#why did I think there was an exception to this rule

[himasgod]

M-Mayhaps platonic Malleus with reader who is his adoptive sibling but the Senate and majority of the people refuse to accept them as a sibling of their heir as they are half-fae and not a Draconia (Maleficia is fine with them but she holds very little power over the Senate)

MALLEUS AND READER

Where the Senate does not accept you as his sibling

The castle always smelled like briar smoke. You used to love that smell — it meant home, even when nothing else did. But lately, it just reminded you how unwanted you were here.

"You're scowling again," Malleus said beside you as you walked through the hall.

"Am I?" you muttered, hands in the sleeves of your robe. "Must be the lighting."

Your footsteps filled the corridor. The portraits of your adoptive ancestors — tall, haughty Draconias— glared down at you like they knew you didn’t belong.

The news from this morning still clung to your ribs: another vote in the Senate had failed to recognize you as a full member of the royal household.

"Third rejection this season," you said casually, trying not to care. "I’m breaking records."

"Their pride will cost them more than a few stained ledgers if they continue."

You glanced at him. Malleus looked calm, but his eyes were that stillness he always got when he was furious.

For your sake. That still made your chest ache.

"They say I’ll never be a Draconia, no matter how many generations pass. They call me the ‘thornblood orphan’ behind my back."

Malleus stopped walking. You almost kept going before realizing.

"You were not chosen my sibling because of your blood. You were chosen because you were family the moment you looked at me and asked if my horns were heavy, when you were almost a toddler."

"...You remember that?"

He allowed himself a ghost of a smile.

“I had never laughed so much before that night.”

Maleficia was waiting in her usual spot, teacup balanced on one finger.

"You’re late," she said mildly, not looking up.

You bowed your head and flopped gracelessly onto the cushion beside her.

"Politics is a disease."

"Mmm. Caught it young, did you?"

You groaned into the pillow. Maleficia finally turned, her features sharp and amused.

“You’re stronger than them. That’s why they hate you. You've established a bond of trust with Malleus that neither of them has been able to achieve in decades and decades of years.”

"They hate me because I don’t fit into their little picture of a perfect monarchy."

"That too. But mostly because you remind them their rules can be bent. Bent rules threaten old men with no power except tradition."

You peeked up at her.

“Why do you always sound like you’re quoting an evil play?”

“I am an evil play,” she replied, lifting her teacup with flair. “But I’m your play, and I’d turn every last one of those doddering cowards into bats if I had more authority. I could have it, but… I'm getting older. I prefer to drink tea and watch them argue in the Senate with a smile.”

"...Thank you?"

"You’re welcome, little thorn."

The chamber echoed with voices.

“Half-fae or not,” one senator was saying, “the child has no blood claim to the throne and cannot be granted the privileges of the House Draconia.”

Malleus rose from his chair slowly. The room fell into silence.

"You dare refer to my sibling as 'the child' in my presence?"

The senator blanched.

"I recognize blood, but I also recognize loyalty. Character. Strength. And if the Senate does not, perhaps they should look in a mirror and ask if it still deserves to stand.”

The senator sputtered.

“You would threaten the Senate?”

“No,” Malleus said, smiling ever so slightly. “I would only remind it that I am not a child anymore. And neither is my sibling.”

That night, you sat alone in the overgrown garden. You watched the fireflies float, thinking how they never questioned belonging.

Malleus appeared wordlessly and sat beside you.

“…You’re not supposed to talk to the gallery guests,” you said, trying for humor. “It’s probably illegal.”

“Would it make a difference, if I told you that I consider you closer to methan half the fools arguing over titles?”

“They’ll never stop coming for me.”

“Then let them come. You are not alone.”

You leaned against his shoulder. Malleus let you.

At the next state event, you walked at Malleus’s side. Not behind him. Not two steps back as usual.

The nobles stared, bristling in quiet outrage.

Malleus offered you his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Let them see," he said.

"They're already whispering," you replied, adjusting your head high.

"Then let them choke on it."

You smirked.

The thornblood orphan walked like royalty that night. Because you were.

And eventually, they would have no choice but to see it.

