#no one can judge you for asking questions

[miffyscakes]

Your First Time

(smut/nsfw warning, minors + men dni)

SYNOPSIS: You’ve been dating your girlfriend Sevika for a few months now, but you still haven’t told her that you've never had sex with ANYONE

WARNINGS: smut, dom!sevika, sub!reader, teasing, strap use, strap r!receiving, timid/shy!reader, no use of y/n, aftercare, afab reader

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

A/N: does anyone ever feel like the character youre writing or reading abt is like judging you and can see what youre doing or is that js me

creds for dividers: @/bbyg4rlhelps

“Hey, you ok baby?” Sevika asked, concerned as she looked up at you as you were straddled on top of her, wearing one of Sevika's old t-shirts. You stared down at her, your facial expression staying in a state of confusion and worry.

You hesitate before nodding, not wanting to worry her.

She grabbed your hips gently and placed you down beside her on her mattress.

“Why do you look so sad, sweetheart?” Sevika questioned, looking at you curiously as she went to go grab her shirt on her bedside table to put it back on. Before she was able to put her shirt on you grabbed her hand, attempting to prevent her from putting it on.

“No… I want to… but” you stuttered to finish your sentence, not wanting to admit to her that you’ve never been fucked or had sex with anyone before despite your age.

“What’s wrong baby?” Sevika asked, sounding more concerned this time but still holding the natural deep tone of her voice.

“I’ve never… y’know…” you mumble, looking down as you fidgeted with your fingers awkwardly, not wanting to see the judgy look on Sevika’s face. But then you heard that familiar sound of her snickering quietly to herself.

You look up, about to scold her for making fun of you for something like that. But before you can say anything, you spot a smirk appear on her face and then she gets up from her bed and goes into her closet to grab something.

You crawl to the edge of her bed, trying to look at what she’s doing in her closet. However, your curiosity dissipates as you see your girlfriend with a large black strap-on and her smirk still plastered onto her face. You feel your face heat up and your heart beat faster; you didn’t know if this was out of fear, excitement or arousal, potentially it was all three at the same time…

Before you could even collect a single idea as to what Sevika was going to do you felt her cold hands grab your hips and prop you right on top of her, putting you back into a position where you’re straddling her.

"Uh..'Vika? What're you doing?" you question your girlfriend as you look down into her beautiful rough grey eyes. She doesn't respond, she just simply sits up, kisses you softly and lays back down onto her mattress, a smirk still plastered onto her face.

"I don't know what I'm doing..."you mumble, looking away from Sevika out of embarrassment once again.

"Don't worry about that baby, I'll teach you" Sevika says before slowly lowering you down closer so the tip of her strap is nearly inside of you. Simply just the thought of her cock being so close to your pussy was enough to make you come.

"We'll take it slow baby, no rush..." Sevika says, her voice sounding genuine while still holding her deep tone that her voice naturally has. Suddenly, you feel a sudden warmth between your legs as you feel her strap slowly go inside of your pussy. The suddenness of it is enough to make you moan softly and instantly grab onto both of Sevika's shoulders as support.

"You're so fuckin' wet and I haven't even fucked you yet, doll" Sevika snickered, and at that moment you knew that you wouldn't be able to walk for days after this.

You suddenly felt her cold hands on your hips, you shivered at the sudden touch. Sevika then began to slowly push you up and down, thrusting her strap deeper into your pussy each time you got brought back down.

Before you knew it, you started just subconsciously bouncing up and down faster on her cock.

You were sweating, moans bouncing off of the walls of Sevika's apartment.

Your head is empty; focused on trying to cum, focused on trying to pleasure yourself in such a rewarding way as Sevika is underneath you. However, before you can reach the peak point of your pleasure, Sevika pulls you off of her and places you beside her once again. You look at her confused, still panting from how hard you bounced up and down on her cock.

You sit there confused, until you're swiftly pushed onto your back and your thighs are rested onto Sevika's shoulders. You barely get to process the position you're in before Sevika begins thrusting her strap inside of you.

She starts off slow, still not wanting to rush you into anything too quick, not wanting to hurt you during your first time. That is until she begins getting carried away as you moan; it seems as if the louder you moan, the more excited it makes her.

However, you don't complain as Sevika continues to pound her strap in and out of your pussy. "You're so fuckin' pretty..." Sevika mutters as she continues to grunt as she pounds into you. "You're taking it so well...".

Whenever you subconsciously attempt to close your legs she uses her mechanical copper arm to keep your thighs far apart from each other. You hear Sevika begin to speak, but you're barely able to hear nor answer as her strap hits that spot again, again, and again.

When you finally cum,

You scream.

It feels so good that you shamelessly ask for more. Of course, Sevika has no problem with this whatsoever. After the second, third and fourth time of her roughly pounding her strap inside of your pussy, you're left a trembling mess. You're covered in sweat, your voice left hoarse after how loudly you've been moaning and screaming from the amount of pleasure you've received.

"You did so good baby..." Sevika says, as she steps off of the bed and into the bathroom. She comes out not even a minute later with a dampened pink cloth to clean up the mess you've made all over your thighs and hers.

As she slowly cleans up in between your thighs, she leaves kisses around the areas that she's bruised from how roughly she handled you. She softly kisses your clit and hums, sounding satisfied with what she's done to you.

[yanderenightmare]

L "Lawliet"

♡ TW: yandere L, Kira reader, captive reader...

♡ GN reader

♡ AN: omfg idek, thinking about reader!Kira kept by yandere!L...

The day was like any other day—quiet with an undertone of something very loud but unspoken, though not unknown.

It had been that way for a while. 

He was on the floor in his usual unusual position, like some type of bug trapped in a human body. A few plates of different cakes and an arrangement of games splayed out in front of him, the type that were made for children or otherwise those you’d resort to during a power outage, such as stacking cards, folding papers into different types of planes, and placing dominoes into satisfying patterns, until that proved satisfying no more. 

You could tell, but you wouldn’t look at him—you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, not yet, at least, not until he made the first move and begged for it. It'll be any second now. When he gets like this, you can feel his restlessness a mile away, the way his wide inkblot eyes turn to you every now and again, gearing up to something with his thumb stuck in his mouth—not exactly biting it, but resting it between his lips—like some child waiting for the courage to ask their parent an unwanted question.

He fails to place a card just perfectly, and the castle falls. And after a mournful silence, he looks at you again. And out finally comes, “Do you regret it?”

