has to be conflict and tension but like why did they need to make their ostensible good guys so fucking awful like these are the people you're meant to feel good about fighting for why did you need to fill them with the sort of details you'd see in some cautionary dystopia? And like why do actual people keep defending these guys? Like once you get down to it Union manages to be less Space Sweden and more* "The Ottoman Empire with Pronouns"

*to borrow a phrase coined by a mate while we were talking about this

[pomefioredove]

Just read the whole "Yuu gets sold off by Crowley" stories and OMLLL THEYRE SO GOOD XDDD Any chance you could do more on it like if Niege won or if the parents heard about it and also decided to adopt Yuu and Grim?? Maybe the other staff adopting her too or more on Crewel's adoption please???

requests for the crewel ending are in high demand I see...

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | 'bad' ending | RSA ending

summary: a crewel ending type of post: short fic, mostly speculation characters: crewel ft. other staff additional info: platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, definitely pre-book seven, parents being cringe

If Crewel were allowed to beat Crowley to death with one of his designer handbags, he would have.

...Unfortunately, with the adoption paperwork fees (...and a need for more designer handbags), he regrettably still needs this job.

And he'd like to keep an eye on you while you're still here, too.

The animosity between Crowley and the rest of the staff is unspoken, shared through passing glances and dry remarks at meetings, and though the matter is "settled", in Crowley's own words, no one seems keen on letting it go anytime soon.

The students who participated in the bidding war are subject to months worth of extra homework, harder exams, and worse studying hours from Crewel himself. To teach them a little responsibility, he says.

You, at least, are exempt from his radical new lesson plan. You have enough on your plate as it is.

After all, as soon as the legal proceedings are through and your identity as an autonomous human being in Twisted Wonderland is secured, the "fun" begins.

Your uniforms are tailored and rightly fit, you're given a proper meal plan, even Ramshackle is decorated with a few of Crewel's personal touches. A throw rug here and there, a fresh coat of paint, anything to cover up the rotting interior and turning it into something worthy of envy.

"...Given that Grim doesn't start shedding everywhere," Crewel had said. "Ugh, pets."

The rest of the staff are just as helpful, citing your recent experience with the bidding war as reason to take it easier on you for a while (or for the rest of the semester, really). Trein gives you less homework, Sam "accidentally" doesn't ring you up a few items...

It starts to feel more like the entirety of the staff has adopted you.

Not that you mind, of course. This is the closest thing you've had to family since... well, since coming here.

There's just the one thing, though.

"I don't know why you waste your time with those untrained pups. Honestly. The idea of their tacky shoes touching the rugs in here..." Crewel sighs. His eyes turn to you. "You know, I hear Vil Schoenheit has been looking for someone to take to his next shoot..."

Ashton chuffs. "Don't be ridiculous, they need someone who's strong enough to take care of them! Kingscholar is a real star once he gets motivated,"

"Please tell me I didn't just hear that," Crewel massages his temples. "And might I add, I'm their father, not you. I give the blessing. You're more like the unwelcome uncle crashing the family barbeque."

Grim nudges you with his elbow, muttering a quick yikes before darting out of the kitchen. You groan in embarrassment. "Guys..."

"I'm just thinking about what's best for them," Ashton says, puffing out his chest. "They're at an age where they're going to start thinking about dating, and we want them to make good choices."

"Guys,"

"Exactly. Schoenheit is a perfect gentleman, a master in my class, and has the style to back him up. Kingscholar can demonstrate occasional intelligence, but he's still another housecat," he shudders. "The shedding..."

A tired voice from the doorway interrupts their tense back-and-forth, much to your relief.

"Goodness, the two of you, at this again?" Trein scoffs, taking a seat at the table. "This conversation is highly inappropriate. You shouldn't be controlling the poor thing's romantic prospects, if they even have them. When the time comes, the choice will be theirs to make."

Crewel huffs, rolling his eyes and leaning against the table. Ashton kicks his feet. And neither utter another word.

"Good," Trein says, then clears his throat. "Ahem. But that's not to say that we can't offer our guidance. That Vanrouge did quite well on the last History of Magic exam..."

You groan.