[yaoipologist]

i think it's a bit ridiculous how often i see people just blatantly wrong about grian in third life so i wanted to make a post saying my opinion:

it's so incredibly obvious to me that grian wants to be with scar. the initial deal - my life for your life - was made By Grian. it was offered and freely given. scar was wary talking to grian while the deal was being made because he thought grian was going to fucking kill him again. swearing fealty to him was not scar's idea, it was entirely grian's, made of his own free will.

immediately afterwards, grian does a full 180 and is very open about how much he dislikes being with scar and being tied to him. he tells everyone that scar is crazy, tries to disrupt his small plans that he disapproves of, even yells at him about what he wears ("put your clothes back on!"). it seems like it's a fight, like he disapproves of scar's every action and is being dragged along as an unwilling participant.

but grian doesn't leave. he doesn't go to other people for help leaving the situation, despite them offering. he warns people about scar knowing full well that scar knows what he's doing and is in full earshot (and laughs at scar's comments about it when they're alone). despite the deal allowing for his release, his loyalty to scar does not shake until the very end, no matter how much he complains.

and scar is not some cruel jailer. scar is absurdly nice and almost gentle with grian. "can we still be friends?" while handing him flowers, carrying him around on pizza's back, doing everything he can to make him laugh, always going along with his setups. scar never treats him like a vassal and instead treats him like a dear friend. it's clear that scar has genuine affection for grian, even as a red life. even if grian got in that situation unwillingly, scar doesn't use him like that.

if anything, there's an argument to be made that grian uses scar to get away with his own schemes. very often he not-so-subtly nudges scar to give him the go-ahead to kill. grian is very particular about rules and this season is no exception; he toes the line very carefully between what he's allowed to do and what he isn't, and crosses that line frequently for his own gain. he is the deadliest player that season by a mile, not in the least because scar lets him be.

but like i said, scar plays right along with it. he gladly becomes the partner in grian's explosive schemes and always backs him up, even when grian fails to always back HIM up. scar is more than willing to play the part of facilitator. he's not trapped either.

watching with all this in mind and the understanding that the characters aren't speaking exactly what they mean (because why would they? that's never been the case with fiction!), we understand that there is something more going on here. grian is not telling the truth when he says he does not like his partnership with scar, and looking at the way they actually act, it's pretty obvious he genuinely cares for and treasures him.

this is part of what makes video game roleplay so difficult to talk about - the medium allows unreliable narrators to lie directly to the audience's faces, where we tend to most believe them. subtleties in the storytelling can get lost if you take it all at face value and the real diamonds end up being seen as just shiny rocks.

i think it's very clear the swearing fealty thing was an excuse for grian to get close to scar. i don't doubt he actually felt bad about scar's first death, but i do doubt that it was the only motivation for teaming with him. if he was only there because he felt bad, he would not act the way he did. he wanted to be there, at least a little bit, from the very beginning.

(as always, this is an analysis of a piece of fiction that happened to be made in minecraft. none of this has any relevance to real world relationships. this is like dungeons and dragons to me and i will treat it as such)

[corrcdedcoffin]

Put Your Head on My Shoulder - JJ Maybank

frenemies(?) to friends jj maybank x reader

request: no

summary: you and jj are banned from being alone together after you trying to injure him. but one day, he shows up on your front step and breaks down.

warnings: 18+, small acts of violence? (reader throws things) descriptions of a panic attack (nothing crazy tho), hurt/comfort fic, happy ending, fluff, enemies to friends trope

word count: 1.8k

You didn't necessarily hate JJ, but for the longest time you didn't exactly like him. He was loud, crude, smoked too much weed and drank too many beers, and he never took anything seriously. Ever.

It wasn't something you'd expressed to everyone, but they could tell that you weren't exactly his number one fan. That being said, you did have some fun times with him. When he wasn't trying too hard, you thought he was quite funny, maybe even a little charming, though you'd never admit it.

Most of the time he made you roll your eyes in annoyance, or occasionally you'd tell him to fuck off and shut up. JJ always took it as an invitation to fuck around even more, particularly to get a rise out of you. He reminded you of an annoying kid in your second grade class, always getting sent to the office or the hall for being a disturbance. Chasing everyone around during recess and thinking they enjoyed it (when they clearly didn't). 

It was agreed upon the group that the two of you were not to be left alone after you threw rocks at him in retaliation to him pestering you all day once. You were thankful for that, truly. 

You'd all shown up at John B's with no plan, as you usually do, but were quickly forced to find something else to do. John B and Sarah said they had a date day planned and couldn't hang out, and it wasn't long after they left that Kiara had been called to help at The Wreck, leaving with an eye roll and a warning to play nice, or else. Pope never even showed up, so it was obvious he got stuck working. That left you and JJ. 

It wasn't your ideal situation, but it wasn't like he was some monster. He couldn't be that bad one on one, right? 