You were lying on the couch just in front of him, trying to read, or pretending to at least. The book was something fictional and stupid—something you’ve never had the patience for. But lately, he hasn’t been giving you any other options—no news, no nothing.

You’d been pondering whether he might have finally gotten bored discussing ethics and politics with you, or that he maybe just took pleasure in depriving you of the outside world, wanting your undivided attention focused on him, playing his games instead of yours. 

You can’t blame him. After all, playing your game nearly had him killed. In fact, it very nearly killed you both.

And yet, despite that, you still answer a truthful “No.”

He lets it sit in the air for a moment before continuing in his usual monotone drawl, “Do you even know how many you murdered?”

It’s funny, but he doesn’t ask it in a very accusatory way. Rather, he’s just curious, like always, wanting to pick you apart like a frog in science class or like roadkill to an up-and-coming serial killer—his favorite pastime.

But as always, he's not the only sociopath in the room, and two can play that game.

And so you twist it with a scoff, “Tch,” still not returning his stare, still pretending to be into the drivel written on the paper in front of you, you turn the page nonchalantly as you challenge him. “Do you?”

It’s small, but you could tell the features on his face ever so slightly shift into a vague expression of confusion, joined by apprehension. And hidden there, underneath it all, in the ever-so-slight quirk of his slim lips, there's even a hint of excitement. 

His acts of childish goofiness dissipate, leaving the alien on clear display. A bit more emotion in his voice as he states, challenging you right back, “I’m not a murderer.”

This time, you scoff with more humor. “Don’t make me laugh, L.” Smiling now as you rebut, “Of course you are.”

You let the book drape your stomach like a tent, casually slanting your head to the side, looking down at him.

“Exactly how many people have you sent to jail?”

He doesn’t answer at once. You don’t need to count the seconds to know he’s struggling to find one. In fact, if he could blush, which you’re not sure he can, you bet he would have right now.

He makes his defeat with a sigh as he gets up—most likely prompted by the view of you looking down your nose—straightening his legs as he stalks over to the armchair matching the sofa, hunched over, answering you through a faked yawn, “I’m not a judge, I can’t—”

“Good grief.” You don’t let him finish. It’s beneath him, and otherwise, too late for him to try and act cool now.

You get up as well, letting the book tumble uncaringly to the floor like the trash you both know it is as you step before him.

"You know I love it when you play dumb, but I'd be a liar if I said you were any good at it," you snicker, lifting your leg and mounting his lap like it were only natural. 

He accepts you nearly as naturally. A little stiffer to the touch than you, though that’s just part of the amusement.

“Let me rephrase,” you murmur—sultry, very nearly sweetly.

Gliding your hands up his chest, fingertips first, tracing his jagged collarbones around his throat, before interlocking them on his nape, tickled by his black hair. Faces close, lips even closer, speaking to him in no manner a prisoner should speak to their warden. 

“How many have been given the death sentence after you’ve proved them guilty?”

Again, he doesn’t have an immediate answer.

And so you smile—this time widely. This time, proudly. “You might as well have been signing their names in a little book of your own.”

His eyes slant to the side, looking off while thinking. Hands placed comfortably upon your haunches, thumbs drawing light circles, playing with the crinkle of your shirt��or well, his shirt as a matter of fact.

“That’s a funny way of looking at it, but I suppose you’re not entirely incorrect,” he mumbles.

You lean in closer, chest pushed up against him, until your lips rest just by his ear, whispering, “We’re different only by law, and you know it.”

He doesn’t flinch—he never has, really, no matter how brazen you get. He remains calm and collected, turning his cheek right against yours, nuzzling your ear with his lip the same way, returning it with a similar whisper, “Wrong.”

His breath is hot on your neck. It’s actually you who has to withhold flinching as he continues speaking to you just so, in that low and droning voice of his, “I worked to catch my victims. All you did was write their names down.”

You retreat, leaning back with a quirked brow.

“You’re petty because I cheated?”

Again, he looks off to the side for a moment, then back at you, but his answer doesn’t come after long, “You could put it that way.”

“Tch," you sneer. "Don’t act like you didn’t break the rules too. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

He looks unfazed at your teasing, answering plainly, “No, you’d be dead. As you said yourself, you’d get the death sentence.”

You throw your head back at that. “Hah! Don’t flatter yourself, L.” You look back at him, eyes staring directly into his sunken ones, nearly giving him a nose-kiss as you bob your head in taunt. “You’d have never proven me guilty.” 

Then you scoff, “If you didn’t decide to break the rules all of a sudden, I’d have won.”

He gives you that small, amused smile again, enjoying the banter, throwing it back at you, “The very fact that you’re sitting here proves that I won.”

You open your mouth to argue, but this time he lifts a finger before you get the chance—slim and pale but long and precise, placed right up against your lips like a singular prison bar.

“Sure, maybe if I stuck to the rules even though you didn’t, you could have won in the end. But that would hardly have been fair. We both played dirty, and in doing so, I beat you at your own game, proving that you never once stood a chance against me, not in a fair fight or a foul one.”

You don’t let his finger stop you from grinning, kissing it as you speak, “So, then, you agree? You are just as bad as me.”

He sighs, dropping his pointer and shaking his head, “No—”

“You just said it yourself,” you insist.

“I’m better,” he bites back.

Still, you continue grinning. “You keep telling yourself that, L. Wanna know what I think?”

Tilting your head, you let your voice drop again, back into a whisper, “I think you’re worse.”

“How so?” he asks, intrigued, his lips still holding that small wry smile.

“I was simply gonna kill you. You, however?” You click your tongue three times in a row. “I know they say keep your friends close and enemies closer, but I’ve never heard about locking them up to play house.”

You keep fiddling with the locks on his neck, and he does the same with the shirt on your hips, hooking a thumb beneath the hem.

“Hm…” The rest of his hands join soon after, feeling your skin—no longer curiously like he used to, but familiarly—affectionately. “You wanna know what I think?”

Your heart stutters in your chest at the sensation. You try your hardest not to let your breath do the same.

“I think…” His grip increases in pressure, betraying that brutal sleeper build he keeps hidden, his smile becoming more salacious as he leans after you, ghosting your lips with his, eyes skimming the other with so much within them. 

“If you really wanted to kill me, you wouldn’t have needed a book to do it.”

You swallow thickly, voice just under your breath, “And there you have my point. Killing you without it would have been real cheating.”

