#edit: what the hell . using the main tags. why not

[the-mang0tree]

today i bring megabull. tomorrow? who knows

[godmadeaterribleerror]

There Comes a Breaking Point

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, smut (p in v sex, handjobs, face sitting), light angst, light fluff too, humor, love confession, truth serum.

Summary/Warnings: Sam drinks a truth potion, and you and Dean have to deal with the consequences, and very painful and beautiful revelations.

Author's Note: Request from @youdontknowe! Tormented Sam so bad last time I had people advocating for his release.

Word Count: 6.1k

This is going to be a problem. You don’t have to look at Dean’s tensed body and scowl to know that this is going to be a problem.

“Run it over one more time, Sammy, and explain why the hell you thought this was a good idea.”

Sam sighs, and he’s spent the past hour looking a little bit like a child that just got caught eating sharpies to see if the different colors had different flavors.

This isn’t that.

It’s worse.

“It was thirsty,” he mutters. “And it doesn’t hurt. It’s kind of tingly on my brain, but it actually feels pretty good, dude. Like an orgasm-“

“Sam.” You mutter. “We talked about this. Don’t poke the bear.”

“But the bear was asking to be poked, and you poke the bear all the time-“

You shake your head. “That’s different-“

“Right, cause he loves you-“

You flush, right as Dean lets out a cough that could rival thunder.

“I- I’m not- Shut your fucking face, Sam, and get the hell back on topic-“

“I’m sorry, but I can’t not say it.” Sam looks back to you with a desperate plea of your name. “You know I can’t, I’m trying but it’s literally impossible-“

“Then try fucking harder-“

“Dean.” You place your hand over his—gripping the chair in the war room like he’s struggling not to throw it at the wall, and knowing him, he might be—until he looks at you.

Sam had said earlier that Dean goes gooey when he looks at you. You’d told him you didn’t know what that means, and he’d tried to make a mimicking face of it, but mostly just ended up looking like an idiot.

And you hadn’t believed him. Sam may have been right in his brutal you always know what Dean needs before he asks for it observation, but that was because you’d trained yourself to do that. To take care of him, when nobody else does, or ever has. It had become your silent purpose, because Dean may stitch you up after every hunt and make sure you eat every night, but you’re the one who takes all the harsher blows on purpose, and who does his laundry—and Sam’s, but they both seem to think a shirt is wearable right up until you get blood on it, and that simply cannot be the bar—and puts water on his nightstand after a worse day, because you know he’s going to drink and you don’t want him to get a headache. 

Apparently, Sam’s noticed all of that. And you’d been alright with it—you didn’t really try to hide how you do that—right up until he added that he knows you bake those pies instead of buying them at the store, and that you hate old movies but watch them because Dean likes them, and that that shampoo and conditioner in the Dean’s showers hasn’t just been magically replacing itself like he thinks.

“How the fuck do you know that one?” You’d muttered, and Sam had just shrugged.

“Because I use my own shampoo and conditioner, duh. And it’s expensive, so if there was a secret shampoo wizard in the bunker, I wouldn’t have to order new stuff online every month.” Sam had paused for a few seconds, making an almost adorable, puppy-like face of shock at the air. “Huh. That feels good to admit. I can finally stop hiding my orders.”

You’d stared at him. “You order stuff to the bunker?”

“No, I have a secret P.O box. Separate from our group one.”

“You what-“

“I don’t want to grab another one of your dildos on accident.” He’d wrinkled his nose at the air. “That was traumatizing, by the way. But not as bad as getting Dean’s porn magazines, I- There was one whole edition that was just photos of girls that looked like you, I think he had it custom made-“

“Sam.” You’d whispered, a little worried that—if he kept going—you’d burn yourself alive. “Please shut up.”

“I can’t. I’m trying, but it just keeps coming out.”He’d pouted at you. “What the hell was in that thing? I mean, I feel great, but wow it’s strong. I think I’m gonna go call Eileen and tell her I love her-“

You’d used the full weight of your body to slam him back down into his chair. “Do not do that, Sam-“

“Why, I thought you guys loved her too-“

“Because,” you’d sighed, rubbing at your eyes as you spoke. “If you call Eileen, you’re probably going to tell her you’re proposing next month. And I don’t think you want to do that.”

“Oh. Good call.” Sam had stayed seated, but frowned at you all the same. “Is Dean headed back?”

You’d glanced down to your phone. “Yeah, he should be. Said he would, but I didn’t explain what was happening, so maybe he got distracted-“

Sam had snorted. “If you asked him to come back, he’s not getting distracted by anything.”

“What does that mean-“

“He’s obsessed with you,” Sam had rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “I mean, you’re like a sister to me, and-“

“I’m like a sister to Dean, too.” You’d muttered, your tone a lot more bitter than you’d wanted, and Sam had only scoffed.

“No. He loves you. Actually, I love you, but Dean’s in love with you.”

You’d shaken your head, and tried to work out how you could literally sink into the earth.  ““Sam-“

“It’s annoying,” he’d half-whined your name, like this was somehow actually your problem to fix. “All the time he’s just looking at you, and talking about you, and moping about how you flirt with other men at bars-“

You’d frowned at him. “I don’t flirt at bars. At all.”

“I know, cause you love him, and I’ve tried to tell him that but suddenly the asshole’s all good with a life of celibacy.” Sam had let out a loud, dramatic sigh, and you’d snorted.

“Dean is not celibate.”

“He is now. Why’d you think he’s been so grumpy all the time.”

“Cause he’s Dean-“

“Nah, this is worse than usual. You just don’t notice cause he’s still all mushy and sweet with you.” 

“Fucking- Sam-“

“It was a little better when he was still masturbating.” Sam had hummed. “But then I walked in on him shouting your name, and now he doesn’t. I’m kind worried it’s gonna kill him.”

You’d just stared at Sam, unable to find words that weren’t pleas to either be shot or woken up from this half-nightmare, half-daydream, and Sam had just kept fucking talking.

“And he makes this face!” Sam had shouted, and you’d considered finding a very firm book in the library to beat your own head in with.

Even now, as you and Sam explained the situation to Dean, the brain bashing was very much still on the table. Because if you looked really close, you could see something shift in Dean’s expression when he met your eyes.

But that might just be the exhaustion. It’s been a pretty average day, but a long fucking three hours.

“He can’t help it.” You mutter, nodding your head to Sam. “We just have to ride it out until Rowena picks up the phone.”

Dean’s jaw ticks, and Sam clears his throat, his voice soft and careful.

“If it helps,” he mumbles your name, giving you an apologetic look. “She’s the one who put the potion there.”

“Sam.” You hiss. “Why would that help-“

“He doesn’t get mad at you!” Sam’s whining voice was back, and you’re a little worried the potion has done something to his general brain functions as well. “And who the hell leaves something like that in the fridge-“

“Me! I leave it there, because Rowena said it needs to be refrigerated Dean knows not to drink it, and you always ask for a nutrition breakdown!”

“But I was thirsty-“

“Sammy.” Dean grumbles, running a hand over his face. “Don’t yell at her.”

“I- She yelled at me-“

“I know, Sammy. Still don’t yell at her. And,” Dean mutters your name, a slight amusement on his face. That’s a good sign. Dean doesn’t really do amused when he’s really angry. “Take a page from your own book. He can’t help it.”

You roll your eyes. “Shove up your ass, Winchester.”

“That’s not nice, sweetheart-“

“It’s nicer than the other place I’d tell you to shove it.” You mumble, and Dean stares at you for a long second, the cutest confusion you’ve ever seen written all over his face.

“Uh,” he scratches the back of his neck. “Unless you’re planning to like, cut me open, I don’t really have any other holes-“

“You’ve got one other hole.” 

You can see the moment it hits him, and you don’t bother to hide your giggle at the slack shock in his face.

“Son of a- Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he says your name, shaking his head like he’s trying to physically remove the idea and moving a hand to cover his crotch. “I should let you take the lead on the interrogations some time, you’re-“

"Amazing?” You hum, smiling at him in a slightly manic way you’ve long forgotten how to fight in Dean’s presence. “Perfect? A miracle and blessing on the universe-“

“Terrifying.” Dean cuts you off with a grin. “Little Dean’s gonna have a heart attack-“

“Yeah, cause you have a boner, man.” Sam groans, and you whip to see him making a face of disgust at you and Dean. “Shit, could she like, wade through cow shit and you’d still get hard?”

“Sam.” Dean grunts, and Sam just rolls his eyes.

“No, don’t Sam me, you guys were just eye-banging, right in front of me. It’s so gross-“

“Sam-“

Dean’s warnings continue to be ignored, and the brain bashing become more and more of a viable option.

“Dean, I’ve seen you get hard cause she threatened to punch you, and I mean like, fine, but you were sitting next to me in the booth, man. I couldn’t get up, or the whole diner would see. And you,” he waves a loose hand in your direction. “Are just as bad! I’ve see the drool when he takes off his shirt, and you laugh way too much at his jokes. I love you, dude, I do, but you are not half as funny as you think you are.”

Dean’s scowl doesn’t waver. “Sammy, I’m gonna knock your lights out if you keep talking.”

“Sure, whatever, just go have sex after. I can’t fucking take this anymore, you keep making heart eyes at each other while I’m eating. It’s exhausting.”

You’re going to sink into the earth. Or turn into sheer air, or run and never stop until you drop dead, and you’re reborn as a bug all the way across the world. 

Dean’s walking away. He might want to hear this even less than you do, because at least for you it’s a little true. For Dean, it’s just Sam losing his mind.

It has to just be Sam losing his mind.

You’ve spent too many years telling yourself that Dean simply doesn’t love you back, and that’s okay, for it not to be Sam losing his mind-

“You should follow him.” Sam says, and you sigh, shaking your head.

“He needs space, Sam-“

“No, he needs you.”

You swallow. It’s just Sam losing his mind.

Sam says your name carefully. “I know-“

“I’m going to bed.” The words aren’t really for Sam. They’re not really for anybody. It’s mostly just an order for your legs to start moving.

You’ll work on this in the morning, or your phone will ring in the dead of night with an answer from Rowena. Until then, you’ll wallow. Sit in the fact that things are going to be weird now, and they’ll get better, but God, the middle part is going to suck.

It’s not like you’ve never tried to do something about your feelings. There have been points where you’d had too much to drink, or the hunt had been really good, or Dean had been touching you a lot, all day, for almost no reason. And you’d smiled at him extra, and fluttered your lashes, and looked nowhere but his grin and handsome features, but he’s never done anything. You’ve even had cases where you’ve had to pretend to be a couple, and Dean has looked at you with dark eyes and a teasing smirk, but then things would get weird, and you’d be struck with the knowledge once more that it was nothing.

The touches were nothing, and the days he’d only ever look at you were nothing, and no matter how bad you wanted it to be something, it wasn’t. 

You can’t sleep. You can’t manage to banish the image of Dean laying in his bed, with his hand stroking his cock as he shouts your name, and it’s making the sheets stick to your skin and you thighs squeeze together, but it’s just an image in your head. 

Hours pass, and the image gets sharper and you can only grind into the sheets and beg to nothing for the night to move quickly, but it doesn’t. If anything you’re more awake, and now you’ve shifted to being on the table in the war room, and instead of Dean storming out when Sam tells you that you love each other, he agrees and grabs your face between big, rough hands. Kissing you until your knees are weak and you’re clinging to his shirt, before bending you over the table and fucking you stupid.

But it’s just a fantasy. Based in nothing at all.

No matter what Sam says, it’s nothing.

Even though Sam does know Dean better than anyone. And he’s only saying what he thinks is the truth, which is—allegedly and unlikely—that Dean masturbates and shouts your name, and the magazine thing, and that you eye fuck each other, and you know you eye fuck Dean, but never once has Dean ever looked at you different from the first day he met you-

Sam cuts through your thoughts, shouting of your name from down the hall, and you bolt out of bed without thought.

“I need help- Shit-“

It’s coming from Dean’s room, and if Sam went to try and smooth things out Dean might be strangling him, and he wouldn’t actually hurt Sam but you’re still so worried the air feels wired-

You skid into Dean’s room with wide eyes, Dean jolts up from his bed—very much alone—and before either of you can speak, the door slams closed.

“Son of a-“ Dean pushes up off the mattress, his eyes narrowed at the door. “Sammy? What the hell do you think you’re doing-“

“A plan.” Sam’s voice is muffled from behind the door, and when you try to shake the handle, it doesn’t budge.

“Dean.” You mutter, look back over your shoulder. “It’s locked. Why the fuck does it lock from the outside-“

“Old Mark of Cain precaution,” he grunts, moving to your side with short steps. “Sam, open the goddamn door now.”

There’s a second of silence, then Sam’s firm. “No.”

“Sam-“

“No! I’m not doing this for another three years!” Sam’s voice is almost desperate, and you and Dean both freeze. “You know you love each other now! Work it out! And I’m sorry I spilled your secrets, that wasn’t cool, but c’mon guys, this was getting insane.”

“Sam.” You wrap your arms around your body, and he better feel the venom in your voice. “You said you needed help. This is not help. You lied, so-“

“Potion wore off. Guess I can lie again.” There’s a pause. “But I wasn’t lying when I said you guys need to get this together. Remember the vamp hunt last month?”

You frown at the door. “Yeah?”

“One of the vamps was shocked you weren’t together!” Sam groans, sounding almost pained by the memory. “You guys were out double checking the nest location after we interrogated her, and she made a joke about how my mom and dad were probably fucking in the car or something, and I told her that you guys weren’t together, and she said, and I quote, really.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice is growl. It’s not helping the situation. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Cool. Do it after you guys are done.”

“Done?” You glance over at Dean, and he’s refusing to meet your gaze. Just glowering at the door. “Sam, what do we have to be done with.”

“Working it out.”

You sigh. “That’s not-“

“Fine. Fucking. You’re not coming out until you fuck.”

Your mouth falls open, and Dean looks like—if he really tried—he could break down the door and strangle Sam with his bare hands.

“I swear to Mother Mary and Christ, Sam, you’re fuckin’ dead-“

“Sure. After you fuck.”

Dean slams a fist on the door, and it almost drowns out the sound of Sam’s footsteps.

Walking away.

Leaving you locked with Dean.

You swallow on the air, and Dean still won’t look at you. Won’t speak to you, or do anything but glare at the door as if he can free himself with his mind. You must have done something wrong to make Sam hate you, because this is torture. Dean obviously doesn’t want to be in here with you, let alone fuck you or love you. Even when you move to sit on the bed he remains tall and rigid and frozen, and you can see the muscles of his back flexing, and that’s really not important to think about right now-

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, and when Dean responds, his words sound pushed through his teeth.

“No. You’re- This isn’t your problem. He’ll come back later, and we can lie to him about doing it, and then I’ll fucking kill him.”

The last words are roared for Sam to hear wherever he’s retreated off to, and you let out a long, slow sigh.

“I don’t think shouting is going to convince him to come back and free you.”

He finally looks at you. A quick glance over his shoulder with a drawn brow, still igniting a fire over your skin. Always igniting a fire over your skin. 

“I don’t give a shit if he frees me.” He grunts. “He shouldn’t be doing this to you. Doesn’t matter what he thinks he knows.”

You blink at that, and it’s like you’re missing something. Dean’s words make sense, but there’s something so slightly off about them, and you can’t place it. 

“Truth potion.” You shrug, watching Dean carefully. “Not his fault.”

Dean scoffs. “This is his fault, sweetheart. And that thing wasn’t a truth potion, it was a big-mouthed potion.”

“I think that’s just a mean way of saying truth potion.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve earned the right to be mean. My brother’s a fucking traitor-“

“Dean.”

“Yeah. I know.” 

“Right.” You mumble. “Sorry.”

He glances back to you with a firm expression that-

Softens. It softens. There’s not eye fucking, but you can see it happen. His jaw unclenches, and his nostrils flare with a long exhale, and his eyes turn gooey.

The lack of sleep might be catching up to you.

Or Sam is right.

You really hope Sam is right.

“Don’t be.” Dean mutters, crossing the room and dropping at your side. “Not your fault Sammy’s a little shit who only see what he wants.”

“What he wants?”

Dean nods, and that all you get.

You just need a little more.

“Sam told me you haven’t been sleeping with other people.” You whisper. “Was that just- Sam being a shit?”

Dean sighs, shooting you an unreadable look. “No. I haven’t been.”

You swallow. “Why?”

Dean lets out a dry chuckle, and you can taste the air. Feel the heat from his body, right next to yours, and smell him all over the room. Whiskey and gunpowder and something salty that’s just Dean.

And he chuckles—his voice impossibly low—and looks at you the same as he always has. 

And you see it again. What Sam was talking about

The hunger, in his hooded gaze, that’s lighting a fire in your gut. 

All it takes to turn it to a wildfire is his voice, deep and rough as he holds your gaze, God, you might be the one losing their mind, but if it’s for this, you’re happy to let it go.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, scanning carefully over your already open, slack features. “I’m betting Sam told you why, too.”

For a second, you’re only staring at each other as Dean’s words hang in the air.

And Sam had been telling the truth. You can see it all over Dean’s face, and you’re sure he can see it on yours—and if he can’t, he can hear it, pounding in your heartbeat—and something in you snaps.

You must be the one who moves first. Just a fraction of a second faster than Dean, because you end up straddling him as he holds you by the waist, and this is what you’ve waited for.

Years of sleepless nights and watching Dean move without grabbing him by the shirt and smashing your lips to his with a scream of I love you. So much time spent daydreaming and getting lost in your own head to thoughts of this moment, and you’re here, and there’s nothing else in the world.

It’s only Dean. His hands pulling and kneading at the skin of your hips and ass, and his mouth desperate and sloppy against yours as you both try to devour the other first. All teeth and spit and need, you need Dean and he needs you, and you can feel his need pressing right into your inner thigh, and exploding is back on the table but it might be into fireworks-

You’re separating only for breath. Just enough for Dean to pull your shirt over your head and drop his head to your neck as you unbutton his flannel—why was he sleeping in flannel, that’s so fucking weird, he’s perfect—and leaning back once more to let you drag his undershirt off and toss it to the side. There’s too much time lost to wait. You push your hand between your bodies—pressed right against each other, your hips already rolling down as your own desperation grows—and it’s only right as your fingers lands on the rim of Dean’s sweatpants that he picks up on what’s happening. 

“Wait-“ He grunts your name, pulling away as he grabs your hand, but keeping his hold on your body steady. “You don’t need to-“

“But I want to.” You whisper, giving him your best, softest doe-eyes. “Please.”