Wrong. 

You went for ice cream, and he made a bigger mess than the literal children there. His hands were a sticky mess, the table, napkins everywhere, and he did not. stop. talking. 

After ice cream, he begged you to stop at the corner store for snacks. You went in and selected your few, and couldn't help the scoff you let out after seeing JJ ogle the cashier. You weren't jealous, absolutely not, but you did briefly wonder what it'd be like to be desired by JJ Maybank. It was cut short when the sound of a crash made you jump. 

JJ was on the floor, a display rack of candy and chips knocked down and spread out next to him. 

"Fucking idiot" you muttered as you began to clean it up, JJ sheepishly helping.

Then, you'd gone back to John B's house (JJ's request), and lounged under the big tree for the rest of the day. It was nice, until JJ started talking and didn't stop (again), then throwing candies at you when you didn't answer, and then twigs when you still didn't answer. 

John B, Sarah and Kiara all showed up to you chasing JJ with a handful of rocks, throwing them at him as hard as you could. The rule was put in place right then and there, and for months, it helped. You were thankful to not have to spend a minute alone with him ever again. 

Except for right now. JJ Maybank was on your front steps in the early hours of the night.

"What?" was all you asked as you opened the door for him, staring expectantly. What the hell could he possibly want?

"Have you heard from John B?"

"No, why?"

"What about Pope? Or Kie o-or even Sarah?"

There was something off about him. He was dishevelled: the neck of his shirt was stretched out, there was a few rips in it, his hair was messier than usual - not in the casual 'i just woke up' way he always has, and he had a frantic look in his eye. Something you couldn't really decipher.

"No, I think they're working. And I don't know about Sarah and John B, probably on a date" you shrugged. "Are you good?"

You knew he wouldn't answer truthfully, but you weren't gonna be a dick and ignore his obvious distress.

JJ laughed maniacally. "Of course! I'm great! On top of the fucking world, thanks for asking! Would be super stellar if my fucking friends would answer their phones."

You pursed your lips as you silently observed him, choosing not to take offence at not being considered a friend of his. You weren't entirely sure you'd call him a friend either. His lower lip had a cut that was fresh, pried open once more in his outburst; bright red and pink all around. His left cheek was also a bit red, starting to look a little purple.

"You sure?"

If looks could kill, he'd have chopped you in half just then. "Yes, I'm sure! I just need— I need-" he stopped, hand gripping his chest and rubbing as if he couldn't catch his breath. He crouched down, taking sharp shallow inhales.

Your eyes went wide before you snapped into action.

Helping him lean back against the porch wall, you crouched in front of him and placed a hand over the one on his chest, the other on his shoulder. "Okay, it's alright" you spoke calmly. He'd never heard you sound so gentle.

"I know it hurts, but I need you to focus on my voice."

"I can't" he choked out, eyes shut tight, hand subconsciously gripping onto yours in attempt to ground himself.

"Yes you can. I need you to take a deep breath, and don't let it out until I tell you to, okay?"

He gripped your hand even harder, looking up at you, silently pleading for help. It made your heart twist. You may not have been the best of friends, but there was something about seeing him like this that made you.. hurt. You hurt for him, and with him.

"In," you continued, taking a breath with him. "Now let it out."

His breath was shaky, but his eyes didn't leave yours. Not even after the fourth breath when you reached down for his other hand and started lightly squeezing in rhythm with your breathing, thumb rubbing gently across the back of his hand.

JJ was trying as hard as he could to ignore the feeling of his chest caving in, and focus on you instead. The way you held onto him tight, how you looked so concerned. Were you worried about him?

He found it easy to focus on you. 

You watched as he went from an anxious ball of fear to being able to control his breathing again, muttering soft words of encouragement as he slowly regained his composure. You took the breaths with him, acting as a guide and not letting him stray from the instructions. You weren't sure how long it took, but the sky was nearly fully dark and it seemed awfully quiet out.

JJ pulled his hand away from his chest, and you began to remove your hands from his grip. "Don't, please. Not yet" he swallowed harshly.

You nodded silently, shuffling over to sit next to him instead, back resting against the porch wall, shoulders touching. He kept your hand in a firm grip, squeezing every so often with a deep breath.

"What was that?"

"Panic attack," you stated, nodding your head slightly.

"Huh. How did you know what to do?"

You stared blankly for a moment before responding. "I used to get them a while back, when my mom was in the hospital. My dad said she used to get them too, and that's what he'd do to calm her down. And for me."