“Mh, well…” he hums. “Real sad you won’t ever get the chance…”

“Yeah…” you agree softly. “Damn shame.”

♡ MISCELLANEOUS masterlist

[torscrawls]

AITA for shooting my ex?

(Can be read on AO3. Words: 1,075)

r/AmITheAsshole • 6 h u/HunterInRed

I (17F) have an ex (17M) that I haven't talked to very much in the last year but we go to the same school and share some of our classes.

Some background: the town we live in isn't very safe and there's several attacks a week. Because of this I, and several others, carry weapons. They're not firearms that you need a license for, but they are a form of gun that's popular locally. I've had to protect myself and those around me several times, especially from one specific guy.

The issue is that I recently found out that this guy is my ex, and therefore I've shot at him many times the last few years. I didn't know it was him (he wears a disguise), but I don't regret it. Now that I know, I don't really try to hit him anymore, even though he would deserve it. 

I think I'm being nicer than I have to but his friends think I'm being rude for still shooting at him. So, AITA?

(1.7k upvotes, 120 comments)

Comments

u/CinnamonBaby666 • 6 h

Rude? You’re shooting at him! YTA

I can’t believe how some people come onto this forum and just admits to committing crimes??

u/HunterInRed OP • 6 h

Trust me, he deserved it.

u/JokingJoker • 6 h

What are you? Jury, judge, and executioner? YTA! And probably a criminal??

u/VeryScaredyCat678345 • 6 h

You just go around shooting people?

u/HunterInRed OP • 6 h

Not humans.

u/VeryScaredyCat678345 • 6 h

And your ex isn’t human???

u/DairyQueen  • 5 h

Same girl.

u/SlothLife420 • 5 h

INFO. Have you hit your ex in the past? You say you don’t try to hit him anymore, but have you done it before?

u/HunterInRed OP • 5 h

Yes. He heals quickly though so it’s fine

u/SlothLife420 • 5 h

That doesn’t sound fine?? If he had to heal that means he got hurt.  What do you shoot him with if it’s not normal guns?

u/HunterInRed OP • 5 h

They’re energy weapons.

u/SlothLife420 • 5 h

Do you live in the future?? Are you aliens?

u/HunterInRed OP • 5 h

I wish he was an alien. It would be better

---

u/PiffPaffPuff • 6 h

What does he do to threaten you and all those people? Typical, a man threatening a woman and then the woman gets blamed for defending herself. NTA. 

u/HunterInRed OP • 6 h

He has been in a lot of fights and put people in danger.

u/SlothLife420 • 6 h

Then shouldn’t you help him??? Has someone in this situation tried calling the cops?

 I’m guessing you’re in the US, we have law-enforcements for this

u/PiffPaffPuff • 5 h

God forbid a girl does anything by herself

u/Revululution • 5 h

ACAB

---

u/FluffigKatt • 5 h

YTA. What kind of disguise could he be wearing for you to think it's okay to shoot him? A deer costume?

u/HunterInRed OP • 5 h

I found out recently that he’s half something horrible and he dresses like that half. Sorry, I can’t really go into more details than that.

u/FluffigKatt • 5 h

Am I reading this right? You found out he's half a race you don't like, or part of a minority group or something and you started blasting??

u/HunterInRed OP • 5 h

No. He’s not part of a minority. It’s something that happened fairly recently. He’s half something horrible and these “people” act a certain way and dress a certain way and they’re DANGEROUS.

u/FluffigKatt • 5 h

He's gay?? Bi??? And you bring out your gun? It's 2025! Not the 16th century! 

---

u/Vitamin_D_Deficient • 4 h

INFO

You said his friends think YTA. What does your ex say?

u/HunterInRed OP • 4 h

I don’t think he really cares. I think he’s used to it because his parents do the same

u/Vitamin_D_Deficient • 4 h

They shoot him???

u/HunterInRed OP • 4 h

Yes. Like I said; a lot of people in our town have weapons. It’s not that weird

u/ManyHolesManyUses • 4 h

It is very weird

u/Perpetual_State_Of_Confusion • 4 h

I have so many questions

u/Vitamin_D_Deficient • 4 h

Where do you live???

u/ManyHolesManyUses • 4 h

You can’t ask her to dox herself

u/Vitamin_D_Deficient • 4 h

I just wanna make sure I add this batshit insane town to my list of places never to visit

---

u/KeyBinding8474562 • 3 h

Now you know it’s him and you’re still doing it? 

u/HunterInRed OP • 3 h

I usually don't hit him, he's very fast OR good at dodging. 

u/KeyBinding8474562 • 3 h

OH MY- Stop!!! Doesn’t anyone call the police??

u/HunterInRed OP • 3 h

It’s fine. And it's a bit hard to stop now that we've gotten used to it OR it's a bit like a tradition now. OR like how we hang out. 

Sometimes I want to kill my ex but I didn’t mean it LITERALLY!

u/HunterInRed OP • 3 h

It’s fine, he’s already dead.

u/KeyBinding8474562 • 3 h

JESUS. Did you kill him?

u/Vitamin_D_Deficient • 3 h

She finally shot her shot

u/KeyBinding8474562 • 3 h

Don’t joke about this! Where do you live?? Can someone check up on this guy? I’m getting really worried.

u/HunterInRed OP • 3 h

He’s fine. This is besides the point, I just wanted to know if I was an asshole

u/KeyBinding8474562 • 3 h

Yes! YTA!!! Stay away from him!

---

u/WestOftheWest • 3 h

Is this about Danny?

u/WestOftheWest • 1 h

Your silence speaks volumes. I’ll talk to you in school tomorrow

u/KeyBinding8474562 • 1 h

You know who she’s talking about?? Is he okay? Are you okay? Where do you live?

u/WestOftheWest • 1 h

I’ll post an update where I finally reveal the truth about Danny and all his lies! Give me 10 minutes, I have all my note ready

u/Vitamin_D_Deficient • 1 h

The mystery thickens!! What truth?? Is the ex actually evil? Maybe OP isn’t the A-hole

u/KeyBinding8474562 • 1 h

It doesn’t really matter!! She stills admits to shooting a person! That’s never okay, no matter what they’ve done. If he’s committed crimes then he should be handled by the court system, not by random civilians.

u/Vitamin_D_Deficient • 1 h

Okay nerd

u/Vitamin_D_Deficient • 10 min

@WestOftheWest where did you go??

u/Perpetual_State_Of_Confusion • 5 min

Do you think the boyfriend got him?

[permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88]

thank you so much for the tag, @itsgoghtime and @themareverine!!! this was so fun! 💜🩶💜

what's one or more songs you have to stop to listen to? oh gosh! the band nerd in me is freaking out right now because there are soooo many!!! in an effort not to make this post unbelievably long, though, I'll narrow it down to the top 4?

battle for eregion - bear mccreary (The Rings of Power s2 soundtrack)

labour - the cacophany - paris paloma

which witch - florence and the machine

i see fire - ed sheeran

favorite number? erm...4, maybe? 16? never really had a true 'favorite', so I'm just guessing, and going with my gut, here. 😂

how do you feel about Coke/Pepsi adjacent sodas? so, I'm not anti-Pepsi, in the truest sense of the word. if Coke isn't available, I'll drink it, no problem. but if Coke is around? it's gonna be the first choice, all the way.

do you collect anything? owl figurines. squishmallows. anything Olaf. and of course, blorbos.

what's a piece of art that you've seen or heard in person that you still think about and are glad to have seen? so this one is absolutely embarrassing, but since my parents weren't into that sort of thing, and thus never allowed me to go when I was living under their roof, and I would never dream of going on my own, now (too afraid of getting lost, and/or looking obviously awkward and alone), nothing. nothing that I can remember, anyway. unless an Acquire the Fire concert with my youth group in high school counts, but I hardly remember that and couldn't name one artist that was there, now. (yes, I am an uncultured and sheltered goober, feel free to judge but you'll never judge me more than I already judge myself 😅)

hardcover, paperback, audiobook, or e-reader? so, after swearing up and down that I would never get a kindle...I have a kindle (it was a birthday present) and I actually kind of love it. but! if I have to choose, at the end of the day? paperback. the feel, the smell, it's all perfection, and I take meticulous care of the ones I do own so they stay in good condition as much as possible.

you can go one place in the world completely free, where? Ireland. no questions asked. it's Ireland. (runner up? New Zealand. is this because of LOTR? why yes, yes it is!)

favorite pasta shape? do the Spongebob shapes in Kraft Macaroni count? if not, it's gotta be cavatappi.

what are you working on right now? the next chapters for a few of my WIPs (Old Town Road, The Abhorred, Up Is Down), the tentative first chapter of a super duper top secret surprise fic that is finally cooperating with me (for now, anyway).

no pressure tags: @gauntletgirlie, @dragon--ashes, @varda-star-queen, @wowstrawberrycow, @orehuna, @gingeragenda, @numenoria, @bigblissandlove1, @saurongorthaur9, and anyone else who would like to join!

m making their own tag game??? it's more likely than you think....

answer some super specific questions and get to know your moots better!! (i just thought this would be fun, summer is starting for me and it feels appropriate to do something to commemorate my newfound free time)

what's one (or more, if you want) song(s) you stop everything you're doing to listen to?

after the bombs by the decemberists, and also first day of my life by the bright eyes

what's your FAVORITE number?

three!!!!! 3 <<< look at it it's such a good number

how do you feel about coke/pepsi and adjacent sodas?

used to be vehemently opposed to drinking soda, i fear i'm starting to like it? pepsi over coke, but i will never drink either over a glass of sweet tea

do you collect anything? if so, what?

my biggest collection is quarters! my newest is dvds which is very very fun to go to secondhand stores to shop for

what's a piece of art that you've seen/heard in person (or for a movie, seen in theaters) that you still think about/are glad to have seen?

lucian freud's painting "girl in bed" (look here!) which i'm just. obsessed with. getting to see it was totally by chance but maybe also a little bit fate or something like that? i don't know, but it was a beautiful experience

hardcover, paperback, e-reader, or audio books?

harcoverrrrrr

you can go one place in the world, totally free. where are you going?

right now, i'd really like to go back to the shenandoah valley in virginia. it's such a beautiful area and i've only been once but i. miss it tbh

what's your favorite pasta shape?

linguine! and not just because of the rattatouille character

what are you working on right now? (skill, art piece, goal, task, etc.)

getting back into reading more! been really busy and tired lately but trying to remind myself that if i have an hour for tumblr, i have an hour for a book

literally zero pressure tags: @glitteredbubbles @good--merits-accumulated @damnitneilthenamesnuwanda @scriptscraps @littleprincefan @autumnbookworm81 @chameleon3 @abs-blabs @charlie-why-do-they-swoon @sadiesinkobsessedsstuff @theduckwithafroghat @prophecyhaunted and open!!!!!!!

side note that i stopped doing tag games for like a month because i don't even know but. i'm so back i just needed to stop guilting myself/making myself stressed over being busy. lol.

[sinnerinwonderland]

Laced Intentions.

› Pairing → Jannik Sinner x Female Reader.

› Summary → It was meant for later. He finds it out earlier and likes what he sees.

› Word Count → 0.7k.

The box had arrived like any other — discreet, slightly dented from shipping, and sitting innocently on the kitchen counter of Jannik’s Monte Carlo apartment by late afternoon.

Still groggy from jet lag and a long nap, curls sticking up in clumps and socks mismatched, Jannik wandered into the kitchen to grab something cold from the fridge. That was when he spotted it — her name, his address. Nothing new.

Except this time, the sender caught his eye: Agent Provocateur.

He blinked. Interesting name. Almost dramatic.

Usually, he wouldn’t touch her packages — she had this habit of ordering things and, accidentally or not, sending them to his place instead of hers. Maybe it was subconscious, a way of marking territory, or she just didn’t want her concierge judging her online purchases. He never asked.

But that box? It practically dared him to open it — soft blush pink, tied with a perfectly crisp black satin bow, the brand printed elegantly across the top in sleek lettering.

So he did — and immediately regretted it.

Nestled in tissue paper like a crown jewel was a black lace lingerie set — a dainty bra, matching panties, and a garter belt so delicate it looked spun from shadows, adorned with tiny, girlish baby pink bows at each strap.

Jannik made a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

He had no business staring longer, but couldn’t seem to look away either. One hand reached in, almost against his will, and lifted the panties between two careful fingers, holding them up like he was evaluating some rare artifact.

His brow ticked up slightly — not in disapproval, but in revelation.

Just as he was squinting at the tiny embroidered detail on the back — were those pearls? — she barreled out of the bedroom, barefoot and pulling her hair up into a claw clip.

“Hey, amore, did the box come from– Oh my God...”

She froze like a deer caught in headlights.