“Son of a- Sweetheart, you really don’t-“

“Please.” You grind down onto him, and he grunts in your ear. “I promise I want to Dean, I- I mean only if you want to-“

Dean’s hand wraps around the back of your hand so carefully as he slams his lips up to yours, and your words die in a long, happy moan as he ruts up into your thighs. 

“I love you,” he mutters, and you giggle against his lips.

“I love you, too. Is that a yes-“

He chuckles. “You can have a little, sweetheart.” He starts to press short kisses over your collarbone before nipping at your shoulder, his words rolling through your body until you’re squirming against him. “But then I wanna taste you, and come inside of you, alright. I-“ He pauses, glancing up with a small frown. “If you’re good with that. I know I’m clean, and if you are too, and wanna do that, I’m all in, so-“

It’s your turn to shut him up. He groans down your throat as you pull his lower lip between your teeth, squeezing right over his bulge until he’s making more of those sounds, and they might be all you need to survive for a million years.

And the hiss and moan he lets out when you lean back and pull his sweats and boxers down, taking his hard cock in your hand and giving it a long slow stroke, might send you right to heaven.

You don’t think you’ll want it. Nowhere could be better than here. Pumping Dean in your hands carefully, feeling the ache between your legs grow as you start to imagine him—thick and big and throbbing—seated between your thighs. Watching him drop his brow to your chest with a low groan, quickly making himself busy by kissing and sucking over your breasts.

“Dean.” Your hand shoots into his hair, and he moans again. Right against your nipple, as his hips jerk up into your hand, and you squeeze right at the base of his dick. “That’s- Oh, that’s good-“

He only groans, a hand gripping so hard on your waist it’s going to leave a bruise. 

You really hope it does.

“Baby,” Dean mutters, and that alone almost sends you right up to the edge. “Gotta slow down, getting- son of a bitch-“

It’s impossible not to speed it up. To not began to pick up your pace until Dean’s biting your shoulder, making more of those sounds-

“Alright. That’s enough.“ Dean pulls you off with a grunt, eyes blown out, and hair messy from your fingers, and his voice is gruff and low and you want to keep touching him-

“Dean.” Your voice is almost a whine as he fully removes his bottoms, and you crawl over to prop your chin on his shoulder. “We can have sex later-“

That gets a loud, barking laugh. “There’s no damn way we’re having sex later, sweetheart. I told you, I’m gonna taste you, then I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk.”

Suddenly, the plan sounds good again. You nod frantically as Dean grins at you and presses a quick, affectionate kiss to your brow, but when you start to lie back for the tasting part, Dean stops you.

“Not like that, baby girl.” He mutters, pulling you back into a longer, slower kiss, and you give him a slightly dazed blink as when he pulls away.

“But you said-“

“I know. Gimme a sec.” He crawls back on the mattress, settling his head between the pillows. “C’mere.”

You blink at him. “Dean, I don’t-“

Your words cut off with a squeak as he grabs your leg, dragging you forwards and positioning until you’re sitting right on his chest.

When all you do is stare at him, combing your fingers thoughtlessly through his hair as you wait for him to explain, Dean pauses.

“You ever done this?”

“I don’t know what this is-“

“Face-sitting.” 

Your mouth falls open, and he chuckles.

“Guess not. You’re gonna love it, baby, I promise. C’mon.” 

His hands find your ass, and your senses finally rush back into your body.

“Dean, wait-“

He stops before the word is even fully out of your mouth, a small frown on his pretty face. “What’s wrong, do you not wanna-“

“No, I do-“

“Cause if you don’t, I’ll survive sweetheart, you just gotta tell me-“

“Dean!” You squeak, grabbing his face between your hands. “I want to, I do, I promise, but I- I only just got you, I don’t want to kill you night one.”

Dean stares at you for a second, and his face breaks out in a wide, bright grin. “Night one? You already planning more nights?”

“I- yes, and I’d like you be alive for them.”

He shrugs. “Well if that’s your problem, I can promise I’ll make it. Sit on my fucking face, sweetheart. Now.”

His voice is deep and firm with the command, and it’s almost enough to make you forget about the crushing him fears. 

You only just manage to push through.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Dean-“

“You won’t-“

“But-“

Dean says your name carefully, squeezing his hands on your ass. “I can tell you right now, I’m going to enjoy this. I’ve been waiting for it for years.” 

“Oh.” You whisper. “Okay.”

He nods. “I’m more than game if you are. But if you’re not-“

“I am.” 

Your answer is too quick, and Dean doesn’t miss it. “Alright then. Hold on.”

A quick wink is all your get before he’s pulling you forward, right onto his face, and-

“Fuck.”

Dean chuckles, licking another long, teasing stripe up your pussy, and your hand shoots out to grab his headboard. Any doubt from your head is gone is second, replaced only by good. This feels so good, with Dean’s hands squeezing and lightly slapping on your ass with every moan, and his grunts as you grip at his hair vibrating right into you cunt, and his mouth-

His mouth needs to come with a warning. Some kind of biohazard, because all he’d need to do now is ask you to move a mountain, and you would. 

Nobody should be this good at eating pussy. It shouldn’t be legal. But Dean does it like it’s nothing, keeping you slammed firm over his face and licking and tongue fucking you into a high, dizzy oblivion, his nose rubbing right over your clit and stubble burning your thighs, and whenever you scream his name he just goes faster, his mouth moving to your clit to suck and bite as you grind down on his chin, and you’ve never been this close this fast. Right on the edge as Dean swirling his tongue around your clit before plunging it back into your cunt, keeping you right on the edge of bliss without falling over.

“Dean-“ You gasp, your voice barely a breath. “Dean, please, wanna cum-“

He squeezes your ass again, pulling your clit between his lips and flicking his tongue in almost a frenzy, and that’s it.

You scream as your orgasm hits, your thighs clamping around Dean’s head as you struggle to stay upright, and it’s only when you’re shaking and whimpering above him that Dean slows his ministrations.

Warm hands squeeze your hips and roll you off Dean’s face, holding you carefully until you’re flat on your back, and Dean’s above you with an open, adoring face.

“Good?”

You nod weakly, spreading your legs without thought at his deep voice. 

Dean laughs. “Awesome. Wait, I gotta-“

Two broad fingers run between the lips of your pussy, and you let out a shaky moan as Dean’s words hang gathers your release on his fingers.

“You’re better than I imagined, baby girl.” He mutters. “So wet. Responsive.” Just to prove his point, Dean pinches and rolls your clit, and your back arches off the bed as you whine. “I know, sweetheart, just- here.”

You blink up at him as those two fingers move to rest right to your lips, and Dean raises his brows.

“Open for me.” He presses the fingers down on your lower lip, and a grin splits his face as you obey. “Good girl. Just want you to taste how delicious you are, sweetheart, make sure you know.”

Your tongue swirling over your fingers as you suck off your arousal, and that alone is enough to make you ready for him all over again, but the way Dean watches you drags you right up to the edge.

Like you’re holy. And perfect. And there’s really never been another place for him but right here, at your side.

Dean pulls out his fingers with a pop, his voice hoarse as he holds your gaze. “More?”

You nod without a thought. “More.”

Dean give you a small, almost nervous grin, and moves himself until he’s hovering over you, only a breath away, and his cock is sliding between your pussy lips, hitching right at your entrance.

“You-“

“Yes.” Your answer is quick and breathy, and Dean grins down at you without any form of restraint on his face.

“I love you, you know.”

“I’ve got it.” You mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And I love you too.”

“Good. Just making sure.”

“Dean-“

He angles his lips over yours for a long, slow kiss. Deep and heavy and almost gentle, going until you’re moaning below him.

Then he slams his cock into you, and you're gone.

This is where Dean belongs. He bottoms out in one stroke, and you barely need time to adjust before you’re clawing at his back in a silent plea to fucking move, and when he does it’s perfect. He’s hitting so deep inside of you, and filling you up better than anything else ever could, and every moan and breathless plea of his name only makes Dean go faster. Harder. Until he’s properly fucking you, the bed creaking as he splits you open and mutters low filth in your ear, but you’re high to really hear it.

And everything that breaks through just manages to light you on fire more.

“Taking me so good.” He grunts in your ear, and you roll your hips up, trying to match his every thrust. “God, you feel like fuckin’ paradise, baby girl. All tight and wet, I never- Shit-“

Dean cuts himself off with a wet, open-mouthed kiss, and you start to writhe below him. 

“Dean- I’m close again-“

“I know.” He mutters, pressing a slightly softer kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Want you to come with me, sweetheart. Can you-“

You squeeze around him, and Dean groans right down your throat.

“Son of a- Alright-“ His thumb snakes between your bodies, rubbing quick, furious circles around your clit. “Let’s go, baby, c’mon-“

“Dean, please.”

He moans as you start to squirm, his movements growing desperate and uneven. “I know, I’ve got you, you’re being so good-“

You start to arch off the bed again, and Dean holds you firm against him, all as his fingers keep moving.

“Good girl, so fucking tight, just need you to come for me-“

It’s someone bigger than the last one. Longer and crashing over you in a beautiful, starlit wave that drowns out everything but the sight of Dean’s face as he cums, the sound of him groaning your name, and the feeling of him between your legs. Heavy and big, his release spilling into your pussy as he gives a few last, lazy strokes.

Dean rolls off you with a gentle kiss to your brow, and the bed is too big and cold until he returns.

A warm cloth is pressed along your inner thighs as he cleans you up, and a gentle kiss lands on your abdomen right before he leaves once more.

There’s a thud as he discards the cloth, and then he’s back. Scooting in bed beside you and pulling you right up to his chest, holding you so carefully it would be impossible to know that, only minutes ago, he’d been fucking you so hard you can still feel him.

“Sam’s never gonna let us live this down.” Dean mutters, and you let out a soft laugh.

“No. I think we deserve that, though. If we’ve been even half as bad as he said.”

Dean scoffs. “I’m a saint, sweetheart, I’ve never done anything wrong in my life-“

“Sam told me about how you have a porn magazine of women who look like me.”

“I- Yeah.” He sighs, and you smile into his chest. “But he told me that you’ve stealing all my shirts to wear them while you fuck yourself with a dildo.”

“Jesus.” You flush, but still squeeze your arms around Dean’s body a little tighter. “We really are that bad, huh.”

“Yeah, but if it helps, I think that dildo thing is hot-“

“Of course your do.”

Dean laughs, his thumb tracing circles on your arm. “How should we get him back for this?”

“I think,” You hum, propping your chin up on his chest. “That you should let this one go.”

“But-“

“Dean Winchester.” You snap, narrowing your eyes and pushing up on your palms. “Don’t lie to me and say that you were planning on doing this yourself. Sam got you laid, and a girlfriend who loves you.”

Dean raises his brows. “Girlfriend?”

You swallow, but don’t waver. You’ve come this far. “Yes.”

He grins, grabbing one of your hands to press a kiss to your knuckles. “Awesome. About Sam-“

“No.”

“I’m thinking we drink all his stupid smoothies-“

“Dean.” You lower yourself down, until your nose to nose with Dean’s pretty, stupid grin. “Go buy your brother a big salad and stupid smoothie as a thank you, then get your ass back in bed.”

Dean closes the final distance with a long, easy kiss, not bothering to pull away when he speaks.

“Yes ma’am.”

End Note: Rare day where it's beautiful to be Sam Winchester. And those two perverts are meant for each other. Good for them.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[wordsofwhimsy]

❀ꗥ～𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ～ꗥ❀

❀ꗥ～ Viltrumite!Mark Edition!～ꗥ❀

Pairing: Viltrumite!Mark Grayson x Southern Belle!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff, wholesome with a side of unhinged, Mark is confused and in love

Word Count: 1,793

Synopsis: He came to Earth to conquer, but all that went out the window when you strolled by in a sundress with a parasol, ready to tend to all his wounds. He’s never known softness like this, and by the time the tea hits his tongue, it’s already over. He’d give you the whole galaxy just to hear you call him “sugar” again.

a/n: saw this ask and just couldn’t stop myself – got to work like my mf life depended on it

you can start reading the main series ❀ꗥ～Here! ～ꗥ❀

Mark wasn’t sure what had brought him here—this quiet patch of countryside far removed from the chaos he’d just caused. The land was untouched, still, and so at odds with the life he had come to know. He just needed a moment to breathe, to step away from the endless battle, even if only for a brief second.

Leaning against an old oak tree, his body aching from the brutal fighting, Mark closed his eyes, letting the weight of his Viltrumite nature settle over him. The mission was always the same, the purpose always clear. Yet, as he sat in this strange silence, something gnawed at him, a feeling he couldn’t name.

That’s when he heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching, the rhythmic tap of shoes on the dirt road.

You weren’t expecting to see anyone—much less someone like him. But there he was, a tall figure in torn clothes, looking as though he’d been through hell. Bloodstains marked his chest and arms, dirt smudged across his face.

You blinked in shock. "Oh my stars!" you cried, immediately dropping your parasol in the dirt as you rushed over. "Sweetheart, are you alright?!"

You knelt beside him without a second thought, your fingers gently grazing his face as you checked for injuries. The coolness of your touch felt almost foreign to Mark as he stiffened under your hands. His entire body locked up in surprise, but you didn’t seem to notice. You were too busy worrying about him, your face twisted in concern.

His heart skipped, a strange fluttering sensation pulsing through his chest. No one had ever touched him like this—so soft, so gentle. For a moment, he couldn’t quite figure out what to do with the unexpected feeling.

"Lord have mercy, look at you," you muttered, brushing the dirt from his face. "You’re hurt somethin’ fierce. What in tarnation happened? You been in some kind of scuffle with a whole stampede?"

You continued to check over him, your fingers tracing over his arms and chest as you sought out any serious injuries. Mark winced as you brushed over a gash on his side, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he found himself frozen in place, letting you care for him as if that’s how it was always supposed to be.

"Sugar," you tutted softly, brow furrowed. "You’re more tore up than a sack of potatoes after a long fall." You let out a little sigh, your voice full of maternal warmth. "I reckon you’ve been through the wringer, haven’t you?"

He was having a hard time keeping his mind focused. Why wasn’t he pulling away? Why wasn’t he using his strength to get out of this strange situation?

You gently pressed against his ribs, checking for any broken bones. "My word," you muttered, shaking your head as you gently pressed on his shoulder. "You ain’t gonna be able to walk around here like this. Not with all these bumps and bruises."

Mark’s chest tightened with each word, and a strange pull in his stomach had him looking at you in stunned silence. His Viltrumite instincts told him to stay guarded, but your presence was doing something to him, something his body wasn’t used to. Something good.

"Can you walk, darlin’?" you asked, your voice full of concern but with a gentle command. You reached up, your hand resting on his arm, and he found himself standing with little resistance. "Come on now, we’re gonna get you outta here. I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but I reckon you need some rest—and a tall glass of sweet tea."

Mark’s breath hitched at the sound of your voice, at the way you just… guided him. He didn’t even think twice about following your lead. Every step felt like it was the one he was meant to take.

You didn’t question him. You didn’t need to know his past or where he came from. All you cared about was that he was hurt, and you were going to take care of him. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Mark didn’t resist. He didn’t fight. He just let you lead him forward.

"Now, don’t you worry none," you said softly as you guided him along, your hand steady on his side. "I’m gonna get you patched up proper. And once I do, we’ll have us some tea, and I’ll make sure you’re feelin’ better than a cat in a sunbeam."

Mark still couldn’t understand it, the pull of your kindness. But as he followed you to your house, feeling the warmth of your touch and hearing the calm reassurance in your voice, he realized something.

For the first time in his life, he wasn’t thinking about fighting. He wasn’t thinking about conquering. He was simply thinking about being here, with you, in this moment, and feeling… peace.

You brought him inside like you were wrangling a lost lamb, gentle but firm, guiding him through the doorway of your little white farmhouse with the chipping paint and creaky screen door. The inside was warm and golden from the afternoon sun, the faint smell of lemon and lavender drifting through the air.

You sat him down carefully on a cushioned bench in your kitchen, one hand on his shoulder to steady him, the other already rummaging through an old tin first-aid box.

“Alright, sug, now you just sit tight. I’m gonna patch you up, and you better not go faintin’ on me,” you said, pulling out a bottle of antiseptic and a roll of gauze. “You bleed on my floors, and I’m liable to fuss.”

Mark just blinked at you, stunned into silence, the faintest crease of confusion between his brows like he’d landed on an alien planet. His muscles were still tensed, but he didn’t move—just watched you like you were some kind of celestial being.

You knelt down between his knees and got to work, gently dabbing at a cut on his arm.

“Now hold still, darlin’. This might sting a smidge,” you warned before applying the antiseptic. He didn’t even flinch—Viltrumite pain tolerance and all—but you still blew on it afterward, murmuring, “There now, all better,” like you’d just fixed up a scraped knee.

Then came the side wound. You pulled his shirt up carefully, your fingers grazing over the bruises blooming across his ribs. “Heavens to Betsy, it’s like you tried to wrestle a tornado and lost,” you muttered, lips pursed. “Who did this to you, sugarplum? ’Cause I’m fixin’ to give them a piece of my mind.”

Mark didn’t answer. Couldn’t. He was too busy short-circuiting at the pet names and the way your voice wrapped around him like warm honey. Every touch made his skin hum. Every little murmur made something unfamiliar twist in his gut. He was supposed to be hardened. Cold. Focused. But your gentle fussin’ had him feeling like he was melting from the inside out.

After you’d finished bandaging him, you stood, brushed your hands off on your apron, and nodded toward the stove. “Alright now, sit yourself up proper. I’m gonna fix you a plate. You look like you haven’t eaten since the cows came home.”

He watched you move around the kitchen with ease, slicing cornbread, reheating some leftover fried chicken, piling a plate like you’d been feeding men three times his size all your life.

Then you handed him a glass of something golden and ice-cold. “Sweet tea,” you said, proud as a peacock. “Made it this mornin’. Try some. It’ll fix what ails ya.”

Mark took the glass. Cold condensation beaded along his fingers. He sipped. Blinked. Stared at the glass like it had just rewritten his understanding of the universe.

You tilted your head, hand on your hip. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense now—how is it?”

He looked at you, eyes narrowed, completely dead serious. “…This… is good.”

You blinked at him for a beat, hand still frozen on your hip. “…Well, shoot, sugar. Say it with a little conviction, why don’tcha?” A grin tugged at your lips despite yourself. “You sayin’ that like I handed you plain water instead of the nectar of the South.”

You stepped a little closer, eyeing him with mock suspicion. “You never had sweet tea before, have ya?”