JJ nodded, giving your hand a light squeeze.

It was strange to be here with him. You knew you were his last option; it didn't bother you, but to have him so close and in a vulnerable state like so, it felt like almost like a privilege to be by his side.

You always thought of him as arrogant and crass, when really he's just as fragile as you, or anyone else. It wasn't a secret that his home life was troubled, but before this you'd always thought he was invincible in a way. That nothing affected him.

It was silent for a long time as the two of you sat there, holding hands. JJ was glad you didn't pester him about it, wondering why he freaked out or offering solutions and unsolicited advice. You let him play with your fingers, examining your nail polish and your rings, then your bracelets.

"Thank you" he spoke quietly, finally building up the courage to look at you.

You turned to him, expression almost unreadable and gave him a nod. "S'what friends are for, right?" you smiled lightly.

Huh, friends, he thought. He didn't not like the sound of it.

Things were different after that.

What used to be arguments between you two turned into playful banter. You started spending more time together in small groups, then eventually one on one. Turns out you had more in common than either one of you ever thought.

The others noticed your blossoming friendship. It was slow, calm, and it seemed to patch a hole in your hearts that neither of you knew was there.

For a while you tiptoed around each other, going through a phase of politeness before being comfortable treating each other like the rest of the group. You learned more about him bit by bit. Whenever he had that feeling in his chest, he'd come straight to you, no matter where you were. He found comfort in you. 

It was easy for him to talk to you, surprisingly. He found himself telling you things he'd never said aloud, not even to John B.

He liked to study you, too. 

You were rowdy and wild around your friends, and very quiet around people you didn't know or like. You were a good listener, and never ever offered unwarranted advice; always making sure people's feelings were validated and understood. 

You snort when you laugh, and you always cough when you smoke, no matter what. You became the champ at shot-gunning beers, and he thought it was funny when you made yourself a crown out of beer cans. 

When you were nervous or anxious, you pressed your thumbs really hard. 

JJ felt a sense of responsibility to help you the way you help him, and you appreciated it. The way he'd place himself in front of you slightly around people who made you uncomfortable, and how he'd gently rub his knuckles on the back of your arm to let you know he was there with you, ready to bail whenever you said the words.

Life wasn't perfect on the cut, but as you got off the H.M.S Pogue at the chateau after a long day of swimming and smoking, taking JJs extended hand from the dock: the smile on his face and the twinkle in his eye told you that none of it mattered as long as your friends were by your side.

And you were glad he was one of them.

don't be shy, reblog!

[secondbeatsongs]

how do people even like. deal with things. like how do they do that

[yarrowleef]

I was skimming part of code of the clans today where the Leafpool narrator goes over proposed code rules that were struck down. I was curious why this StarClan rule wasn't implemented because it seems like something the zealot clan cats would go for. The guide does not rly answer my question lol

This is such a weird paragraph. It's like. In one breath Leafpool-narrator is saying they didn't make it a code rule because clan cats can think for themselves, but in the next breath implies that belief in StarClan is in fact necessary for living in the clan, because to live in a clan means you have to follow the warrior code, and belief in StarClan is what makes them follow the code (apparently). If you don't believe in StarClan, she seems to imply that must mean you are planning on leaving the clan? ("it's not a law to stay in the clan" + you can "choose a different path"?) There is not actually any room being made here for a clan cat to peacefully not believe in StarClan---at least not a good code abiding clan cat. And the alternative of leaving the clan obviously means you are no longer planning on following any of the code, so like...how is this meaningfully different from making it an official code rule?

[wonder-worker]

"My analysis is predicated on a distinction between the medieval concepts of authority, defined as the legitimate right to act, and of power, the ability to impose one’s will on others. By the High Middle Ages, inherited authority was associated with a fief, granting individuals the right to rule in a certain region according to certain prescribed regulations. While authority typically implies a chain of command, power, a more elusive quality, is defined abstractly as the ‘‘ability to act effectively on persons or things, to make or secure favorable decisions which are not of right allocated to the individuals or their roles.’’ According to this definition, power is much more elusive, based on personal effectiveness and influence rather than on sanctioned right to command. This distinction clearly operated in the Middle Ages, where the two concepts were related but not synonymous. Authority was associated with hereditary [or granted] titles and offices. However, while the possession of authority legitimated one’s actions, it did not guarantee their effectiveness. Conversely, while individuals who lacked authority could impose their will on others by force or influence, their actions would not have been considered legitimate. Although they are often used interchangeably by modern authors, authority and power referred to distinct attributes in the Middle Ages."