There he was — six-foot-whatever, shirtless, standing in the middle of his kitchen holding a pair of her lingerie like it was high-level evidence in a crime thriller. His lips parted like he had something to say, but was still buffering.

“I– Jannik, don’t look at that!” she squawked, rushing forward, mortified.

He held it slightly higher, just out of reach.

“You ordered this to my address?” he asked, voice perfectly even, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

“I– It was an accident! I forgot to change it back from last time, you know that–” she reached for it, flustered. “Give it back, Jannik!”

He stepped back lazily, still inspecting the lace. “It’s... detailed.”

She groaned, covering her face with both hands. “Jannik, please.”

“You were gonna wear this?” he questioned, tone still light, but something had shifted beneath it.

“Not like– right now, I mean– eventually! I didn’t even try it on yet–” She lunged again, finally yanking it from his fingers and shoving it behind her back, like she could undo the whole situation by hiding it.

Her cheeks were on fire, she was practically glowing with embarrassment. “Can you like, forget you saw that?”

“Hard to,” he replied, and then had the audacity to smirk — the one that made her stomach flip unfairly every time he got too confident on court.

“You’ll wear it for me sometime, yeah?”

Her brain short-circuited.

“Excuse me–?” she squeaked.

“What?” he inquired innocently. “You sent it to my place, kind of feels like an invitation.”

She stood there, mouth opening and closing, heart thudding in her chest like a warning bell. There was no way this was happening, not him saying that — not Jannik Sinner, who still got very much flustered whenever she wore a short dress to dinner.

Except now he was grinning. And waiting.

She hated herself a little for how fast she folded.

“...Maybe.” she mumbled, clutching the lingerie to her chest like it could protect her from the heat rising in her cheeks.

“Maybe?” he echoed, leaning in just enough to let his voice brush against her skin. “You sure?”

She gulped. “I’m gonna go die now.”

He laughed once, low and warm in his chest, before disappearing down the hallway. And as he went, she heard him toss over his shoulder, casual as anything, “I’ll leave the bedroom light on.”

God help her. She was so wearing it.

[moonyvvamp]

guys have we talked about Rumi technically being a saja and not a normal demon? We know from the concept art her dad was one and I'm assuming it passed down. She's a fucking grim reaper no wonder Celine is terrified (I'm into it but you know I'm just into curious entities, scared yes but also curious. My role model is George don't question it)

Okay as to why i think it passed down Jeoseung Sajas aka Grim reapers or netherworld emissaries are a class of demons, like aristocrats. I would assume that the underworld still operates on old society rules a lot so since her father is a Saja, Rumi probably would have taken up the same job. Second gen Saja and all that.

What's really interesting is that while Gwi-ma eats souls, it's possible that the Sajas still guide souls to be judged, so kind of like a part time job? I'm kind of blabbing but yes, Rumi is a grim reaper. I think it has some really interesting effects on her personality.

She likes to analyse people and judge them ethically a lot, she while debating whether to tell the girls wrote a whole paper on the ethics of lying and self preservation. She has cattle dog tendencies where she rounds people up and moves them along a lot. She sees a chaotic group, she simply has to make sure they all get home in one piece.

With fans she's that one idol who keeps acting like the event manager, asking them to stay in one line, not push each other. Giving them rules to follow, making sure no one is loosing their mind because of the chaos.

Her sixth senses are off the charts, she can sense a lot of things. Storms, accidents, Zoey burning her hand while running with a cup of ramyeon. She often redirects their drivers when she senses something off and what do you know it later in the news the road they were supposed to take met with an accident.

She has a tendency to be ominous sometimes, especially when she senses death. Something deep inside her just awakens and she's just aware that it's coming. When she was younger she ended up predicting the deaths of a few animals on a farm, Celine was deeply unnerved.

She sometimes ends up guiding souls of the dead along, she didn't really realize it as a kid but once she got conscious enough she realized it wasn't normal. Whenever she spots a soul wandering she gently guides them in the right direction and goes on with her day, she's become quite good at doing it discreetly.

[writingdevil]

Lost Love [STP Human AU Fic]

(It's burned bridges time! WOOO!)

Calder wasn't one to shy away from new or interesting experiences. He's spent his whole life trying to feel new things, whether it be pain, discomfort or pleasure.

Calder understood that being numb was the only way to get through this life, so that nothing could rattle him or knock him down. But he still craved to fill that emptiness in his heart, because he knew he could take it, he knew that numbing his feelings was the best way to live, so that anything interesting could make him feel something worthwhile.

Poking at people was a fun way to get interesting reactions out of them.

Spooking Percy, asking Shéamus absurd questions, trying to anger Hektor- those were all surefire ways to get some interesting results, and it was always interesting to see how his friends reacted to him.

Calder's pressed almost every button within his friend group, and he felt as if he knew what exactly to do or say to invoke certain emotions from them.

But when he opened the door one evening, to find Sebastian, the prince charming of their friend group, standing on his porch with the most depressing and lost look on his face- well, Calder had to admit that he was quite taken aback.

The only hint of his surprise was a blink of his eyes though, to make sure that Sebastian was actually standing there. Then Sebastian lifted his head up slightly, just enough for Calder to see the darkness in his shining brown eyes, and quietly said, "Hello, Calder."

His voice sounded so- defeated. His voice didn't hold that unwavering passion and warmth that he was so known for. He sounded like Calder, and that thought didn't sit well with him, but he had to admit that he was engrossed with this surprise.

He leaned against his doorframe with his arms crossed and said, "Hello, Sebastian. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Sebastian didn't respond, merely lowering his head further, his blonde curls covering his face now. The only thing that would make him look even more pathetic right now would be if it was raining.

Calder was getting bored of this silence, though. "Well, is there something I can help you with?" he asked in his usual dull tone, making Sebastian tense up. Was this just a prank that someone had forced the other to do? Is that why he looked so uncomfortable and miserable while interacting with Calder?

He decided to twist the knife that was apparently already within Sebastian. "There must be something that you need, because you would never come here of your own volition." Calder tilted his head in curiosity.

"Was it your brother? Does he need something from me, and he sent you to fetch it? You were always very good at doing things to make others smile, no matter how stupid you looked."

Sebastian flinched at his words, but Calder couldn't help but notice that it was the mention of his brother that affected Sebastian the most. Odd.

Then, Sebastian sighed, and lifted his head, but his eyes remained downcast, as he asked, "May I come in?"