He shook his head slowly, taking another sip like it was a secret he didn’t want to share too loud.

You let out a small gasp, one hand flying to your chest. “Lord above, I done found me a man who ain’t never tasted sweet tea.” You paused, smile growing. “Well, bless your poor, misguided heart—we’re gonna fix that.”

He took another sip like he was afraid it would disappear if he didn’t drink it fast enough. And somewhere between the tea and the second bite of cornbread, it hit him: he didn’t want to leave.

Not now. Not ever.

You’d fussed over him like he mattered. You’d fed him, healed him, talked to him like he was a person—not a monster, not a soldier, not a god. Just a man. And it undid something in him. Untied all the knots he didn’t even realize he’d been carrying in his chest.

Mark Grayson, born of war and built for domination, sat in a country kitchen, bandaged and fed, listening to your soft hum as you washed dishes—and knew in his bones he would burn the world to protect this place.

You turned back to him with a little smile, tucking a loose curl behind your ear. “Feelin’ better, hon?”

Mark nodded slowly, still holding that glass of sweet tea like it was sacred. “I’m gonna marry you,” he said, quiet but certain.

You blinked. “I—pardon?”

He didn’t repeat himself. Just took another sip of tea and watched you like you’d already been claimed.

Because in his heart—you had.

[grande-lando]

i know i should just leave it alone because this is never going to reach its intended audience (and lbh they don’t care) but i’m so tired of people who clearly don’t even like lando using him just to prop up their faves. the way he gets written, always feeling inferior to max or oscar or charles, always the emotional support punching bag, the afterthought, the one who exists solely to make someone else look better, it’s exhausting.

it’s always the same forced narrative where he’s the insecure one, the one who’s never quite enough, the one who gets hurt so their favorite can have some kind of fake redemption arc. and let’s not even talk about the ones who solely post him when he’s at his lowest cause “they love to see the tears in his eyes.”

these are the ones strip him of everything that makes him complex. his ambition, his humor, his sharpness, his loyalty, and reduce him to this one-dimensional person, and then act like they’re being generous by including him at all. these are the ones in fandom who use him to push a toxic, tired story that does nothing but undermine him and then act shocked when people push against the narrative.

i’m gonna be real with you, i’m not one to tell people what not to post. i post my own thoughts on my own blog and i’m not about to be censored so i get it (but just to add, i follow tagging etiquette, which is more than i can say for a lot of max, oscar, charles, and lewis fans who seem to relish tagging their anti posts with lando’s name so they show up in his main tag and then get combative when asked to remove them). but let’s be real. you can’t constantly push this narrative that lando is weak, inferior, or depressed, and then pull the shocked pikachu face when the internet eats it up and starts parroting it like fact.

i’ve been recommended so many landoscar and norstappen blogs lately, ones that get hundreds and thousands of notes, and the way they talk about lando? it’s grim. he’s always sad. always insecure. always the one hurting. never the one standing his ground, never the one being chosen, never the one who’s enough unless he’s crying over someone else’s greatness. and these blogs have huge followings. they shape fandom perception. and what they’re doing is subtle character assassination wrapped in a “poor baby” bow.

if the only version of lando you engage with is one where he’s small so someone else can be big, ask yourself why. because whether you mean to or not, you’re not just writing fanfic or making an angsty edit or a performative little text post for clout, you’re feeding a larger narrative that undermines him, and then acting shocked when people start treating that narrative like it’s canon.

lando isn’t your punching bag. he’s not a pity project, and he sure as hell isn’t the collateral damage in your obsession with someone else.

[a-bright-comet]

Jade Shadows Thoughts

(NOTICE: I have edited this post after a few days and many lovely replies and tags giving me more insight and opinions, overall my view of this quest has gotten a lot more positive, thank you all <3) okaaayyyy I am utterly rattled rn lmao also made the mistake of looking at tumblr after doing the quest and as expected it seems to be a 50/50 of hating or loving it. so here are my personal thoughts, I am a little scared but talk seems to be civil thankfully. I can definitely agree on the sentiment that this quest needed more time, cause let's be honest the people hating this quest wouldn't be jumping to the things they're jumping to if Jade herself got more screen-time before the big drop, warframe's style has always been vague and never 100% straight-forward and I think that unfortunately hurt it a bit this time, as what they didn't show came off wrong to many people and while I sorta see why I disagree on some parts. I also feel like the quest kinda got a bit *too* hyped both by DE and the fanbase's theories, way too short, it deserved and needed to be a bit longer for it's special narrative. Jade kinda got a weird spot, both being the main focus alongside Stalker but also hardly explored. But let's be honest, most of the negativity is caused by this outside-circumstance alone. Now, what I absolutely disagree with is people insisting that DE was trying to say "bodily autonomy bad" or that Stalker didn't care about her and only the child, thing is I thought it was pretty fucking clear that she *wanted* the child in what little was shown and she was going to die no matter the outcome (thanks to the orokin to absolutely no one's surprise) and Stalker in his guilt for all she's done for him wanted to make sure that he at least kept this one promise to Her, cause She wanted it. she still had bodily autonomy in the fact She wanted this, she wanted the child no matter what. and she wanted stalker to protect her and the kid. And he did, like a true loving partner. DE has a long track record of being very autonomy-positive. A point they make time and time again is that ripping it away is *bad* and horrifying, the quest is a bittersweet tragedy, not a horror. Honestly there would be 0 issue if DE had given us a Jade-only quest before this one, I personally would've preferred it as well, she's cool as hell she deserves it. who knows maybe DE will see all of this and make prequel quests? we can only hope. I do not want to assume the worst of anyone or anything cause that's a miserable existence. Look I personally enjoyed the quest and get the feeling whoever wrote it did it out of some personal experience or sorrow, that's at least the vibe I got. It's a tragedy, but her choice was seen till the end, many women choose to still have a child despite knowing they won't make it, many also don't, that's why choice is important. and she did, she chose her child that she was having while likely forcibly infested and turned into a warframe. (also remember there are women on the team who likely looked at this.) there are some other iffy parts of the quest, (really should've been the drifter instead of the operator if they were gonna do that, but that's personal discomfort.) but overall I enjoyed it and open to explore the implications of a born-warframe-child and Stalker healing as they both grow together. These are my thoughts, and I can understand why people like or dislike this quest, but I think it's fine and just ended up in a very unfortunate spot due to outside circumstances beyond it's control. (sorry if any of this comes off as aggressive it is not my intention despite how riled I am by some folk online, I disagree with you but I do not hate you, I don't even know you.)

Her choice, His promise, Their light.

Thank you for reading my first ever text post about something I care about, not sure I'll be doing this again any time soon out of anxiety lol (Edit: and thanks to everyone responding to this post wonderfully, ya'll are great and have lessened my anxiety and have made me appreciate this quest more <3)

[lautski-week]

Hello again Lautski Nation! (Q&A under the cut)

Welcome once again to the fourth official Lautski Week! Once semiannual, now back to annual, always so fun to run 💞 Mod is @the-spaced-out-ace, uses they/them pronouns. As always, I love sharing our beloved nerd and cool girl with the world, and I'm looking forward to seeing what this summer's event will bring! Every submission is always so wonderful!

And as per usual, a rundown of how the event works in case this is someone's first time!

Q: What are alternates?

A: Alternates are two extra prompts in case one of them leaves you stumped! They can be used any day, or they can not be used at all! It’s up to each individual participant!

Q: Do I have to do all seven days?

A: You’re free to do as many as you want! You can do all seven, you can do just a few, hell, you could do all nine in you wanted! This isn’t a challenge, it’s an event. The main goal is to make some posts about this ship we love and having fun.

Q: What can I make?

A: Anything you want! Art, fics, edits, memes, etc. There's even been a cosplay or two in the past! The one thing I will not reblog is anything generated by AI. I trust that anyone in an event like this gets why generative AI is evil, but I am saying it just in case.

Q: How do I post?

A: I’ll reblog anything made for the event to this blog and my main. If you’d like to be featured, please @ THIS blog. Additionally, I’d recommend tagging works with #lautski week so everyone’s works can all be found in the same place. I've also not always been pinged by tumblr in the past, so the tag really is an important extra precaution.

Q: I was late! Can I still post?

A: Of course! I’ll keep reblogging new posts tagged #lautski week and/or mention this blog through July 12!

Q: Can I post to AO3, then link it back here?

A: Feel free! This year I will also be setting up a Lautski Week collection, which I will link on the blog closer to time. Feel free to use it!

Q: Can I post to (insert any other fanfic site here) then link it back here?

A: Same as AO3. Go ahead!

Q: One of my wips fits *insert prompt here!* Can I post it for that day?

A: You can, but please don’t post before the event begins!

Q: Am I allowed to write smut?

A: Yes, but please have it properly tagged on both tumblr and AO3. On this blog, I will use the additional tag "smut warning"

Q: Will there be another collection?

A: Yes! It will go up on AO3 on June 26! It is opt in, so you can add or remove fics on your own terms.

That's all for now. Thank you all for the support in the last few events and I look forward to the up and running event this summer. Like last year you can likely expect occasional reblogs on here and main and countdown memes made by yours truly, but until then, see you all on June 29!

[euno11a]

Tattooed Hearts V

Genre: No one to someone Tattoo artist! Jungkook X Reader

Summary: What happened to us? Why did we end up like this? It was only a one time thing. Now it’s ruined us both.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, mentions of hookups, insults, arguing, blood, mentions of period, insecurities

Edit: If you’d like to be added to the tag list, feel free to message me or send it to my inbox :)

Pt I • Pt II • Pt III • Pt IV *** Why did you think he’d change? Just because he was nice to you in the flower shop? How naive could you be? You’d walked into the tattoo parlour, it being unusually empty. Walking around a little, you tried to find someone, a customer, RM, V, anyone. But all you were met with, was Jungkook fucking some woman in the break room. You froze, staring at the girl being pounded into. She looked at you, exaggerating her moans even more when she saw you. You clenched your jaw and walked out, not wanting to deal with this today. Not knowing where to go, you wandered around Main Street, trying to get the image of him and the woman out of your head. Your face was wet…why was it wet? Oh god, you were crying over him again. Lock him out, keep him locked out, never let him in again. *** Laying on the couch in your apartment, you stared at the ceiling. You felt numb, curious on why he had such an effect on you. The voice in your head was calling you an idiot for letting him in again. Who did she think she was? Jesus Howard Christ, you were a stupid little girl that got jealous over a player! Why were you so rung up about some stupid guy that can’t keep it in his pants-! Your doorbell…who the hell was ringing your doorbell at 9:30 at night? You stood up, pulling your pj shirt down, looking through the peephole on your door. Oddly, no one was there…you opened your door, feeling and hearing a loud thud onto your floor. “Jungkook?!” You yelled, seeing the man lying on your floor, eyes half-opened. “Hey, pretty girl…” He mumbled out, running a hand through his hair. He sat up, leaning on your doorway. “What the hell are you doing here?” You asked, confused, angry and possibly even a little happy. Jungkook tilted his head up to look at you, giving you a hazy and drink smile. “M’missed you…you looked s-so good in that long thing you were wearing in the flower home…” He missed you…? No, stop it, he’s just drunk. “My long thing…? My dress? What…? Jungkook, why are you here?” You used your foot to move his legs so you could close your apartment door. He laughed, gently grabbing your leg, resting his head on it, “Missed you…needed…needed to see you…” Jungkook nuzzled your leg with his head, pressing his lips to it. “Jungkook, you’re drunk…possibly high. You don’t know what you’re saying. How’d you even get here? It’s too long of a walk from here to your place.” Okay, maybe you remembered how to get to his place from that one time he called you in the middle of the night, looking for a quick fuck. “Baby, I know what I’m saying…miss you…miss your pussy…miss your love…” He mumbled against your leg. Why hadn’t you pulled him off yet? Why hadn’t you kicked him out? Was it because you get bad? God, he looked adorable right now…but what were you gonna do with him? He can’t stay the night! But you have no way of getting him home. Fuck, why was your life so hard all of a second? “Okay, get up. Let-…no, let go of my leg!” You tried to pry him off of your leg, causing you to almost fall. Use your legs, that was the one thing you learned from the gym when lifting things. Struggling, you looped your arms around his waist, trying to pull him up to stand, but he was stronger and he pulled you down. He pulled you down into his lap. “You smell so good, baby…always so sweet…” Placing his head on your shoulder, he closed his eyes. “No! No! Open your eyes! You are not sleeping on my floor!” You wiggled yourself out of his lap, grabbing his arm, dragging him across the floor. At first glance, he didn’t look heavy, but I guess having all those muscles adds to it. Groaning, Jungkook tried to move your hands away, not liking the feeling of being dragged across the floor. “Ow, hurts….m’into that.” He smirks up at you. You drop his arms instantly, “ Stand up, Jungkook. I can’t drag you to my room.” Holding your hands out for him to grab. “Ooo, taking me to your room already?” He smiled drunkly, wiggling his eyebrows at you. He grabbed your hands, pulling himself

to stand up, stumbling into you. “You could at least wine and dine me first.” You’ve already done that to me. You sighed, taking his hand and leading him to your room. He threw himself onto your bed, cuddling up with your pillows. He fell asleep pretty quickly, most likely unaware of his surroundings. You sat down on the floor, looking up at his sleeping form on your bed. Why’d you come? Why didn’t you go to the other girl? Staring at him made tears well up into your eyes, you never should’ve looked at him. He was bad for you, like a parasite you couldn’t get rid of. Something that kept infecting you and burning you to the floor. You shouldn’t have even let him in tonight. “So pretty…su..such a good girl…my baby…” He mumbled in his sleep, you stood up, walking out of your room. Even in his sleep he talks about the other woman. Why try to be friendly when all he does is play you? Just shut up, keep your pretty poison lips shut. You’ve poisoned me enough. *** Rubbing your temples, you stared at the TV in front of you, listening to Lindsay ramble on and on. “He’s in your bed?! Like, right now he’s laying, in YOUR bed?? Oh my god, Y/N, did you sleep with him? Girl, I told you to find other dick! You can do so much better!” You shushed her, “Keep your voice down. I didn’t sleep with him, he showed up drunk last night at my door. He wouldn’t leave. So I let him in and put him in my bed.” You were running off of caffeine, two hours of sleep and a full season of Gilmore Girls. “How does he even know where you live?” She asked sceptically, placing her hands on her hips and looking you up and down. “One of the nights we were drunk and horny, my place was the closest. We came here.” Looking up at her, it posed a question, why did he still remember where you lived? “And he still remembers? Girl, I don’t know if that’s cute or stalker-ish.” “I don’t even want to think about it.” You rubbed at your eyes, the lack of sleep was making it hard to think about the fact you had Jungkook in your bed. The door creaked open, revealing a sleepy looking Jungkook. He walked out and paused, looking between you and Lindsay, then at his surroundings. Lindsay cleared her throat, pointing towards the door, “I’m gonna head out…I’ll see you later, Y/N.” With that, she escaped the situation. Why was god always on her side? Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, looking towards you. He cleared his throat, “Morning…” holy fuck, his voice was deep and sultry. That alone was enough to make your panties damp. “Can you get out of my house now?” You more so told him than asked, standing to motion towards the front door. “Sure, but don’t you want me to stay a little longer? Maybe some head would get you out of this sour mood.” He quipped, smirking slightly. “Sour mood? Sour mood?! You came to my house at 10 last night, drunk as a pig! Pushing yourself into my house, pleading you missed me and needed me! I dragged your sorry ass from the front to my bedroom, allowing you to sleep in my bed and stay the night, and you’re telling me I’m being sour? You’re lucky I let you in! I could’ve shut you out and called the police, telling them some drunk showed up at my apartment! It’s weird enough you remember where I live, I don’t need you coming into my home! You could’ve gone to that other woman’s house, but nooo, you came here! So quit telling me I’m sour, when I’m the one that let you in even after all the shit you’ve done to me!” Your ramble left him stunned, staring at you with utter shock. He wanted to say things, apologize, talk it out, but no words came out. You scoffed, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the door, opening it and pushing him out. “Stop coming to me when you’re high.”

Taglist: @talyaaas-blog @cassies-cookies

@junecat18

[ace-of-spaders]

*taps the mic and laughs nervously because of the major stage fright*

Lizzington shippers, fam, grandmas and grandpas, can I have a moment of your attention, please?

It's not a secret that, while some people in Lizzington community are still active, whether they write or make gifs or keep our dash full of Lizzington even in this trying times ( @melbob26-blog, thank you for this! ), Lizzington community as a whole went into hibernation over the last couple of years.

And I get it, interests change, especially when one show ends and there's another ongoing, moving on from the show that ended is totally natural, especially when it didn't give your favorite characters the happy ending they deserved.

I get it.

Hell, for a pretty lengthy while there I focused on other ships and shows, too, especially after TBL ended ended last year.

But you know what I realized earlier today, when I reread some of the old fics, browsed through gifsets and text posts, watched some fanvids?

It's the show that ended, for some in 2021, for others in 2023. And the only thing that means is that it cannot disappoint us anymore.

( it's not like we were suddenly deprived of quality content, because let's face it, the fans have been the main source of the quality lizzington content for years now, while the show gave us mere crumbs, on a good day )

But Red and Liz?

They are still out there, fighting criminals, catching Blacklisters, travelling the world, shamelessly flirting, toppling shadow organizations, raising Agnes and/or any other children they have, and generally being the sexy badass power couple they are!

Nothing changed in that regard.

So why would we mourn them, when they are out there, healthy and happy and in the middle of yet another adventure? I'm sure right this moment Red is drawing Liz into another one of his heists and she's only too happy to join him, even though she pretends that she's not, for the sake of the game.

There's literally no reason for us to stop writing, giffing, editing, sharing theories and headcanons and memes and just talking about our favorite couple.

And by writing all of this, I want to propose something daring to you:

Let's revive the Lizzington community!

Let's rewatch earlier seasons and gif the hell out of them because it's been a while and because precious moments between these two are not going to become less precious even if it's giffed 10 or 100 more times, not to mention that ever gifmaker's style is different, so there are virtually no two identical gifsets as there are no two identical snow flakes.

Let's make fanvideos, picspams, picture edits, fanart, moodboards! The amount of songs, quotes, moments etc that can inspire you is virtually endless!

Let's write fics, let's explore AUs, let's give each other prompts and challenge each other to try something new or practice some aspect of writing, like writing kisses or AUs or hugs or making up Blacklisters etc!

Let's share headcanons and theories and ideas and what our versions of Red and Liz are like, because everyone has their own unique versions of Red and Liz living in their head, and it's just beautiful, if you ask me!