— Erin L. Jordan, "The "Abduction" of Ida of Boulogne: Assessing Women's Agency in Thirteenth-Century France", French Historical Studies, Volume 30, Issue 1 (Winter 2007)

[hyacinths-in-a-storm]

Genuinely what was going through Iroh’s mind as he said that fighting the Firelord was the ‘Avatar’s battle’. Yeah I understand that history will see it as a power grab, but I think we have bigger problems than that. Like, I don’t know, THE FACT THAT SOZIN’S COMET IS IN A FEW HOURS AND THE AVATAR IS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.

[dropthecop]

actually the only good unhelmeting of a masked character is if they have a smaller identical helmet underneath the first one

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

My coworkers preach work-life balance but then they keep telling me I can call them on their vacations because they want me to succeed

[trujellyfish]

so frustrated with myself lmao

"i should set an alarm for this thing. its important, and i cannot afford to forget."

nah, its important, so i wont forget :)

*forgets* :o

babe you've been like this ur whole life. the adults that told you "if you forgot, that means it wasnt important" were Mean and Unhelpful. forget them and their nonsense!!

make alarms for yourself im begging you

[wings-0f-sorrow]

i hate my brain because i'll be like 'heh. another 'male' f/o now woman-ified' only for me to now, the next day, flip flop and go 'okay but do u REALLY wanna do that for THIS specific f/o when going gnc w/ him would work just as well lol. this feels wrong change it STUPID IDIOT change it NOW'

[movie-robotnik-positivity]

I don't think Robotnik ever saw Stone's affection as genuine. He's used to people only valuing him if he's useful. His own bosses call him a freak, yet they put up with him because of his "perfect operation record". He isn't even shocked when he learns the goverment erased him, he expected it and had a contingency plan ready.

He keeps calling Stone a sycophant and a barnacle, because why else would someone stay with him if not to gain something? Clearly, Stone is just a suck-up wanting to ride his coattails. And Ivo is fine with that! He gets his ego stroked and in return Stone gets a slice of the world-domination pie. Mutually beneficial!

This symbiotic relationship gives Ivo a sense of control and ensures that Stone won't abandon him like everyone else. It also keeps him detached: of course Stone waited months or him to return from space, that's his job. His admiration is inevitable, and meaningless.

Ivo develops a genuine, irrational attachment to Stone, one he's able to rationalize as just being transactional. Those emotional walls shield him from the fear of abandonment that comes with caring for another person.

Except...even after Robotnik becomes a liability, Stone stays. There's no benefit, no plans of ruling humanity, not even a paycheck. Yet despite everything, Ivo tries to keep the old boss/employee dynamic going. He can't fathom the idea that someone would stay for anything other than convenience.

Then Gerald shows up, and for the first time Ivo allows himself to put down those walls. As an orphan he had built up this idealized image of family that he thought he could never have. People will use you then toss you aside when convenient, but family? Family is different. Family will always be there for you and love you no matter what. Family won't abandon you.

And suddently Stone's grovelling is no longer necessary. Why would he need someone who just pretends to like him when he now has all the unconditional love he's always longed for? That's obviously why Stone got so jealous, it couldn't have been real concern, he was just afraid of losing his comfy position as the lapdog of humanity's new king. Between a sycophant and family, the choice felt obvious.

And, of course, Gerald turns out to be just like everyone else in Ivo's life: just another person trying to get something from him. The second he stopped being useful, he was tossed aside.

His image of family is once again shattered, but those emotional walls are already down. Now that Ivo experienced that betrayal he was so afraid of, now that he's about to die, he's finally able to be honest with himself.

Looking down on Earth, he realizes there had only ever been one person on that blue marble who actually cared. Someone who had always been there, even when there was nothing to gain. Stone had never abandoned him.

But he had abandoned Stone. He tossed him aside, just like Gerald did to him. Now that he's able to understand how Stone felt, this is his last chance to make things right.

In his final moments, with nothing to fear, Robotnik puts down his emotional walls and opens up as best as he can. Stone had done so much for him, asked for nothing in return, and now it was his turn to do the same. Ivo helped save the world, not for recognition or convenience, but simply out of love.

Stone had always been a sycophant to him, yes, but he had also been a friend. A sycofriend.