A big 'no' would've been Calder's immediate answer. The thought of the dazzling Sebastian stepping into his home and judging him wasn't something that Calder particularly wanted right now. It wouldn't have been anything Calder hasn't heard before, and he didn't like to repeat pointless arguments, because they rarely went anywhere interesting.

But everything about Sebastian right now made Calder reconsider.

The other looked as if life had beaten him without mercy, as if he's been suffering for years and had finally reached his breaking point. But everyone knew that nobody had lived a more brilliant and loving life than Sebastian the romantic fool.

So something truly awful must have happened to knock the prince charming so low- and strangely enough, it had brought Sebastian here, to Calder.

Calder silently stepped aside, allowing Sebastian to come in.

He wanted to see where this went.

Sebastian looked surprised for a moment, before quickly walking inside, avoiding eye contact all the while.

Calder sighed as he closed the door, and he already knew what Sebastian must be thinking about his apartment.

Calder studied Sebastian as the other just stood in the middle of the room, looking so out of place that it was almost laughable. Sebastian clutched the front of his shirt, his gaze taking in Calder's apartment with the slightest hint of nervous awkwardness in his eyes.

Calder's room wasn't the cleanest, and the lingering smell of weed probably wasn't helping his case, but he had never cared much about appearances to begin with.

Clothes were hapzardly thrown wherever, because Calder didn't care about where they went so long as he could see them and were decently clean.

Connie came up with the idea of using sticky notes to remember things, so all along Calder's fridge and even spread across the walls of the apartment, were various sticky notes reminding him of things he needed to do.

Most of the time, they were reminders of things that Calder didn't think of as important or worth his time, but he knew that others wanted him to do, lest someone think that he was secretly a psycho.

There was a study plan from Shéamus for tests, and if Calder followed them, he would be gifted one of Oscar's baked treats.

There were many reminders from Hektor, about different events that Calder tended to forget. Nothing about their friend group, but around acquaintances that Calder just needed to keep an eye on so he knew when to avoid someone or begrudgingly wish them happy birthday.

Every week, Percy gave him a sticky note telling him when to buy food, and at how many hours Calder was allowed to go without eating. The sticky note didn't matter too much because Percy would either call or text to make sure he ate, and the last thing Calder needed in his life was a nagging Percy.

Sebastian walked up to one of the sticky notes, squinting as he gently took it off the wall. "Make sure to shower before 10:30 pm exactly?" he read aloud, looking up at Calder, who shrugged, running a hand through his dark hair. "The water stops working at that time, so I have to make sure I use the shower before then."

He then grimaced at the feeling of how greasy his hair had gotten. Sebastian picked a good reminder to read, because now Calder knew what he needed to do once this interaction was over.

Speaking of- "Have you come here for a reason, or were you just that bored?" Calder asked, not hiding the hint of bitterness in his voice.

Sebastian lowered his gaze, sticking the note back to the wall, his attention trailing along his room, and Calder didn't miss the slight scrunch of disgust his face made when he saw the half rolled joint on the coffee table.

Calder rolled his eyes, biting back a cutting comment, because he no longer cared about how people viewed his reason to feel something light and freeing every once in a while, and it was an argument he was bored of having.

"I-I wanted to talk to you," Sebastian quietly said, as if unsure of the words he was speaking.

Calder scoffed at him. "You want to talk to me? What could you possibly wish from me, unless you're now also passionate about the work of a mortician?"

Calder could honestly see Sebastian finding the beauty in death, but whenever Calder has brought up his studies that went into becoming a mortician, Sebastian would quickly find a way to change the subject with a tight lipped smile.

But right now, Sebastian was staring at him with so much shock and sadness on his face that it stunned Calder. It looked as if Sebastian had just been slapped across the face.

Calder wasn't sure how to proceed, but then Sebastian let a tired sigh out, blinking rapidly, before taking a step towards him.

"I'm- sorry for showing up here unannounced. I normally wouldn't do something like this, but lately I've been a bit- all over the place."

"How so?"

Sebastian fidgeted with his hands, and it was such a normal, mundane and not Sebastian thing to do, that it looked odd to Calder.

"I am aware," Sebastian said, " that the two of us don't get along very well."

No. They didn't.

Sebastian and Calder have known each other since high school, where Sebastian was worshipped. Calder couldn't go a day without hearing that Sebastian was the lead in the newest play, or the president of the latest club. He was the star of the school, and Calder had very quickly grown tired of his presence.

Kids flocked to Sebastian, and it seemed like the entire school was his friend, and he was never waiting long for someone to compliment him or fawn over him.

Calder found the spectacle of it all so dull. How could someone enjoy being handed everything, and not having to know what pressure or frustration felt like? Even if Calder waved away such emotions, he knew Sebastian to be a very passionate and emotional person, yet it seemed like the more love Sebastian gave the world, the more he was rewarded for it.

Calder loathed to think of a life where he was constantly surrounded by the same sparkling eyes and hearing the same praises everyday. It probably would've drove him to insanity. But it only seemed to fill the golden boy Sebastian with even more passion for life.

At the start, they simply just didn't click, and didn't spare the other a passing glance in the hallway. But then once school was ending, Calder actually made some friends- Hektor and Percy. The two of them were his gateway into the rest of the friend group, and of course Sebastian was instantly taken by Hektor and his kind heart, so they ended up seeing each other a lot more.

They- tolerated each other. They both thought the other was just too much at times, and tended to keep to the friends that they were the closest to. But Calder would be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy poking at Sebastian until he exploded upon him from time to time.

So no, they didn't get along, and the only thing keeping them together were their friends. But other than that, they never usually saw eye to eye.

Which made this meeting all the more interesting.

"I know our time together was usually spent arguing our beliefs at each other," Sebastian continued, and Calder would confidently call that an understatement. "In fact, this may be our first civil conversation yet, which I'm ashamed to admit," Sebastian said, lowering his head and avoiding eye contact.

"I know I have no right barging in like this, but you were the only one that I could think of that would be able to help me."

"Help you?" Calder crossed his arms and leaned against a wall, studying Sebastian curiously. "What on earth could you need my help for? Certainly Shéamus knows the answer to every question you could ask."

"I can't talk to Shéamus!" Sebastian blurted out in a panic, before realising what he had done, and quickly attempted to collect himself.

"I-I mean- my dear brother already has so much on his plate. I'd truly hate to bother him and his perfect life."