Let's reblog stuff, filling each other's dashes with Lizzington!

Let's scream about Lizzington because no one does it like them!

Let's revive the Lizzington Community, we all miss it!

PS. Feel free to reblog this post – spread the suggestion!)

PPS. To assure you that I'm not the type of person who encourages others but doesn't do anything themselves, I can tell you I've already got some ideas for a couple of Lizzington events in mind. Those include challenges, thematic weeks etc.

PPPS. I'm not sure how many people are checking the tags these days, so I'm gonna tag some people I know under the cut, just in case, to spread the suggestion. If you weren't tagged, trust me, it's nothing personal!

@meetmeatthecoda @iwouldlovetoeatyourtoast @agxntkeen @factoseintolerant @tale-xistime @james-baeder @lettie1609 @withwhatiam @peace-love-on-planet-earth @missourired @felilaprivada @strawberry-pills @roominthecastle @codewordpumpkin @my-robot-heart @kitkate91060 @imyourplusone @shelly1952 @itsjustme-itsmylife @castle2cute @nancyjocom @cress-26 @lunaarlilacs @femaleoptimistic @scifi-gk @greeneyedsoul88 @figureofdismay @shippinglizzington @kissthefuture @thetwistedargent @actuallylorelaigilmore @sorrydearie @turningtimeinthetardis @buildinggsr @apicturewithasmile @windfalling @piketrickfeet

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

why did you tag your post with gaz erasure my ass? like what was hard to believe that the cod fandom has blatant patterns of purposefully removing the only black character and replacing him with everyone under the sun? your friend lied about killing themself to make them look like a victim. and you participated in harassing people who saw this for what it was. you need to step back and reflect on your own self on why you thought that your friend’s “death” was caused by people calling out patterns of anti black racism and then go on to harass them. you are not an ally by any means.

Back when I used that tag, I paired it with another tag right after, it was meant to be an aggressive call out on misinformation, I had meant for it to read as 'Gaz erasure my ass, y'all just can't read'.

(This because the original post didn't read like intentional erasure but rather like codslut thought Gaz didn't fit the post, since she also didn't use Reboot Soap, she used *Captain* Soap, idk how best to explain it but to me the two soaps are different characters so i figured it was an intentional choice to use him and keegan rather than reboot soap and gaz)

Edit: I want to add that I also used codslut's own explanation as the basis for why I didn't think it was erasure. And at this point, she's clearly not to be fucking trusted, so it wouldn't surprise me if it really *was* erasure/racism and I believed her word that it wasn't.

As time went on, I dropped the last part of the tag of 'y'all just can't read', and looking back it not only reads as a racist dog whistle but also, just in general, sounds and looks fucking disgusting.

I've said this before, but I think it warrants saying again: I *didn't* mean to say Gaz erasure doesn't exist. It does very much exist in the community and even Activision themselves often erase Gaz from promo materials.

I'd hate for people to think that I either dislike Gaz or don't see the blatant racism/dislike/erasure that happens with him on the community. That's not the case. Gaz is a main character (unlike König like so many people try to replace him with) who I absolutely adore, and I call out erasure when I see it here on Tumblr, on Tiktok and on Twitter.

I never meant to make it seem like Gaz erasure doesn't exist. I only wanted to call out misinformation... and ended up doing the exact opposite of both my intentions. I'm sorry about that. It was not just disgusting but full on stupid of me.

I also want to say that I didn't think that that screenshot post specifically or even the act of people calling out racism where they saw it was the cause for codslut possibly killing herself. That is not what I meant at all. And I don't want anyone to think I blame @soapskneebrace or @glossysoap or anyone else for that. Blood was never on their hands, I want to make that very clear!!!!

When I was confronting people, I was doing so on the basis that they're big creators with big platforms and that by accusing codslut of racism/erasure they opened the door for anons to justify their actions when going after codslut because they have so much reach and people with bad intentions need less than that to justify the hate they send people.

Looking back, I know I was in the wrong for how I spoke. I was aggressive and rude and mean, and none of the people involved deserve that. Hell, my actions were hypocritical as hell and I probably opened the door for them to get hate themselves. I'm really fucking sorry.

If I could take it back, I would. I never believed nor wanted them to believe that someone potentially harming themselves was their fault. It wasn't.

I do plan on taking a step back to reconsider not just the way I acted but everything that's happened. In fact, I was already taking said break and came online only because I got word of @/fulltacs' post.

I appreciate and thank you for holding me accountable (and by that I mean you and everyone!). And I especially thank *you* anon for wording this ask this way, and giving me, at least, a chance to explain.

[penwrythe]

Tumblr and other blog spaces

Seeing a few people on my dashboard worried about Tumblr's future. I'm thinking about making a small Blogger tutorial on how to use it at a later time. Till then, here's a tidbit of what I know from using Blogger since 2010.

Blogger is free, requires a Google account, but it is old as fuck.

My Blogger page: Sketching with Reckless Abandon

Blogger is very archaic, like there is no easy way to find other blogs except through some random search engine. Formatting on Blogger's post editor is not great. Images sometimes break or glitch and sometimes delete paragraphs. Also, labels on Blogger are not the same as tags on Tumblr: they are only for your blog's organization. Sometimes search engines can use your labels for their results but I'm not sure how well that works in today's internet.

Blogger's dev blog was last updated in 2020, so I'm not even sure if there's any support for future updates. Blogger still works, lol.

Blogger's dashboard is the Reading List and is out of the way of your main page of Blogger, which usually shows your entire history of your blog posts. The Reading List shows a list of blogs you follow, their posts shortened for compact display. To follow other blogs based on Blogger: first you need to find a blog (either .blogspot or .blogger), then paste the home url in your Reader List > Manage > Mangage Blogs I'm Following page. Use this page to unfollow blogs.

Old as fuck website aside, Blogger is good for Artists (if you use a blog template that favors your images) and Writers (Blogger is a long form blogging website like Tumblr, though in theory I don't think Blogger has a post cap). It is possible to use Blogger as an archive, provided you keep things organized and up to date. Like with some templates on Tumblr, you can use some templates on Blogger to make your blog into a webpage or portfolio site. Setup is a little finicky, though.

Use labels to organize your blog, don't use labels as tags or talk in tags - this will mess up your blog's organization and will be hell to clean up. I suggest not to use it as a micro-blogging platform. Small posts within a short amount of time will flood Reader Lists.

You do not have to worry (somewhat) about awkward censorship there, but still follow Blogger's TOS. 18+ art and content must have Adult Content enabled in settings. If you are an 18+ creator, I suggest reading the Community Guidelines before making a blog on Blogger.

Moderation on these blogs are extremely basic. Like, you just have some basic moderation on your comments. You can hide comments on individual posts.

Also, it's possible Blogger might break a few posts. It's rare, but it would explain why my earliest posts from 2010-2013 don't have me as the author. I can still edit them, but can't change author. It might be because I had a Google+ account back then before Google deprecated it. Anyway, today Blogger uses my main Google account as the author of my recent posts.

There is no way to share posts easily, except copying other posts and linking them in your blog post (talk about it, so it's not just a link). To interact with others, just comment (if available) under blog posts. Make sure your comment is set to public (either your google acc or name with url). If you want to comment anonymously, you can do that as well.

Blogger's biggest pro is its Stats page. It shows you how many views you got for your blog and your posts, and it also shows detailed information on what keywords/labels that helped bring views to your blog. Might want to get used to using SEO techniques.

You can monetize the blog with Google Adsense, but you might need to find an updated way to get it started - I never set mine up and I'm not sure if that still works for this site.

That's it for right now.

[xxpeppermintxx109]

I’m sorry but you’re lying. I have downloaded your fic from a long time when you started wiriting it. You did not tag it as a love triangle. For instance: I would have never started it if I had seen the love triangle tag. We are stupid like you keep insinuating. You are a liar. The only ship tagged was original female character/aemond. I have the proof of it. A lot people in the hotd fanfic community knows this and has seen the proof. That is why you are known in the fic community as an imposter. For almost a year you didn’t tag it as a love triangle. That is why you keep getting criticism: you used aemond/ewan’s fanbase to gain traction and attention for your fic, and then decided to blindside everyone with your own little fantasy of qoren.

Let me make it clear. It is your story and you can write whatever you want. But it doesn’t mean people have to like it. Most people don’t. And people have a right to give their opinion. But you keep crying about it and making yourself be a victim. Just accept it. You write for yourself and that is totally okay. Just accept the criticism that you cheated your readers and that is why ppl got upset and stopped reading your fics. It’s not because we only want aemond; it’s because that is how you advertised your fic and then switched it up. At least have the decency to be truthful.

You did not tag your fic as a love triangle. You added it months after starting it, after you hooked aemond fans in. That’s why people hate your fic now and don’t trust you.

so actually, no the only pairing tagged wasn’t just aemond and oc

From NOVEMBER OF 2022, what like two weeks after I posted the first chapter mind you, Qoren Martell/original female character was a pairing. And there were a TON of other pairings I shouldn’t have tagged cause they weren’t main pairings, as see this screenshot below :)

Betrayal, angst, and tragedy were tagged since the very beginning. Love triangle was tagged in chapter 5, it appears when looking back at all my screenshots of chapter summaries to upload, which yes is my bad it’s not the VERY beginning but jfc, still EARLY. And guess what, I think I had maybe 5k-8k hits on this fic at that point. That is not me sinking my claws into the Aemond fandom like you so accuse me of, and then just doing a bait and switch.

Qoren only became a viable option AFTER Aemond killed Luke, which if you look at all of my old edits over this last year and a fucking half, has always been the plan. Luke was always gonna die, Aemond was gonna get into shit with Shaera for it. Qoren was an emotional decision on her part. Even now she still considers Aemond a lot of the time. AND I HAVE STATED MULTIPLE TIMES THAT AEMOND AND SHAERA ARE ENDGAME, so unclench jfc.

I don’t paint myself as a victim, when I get shit like this all the time being rude. When I was getting Islamophobic comments comparing MY writing of Qoren to fucking 9/11. When I was getting harassed for the simple act of writing the story as it’s always been laid out by multiple anon accounts who spammed my asks and my ao3 comments. And it sure as hell doesn’t seem like this fandom “hates” me and my story as you so claim, cause I still have a ton of readers who enjoy this story and give it kudos on ao3 and read and interact with me on all platforms, so fuck off lol. Shit, it’s hitting 5k votes on wattpad. Doesn’t seem to me like people hate it or my writing decisions??

Get off anon and say this with your whole chest while you’re at it <3

[khoicesbyk]

The Royal Romance

Forevermore.

A/N: this is the next chapter in the journey of my OTP. Follow along for the fun.

Rated: Mature (at times can and will be Explicit. I'll be sure to change the rating when and if that happens). | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual. Y'all should be used to this from me by now 😁) Also may contain some violence and other themes you may find offensive | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: King Marquise Rys (LI) and Queen Shanelle Miller-Rys (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and original characters created by me and/or other authors [their characters have been mentioned and/or used in the story with their permission] ) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 13.1K words. (may be slightly more or may be slightly less. Look, I stop counting after editing and re-editing and driving myself insane. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or DM me and I will gladly add you! 😁😘

This series is rated Mature. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

Missing a chapter or want to read a chapter again? I got you covered! Click Here!

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @tessa-liam

Chapter 19.) Scorched Earth.

In the morning following the death of Andreas Garakis and his family, Their Majesties had a morning meeting in their favorite side garden near Marquise's office, after taking their children to school, to debrief what had happened the night before. The jasmine hedges swayed gently in the breeze as if they hadn't just hosted a war briefing disguised as breakfast.

"Well, how are you feeling about last night?" Marquise asks. 

Shanelle placed a hand on her stomach, the weight of her unborn daughter pressing against the consequences of war.

"Last night was a necessary evil. Andreas tried to hurt us and our people. He had to be stopped. Do I like that his family became collateral? Hell no. I'm a mother first. Children should never be casualties." Shanelle replied. 

"Indeed it was. And at the very least, his family's deaths were quick and as humane as possible."

"Thank God for that," Shanelle said as breakfast was served. 

A pancetta, Fontina, and potato frittata for two, honey vanilla Greek yogurt with berries, an assortment of breads with plenty of apple butter, and the Dark Roast coffee and cinnamon rolls from Book-A-Holic Cafè.

"Remind me to thank Dee for enabling my cinnamon rolls addiction," Shanelle said in between bites of a warm cinnamon roll.

"Didn't James tell you to stop sending Dee flowers every time you eat one of those?"

"Sir I don't even listen to my husband, why in the world would I ever listen to hers?"

He laughed into his coffee. "You're a menace."

"No no! I'm in love. With Book-A-Holics cinnamon rolls."

"They do make good coffee so I can't complain too much."

"Exactly." 

Shanelle took another bite and moaned. 

"Mmm! Sooo good!" 

"Are you moaning over a cinnamon roll?"

"Don't judge me, sir."

Marquise shook his head. 

"So what do you have planned this morning?"

"Not much. I need to meet with Lady Emmeline to finalize the details of the upcoming charity Polo match in Portavira. What about you?"

"Meeting with the Military Defense Council to discuss our next steps."

"Mind if I tag along?"

"Not at all my love. You are the Queen. You go wherever you please. Although fair warning you might not like this meeting."

"Why?"

Marquise took a measured sip of his coffee. 

"Because I invited Lord Gallagher to the meeting."

Shanelle froze mid-bite. 

"Excuse me?! You invited who?" she asked with a mouth full of her cinnamon roll. 

"Lord Gallagher."

"Are you insane?! You invited him?!" 

"Before you start throwing plates around, let me explain." 

"Talk. Fast."

"I invited him to the meeting because I want him to see what happens when he's not around. I want him to see the council thriving despite him."

"So you want to throw it in his face?"

"Precisely."

"And you have the nerve to call me petty."

"Aren't you the one who once told me that you put the petty in pretty?" 

"Touchè, Your Majesty." she said as she finished her cinnamon roll. 

Soon their plates were cleared. 

"So how are you really feeling?" he asks. 

Shanelle didn't answer right away. Her hand drifted to her stomach again, where their daughter kicked as if to remind her she was still there — still growing, still watching.

"Tired. Weary. Angry. And so goddamn ready for all of this to be over."

"I understand my love. I understand why you're weary. This has been going on for months. It's been exhausting. Lord and Lady Gallagher have been a constant pain in our asses for months now. On top of the fact that we have declared war against Sulovaria and we are dealing with four active traitors. It's a lot to handle on an everyday basis, but it's even more stressful with you being pregnant."

"Yeah. But I knew what I was getting into when I married you and took the helm as Queen. I just want the rest of my pregnancy to go smoothly. We are getting closer and closer to my due date in December. This is September. On top of the Conclave in a few weeks. Plus...I'm getting really tired of not being able to punch people in the face for always playing in mine." 

"Didn't you punch Kenna in the face?" 

"Oh, that? That was a love tap." Shanelle said with a small dismissive wave.

Marquise snorted as he finished his coffee. 

"Been meaning to ask, how are you feeling about meeting Dr. Tourè?"

Shanelle cleared her throat. 

"I am...cautiously optimistic. You know how I feel about strangers being around our children. But at the same time, he did introduce himself at the open house and he does come highly recommended, both by the school and by Nadia. So we'll see."

"Indeed we will, my love."

Marquise checked his watch. It was time for the Council Meeting. 

"Well, are you ready to go piss off a few pains in our asses?"

Shanelle snorted. 

"Lead the way, Your Majesty." 

Their Majesties made their way to the conference room where the Defense Council was gathered. They walked down the hall slowly. Enjoying the peaceful quiet before the monsoon they were walking into. 

When they got to the conference room doors, they were greeted by a smug, sour looking Lord Gallagher. 

"You're late." he sneered at them. 

"Considering that you aren't even supposed to be here because you're no longer a member of the Military Defense Council, you don't get to clock our moves."

Marquise patted Shanelle's arm. 

"Now now my love. Decorum first, he is an invited guest."

"At least one of you remembers your stations." Lord Gallagher muttered. 

"Yes I do. So allow me to remind you of yours, Milord. You DO NOT EVER speak to your Queen in any manner that is not respectful. If you don't know how to address us both properly, then I strongly suggest that you learn the art of shutting the fuck up." Marquise warned him. 

"Boom!" Shanelle said smugly. 

Lord Gallagher rolled his eyes. 

"Whatever." 

Marquise raised an eyebrow at him before turning to Shanelle. 

"Now everyone, shall we?" 

Their Majesties entered first followed by Lord Gallagher. The polished obsidian round table gleamed with the reflection of tense faces, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft ticking of a grand clock on the far wall. It sounded like judgment itself. Slowly ticking. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 

The tension was so thick you could slice it in half with a Lythikos cleaver. Something the Scarlet Duchess would definitely approve of. 

"Good morning everyone. It is good to see all of you. And no you're not seeing things, I asked Lord Gallagher to join us. He is merely here to observe, nothing more. Now please have a seat so we can begin. We have much to discuss."

With everyone seated, the council meeting began. 

"Now we are gathered here today to discuss the war we now find ourselves in. Let me say this plainly, declaring war is never an easy decision to make. But it is always a necessary one. Even when some don't agree. Her Majesty and I did not declare war on a whim. We were attacked. On more than one occasion. That kind of violence can only be answered with violence. This is where we are."

"What are you proposing, my King?" General Greenwald asks. 

"Now is when we send troops in, on land and sea. We have monitored the situation long enough. It's time for action. We will coordinate with the Kasnian Military to plan a strategic attack. So General Greenwald I will need you to plan a strategy meeting with General Moravich." Marquise replied. 

"At once sire."

Lord Gallagher rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance and Shanelle caught it. 

"For someone who's not supposed to be saying or doing anything, you sure as hell are being real loud."

"I haven't done anything."

"Are you breathing? Then you're doing something."

"You sure love to pick fights you can't finish Shanelle."

"I'm sure your wife's face would disagree."

Marquise gave Shanelle a warning look and she merely shrugged. 

"Where will we strike?" General Castor asked. 

"I will meet with King Balthazar to see where to best place our troops on the ground in Kasnia. Sulovaria has been gaining ground on the ground. I want to cut them off at the pass. So they don't gain any more ground. Now members of the Council will each receive a flash drive." Marquise announced before they were distributed, "These contain current coordinates of Kasnian troop placements, courtesy of King Balthazar."

Many of the members of the Defense Council started talking to each other and over each other. Discussing and arguing over the decision to send troops in. No one but Marquise, Shanelle, and General Greenwald knew that the coordinates on the flash drives were fake.  