[ilikecorndogs]

Random thought from earlier today: all, if not most, idiocy comes from dramatic irony

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ virgin!reader who's concocted this whole narrative about fratboy!satoru taking some bizarre vow of celibacy. ridiculous, maybe – but honestly, his pre-you life felt like a completely different era. no hookups. no casual encounters. didn't that violate some unspoken rule in the frat bible?

"where are your notes?" he asks, the mattress dipping as he sprawls out.

you swivel from your spot at the desk, a genuine "huh?" escaping.

"your notes, cherry," he repeats, a teasing lift to his eyebrow. "you said you needed study help."

a slow blink. you pretend to search your memory. "oh. right. notes. actually… i think i'm good."

satoru's brow furrows. "then why the invite?"

"what? a girlfriend can't just want her boyfriend over?"

"cherry," he corrects, a pointed look in his eyes, "i'm not your boyfriend."

"yet," you hum, amending his correction with a sly smile. "either way, my roommate's out."

he blows out a breath, a slow nod. "perfect. peaceful study session. never did like her anyway."

"please tell me you weren't actually expecting only studying," you say, a playful challenge in your tone. "empty dorm. just us. alone."

satoru's frown deepens, and you deploy your most pathetic puppy-dog eyes. his don't even flicker.

"we're not having sex," he states flatly, crossing his impressive arms. big, strong, very noticeable arms.

"yet," you echo, a hopeful lilt in your voice.

"right," he sighs, a hint of amusement in his exasperation, "yet." satoru had this thing about taking it slow, like a time-traveling puritan.

"we aren't there yet, though," he adds, a subtle shift in his gaze. no intercourse, he'd declared. but he'd conveniently omitted any mention of what didn't count as intercourse. a loophole you were currently exploiting, straddling his lap, your lips throbbing from his kisses, your teeth nipping and tangling.

your skirt has crept far, far up, panties a damp second skin plastered against his boxers, the evidence of your arousal mingling with his pre-cum in the increasingly sodden fabric between you.

satoru's hands are firm on your hips, anchoring you. you already feel the telltale spasms against your core twice, milking his thick length through the barrier of his jeans just by the friction of your slick heat against his bulge. a low groan rumbles in his chest, his head falling back, eyes momentarily glazed.

you have to give him credit; amish commitment or not, he's putting up one hell of a fight against actual penetration. you almost admire his self-control. almost. except for the fact that it's really eating at yours.

his hips buck against yours, a desperate, involuntary movement that draws a moan from your throat. "god, cherry," he mumbles into the curve of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. you press down, your knees digging into the mattress on either side of his thighs, effectively pinning him. if he won't fuck you, you'll damn well make the most of what he will do.

the waves of your own pleasure blur together, a relentless tide washing over you. nonetheless, that insistent heat low in your belly coils tighter, one again, every rigid inch of him a focused pressure against your clit through the layers of fabric, a desperate ache building. when the next shared orgasm rips through you both, a strangled whine escapes your lips against his soft, white hair.

yeah. turns out, "taking it slow" has a very different meaning in practice.

[fingertipsmp3]

I love TS2 but it has some really stupid mechanics built into it

[soruiru]

destruction of government property || leona kingscholar

aka;;;; giving the general of the sunset savannah a hickey is technically against the law. || 270 words.

it wasn't uncommon for you to be summoned by farena or his wife once in a while— after all, you were leona's spouse, and as the second son of the former king, his job was overseeing the military of the sunset savannah— which meant, that in all cases possible, you were a military spouse.

"did you—" farena guffaws as his wife smacks his chest, trying not to laugh herself, "give leona a hickey?"

"do you really want the ins and outs of your brother's sexual life here?" you deadpan, eyebrow raised as farena closes his eyes and wheezes, his wife biting her lip to keep her laughter in.

"there's a rule you should know, [name]." she calls, gently drawing you out of your ire. "ahem... the— the defense personnel regulations act clearly states that any and all personnel are property of the reigning monarch of the sunset savannah with due respect given to personal liberties."

"yeah... i know this. why—"

"please don't leave hickeys on your husband, he's not except from the law, and you—" she pauses, guffawing, "you could go to jail for that."

"are you serious. right now. are you serious."

the entire palace watches you toss a rock at farena and his wife as you stalk off, the only remnant of your "advisory meeting" being the loud laughter of the couple.

it makes sense, you think to yourself. leona's always had a penchance for breaking the fucking law.

you couldn't hate him either way— for the next day, at a public meeting with selected representatives of the common class, the hickies were found next to his lips.