Calder couldn't help but hear the hint of bitterness in Sebastian voice when talking about his brother. How strange. Why would Sebastian do that? The twins had been the closest of siblings, and nothing ever seemed to come between them. Did they have a fight? Is that why Sebastian looked so dejected?

Calder found himself walking forward, his eyes never straying from Sebastian, right up until he was in front of him, looking down at the other slightly, faced with his soft mop of golden curls, just as messy and as perfectly placed as his brother.

Calder reached a hand out, and gently tilted Sebastian's chin up, who's breath hitched at the action, but didn't resist as brown eyes met icy blue.

"What happened to you?" Calder whispered, and then he had the pleasure of seeing Sebastian's eyes darken, before he sighed and let an empty chuckle out.

"That's the thing- I don't know."

"You don't know what's wrong?"

"No, I know what's wrong," Sebastian said, taking a step back and slipping out of Calder's grip. Calder found that he was hesitant to drop his hand, as if wanting the moment to last a little longer. He quickly shook that urge away.

"The problem is precisely that- I don't know," Sebastian said, taking a seat on his couch with a sigh.

"You don't know what?"

"Anything," Sebastian explained, frustration building up in his voice as he glared at the floor. "I don't know anything about what I want to do with my life anymore."

Calder furrowed his brows in confusion. "I thought you were going for a theatre degree."

Sebastian let a bitter chuckle out, scratching the back of his neck. "My dear, that was the merely the first degree I pursued."

Now Calder was even more confused, and he quickly took a seat on the couch as well. "So you just dropped that course? Is that all?"

Sebastian shook his head, closing his eyes as he mumbled, "I've tried and dropped out of five courses, Calder."

Calder's eyes widened, and he couldn't stop his head from whipping to stare at Sebastian in shock. Five courses? Sebastian had attempted five courses and had abandoned them? Sebastian never gave up on anything, no matter how ridiculous the idea was.

Sebastian refused to look at him, his shoulders tense and his eyes holding a guilty and distant look in them. Obviously, this wasn't something Sebastian himself was proud of.

The shock quickly wore off, and Calder relaxed against the couch. It was quite interesting to find out that the prince charming next to him was capable of surprising Calder. He wondered what else Sebastian was capable of.

Sebastian shook his head to himself as he quietly explained, "I don't know what's wrong with me. I know I wanted to pursue those passions, those things that I know I love and that everyone said I was good at. But everytime I start something, I can't commit to it."

He sighed, leaned back and staring up at the ceiling. Calder continued to look at him, tilting his head curiously. Then, he said, "You always seemed to be very passionate for the things and people you loved. I would've thought that there wouldn't be enough time in the world for you to go after all your passions."

Sebastian smiled weakly. "That's what I thought as well. That's what everyone growing up told me, and I believed them. But everytime I start something, I begin to second guess myself, and then something else will grab my interest, and I'll go after that instead."

Sebastian's voice was soft and weak as he said, "So now I just feel so aimless." He let a breath out, and Calder heard how it wavered, how it seemed to be taking a lot for the other to keep it together.

Calder honestly expected Sebastian to have burst out sobbing by now, dramatically yelling his woes to whoever would take pity on him the most.

But instead, it seemed like that ever burning fire within him had gone out, and now he just looked so-grey, so lifeless. Calder didn't expect the sight to unnerve him so much, because it felt like he was being introduced to a whole new person entirely, one that Calder had previously been so sure that he knew well.

"So you feel lost," Calder concluded, "and you came to me. Why?"

Sebastian shrugged, and looked over at him, his brown eyes imploring. "You used to never seem satisfied with one thing. I would always hear that you kept trying different things, all for the sake of feeling something new. I could never understand it. You would always go after such strange and peculiar experiences, ones that I myself would shudder at."

Sebastian inched closer to Calder on the couch, his voice becoming desperate as he said, "You know how I'm feeling right now. You may be the only person to understand what I'm going through. You know what it's like to feel lost, to feel as if nothing can fill the void in your heart. That's why I came here, because you're the only one who can possibly understand me."

Calder gulped, the brief flash of intensity in Sebastian's eyes making him squirm. How could someone supposedly miserable still have so much fire in their eyes? It felt like Sebastian would explode upon him if Calder moved or said anything slightly upsetting.

Instead, he looked Sebastian up and down lazily, which made Sebastian tense up, which made Calder smirk.

He had to admit, discovering that the golden boy Sebastian was having an identity crisis, was not something that Calder could say he expected to see in his lifetime, but he's glad he is.

Calder couldn't exactly say that the way he lived was as depressing and as bleak as Sebastian was making it out to be, but he could still understand the feeling of not enough. He could understand wanting so many things to dig into his skin and his brain until it pierced that state of numbness in a way that left Calder content.

But being numb was all Calder knew. He wasn't sure if someone as emotional as Sebastian could understand pushing away trivial feelings, especially when that seemed to be how he lived his life- soaking up anything positive that was given to him if he was good enough.

But now he was all on his own, and his perfect little bubble had popped.

Calder looked down at his lap as he said, "I still don't understand why you couldn't go to Shéamus about this."

Sebastian sighed. "I'm ashamed to admit, but I've been- avoiding my brother as of late. It's just-" he paused, and Calder looked up just in time to see the frustration in his eyes and voice as he sighed harshly and continued, "-it's just that Shéamus has everything that I was promised growing up- a partner, a plan for his future, a course he loves. It's- hard not to feel jealous."

Then Sebastian's eyes were back on him, pleading. "Can you please tell me how you know what you want to do with your life, when all you've ever done is talk about how you wanted something to rid you of your boredom?"

He was looking at Calder with such sincerity, that it was making his skin crawl. Nobody looks at Calder like that. Nobody tries to understand the way he works- they wouldn't understand, and they'd instead think him insane and a monster.

He knew his friends didn't think that, but so many other people had said that to his face, to the point that Calder knew denying it would be pointless. If Calder was an outlier in society, then so be it. At least that would make him special.

He knew that, initially, he had been interested to understand Sebastian's plight, but he also knew that the two of them just didn't click well enough for Calder to help him. They've had enough fights to prove that. Sebastian thought him a heartless villain, and no matter how much Sebastian said that Calder was the only one to understand him right now, he knew that actually- Sebastian was just using Calder to make him feel better about himself.

Calder had no interest in giving into Sebastian's fantasies, in letting Sebastian delude himself into thinking that life was perfect if the right people said it was.

Sometimes, life was just cold, and Sebastian was just going to have to get used to that.