“Everyone must remember Kasnia’s people didn’t ask for this,” Marquise said. “They’re not diplomats or soldiers. They’re farmers, teachers, artists. This is happening to them.”

"My King! Are you sure this is the right decision?" General Castor asks. 

"I am indeed. We are past the point of being civil." Marquise replied. 

"I'm not so sure this is smart, my King. I'm not saying that we don't have the capacity to defend and protect but is putting our troops really necessary? We are formidable but should we continue to poke the bear?"

"What are you saying, General?" Shanelle asks.

General Castor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

"I understand why you and His Majesty are upset with Sulovaria my Queen. Especially after everything that has happened recently. But I feel that it's not wise to go to war with them. Especially over a petty grievance." 

Shanelle blinked like she was hearing things. 

"A petty grievance? You call retaliating against the kingdom who sent Demos Garakis here to nearly kill His Majesty, the same man who took the lives of 35 of our own, the brother of Andreas Garakis. The same Andreas Garakis who set off car bombs in our kingdomafter his brother's failed assassination attempt, hell he set two car bombs off here at the palace, endangering the lives of me and my children, a petty grievance?!"

Shanelle was furious and in disbelief. General Castor started to speak before Shanelle cut him off. 

"Let me remind you, General, my life was in danger. The lives of my children were endangered. This is not just some petty grievance! If it was your wife or one of your grandchildren, wouldn't you want the bastard who tried to harm them to pay?" 

"My Queen, I understand your anger. Really I do. And to answer your question, yes I would want revenge too. You are well within your right to be angry. Because you're right, we were attacked but something this extreme, a decision like this shouldn't be made because you're angry."

General Howell spoke. 

"I agree with General Castor. King Desaad is a lot more formidable than we are giving him credit for. What happens if he tries again with the car bombs? Her Majesty just said that he's already struck once. What happens if he tries again? Only this time it won't just be here at the palace."

"What are you saying?" Marquise asked. 

General Castor cleared his throat awkwardly. 

"While I do sympathize with Her Majesty and her reasoning behind wanting revenge, she is pregnant and she and the heirs could've been seriously injured, I think it's time to step back from this war. Before this gets any worse." General Howell replied. 

"Finally! Two people with common sense!" Lord Gallagher said smugly, "and here I thought, me being invited to this meeting was supposed to teach me a lesson." 

General Greenwald shook his head in disbelief.

"Are you two serious?! After everything King Desaad has tried to do to our home, you two want to tuck your tails in like cowards and run?!" he asked them. 

"Jonas we don't know what we are really dealing with in terms of King Desaad. He could already be planning another attack. Is it really wise to put our people through an endless war with no guarantee that we would even win?" General Castor asks. 

"Thaddeus do you and Silas know how long I have been supreme General? Since 1997 when His Majesty's mother, Queen Eleanor hand-picked me to lead our military. May her soul continue to rest peacefully. I have seen threats a lot worse than Demetrius Desaad. I will not sit back and allow our kingdom to become a casualty of King Desaad's greed. He has proven what he is willing to do to get what he wants. So now it's time for us as a kingdom to respond immediately and accordingly." General Greenwald replied. 

He was disgusted with both of them. 

"We have a military that is twice the size and three times as powerful as the Sulovarian Armed Forces. We will not cower in fear and we certainly will not back down! His Majesty said it perfectly, civility and discussion are out the window now. The type of violence that was shown to us HAS TO be returned. Full force. And that is what I believe we should do."

General Howell shook his head. 

"You're not thinking clearly Jonas. This is not a matter of military strength or prowess. This is a matter of wits. Demetrius Desaad is not just some flash in the pan. He is dangerous. He will destroy us if we don't back out now!"

"I'm not thinking clearly? You're talking about a full retreat! You want us to sit back and watch King Desaad destroy one of our allies? Is that what you're saying?"

General Howell took a deep breath.

"Yes! I won't ever let this kingdom blindly go to war with a King who is stronger than we are. Especially for a kingdom like Kasnia! They've done nothing but bring us trouble! It's time to leave them to their own devices and let them figure it out on their own." 

"Silas is right Jonas. Listen to him, please! Let's end this war before it ever begins!" 

General Greenwald slammed his fist down on the table. 

"This decision is mine and Their Majesties to make! You will get in line! Or face being stripped of your ranks!" General Greenwald growled. 

The meeting dissolved into bickering between council members about the right direction to go in. Many agreed that escalating the war is the right move. While others, including Generals Howell and Castor disagreed and said that the kingdom should walk away before it was too late. 

The arguing lasted for a good 45 minutes until Marquise slammed his fist down on the table to quiet the room. He cleared his throat. 

"Now I expected some opposition to declaring war. That's normal and natural in this type of situation. But General Greenwald is correct. We must answer the violence shown to us with violence. But because I am very democratic, we will have an official vote on the matter." he announced, "all those in favor, say aye."

"Aye!" several members of the council said. The loudest coming from Duchess Olivia. 

"All those opposed, say nay."

"Nay!" from the remaining members of the council. Including the loudest Nays coming from Generals Howell and Castor. 

"The votes are counted, the Ayes have it. The retaliatory strikes are approved. The declaration of war is adopted and war will begin." Shanelle announced. 

"So what now?" Lord Gallagher asked. 

"That's none of your concern Aldon. You are here as an observant. Not a commentator." Shanelle replied. 

"It's Lord Gallagher." he corrected her. 

"It's whatever I see fit to call you. Since you love to act like my title is nonexistent then so is yours."

Marquise cleared his throat. 

"Now does anyone have a name for our new war goal?" he asked the room. 

"I do!" Lord Gallagher replied, "Let's call it Another Great Failure of a Bullshit King!"

Marquise scoffed

"Well, what do you know? You and I have something in common, Aldon."

"My name is Lord Gallagher! And you and especially your incompetent, simple-minded, arrogant pregnant cow will show me respect!" he sneered at Marquise. 

"Why you—" Shanelle started to say before Marquiss stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

The room went quiet as Marquise rose from his seat.

 He walked over to where Lord Gallagher was sitting before rolling his neck and shoulders and cracking his knuckles before grabbing the back of Lord Gallagher's head and slamming it down face first, hard on the table. Knocking him out cold. 

Everyone watched him crumple into a heap on the floor in shock. Shanelle stifled a laugh as she watched. Marquise adjusted his cuff as guards swiftly escorted a very dazed Lord Gallagher out of the room. 

"Anyone else?" he asked after clearing his throat. 

"I have one." Duchess Olivia replied. 

"Nothing about crushing our enemies into dust, Duchess," Marquise warned her. 

"Must you ruin my fun?" Olivia pouted. 

"Yes. Now does anyone else have a name?"

"I do," Shanelle replied. 

"Yes, my Queen?"

"Operation: Scorched Earth."

Olivia scoffs with a smirk. 

"Of course, you go there Shanelle." 

"I was trying to honor the Great House of Nevrakis, Livvy. I respect the Scarlet Duchess and your house and bloodline."

Marquise nodded. 

"I like it. Easy. Simple to remember. Thank you, my Queen. You have once again proven to be quite invaluable. Now I do believe this meeting of the council is adjourned." Marquise to the room. 

The meeting was over, but the battle was far from won. As Shanelle and Marquise walked back through the palace, hand-in-hand, to his office, their minds buzzed with strategy, betrayal, and something heavier still — the look on Khari's face when they finally talk to her about the war. They know that people have been talking around her about it, but now it is time for them to sit her down.

"Well, you were in rare form today."

Marquise shrugged. 

"NO ONE insults my wife in front of me without facing consequences."

"He's called me names before. Why is now any different?"

"Because he disrespected you, your pregnancy, and your title. No one does that and walks away with their dignity still attached. He should be grateful that I didn't break his nose."

"With how hard you slammed his head down onto the table, I'm not so sure that you didn't."

"Trust me I didn't. You and everyone else would've heard the cracking of the bridge of his nose." 

Shanelle shook her head. 

"I thought we aren't allowed to assault anyone without any physical provocation, sir."

"Special circumstances. Rather than just raise my voice I chose violence."

"So you're a hypocrite?"

"My love, my violence is earned. Yours is just because. There is a difference."

Shanelle rolled her eyes. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Resilient and resolute. I wish that we didn't have to do this but I will not back down. I will not retreat. This wasn't a war we started. But I will make goddamn sure that we are the ones who finish it." 

"There's that fire I know and love. How is our Ellie girl doing?" 

"Kicking me like she's playing soccer in the womb. Ow! That hurt little girl! I swear I'm gonna fight this kid if she kicks me again."

Marquise placed a hand on her bulging belly. 

"Hello, my little one. I hear your legs are getting stronger. Great job. But let's limit the more painful kicks to a minimum. Shall we?"

The baby kicked again and nearly knocked Shanelle off her feet. Thankfully Marquise was there to catch her. 

"That's it! Me and this little girl gon fight!" Shanelle muttered as she held her stomach. 

Marquise helped her sit down on the couch in his office. One hand bracing her back and the other on her stomach. 

"Ugh, thank you! I swear this child is trying to kill me. She kicks harder than the twins or Khari ever did."

"I know I was there. Also she's not trying to kill you. She's just showing off her very powerful legs."

Shanelle scoffed. 

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who's pregnant."

"True enough."

Shanelle laid her head on his shoulder. 

"So how are you feeling about the council meeting?" he asks.

"The turncoats I mean the generals couldn't have been more obvious even if they tried. I was ready to expose them right then and there."

"I'm glad you didn't. Don't worry, my love. Their day of reckoning will come. We'll expose them and your cousins soon enough."

Shanelle chuckled bitterly. 

"I am still so mad at myself. I trusted those two. And so did you. I let those foxes into my henhouse and now look at the carnage. When I told Edwin that his brothers were traitors, he was heartbroken. He thought like me that they were on our side. That they understood that their loyalty is to the kingdom. Not their parents. He said that he has worked hard to repair the damage his father caused during his reign as King and it hurts his heart that his brothers would choose to betray him and destroy what he is still working to repair." 

Shanelle shook her head. 

"I cannot wait to face them. I will personally make them pay for betraying me."

"I have no doubt that you will, my love. In the meantime, we will continue to act as if we know nothing."

"I know. Even though it's getting harder for me to do so."

"I know you. If you can withstand our Ellie girl's kicks then you can withstand anything."

"Please don't encourage her."

There was a sharp knock at the office door. 

"Come in!" Marquise called out to the door. 

It was Captain Felix. 

"Good afternoon My Liege and to you, my Queen. I come bearing news." he said with a crisp bow. 

Marquise raised an eyebrow. 

"Go ahead."

"According to the embedded spyware, the flash drives you gave out have each been uploaded. Especially the ones you gave Generals Castor and Howell." 

"They took the bait?" Shanelle asks. 

"Yes ma'am. They uploaded the information to their clouds."

Marquise opened his laptop to the monitoring software and sure enough, it indeed showed that the spyware was uploaded. It showed all the email correspondence that both Generals shared with Andreas Garakis. The most recent correspondence was a week ago. Before Andreas's death. Both have been trying to reach Andreas for days. 

"They have no idea that Andreas is dead."

"Perfect. We can begin closing the walls in on them," Shanelle says to Marquise before looking at Captain Felix, "what about my cousins?"

"They are currently chasing another dead-end lead. They are in Korvoria and should be back in a few weeks." Captain Felix replies. 

Shanelle nodded. 

"Good. Because it's past time to end this. I want these traitors dealt with before the Conclave."

Captain Felix bowed.

"I will continue my monitoring, my Liege." Captain Felix said to Marquise. 

"Of course. And keep me updated on your spies in Sulovaria."

"By your command, my Liege."

Captain Felix bowed with a fist over his heart before taking his leave. 

Shanelle sighed, her hand instinctively resting on her belly as Ellie rolled again beneath her ribs. The weight of betrayal, war, and motherhood pressed down on her at once. And yet, somehow, it wasn't the coming council or the threat of Desaad that gnawed at her—it was the look on Khari's face when she heard the word war.

Later, with the children home from school and the twins off with Margo in the garden, she and Marquise knew it was time to talk to their daughter. As much as neither one of them wanted to, they knew this conversation had to happen. 

"You and Mommy wanted to talk to me, Daddy?"

"Yes, Precious. We do." Marquise patted his lap, and she crawled up without hesitation. "We want to talk to you about the war."

"We want to know how you're feeling about it," Shanelle said gently.

Khari's normally snarky, bright, bubbly demeanor vanished as she fidgeted with her fingers.

"I don't like it. I don't like it at all," she said quietly, her eyes cast down to the floor.

"That's okay," Marquise said, tilting her chin up so she'd meet his gaze. "We're here to answer any questions you have."

Khari's lip trembled. "Why are grown-ups fighting, Daddy? I don't understand."

Marquise took a deep breath. "This war isn't about fighting just to fight Precious. It's about protecting. King Desaad wants to take what isn't his—by force. If we don't stop him, he'll hurt people who've done nothing wrong. We can't let that happen."

"But people will get hurt anyway, right? I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"We don't either," Shanelle said. "But sometimes, protecting others means standing in the way of someone dangerous."

Khari looked down again. "I remember the bomb going off. I remember the loud booms when we got home from karate. I remember the palace shaking. I remember you falling, Mommy. I thought something bad would happen to you and baby Ellie."

Shanelle nodded. 

"It was scary. But Grammy and Pop Pop were there to help me, and I was more afraid for all of you than I was for myself."

"Really?"

"Yes, baby."

"But...why can't we just talk to King Desaad? Why do we have to have a war?"

"Because he doesn't want to talk, Precious," Marquise said quietly. "He wants power. And people like that don't stop unless someone stronger stands in their way. Mommy and I would rather not fight. King Desaad is greedy and selfish. And when you let greed like his continue to grow and fester, it soon becomes harder and harder to control, much less stop. So if we don't defend our kingdom—our home—then no one else will."

Khari sat quietly for a long moment, then leaned into her father's chest. As if to remind herself that her Daddy is there.

"But...what if something happens to you?"

Shanelle smiled softly at her. "Then your father and I will come back as ghosts and haunt the hell out of anyone who tries to hurt you or your brothers," 

Khari blinked, then giggled.

Marquise raised a questioning brow. "Not exactly how I would've said it, but...yeah. We're not going anywhere. You think I'd leave this world before walking you down the aisle someday?"

"Ew. Boys are gross, Daddy."

"I'm a boy. And your brothers are boys."

"Still gross Daddy." 

"Well then," Shanelle grinned, "guess we're staying a while."

That made Khari giggle again, the tension beginning to drain from the room. Khari gave her Daddy a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. 

"I'm still scared."

"And that's okay," Marquise said. "Bravery doesn't mean you're never afraid. It means doing the right thing despite the fear."

"I'm gonna be brave too," Khari said, sitting a little taller. "Even if it's scary."

Shanelle kissed her forehead. "That's my girl."

They sat for a quiet moment, the weight of the world softened by the warmth of family.

"You know, I was five when I first saw war," Marquise said. "Your grandfather Constantine had declared war on Rutherland. They bombed part of the palace in retaliation. I remember the shaking, the loud boom, and hearing things crash to the ground, and especially the fear. I even remember hiding under my bed...but mostly I remember my mother."

"Grandmother?"

"Yes. She made it all feel smaller. Told stories, made up games, sang silly songs with me and Uncle Leo. She shielded us from the worst of it. That's what your mother and I will do for you and Kylo and Zyon and Ellie."

Khari's voice was soft. "She sounds really cool. I wish I could've met her."

"I do too, Precious. I do too."

There was a beat of silence before Khari asked, "Will it always be like this, Daddy?"

"No, not always. But you'll need to understand these things. Because one day, when you're Queen, you might have to make hard decisions like this too."

Khari blinked. "Me?"

Shanelle nodded. 

"Yes, sweetie. Someday you may have to make the same decision that Daddy and I have to make. Not all the time. But sometimes."

"How about this," Marquise offered, "you come with us to the next Military Defense Council meeting."

"Really?" she gasped.

"Yes. It'll give you a chance to meet the Military Defense Council and see how it works." 

"I think it's a great idea," Shanelle chimed in.

"Will I get to make decisions?" Khari asked eagerly.

"No," her father said flatly.

Khari pouted. 

"Aww! Why not?"

Shanelle snorted. "How old are you again?"

"Almost seven."

"Therein lies your problem. You won't be making ANY royal decisions for at least another decade or so. Thankfully for me." Marquise replied. 

Khari huffed. "Will you still name a destroyer after me like you promised?"

Shanelle cackled at the look on Marquise's face.

"I should've kept my big mouth shut," Marquise muttered.

Khari gave him her best side-eye. "Well?"

Marquise sighed defeatedly. He has taught his daughter too well. 

"Yes, Precious. You'll get a destroyer named after you."

"I accept your terms, Daddy."

Shanelle was still laughing again as Khari kissed her father's cheek, gave her mother a tight hug before she adorably ran off to find her grandmother and brothers.

The office fell quiet.

"You know she's right," Shanelle said, smiling.

Marquise sighed. "I'm not her father. I'm her doormat."

"Pretty much."

They leaned into each other, the weight of leadership lighter—for a moment—because they carried it together.

"Promise me we'll finish this," Shanelle said softly. "Not just for her. For all of them."

Marquise's jaw clenched. "I swear it. No half measures. No more mercy for tyrants. We burn every lie they've told to the ground—and from those ashes, we build something better."

"Operation Scorched Earth?" she asked.

He smirked. "Damn straight."

A week later, Their Majesties were getting ready for their meeting with Dr. Quincy Tourè. While Shanelle was cautiously optimistic about Dr. Tourè, Marquise was curiously eager to meet him. As they rode to the boy's daycare center, Shanelle was nervously looking out the window and Marquise noticed. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked his wife. 

"My thoughts are worth diamonds not pennies, sir. But since you asked, yes?" 

"Why are you so nervous?"

"I'm not trying to be but I can't help it."

"Do you want to cancel the meeting?"

Shanelle shook her head no. 

"No. We can't cancel it now even if we wanted to. "Don't mind me, I'm just being hormonal," she said.

"You say that every time your gut's right."

She looked at him. "And yet you never listen."

"That's what husbands are for."

She smirked. But her fingers drummed against her thigh.

They soon arrived at the boy's school, The Crestwood Early Learning Center. They were met at the reception desk by Mrs. Melinda Bernardi-Tourè, the daycare center director. 

"Your Majesties! Good afternoon! Welcome back to the center! I am happy to welcome you both." she said in greeting. 

"Good afternoon Director. Thank you for welcoming us." Marquise replied. 

Mrs. Tourè smiled at Shanelle. 

"Good afternoon my Queen. You look beautiful today. That dress you have on is truly beautiful," she said to Shanelle. 

"Thank you, Director. It's great to be here again." Shanelle replied. 

"That Sage green is definitely your color ma'am. It reminds me of the yellow striped dress you wore on the boy's first day of school a few weeks ago. I hear you're well known for your excellent fashion sense."

"Thank you so much, Director."

The director nodded with a warm smile.

"Let me escort you both to my husband's office," she said to them. 

The director led Marquise and Shanelle to Dr. Tourè's office where he was waiting. 

"Your Majesties, you remember my husband, Dr. Quincy Tourè don't you? I promise you both, he's been great with all the children here. They call him Quincy the Clown." Mrs. Tourè said to them. 

"Your Majesties! Welcome to my office! It's great to see you both again. Please have a seat." he said with a bow in greeting. 

"Thank you for welcoming us Dr," Marquise replied. 

Dr. Tourè gestured to the seats at his desk as Their Majesties sat down. Dr. Tourè's office overlooked a large playroom.  

"I wanted to meet with you both while the boys are having lunch in class if that's alright." 

"That's fine," Shanelle replied. 

"I am here to answer any questions you both may have about the meeting."

"What exactly will happen during this meeting?" Shanelle asks. 

"This meeting is to observe the boys in a controlled environment." Dr. Tourè replied as he gestured to the giant picture window in his office, "The goal of today's session is to observe the boys in a natural environment. This room is designed for safety and ease—children learn best when they feel safe and can explore freely. I encourage your presence. Seeing you both will help them feel relaxed."

Shanelle nodded. 

"Okay I think that's a good idea." Shanelle said to Dr. Tourè.

Dr. Tourè noticed the pin on Marquise's lapel. It was the Kenyan flag. 

"Ahh Mother Kenya. You have ties to the country, Your Majesty?" Dr. Tourè asked Marquise. 

"Yes. My mother was born in Kenya." Marquise replied. 

Dr. Tourè nodded. 

"As was my father Kwasi. He was born and raised in Nairobi. He went to school in Deutschland where he met my mother Frieda. Do you speak Swahili?" Dr. Tourè asked. 

"Ndio ninafanya. Kwa ufasaha. (Yes I do. I speak it fluently.)" Marquise replied. 

Dr. Tourè nodded respectfully.

"Ah! Muzuri sana. (Very good.)”, Dr. Tourè replied before turning to Shanelle and asked, "And what about you, Your Majesty?" 

"No, unfortunately. I only speak English and Bad English. He's the one who collects languages like they're infinity stones" Shanelle replied.

Dr. Tourè chuckled before checking his watch. 

"I believe it's time to meet with the boys. So if you'll both follow me." 

The boys were brought in by their teacher Mrs. Walsh. She smiled at His Majesty when she saw him. 

"Good afternoon Your Majesties. It's good to see you both." she said to them before addressing the boys, "Look who it is! It's Mommy and Daddy!"

The boys squealed happily as they ran to their mother's arms.

"Hi my babies. I've missed you." Shanelle said to them as she hugged them. 

"It's good to see you, Your Majesty. I trust you're staying out of trouble. Especially now that your brother is home?" Mrs. Walsh asked Marquise. 

He snorted. 

"Yes Ms. Nottingham. I'm staying out of trouble. I haven't broken anything valuable in years."

"Meh. I don't know about all that. You still believe in indoor soccer during a thunderstorm." Shanelle quipped. 

Marquise rolled his eyes good-naturedly as Mrs. Walsh chuckled. 

"Still handsome and troublesome as ever." she mused. 

"Yes I am. Do tell Lord Walsh that he owes me a few rounds on the green."

"I will do that."

Mrs. Walsh smiled at Marquise before taking her leave. 

Kylo made a beeline for the block bin, his tiny sneakers skidding on the mat, while Zyon belly-flopped into the stuffed animals like it was a royal treasure pile. As the boys explored the room, their laughter bubbling up like tiny fountains, Shanelle relaxed visibly, her hand resting gently on her stomach. Marquise gave her a small, knowing smile.

"Bocks (blocks)! Yook (look) Mommy! Bocks! Right dere (there)!" Kylo said to his mother. 

Zyon finally came up for air in the pile of stuffed animals, holding one up proudly. 'Stuffies! See, Mommy? See?'"

"I see, baby. Before we go play, can you two say hi?" Shanelle asked. 

The boys stopped and smiled brightly at Dr. Tourè who smiled back at them. 

"Hello, boys! It's good to see you again!" Dr. Tourè said to them. 

"Kencee (Quincy)!" Zyon said to him. 

"Where funny nose Kencee?" Kylo asks, pointing to his nose. 

"My nose? Oh right! My clown nose! I don't have it today but I'll have it again soon. Okay?" Dr. Tourè replied. 

"Otay (okay) Kencee," Kylo answered. 

"Now boys, before we play with the toys, can we play a game?" Dr. Tourè asked. 

"What game Kencee?" Kylo asks. 

"Come find out," Dr. Tourè said to the boys before turning to their parents, "Mom, Dad, care to join us?"

Everyone gathered around a small child-sized table, where Dr. Tourè produced a deck of cards. 

"Okay, boys, I'm going to give you cards, okay? And Mom and Dad I'm going to give you the same cards."

Dr. Tourè passed out the cards. They were cards with colors, objects, foods, and animals. 

"Now that we have our cards, let's play," Dr. Tourè said, smiling, "Alright boys now pay close attention, okay?"

"Otay (okay) Kencee!" Kylo replies. 

"Boys, can you show me the color...blue? Mom and Dad, can you also show me the color blue? 

The boys put on the cutest thoughtful looks on their faces. Zyon was the first to speak.

"Bue (blue)!" Zyon said to him. 

"Yeah yeah! Bue (blue)!" Kylo said. 

"Mom and Dad?" Dr. Tourè asks. 

They both showed the color blue.

"Wonderful! Now boys, can you show me the color...green?" Dr. Tourè asks. 

Both boys looked for the color, Kylo was the first to find the color. 

"Yook (look)! Geen (green)! I found it!" Kylo said. 

Zyon also showed the color green. So did their parents. 

"Very good. Now I'm going to show you a card. I want you to tell me the color. Okay?"

The boys nodded. 

"He held up a bright red card. "What color is this?"

"Wed (red)!" the boys said together. 

"Excellent! Now can you tell me this color?" 

"Lellow (yellow)." Kylo replied as he and Zyon held up their cards. 

Dr. Tourè looked up to see their parents holding up the color yellow. 

"You two are way too smart for me. You're doing great. Now can you both show me your parents' favorite colors?" Dr. Tourè asked. 

Zyon picked up a card. 

"O'ange! Daddy yike (like) o'ange! " Zyon replied. 

Kylo spoke up next. 

"Burble (purple)! Mommy yikes (likes) dis one!"Kylo said to Dr. Tourè.

"Okay what is your sister's favorite color?"

"Bink (pink)!" the boys answered together, holding a card with the color pink. 

"Fabulous!" he said to the boys, "now let's switch gears. Can you both show me...an apple?" 

Both of them found the card with an apple on it. So did their parents. 

"Fantastic! I'm very impressed by you both. And you two as well, Your Majesties. All of you are very smart." Dr. Tourè said to everyone before asking the boys, "Let's see...who can find a banana?"

Each boy showed him a banana. 

Dr. Tourè made another quick note on his iPad, his expression unreadable for a heartbeat. Then he smiled, warm and wide again, as if nothing at all had passed.

"Now boys, I want you to really think about this next one, okay? Can you boys show me a...house?" he asks. 

The boys each searched their cards for a house. They each found a card with a house on it. 

"Howse (house)!" Zyon said. 

"I dot (got) Howse (house) too! See?" Kylo replied. 

"I see boys! Both of you are doing so well. It's rare to see this much potential so early. It'd be a shame to let it go to waste." Dr. Tourè mused.

Shanelle tilted her head, brow furrowed for a breath before smoothing it away with a smile. Probably nothing.

“Now which one of you can find…a tree?” Dr. Tourè asks. 

The boys instantly found the card with a tree.

“Chee (tree)!” the boys squealed. 

"You two are geniuses! Okay one more before we move on, can you show me a giraffe?"

Zyon hesitated, holding up a zebra.

"Ooh! Close!" Dr. Tourè chuckled. "That's a zebra. Want to try again?"

Zyon found the right card, grinning.

"G'affe!" he said proudly.

"Very good! Now Kylo, can you show me a pig?"

Kylo looked at his cards and then picked a bear.

"Dis one?"

"No but good try. Let's try again, okay?"

Kylo was getting frustrated because he couldn't find the card. Marquise noticed and stepped in. 

"Do you want Daddy to help you look?" 

Kylo nodded. 

"I tan't (can't) find it, Daddy." Kylo said, slightly dejected. 

"Okay. Let's sound it out. What sound does a pig make?"

Kylo thought for a second. 

"Oink oink!" 

"Good so let's you and I find the one that says oink oink."

They found a cat, a dog, a parrot, and finally a pig.

"Found it! We did it, Daddy!" Kylo cheered as he held up the right card. 

"Yes, we did, my love. You did great my boy." Marquise said to him.

As Kylo held up his pig card proudly, Shanelle watched his eyes light up and wondered how much longer they’d get to keep their innocence. Her stomach twisted not just with pregnancy, but with something nameless, a foggy dread she couldn’t quite shake.

Dr. Tourè made another quick note before smiling at them. 

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I normally like for the children to figure out how to solve problems on their own, but every now and then it's good that they have help along the way. It helps to build and shape their confidence. This game helps us see how children recognize, recall, and associate ideas—through play of course," he said with a smile, tapping his iPad. 

Marquise noticed a subtle change in his demeanor but brushed it off. 

The meeting continued between Dr. Tourè and the boys. Including a hilarious moment where he asked the twins to draw their parents. 

"Zyon, I want you to draw your mother and Kylo, I want you to draw your father. Okay?"

The boys nodded and went to work trying their best to capture the essence of their parents that their little brains could handle. 

"No peekting (peeking) Daddy!" Kylo warned his father who wasn't even looking. 

They were way off but Shanelle didn't care. Her boys just made the best portraits of her and Marquiss ever. 

"These portraits are going in the Hall Of Portraits! I have decreed it!" 

"Like I had a say in this." Marquise quipped as he viewed Kylo's interpretation of him. He's pretty sure his son drew a mix of a sasquatch and an octopus. But he loved it just the same.

"Beauty like art is always in the eye of its beholder, Your Majesty." Dr. Tourè said to him. 

Before Marquise could reply, there was a soft knock at the playroom door, it was Director Tourè. 

"How is everything going?" she asked as she popped her head in. The boy's faces lit up when they saw her. 

"Hello little ones! How has your day been?" she asked them. 

Both started talking at once. Their adorable toddler babble lit up the room. 

"Well you two have had quite the day it seems," she said to them before addressing their parents, "I hope you both enjoyed your time here today."

"We did. Dr. Tourè has been amazing with the boys," Shanelle replied. 

Director Tourè smiled at Shanelle. 

"That's wonderful. Quincy the Clown has been a hit with the children here. He knows that his job can be confusing and sometimes scary for children the heirs' age. So he created Quincy the Clown. It helps him connect with the children. But personally, I just love to see him with his clown nose." 

She and Shanelle shared a laugh before the door opened a little wider, revealing Khari and her guards. The skirt of her uniform was wrinkled but her smile was as bright as ever. 

"Looks like we have a full house of Royals." Director Tourè mused. 

"Indeed we do." Dr. Tourè added. 

"Hi everybody!" Khari said to the room. 

"Sissy!" the boys squealed as they ran into her arms. 

"Hi, boys! I've missed you! How was school today?" she asked the twins as she hugged them. They did their best to tell their big sister about their day. She also made time to say hi to her parents. 

"Hi Mommy! Hi Daddy! Hi Ellie!" she said to them. 

"How was class Precious?" Marquise asked. 

"It was good Daddy. We have a new music teacher, Mr. Bancroft. He's really nice." Khari replied before her brother grabbed her attention. 

"Say hi Sissy! Say hi! Say hi!" Zyon said to her. 

"Is this your teacher?" she asked the boys. 

"Dat's Kencee the Clown sissy," Kylo replies. 

Dr. Tourè bowed with a smile. 

"Hello, Princess! I'm Dr. Quincy Tourè. But your brothers and the other children know me as Quincy the Clown. It's good to meet and see you again," he said to her. 

Khari curtsied.

"It's nice to see you too, Dr. Tourè. I met Director Tourè when my guards and I got here. She's very nice."

Director Tourè smiled at her. 

"Thank you, Princess. That means so much to me."

"And you're very handsome Dr. Tourè."

That comment caught him off guard. 

"Oh why thank you, Princess." 

That comment also earned her an eyebrow raise from her father. 

"Hmm?"

"I have eyes, Daddy. I can see." Khari said to him. 

Shanelle cackled at the look on his face. 

"Uh huh." he deadpanned. 

"Well I think my husband and I have taken enough of your time, Your Majesties. Again it was an honor to have you both here today. And the twins and even their sister are an absolute joy. You two are very lucky to have such precious children." 

"Thank you, Director," Marquise said to her before addressing Dr. Tourè, "is there anything else you need from Her Majesty and me?"

"Oh no, Your Majesty. I have everything I need right here on my tablet. I will be in touch if I do any more finite details from you or Her Majesty. It was a pleasure and an honor to meet with you both and your boys. I will be observing them some more in the coming weeks, while they're in class to monitor their behavior in a classroom setting. From what I have seen of the Princes, Kylo likes the musical instruments and Zyon seems very relaxed when coloring and painting.” 

Marquise nodded. 

"Alright," Marquise said to Dr. Tourè before addressing his family, "Now who's ready for a snack from Book-A-Holic?"

The kids each raised their hands. 

"Well, it's unanimous, Your Majesty." Shanelle said to her husband. 

"To Book-A-Holic we go," Marquise announced. 

Dr. and Director Tourè shared a quick look as they watched The Royal Family depart the daycare center. Laughter echoed faintly down the hall as the children chattered about muffins, books, and who got to pick the first story at Book-A-Holic.

"Lovely children," Melinda murmured, her arms folded lightly. "And she—Khari—is very sharp, poised, and highly impressive."

"She is," Quincy replied, watching them through the window, his smile pleasant but unreadable. "The whole family is."

The director tilted her head. "Get everything you needed?"

"For now," he said, fingers tapping lightly on the screen of his tablet. "We'll see how the next few weeks go."

Later while at Book-A-Holic Cafè, Their Majesties discussed how their meeting with Dr. Tourè went, while they waited for their order and their children picked out books to read. 

"So final verdict?" Marquise asked as their order arrived. 

"I like him. Dr. Tourè was very gentle with the boys. Patient. He seems to genuinely enjoy working with children."

"Are you still feeling nervous?"

Marquise studied her face. "Still feeling nervous?"

"No not anymore," she said, stretching her back. "I think earlier I was just hormonal, hypervigilant, and, you know...very pregnant."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. It's what happens when you have a tiny terrorist treating your insides like a jungle gym."

"My daughter is not a terrorist."

"Oh I'm sorry. Are you pregnant?"

"No."

"Oh okay. That's what I thought." 

They shared a quiet laugh, one of those worn-in, married laughs that lived in the ribs. A little tired. A little warm. Whole.Across the café, Khari handed Kylo a picture book and patted Zyon's curls back into place. She caught her parents watching and flashed them a knowing smile. Wise beyond her years.

Their Majesties have always loved spending time with their children, it always grounded them. Reminding them of why they are the Monarchs. And prepared them for the storms to come. 

Starting with finally entrapping and exposing the traitors in their ranks. 

The time had finally come to expose the generals and Shanelle’s cousins the Princes as the traitors that they are. And Their Majesties would not be holding anything back. 

Their Majesties called a meeting with Generals Howell, Castor, and Supreme General Greenwald in the Military Defense Council Conference Room. When they arrived Their Majesties were already seated at the table. Each General bowed with a fist over their hearts. 

“Good morning, Generals. Her Majesty and I thank you for your presence on such short notice.” Marquise said to them, “Please have a seat.”

The generals sat down in their usual seats. 

“Thank you for having us, my King.” General Greenwald replied before addressing Shanelle, “And a very good morning to you my Queen. You are looking radiant as ever.”

Shanelle smiled politely at General Greenwald. 

“Thank you General. I just wish I felt as radiant as I looked.” 

Just then, the door opened, Captain Felix flanked by Princes Mordecai and Malachi walked in.  

“Good morning everyone. I do hope we are not interrupting.” Captain Felix said after bowing. 

“Of course not Captain. Please join us.” 

Marquise said to him before addressing the Princes, “Gentlemen, welcome home. Please have a seat.”

The Princes bowed before taking a seat next to Generals Howell and Castor. Prince Malachi spoke after clearing his throat. 

“Thank you my King,” he said to Marquise before addressing his cousin, “hello cousin. You look beautiful. Positively glowing. Pregnancy is suiting you well.”

Shanelle smiled politely at her cousin.

“Thank you, cousin. I appreciate your kind words,” she said to him, “being pregnant has shown me how carrying something as precious as an unborn child, makes one aware of who can be trusted with that child.” 

Captain Felix shared a small knowing glance with Marquise as he closed the door to the Conference Room and stood at attention in the corner. 

Marquise cleared his throat and steepled his fingers together. 

“In times of war, loyalty is more precious than gold,” Marquise said. “And betrayal…well, it always finds a way to reveal itself. Now that all of you are here, we can get down to business,” he said to the room, “now General Greenwald have you met with General Moravich?” 

General Greenwald nodded. 

“Yes sire. We will meet with her formally next week.” General Greenwald replies. 

“Good. I want our troops in place as soon as possible. Sulovaria has started a campaign toward the capital. We can not allow them to advance any further.”

General Howell looked down to his phone nervously, Shanelle noticed but said nothing. She kept it to himself. For now at least. 

“Now where are we with Commandant Miller?” Marquise asked. A subtle nod to the Princes. 

“I have spoken with the Commandant. He and the HMS Leonidas are stationed close to the North Kestovian Sea.” General Howell replied. 

What he didn't know was that the coordinates were wrong. Just what Marquise wanted. He was silently thankful that Commandant Miller was in on exposing the traitors. 

“Are you sure, General?” Shanelle asked. 

“Yes ma'am. I spoke with him yesterday.” General Howell replied. 

Shanelle nodded. She knew he was lying. 

“Very well General. I will take your word for it.”

General Howell kept looking down at his phone. And Marquise seized on the opportunity. 

“General, are we keeping you from something?” he asked. 

General Howell finally looked up, face flushed. 

“Oh uh no! No, not at all. Please continue, sire.” General Howell replied. 

“You seem very ill at ease, General. Is there something wrong?”

“No, my King. Nothing is wrong.” 

Marquise raised an eyebrow at him as he sat his phone down on the table. 

“Good. Now have you spoken with our commanders on the ground?” 

General Howell’s phone buzzed and he picked it up in a haste. Shanelle pounced. 

“General, why is your phone going off?” Shanelle asked. 

“Because of me.” Captain Felix replied. 

“What? How did you get my phone number?” General Howell asks. 

“I gave it to him, Silas,” General Greenwald replies. 

“What? Why would you do that, Jonas?” General Howell asked.

“Because you've been lying. That's why.” 

“What? I have been doing no such thing!” 

“Yes, you have, Silas,” Marquise said to him. 

General Howell stared at Marquise. 

“No, Your Majesty. I haven't!”

“Yes you have,” Shanelle spoke up, “Hell, you lied to me earlier when you said you spoke to Commandant Miller.”

“Cousin…with all due respect…My Queen, surely you're not accusing one of our kingdom’s most decorated generals of treason?” Prince Mordecai interjects. 

“Dumbass…” Shanelle thought to herself. 

General Howell started sweating.

“My Queen…I may have misspoke but I never lied. I swear it.” 

Marquise produced a folder. 

“If you haven't been lying then maybe you could clarify a few things for me. Take a look at these if you will.” 

He slid the folder across the table to him. After General Howell opened the folder, his face paled. It was a transcript of his last text message and email to Andreas Garakis. 

The folder was heavy with consequence. Inside were emails, wire transfer slips, and one chilling photograph of the General, shaking hands with a Sulovarian diplomat. No insignia. No uniform. Just a traitor in plain clothes. Marquise had an identical folder. He pulled out a photo of General Howell meeting with Andreas, maybe exchanging a flash drive under the table. 

“That's you, General,” Marquise said to him. 

“That could be anyone!” General Howell sputtered. 

“Operation Icarus: Fleet redeployment scheduled for 02:00 hours. Key weak points encoded per arrangement.” Marquise read aloud. 

“Silas…what did you do?” General Castor asks. 

“I–i–I–” General Howell stuttered.

“He committed treason of the worst kind.” General Greenwald announced. 

“What do you mean Jonas?” General Castor asks. 

“Silas sold us out to Sulovaria! That's what I mean Thaddeus!” General Greenwald replies. 

“No. Silas you didn't!” General Castor said in shock. Not knowing that his time was coming next. 

“I…these…they're false! Their Majesties are trying to set me up! It’s a witch hunt!” General Howell announced. 

“No, it's not Silas. You've been selling our military secrets to our enemies! How could you? How could you turn on your kingdom?” General Greenwald asks. 

“Forgive me, Supreme General, but you seem awfully quick to accuse a decorated hero. Jealousy, perhaps?” Prince Malachi quipped.

“We don’t know the whole story yet. Perhaps we should give General Howell the benefit of the doubt.” General Castor said, trying to ease the tension. 

“Curious, that’s exactly what a guilty man would want.” Shanelle snapped at him. 

“I am not guilty! I have done nothing wrong! As far as I know this could be planted to frame me!” General Howell declared, “I will not stand for any more slander! Not from you Jonas! And certainly not from The King and Queen!”

Marquise cleared his throat. 

“If this is a witch hunt, General Howell, then maybe you can explain this,” Marquise said to General Howell before producing a recording device. He played a phone conversation between Andreas and General Howell discussing the car bombs being unsuccessful. The Princes exchanged a silent glance and General Castor in his seat shifted nervously. 

“That General Silas Howell is you. Discussing the car bombs that went off around our kingdom! The same car bombs that endangered me and my children!” Shanelle hissed at him, “All this time you've been a wolf in sheep's clothing! I bet this is why you wanted us to stand down isn't it? This is why you wanted us to drop Kasnia, isn't it? You lied to me! And in lying to me, you endangered not only your kingdom…but my unborn child. That’s treason, General Howell!”

General Howell couldn't hide it anymore. He was caught. 

“I vouched for you Silas! I defended you when others questioned your loyalty! You sat at my table! I introduced you to my daughter! You held my grandson!” General Greenwald shouted at General Howell. 

“You were too soft to see what this kingdom’s become, Jonas! Loyalty to the throne isn’t loyalty to the people. I did what I had to do!”

“DID WHAT YOU HAD TO DO?! YOU SOLD US OUT! I TRUSTED YOU WITH OUR KINGDOM’S GREATEST SECRETS AND YOU SOLD THEM TO SULOVARIA FOR A FEW LOUSY SULOVARIAN DRACHMS! HOW COULD YOU?!” General Greenwald shouted at him. General Greenwald was shaking with rage, “I HOPE THOSE BARBARIANS WERE WORTH IT! BECAUSE THEY HAVE CEMENTED YOUR DOWNFALL!”

General Greenwald shook his head in disgust.

“You saved my life at Durnham. I dragged you from the rubble at Ardell. And this is how you repay me? I buried men beside you, Silas! We bled together. I carried your wife’s casket when she died. And now I find this? You were like a brother to me! You were supposed to be family! Instead you’re a sniveling coward! You are not fit to wear the uniform you don!”

Marquise cleared his throat, grabbing the room’s attention. 

“If all of this is fiction, General, then tell me the name of the Sulovarian diplomat who wired you thirty thousand drachms last week,” Marquise asked, “Because that money didn't just magically appear in your account.”

“How did you?” General Howell asked. 

“I am the King, my good man. There is NOTHING in this kingdom that I don't know about. And there certainly isn't anything that I can't find out.” a warning to General Howell but it was also a coded message to General Castor and the Princes. 

Marquise noticed General Castor’s fidgeting. 

“You seem uncomfortable, General Castor. Feeling guilty for defending a traitor or worried we might open another folder?” he asked him. 

“No sire. But I just can't see Silas as a traitor. What would be his motivation?” General Castoe asked. 

“Oh? You need more evidence? Say no more.” Marquise turned on the giant TV screen, on the screen was General Howell, speaking to Andreas Garakis at Book-A-Holic Cafè over coffee. 

“You see, this is why I love that cafè. And don't just mean it because I know the owner of the cafè personally.” Marquise said to the room, “The workers are fellow Cordonians who were more than willing to cooperate. They scrubbed their footage and turned over everything they had. So what more do you need to know?” 

General Castor’s eyes shifted nervously. He couldn't defend General Howell anymore. 

“I had no idea, my King. I thought he was a friend. A brother in arms. But I see I was wrong.” 

General Howell rounded on him. 

“You goddamn son of a bitch!” he sneered at General Castor. 

“Enough!” Marquise's voice boomed, “I have heard enough!”

He took a deep breath then straightened his spine as he rose from his seat.

“General Silas Everett Howell, you are hereby stripped of your title and military rank. And will hereby be arrested and charged as an Enemy Of The Crown.” Marquise announced before looking at Captain Felix, “you can get this traitor out of my sight!” 

Captain Felix stepped forward and arrested a very resisting General Howell. As one of Captain Felix’s guards dragged him away, he shouted. 

 “You think I’m the only traitor in that room?! You two have no idea who your real enemies actually are!” he shouted at Shanelle and Marquise as he was dragged out. 

Shanelle let out a breath she’d been holding in, while holding her belly. As she gathered herself, she noticed her cousins whispering to each other. 

She managed to catch part of their conversation.

“This is getting out of hand!” Mordecai whispered to his brother. 

“I still haven't heard anything from Andreas.” Malachi whispered. 

“Something wrong gentlemen?” she asked, catching their attention. 

“No, my Queen. Nothing is wrong. We are just…shocked is all. We never would've thought that General Howell would be a traitor. I never would've tried to defend him, if I knew the truth.” Prince Mordecai replied. 

“I see.” she said with an eyebrow raised. 

Shanelle was starting to lose her patience but she kept her cool. It wasn't time to reveal their treachery. Not yet. So she took a drink of water to mask her irritation. 

General Castor awkwardly cleared his throat. 

“I too am shocked. Like Jonas I've known Silas for decades. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that he’d be a traitor. Your Majesties, Jonas, I am so sorry. I brought him in with me.” he said to Marquise and Shanelle. 

Marquise looked at him coolly. 

“Is that so?” he asked. 

“Yes sire. I never would've nominated him to be third in command if I had known that he was capable of such treachery.” General Castor replies. 

“Then I guess this meeting will be adjourned unless…”

“Unless what, Your Majesty?” General Castor asks.

Marquise took a drink of water. As he set the bottle of water down, there was a knock at the conference room door. 

“Come in!” Marquise says to the door. 

The door opens to reveal General Castor’s wife Lady Fiona Avalantis-Castor. 

“Fiona! What are you doing here?” General Castor asks her. She had a look on her face that worried him.

“Are you alright? What's wrong? Why do you look like that?” he asks as she silently enters the room. 

When she got to him, she took a deep breath and then hugged him. When she pulled back she slapped him. 

“You son of a bitch! How could you?! How could you be so cowardly?!” she asks. 

“What are you talking about?! Why would you slap me?!” he asked, holding his cheek. 

“You betrayed our kingdom! That's what I‘m talking about!” she yelled at him. 

He looked at her confusedly. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You have been spying for Sulovaria!”

General Castor was stunned. 

“You betrayed me! You betrayed our family! Especially our son! Have you forgotten that he's a soldier in the Cordonian Army?!” she yelled at him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking—” he started to say before she cut him off, “They know Thaddeus. Their Majesties know everything!”

“What?” he asked. 

“They know that Andreas Garakis turned you against your kingdom. They know that you had that animal in my home! How could you?! How dare you! You brought that creature into our home! Have you forgotten that those barbaric people killed my brother?! And you just invited him over like we were having tea!”

“Fiona, what did you do?”

“I told His Majesty everything. I showed him everything! He has the bank transcripts and wire transfer receipts! He has enough evidence against you to put you in chains for the rest of your life! And I hope he does! Since you've decided being loyal to me no longer interests you, then being loyal to you no longer interests me!” she sneered at her husband. 

When General Castor turned around, Marquise had a smug smile on his face. 

“Well I guess this meeting isn't adjourned quite yet,” he said to General Castor. 

“I ran into Silas as the guards were leading him away. He called you a coward and a traitor just like him. He's right. You are a coward! And you're definitely a traitor.”

She turned to Their Majesties. 

“My King. I am done with him! You can do whatever you wish with him.” she said to Marquise before looking at Shanelle with tears in her eyes, “I am so sorry my Queen. I never thought my husband would betray the kingdom he swore to serve. I am ashamed. I can only hope that you'll forgive my family.”

Shanelle softened slightly as she looked at her sympathetically. 

“My lady, you are not responsible for your husband's heinously stupid actions. We do not hold you or your family responsible.” 

Lady Fiona nodded gratefully as Shanelle passed her a box of tissues.

“Thank you, ma'am,” she said as she dried her eyes, “you’re way too kind to me, Your Majesty.”

Shanelle smiled softly at her. 

“Again this is not your fault,” Shanelle said to her before giving General Castor a venomous look, “your husband made a conscious decision to betray his oath to his kingdom. He chose to betray you and your family. Especially your son. My heart breaks for you. I do hope that now that the truth is out, you can breathe.” 

“Thank you again.” Lady Fiona said tearily before turning to Marquise, “Your mother Eleanor was one of my greatest friends. She welcomed me with open arms when I got married. I would do her memory a grave disservice if I stood idly by and allowed my husband to betray her son.”

Marquise nodded. 

“Thank you, my lady. My mother would be very appreciative.” he said before snapping his fingers, “take him away.”

Guards quickly surrounded General Castor and dragged him away. Lady Fiona and General Greenwald watched together. 

“Fiona, may I escort you home?” General Greenwald asked. 

“That would be great. I don't think I can be alone right now.”

Lady Fiona let out a breath.

“It’s always the ones closest to you, isn’t it?” Lady Fiona asks Shanelle. 

“Yes. Unfortunately…it is.” Shanelle said. 

General Greenwald nodded before facing Marquise.

“Your Majesties, I think it’s time that I took my leave. I have much to do and orders to send out. But thank you both for helping me suss out the snakes in our ranks.” he said as he shook Marquise’s hand. 

“Thank you, General. Your intuition about both of them was spot-on. I can only imagine the damage they would've caused if we hadn't found their treachery out in time.” Marquise said to him. 

General Greenwald bowed with a fist over his heart before leaving with Lady Fiona. The room fell eerily quiet for a moment as it was only Marquise, Shanelle, Princes Mordecai and Malachi, and Captain Felix left in the conference room. 

“Well now that all the ugliness is over we can finally adjourn for the day,” Marquise said to Shanelle. 

“Before we do that I would love to know who the Princes are texting so much.” Shanelle said before turning to her cousins who were whispering nervously, “Gentlemen is everything okay?”

The Princes finally looked up. 

“Uh yes my Queen. Everything is fine.” Prince Mordecai replied. 

“Are you sure Your Highness? You both seem nervous.” Marquise said to him. 

The twins glanced at each other. 

“No sire. We are okay. We were just checking up on our lead to make sure we didn't miss anything.” Prince Malachi replied. 

“Very well. If you all will excuse me, I have a phone call to make.” Marquise said before he stepped outside. Leaving Shanelle alone with her cousins. 

“So tell me more about this lead, I thought the trail went cold,” Shanelle said to them.

“Oh uh it did but we like to be thorough. We want to make sure that we have exhausted all of our avenues.” Prince Malachi replied. 

“Perhaps I can help?” Shanelle asks. 

The Princes looked at each other. 

“We are not sure how. We didn't know you were familiar with our case.”

“Oh yeah. His Majesty filled me in. It's okay. I believe you two are looking for a contact?”

“Yes. That's right. How did you know?” Prince Mordecai asks. 

“Oh well I know because he's dead.”

“What do you mean?” Prince Malachi asks. 

Shanelle steeples her fingers together. 

“You’re both looking for a text from Andreas Garakis. You know? Your handler?”

The Princes blinked. 

“I know that you two have not only been in contact with him but you were helping him undermine and threaten your kingdom.” 

Princes Mordecai and Malachi sat there shocked. They've been outed by Shanelle as traitors. 

"Nothing to say?" Shanelle asked. 

The pretense had fallen then. 

"Congratulations cousin. You caught us." Prince Malachi replied, clapping slowly. His voice dripping with venom. 

Shanelle was not about to back down 

"I should've seen this shit coming. I should've known that you two traitors couldn't be trusted!" 

"We are not traitors! We are honoring our kingdom!" Prince Mordecai hissed at Shanelle. 

"You mean MY kingdom! South Cordonia belonged to me! I was the heir to the throne. How do you think I got my first title of Princess? It was always MY kingdom. Not your mother's kingdom! And certainly not your son of a bitch father's kingdom! IT WAS MINE! Our grandfather named ME the heir before he and our grandmother died for a reason!"

Shanelle was PISSED!

"I can not fucking believe I trusted you two. You were fucking vipers and I knew it and I STILL let you both bite me." Shanelle said before chuckling bitterly, "Congrats you two! You got me good. You played the game. And accomplished your goal. Unfortunately, it's gonna cost you. EVERYTHING!"

The Princes both blinked. 

"You see I feel bad for your siblings. Especially your brothers."

"What are you talking about Shanelle?" Prince Mordecai asks. 

"First of all, it's Your Majesty to you! And second, I'm talking about Edwin and especially Morgan. Your older brothers are CRUSHED to know that you two, their younger brothers, are traitors to your kingdom. Especially Morgan. How do you think we found out? You think Andreas only approached the two of you? Newsflash! He went after Morgan first. But at the very least, Morgan remembered where his loyalties lay!"

"This is not our kingdom! We don't serve you! Or your pathetic husband!" Malachi sneered at her, "We are Princes of South Cordonia!" 

"You're right. You don't. You serve your god-awful excuse of a mother and that living breathing walking talking parasitic infection that you dare to call a father! But what's worse than that is you two turned on your people. On your brothers! On your family!" 

Shanelle shouted at them before taking a deep breath.

"But that's okay. Because neither one of you is a member of this kingdom anymore anyway. You're the property of Sulovaria now. Which also means you're both dead."

Malachi scoffs. 

“You don't have the heart! You’re as spineless as your husband, even more so now that you're pregnant.”

Shanelle cocked her head to the side. 

“You're right Malachi. I don't. But he does.” 

The Princes turned around to see their brother Morgan and Marquise standing behind them. 

“Hello Morgan. Thank you for coming.” Shanelle said to him. 

Morgan had his lips in a thin line. He was ready to explode. 

“Take your time Commandant.” Marquise said to him. 

“My own flesh and blood. My little brothers…traitors. You two would risk our home. OUR HOME! Just because you don't like our cousin?”

Mordecai chuckled bitterly. 

“I don’t know what spell they have you under big brother but I wish you'd wake up!”

That set Morgan off. 

“A spell?! You call being loyal to our kingdom being under a spell?” Morgan yelled at his brother.

“This isn't our kingdom Morgan!” Malachi said to him, “Our kingdom was stolen!”

Morgan stepped forward with a rage behind his eyes. 

“THIS IS OUR KINGDOM! This is our legacy! Our bloodline! Cordonia is who we are. Not just our titles! You two are a disgrace to our family!”

Morgan shook his head bitterly. 

“I want nothing to do with the two of you! So whatever our cousin and especially our King decides…I’ll be sure to tell our parents that you two went down like the cowards you are!” he sneered at them. 

“Guards!” Marquise called out. 

The guards filed in, flanking Captain Felix. Shanelle stepped forward. 

“I'll make sure that your deaths are as grotesque as your mother’s attitude.” she said to her cousins before addressing the guards without flinching, “SEIZE THEM!” 

The twins tried to run but were apprehended swiftly. With both twins resisting arrest. They had to be wrestled to the ground before being dragged out. 

It was over. After months, the traitors to the crown and kingdom were dealt with. But just as Their Majesties started to breathe a little bit, it was time for the ultimate showdown. 

It was time for the Conclave. 

Shanelle couldn’t wait for the day to come. She was ready to close this miserable and ugly chapter. Marquise? He was ready to burn the whole book.

They arrived at the Parliamentary Building the afternoon of September 30th, dressed to the nines, to the waiting paparazzi outside ready for the ultimate scoop. 

“Your Majesties! Over here!” Many reporters shouted but all they could do was smile and wave, they didn't have time to speak. 

They entered the building and were confronted by the families of Lord and Lady Gallagher. Including Lady Makenna’s father Prince Dante and brother, Lord Oliver. Marquise allowed them to attend the vote because he wanted them to watch Makenna lose. 

Marquise smiled smugly and waved at both families as he and Shanelle walked by. He enjoyed seeing the looks of disgust on their faces. 

“Go ahead and smile all you want Your Majesty, you won't be smiling after the votes are counted!” Prince Dante shouted at them as Their Majesties entered the Conclave room. 

The ancient building walls and hallowed halls held the secrets of Monarchies past and currently holds the secrets of the present Monarchy. 

After Marquise and Shanelle took their seats, Lord and Lady Gallagher made their entrance. With their family flanking them. Smug, cocky, and overconfident, they sat across from Shanelle and Marquise. 

All four are ready for the vote to be announced. With the gallery of onlookers set, it was time for the vote to be heard. 

Duke Bertrand Beaumont, Duke of Ramsford, emerged from the voting room. Members of Parliament had been voting for three hours. 

“A vote has been reached,” he announced, “after three hours of deliberation, the Parliament is deadlocked. The vote is 10-10.” 

The gallery went from whispering fiercely to talking amongst themselves. 

“So what now?” Lord Gallagher asked Duke Bertrand, “The vote is over isn't it?” 

Duke Bertrand shook his head no 

“Not quite my Lord. Now we turn to the Charter of 1780. In the event of a tie vote, a tie-breaking vote must be cast.”

Many in the gallery, Shanelle included, looked confused as they tried to figure out who would cast the tie-breaking vote. Especially since Duke Bertrand couldn't. 

“Will Prince Sebastian please step forth?” Duke Bertrand asks. 

“What?” Shanelle whispered. 

Many turned to the back of the gallery, Marquise’s cousin Carlo stood up and stepped forward, the light catching on the Rys signet ring that had once adorned his grandfather’s King Leonardo’s hand. He slowly walked to where Duke Bertrand was standing in the middle of the room.

“Your Highness, you are called here today because you possess the power of a tie-breaking vote. Have you made your decision?” Duke Bertrand asks. 

“I have, Your Grace,” he replied. 

“What say you, Your Highness?” Duke Bertrand asked. 

“This vote is precious. So precious in fact, that it is rarely called upon. The tie-breaking vote belonged to my father, Prince Sebastian Giancarlo Rys I. A great former General. When he was killed, the vote passed to my mother, Duchess Dr. Nadia Adrianna Sorvano-Rys. As she is his widow. But when I turned 18, the vote became mine. And has been ever since.”

Carlo glanced back at his cousins, Marquise and Leo, who was sitting behind his younger brother and pregnant sister-in-law. 

“I stand here not just as a Prince, but as a member of history. Not just any history, Cordonian history. My ancestor, the same ancestor of Prince Leo and His Majesty, Queen Kenna Rys fought almost 500 years ago to unite five struggling kingdoms into the powerhouse of Cordonia that is today. I am a living testimony of her resilience. She laid the groundwork for which my family and I stand. It would be foolish to ignore Cordonian history. It would be perilous to upend it.”

Carlo took a deep breath before squaring his shoulders. 

“So today, instead of upending nearly 5 centuries of rich Cordonian history, I am choosing to preserve it. I am choosing to honor it. I am choosing to continue it. Because I am choosing to vote for Their Majesties, King Marquise Constantine Rys and Queen Shanelle Dominique Miller-Rys!” 

“The tie breaking vote is cast! Their Majesties have won the Conclave!” Duke Bertrand announced. 

The gallery erupted. Many cheered the victory of Their Majesties while others questioned what would happen now that Lord and Lady Gallagher have lost. 

Lord and Lady Gallagher sat at their table in stunned silence. Lord Gallagher tried to speak but nothing was coming out. And Lady Gallagher felt like someone has just knocked the wind out of her. They had lost and they couldn't believe it. 

Meanwhile, Shanelle felt like she could FINALLY breathe. After months of being undermined and pushed to her breaking point, it was over. Her kingdom was safe. And her reign would continue. 

Marquise on the other hand was as smug as ever. He knew about the tie-breaking vote but said nothing. He wanted it to be a surprise to everyone. Especially his wife. 

“Thank you, Carlo. Truly.” he said before embracing his cousin. 

“Always. We are the Rys Bloodline. This kingdom started with us and will continue with us.” Carlo replied. 

“Man I had no idea you and Aunt Nadia had the power of a tie-breaking vote,” Leo said to him. 

“That's because you never paid attention cousin. You were too busy causing trouble to learn our history.” Carlo said to him with a smirk. 

Shanelle was still too in shock to speak. Marquise gently squeezed her hand. 

“Are you alright love?” he asks. 

“You knew didn't you? You knew this whole time that Carlo had the power to break a tie?” Shanelle asks. Her voice trembling. 

He sat down next to her. 

“Yes I knew. I've known for years.”

“Why didn't you tell me?!”

“Because Carlo has never been needed until now. When I said there was no way we would ever lose, I meant that. This kingdom belongs to us. Period. So now you can breathe my love. Because it's over. This chapter is closed.”

Shanelle let out the breath she had been holding in. 

“It's over. It's finally over.” she whispered as tears started to fall, “I can't believe that it is over.”

He kissed the crown of her head. 

“Believe it, my love. Because now, we can celebrate our great victory.”

Their Majesties were still celebrating their victory at the Conclave—way too distracted to see the danger slithering just beyond the shadows. Sinister smiles. Deeper plots. Sharp eyes. Enemies like vipers. Venomous, coiled, and waiting to strike. When they least expect it.

[weaselbeaselpants]

Want to say this outloud so that the rest of the tag+comunity knows it and knows it well: not all the Lily Orchard-critical blogs and people HAVE to be buddy-buds with each other. It's always nice to have unity and no-infighting but you need to understand we are all adults talking about how we and other people have been hurt/set-upon by her base, or even preyed on by Lily herself.

Barring shitty transphobes and KiwiFarms (I 100% get why someone would go there, espec when receipt trails are getting harder and harder to keep up and are reported as harassment in sites like this one; I personally wouldn't trust the farms and the bozos there to handle my info well or with good faith. Other people who are using farms for receipt-tracking? Sure. The Farms themself? Fuck no and fuck Null) and obviously predatory people in their own right like Zena and Poppy, we're here to tell our stories and make sure other people's stories get told. Beef, even particuarly ugly beef like accusing each other of dismissing ab*se, zionism, or being angry that we're on servers w people we don't like - it's valid to not be chummy and mad at each other. Still, none of that will ever make us what Lily (or Zena and Poppy) is.

Lily Orchard-

wrote CP (her 'Stockholm' series). It may not have involved real children so it's not punishable by law in many states/prefectures, but y'know writing graphic cp is not a good thing. Most annoying proshippers defend the semantics of 'drawn material' out of fear that those rules will be abused and used to silence non-vile art: BUT, they don't support it and they don't want it around;

also, Lily up and lied to her audience, first that she ever wrote Stockholm then that the videos were she admitted to writing it were deepfakes and that the fanfiction's graphic bits were edited in by bronies who were mad at her.

stole (ie. copy-pasted other people's writing) other people's words and passed them off as her own

CONSTANTLY talks over people of color and other queer people. I'm too damn white and not native to dictate if Lily is truly 'native' or not. What she does/say though in the name of fighting for other lgbtq and bipoc folk is really scummy.

and that's JUST the tip of the iceberg!! Lily-

had PatchworkHearts make graphic p0rn of her behind her[Lily's] partner's back, most of which Patchwork was not comfortable with making but did so out of desperation that Lily took advantage of, including drawing r@pe-bestiality of on of Lily's x's ocs.

is quite possibly is a serial sock-puppeteer; creating accounts to live out her darker fantasies. On the offchance that Tara Callie is somehow a real person, than that real person is vile as hell and was just as much (longer so) a friend of Lily's than she was Britt's, so it's cruel of Lily to act like Britt was complacent in Tara's crimes and not her.

has been accused of lying about medical ailments to get money from her audience.

immediately dumped ILoveKimPossiblealot for having the gall to talk to LIly's accusers and get their stories, rather than just take Lily's word.

keeps instinctively misgenders people and only stops when she gets any heat for it like she did to EssenceofThought. By contrast every one of her main critical blogs has not misgendered or deadnamed her, and the one who initially did has actively avoided deadnaming and misgendering her since.

in now deleted videos and older tumblr posts, told friends of abuse victims not to care about their abused friends and parents of incestuous siblings to accept their children's incest.

is being accused by her sibling of CSEM. Lily has said it's the other way around but then also draws her sibling as the darvo'd sister from an incest game, dismisses said siblings abuse at the hands of their half sibling because Lily 'loves' him, and also proudly has mentioned beating up said sibling and slying saying she 'ran off with a pedophile' at 17 as though being taken advantage of (I know, Courtney does not view said relationship like this) is the sibling's fault.

And that's all I could remember for a single post. Im going to go back and post links once this headache I'm suffering from is sated.

[moistvonlipwig]

Fandom Wrap-Up 2024

Total words of fanfiction published: 25,807

Fandoms written for: Once Upon a Time, Supergirl, Teen Wolf

Events participated in: Scottuary 2024, OUAT Appreciation Week 2024

Fanfic I’m proudest of: This one has to go to my Supergirl fic "the most recent evidence seems to favor the sea gulls" (AO3 | SquidgeWorld), not just because it's long as hell and covers a ton of ground but also because I really challenged myself to do new things with it (choose-your-own-adventure format! POV of a character whose canon version I sometimes struggle to really grasp!) and I think the end result turned out really well. So that's definitely my magnum opus for the year.

Other fanworks I’m proudest of: I'm really proud of my BtVS meta "Eternity, Growing Up, and Why Buffy Keeps Dating Vampires"; I think it's one of my best analyses ever. I really love this Amphibia edit I made to Mary Ruefle's poem "The Tenor of Your Yes." I think this OUAT edit showing the main characters as animals is just plain cute, frankly. And I'm incredibly happy with my second ever fanvid, my Amphibia AMV “In the 99” (Tumblr | YouTube), which was more ambitious than my first fanvid and IMO has smoother editing.

Events I’m looking forward to next year: Scottuary 2025, High/Low Zine

Projects for next year: Aside from my projects for the aforementioned events, probably my biggest priority for next year is finishing my Steven Universe WIP "Hard But Brittle," which I started almost two years ago at this point. I also have a Buffyverse fic and a Teen Wolf fic that I've made good progress on that I hope to publish relatively early in the year. I also have yet to finish out my fics from the Year of the OTP 2023 event; I got one of them done this year, but I still have four left. I know the basic premises of all of them at this point, I just have to write them. And...I have a ton of other WIPs that may or may not see the light of day in 2025, I guess we'll have to see what happens. I'm also planning 2 AMVs that I'm hoping to put out next year -- one for Revolutionary Girl Utena and one for Adventure Time. I'm super excited about both of them, but it takes me a while to plan AMVs, so I'm not sure when they'll actually get published.

I’m no-pressure tagging:

@nocticola, @02511213942, @loisfreakinglane, @jioinfocommlimited, @sideguitars

@spikeface, @rhyslahey, @all-seeing-ifer, @coraniaid

...& anyone else who wants to do an end-of-year fandom retrospective, whether it’s about fic, art, gifs, vids, meta, or whatever other preferred medium you work in. Feel free to use whatever format you want, you don’t have to use mine. But tag me if you do it! :)

[lost-blue-ties-au]

hello welcome to my lore angst filled au!

Some disclaimers: this is an au and its gonna be out of character, I'll try to be in character but theres development and arcs that don't match with in character.

Any critism will be ignored and not taken to heart, if you don't like this au (or toifan) then the block button is right there

Heres the summary and some other info, i wrote it past my bedtime but i made some edits:

Fan just summarized what happened last on ii 18 to his fans and finished off with a "and thats what you missed on inanimate insanity!" And when he was done he was going to do something... *special* to testtube i must say, he was ranting about how successfully, excited and a lil upset he was to actually end his blog (crazy ik) and start something new like an actual yt channel or something (he hasn't figured it out yet) but before he was going to do the *special* thing testtube said his name like 10 times while fan was mid talking and when he was going to do the *special* thing testtube yelled his name and saying "look fan, i know we've been through alot, did projects together, did the blog together and even did 2 seasons together, but i think I've decided we should go separate ways-" "wait what." Fan interrupted, "*sigh* yes i think we should work on our own lives" "but WHY?" "Look we'll still be friends but i just don't feel like doing this anymore"... Fan out of frustration and sadness he pulled out the ray gun thingy and shot it at a rock a few times but since anger makes you think less he didn't realize, it could bounce. It bounced toward testtube and lets give us a few booms, BOOM BOOM BOOM testtube's left part of her head shattered. Fan stood in horror as testtube looked at fan fearfully "th-.. That wasn't me-" "then why do you have that ray gun in your hand." "It bounced off the rock okay!" Testtube looked around "what rock." It got destroyed when he shot it :D. Fan had nothing to say and just stared as testtube walked away with a blank face... *some amount of time flies by* ... Fan brought out a matching bow tie and a box that contains a ring in it (ykyk) and stared at it for a hot minute then put them away, he grabbed his phone and probably played block blast. Fan curled up in a ball to sad to even cry- OH HEY GUYS ITS TOILET "haIIO MIStah FaNnNNN!!" "wh- toilet?! The hell are you doing here i thought you were drinking at a bar with mephone-" "waHt gave you thdat idea???? AnywagyHWOW ARE YOUUUUI" fan didn't respond for a few minutes and then replied "wait your missing someone to right?" "MmmmmMMMmmm yAhhhh i miess mepad aloT-" "great your my new partner lets go!"

So ya i have alot of plots for how it can continue but thats for you all to decide (in a way). Magic anons can torture or do silly things, or ask them stuff, non canon crossovers, ooc ask, etc.

Also test tube blocked all of fan's contacts (obviously)

also if i don't anwser an ask for awhile this is why

Characters you can ask (atm):

🪭🟰 - Fan

🚽🎀 - toilet

🧪🩹 - Test tube

💡🔋 - Lightbulb

🖌📼 - Paintbrush

🥄🫖 - Silver spoon (dont ask why)

tags:

#ooc - out of character

#lbts art - art from others yayyy!!

#Ibts doodles - art or doodles from me

#lost blue ties au #lbts au - main tags i use for everything

#lbts lore - lore

#Toifan - they're in love trust!!!

#non canon - not canon to the story

(More tags later)

[writingnotes520]

Updates on @azrantimes's and I's &J au and who came up with each part (Garf's contributions are in orange, mine are in purple, joint contributions in the normal color):

- It has a name now!! It actually has two - I called it Rivalry Recast but Garf called it Shakespeare Karma AU (Theater Kid Hell Edition) so it's got two names now

- April isn't an alter ego or pseudonym in this one, she's Anne and William's daughter, though you'd have to look incredibly hard to find the resemblance between her and Will. She takes after her mother in looks, personality, all that. She does tech

- Anne and April have, for some reason, never been spotted in the same room together. Anne's students have this theory that Anne is actually a shapeshifter and April is just another form she takes. Anne has no idea about this theory, but April plays into it, sometimes even matching clothes with her mother to keep her classmates guessing

- Everybody in the main group looks like the year 3 cast. The players are also mostly the y3 cast but there are also some players from different casts

- William's quill follows him through every life he lives. However, it has some sort of illusion or enchantment on it that makes everybody else see it as the most popular writing tool of the time. The exceptions to this are Anne, April, and any of Will or Anne's characters.

- Romeo, curious to know what would happen, takes the quill and breaks off a little piece of it. The piece immediately regenerates while the original piece is still in his hand. Mercutio and Benvolio are the only students that can fully see what's happening, the rest of the students stare confused at why Romeo's hands are now covered in ink stains.

- Anne is the teacher that organizes all the diversity events at her school

- Anne is May and Juliet's favorite teacher. They spend lunch in her room yapping to her

- The play the Capulets' school is putting on is, of course, a Shakespeare rewrite by Anne. They're doing a version of Hamlet where Ophelia swears revenge instead of going mad

- The original Romeo and Juliet plot unfolds at semifinals, setting things up for &J to take place at the finals

- At the semfinals, Romeo and Juliet don't know who each other are at first because neither of them are wearing their name tags. Romeo, Benvolio, and Mercutio made a bit out of constantly swapping name tags, and May's name tag accidentally got printed with their deadname, so Juliet took hers off too until May's name tag got fixed so they wouldn't be the odd one out

- Francois immediately believes Romeo when he tells him about his "my director might actually be THE William Shakespeare" theory, he saw that the director was named William, the show was a Shakespeare, and the lead actor was named Romeo, and figured something was up

- The show Romeo's school is doing is A Midsummer Night's Dream, Romeo plays Theseus, Mercutio does lights, and Benvolio does costume and set design

- Romeo's original theory is that William (whose students call him Mr. S) is a time traveler rather than reincarnated

- William and Anne have heard the theory that Anne Hathaway (that one) and her husband are the Shakespeares reincarnated. They keep hearing this theory. Every single time, they just go "yeahhhh wouldn't that be crazy if William Shakespeare and Anne Hathaway came back? that'd be wilddddd anyway"

- If the players focus enough, they can see that the pen is a quill. Any of the students that are not based on players can't do this, but for the ones that are players, it's like watching a 3d movie without glasses. You know something's there, it just gives you a headache to try and see it

- Unfortunately due to limited knowledge of any other curriculums from the ones we're in and Garf's country being a bit random for an AU, this takes place in the US

- Romeo knows that no one will take his 'Mr. S is actually William Shakespeare" theory seriously until he can provide evidence, so he goes full detective and dons a comically large trench coat, sunglasses, and a hat to investigate

- Ben and Mercutio don't believe Romeo until the quill incident happens, but they help him in his quest anyway because they think it's funny and would always help their boy out

- I don't think I can phrase this one better than Garf's original suggestion about the aforementioned trio so I'll just copy paste it: "They're the most chaotic mystery solving squad and probably create more problems and mysteries than they solve but who cares (they try to get a mystery machine car. Then realize none of them has a driving license yet.)"

- Friar Lawrence is a student at the Capulet school and looks/acts suspiciously like William's former player Richard. Lawrence has a crush on May because of that one messed up line about marrying the friar and marrying in secret. Also protested the dress code until he was allowed to wear crop tops in school