Besides, how could Calder sit there and say that the reason he wanted to be a mortician, was because he felt more comfortable around the dead than around the living? How could he do that?

He didn't, because he knew how that would end, and he didn't have the energy for a fight and to be insulted.

He quickly stood up, turning away from Sebastian and crossing his arms, hating how he could feel Sebastian's gaze on his back.

He shrugged, knowing the reaction he was about to get. "I just knew I could see myself doing that. That's all. Sorry to disappoint."

"Oh," Sebastian definitely sounded disappointed, and maybe now he would get the hint to go bother his brother, because Calder wasn't what Sebastian needed.

"That's-okay," Sebastian said, taking this surprisingly well. "Do you mind if I stay here for a bit? I don't feel like being alone right now."

That was not something Calder expected, but he didn't let that show. Instead, he twisted around and arched a brow at him. "You want to hang out with me? Are you sure that's what you want?"

Sebastian squirmed in his seat, eyes glancing around the room in uncertainty, but he still looked up at Calder and nodded.

"I don't plan on doing anything tonight," Calder insisted. "You'd have more fun bothering someone else."

"Oh." Sebastian's eyes flicked over to the clock on the wall, a nervous tone in his voice as he said, "Well then, I suppose that makes sense. It is almost 10:30, after all."

Oh yeah, the shower. Well, after the way this night has gone, Calder didn't particularly feel like showering. A part of him just wanted to soak up everything that tonight had made him feel, and washing this new experience away wasn't something he was keen on doing.

Calder shrugged. "It's fine. I don't feel like showering tonight."

"What?" But then Sebastian reacted with such disgust that it made Calder's lips twitch upward. "But your hair looks awful! It needs to be cleaned."

Calder shrugged again, if only to piss off Sebastian more, because that was much easier to deal with right now. "It's not going to fall off overnight, is it?"

"No, but it's very unhealthy, and it can still cause problems." Calder rolled his eyes, a small part of him relieved to be revisiting this dynamic that he knew so well.

Just to poke at Sebastian more, Calder tilted his head to the side, letting his hair slide off his shoulders for display. "So what? Are you going to wash my hair for me?"

It was meant to just be a taunt. A way to annoy and fluster Sebastian like he's done so many times before.

But this time, something dark and desperate flashed in Sebastian's eyes for a split second, before steel formed before him as he said, "I will, if that's what it takes."

-

So that's how Calder found himself in this position.

On the floor, with Sebastian sitting on the couch behind him, and his head practically in Sebastian's lap.

Sebastian's fingers were so soft in Calder's wet hair as he softly untangled any knots in them, and Calder's never experienced anything like it before. He couldn't stop himself from fluttering his eyes shut at the feeling.

His hands were gripping his shirt tight, as his scalp was gently massaged, and it made something within Calder break open and let an unfamiliar warmth spill throughout his body. He had no idea what was happening to him.

He let his mind drift away to the sound of Sebastian's soft humming, but he couldn't stop the hitch in his breath as Sebastian's fingers scraped along his head a little more roughly, and then it felt like Sebastian was right in his ear as he whispered, "Oh, I'm so sorry, my dear. Did I hurt you?"

Calder didn't trust his voice, so he just shook his head.

Sebastian resumed his ministrations, and Calder felt like he could melt against Sebastian in that moment. He didn't know what was happening to him. He's never felt these sensations before. He wasn't sure whether he wanted it to stop.

But then Sebastian went, "Oh," and he paused, making Calder crack an eye open.

Sebastian was inspecting a few strands of his hair with a gentle curiosity. "You don't have black hair at all. It's just a really dark brown." Sebastian looked away, with something like shame in his eyes. "I-I didn't know that about you."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," Calder said, and god, he sounded breathless.

Sebastian looked down at him, and when their eyes met, Calder could swear that that warmth inside him grew hotter, and he wasn't sure how to numb it-or if he wanted to.

"Apparently so," Sebastian muttered, and Calder's not sure if Sebastian's ever given him such a soft look before. Was this how he normally looked at people? Calder could admittedly see why people would flock to him.

Then, Sebastian continued to run his fingers through his hair, and Calder felt his bones turn to liquid within him.

"Well," Sebastian said, his voice beginning to have some of that warmth that was lodged in Calder's chest now, "I'm glad to mend this bridge between us."

Calder's never felt so alive before.

[jolie-goes-rome]

So what on earth is a Cardinal Major Penitentiary (Joshua Adeyemi's day job in "Conclave")?

AKA Jolie's Weekly Lecture on Catholic Church Organisation, Canon Law and Other Things You Never Thought You Would End Up Wanting To Read Meta About Until You Contracted The Old Men Yaoi Bug 😝 Part 3 (Part 1 is here | Part 2 is here)

So I have seen people wonder (or straight up misunderstand) what Cardinal Adeyemi's job in the Curia is.

His official title is "Cardinal Major Penitentiary" and he's also known as the Church's "Confessor-in-chief".

Does that mean that Adeyemi is the personal confessor of the Pope or the members of the Curia? Nope. Popes choose who they regularly confess to and they're free to choose any priest they feel comfortable with. They also don't have to stick to just one. Same goes for the senior Curia officials.

Adeyemi is more like a chief religious judge. His dicastery, the Apostolic Penitentiary - formerly (when RH wrote the book) the "Supreme Tribunal of the Apostolic Penitentiary" - is one of several tribunals or courts of the Holy See that form part of the Curia, i. e. the governing body of the Church.

It deals with "spiritual crimes", like forgiving sins that are too grave to be dealt with on a local level. Very great sins can lead to excommunication, which means barring the sinner from receiving the Eucharist and from other forms of spiritual comfort until they repent and are absolved. There's a long list of sins that would historically have got you excommunicated, and quite a few still will today. But some sins are considered so bad that only the Holy See can absolve you from them, rather than any local priest. They’re known as sins leading to excommunicatio latae sententiae or "automatic excommunication". They mostly include spiritual offences against the church itself or its representatives and doctrines. Those are the cases that are dealt with by the Apostolic Penitentiary. So if you seek forgiveness for these sins, you have to appeal to this court or tribunal headed by Adeyemi. You still don’t confess to Adeyemi personally, but you may have to go to a hearing to present your case.

The irony of Adeyemi's position is that it puts him on a super moral high horse. Excommunicable offences that you can only be absolved from by the Apostolic Penitentiary include apostasy, physically attacking the Pope or committing sacrilege by defiling the Eucharist, but also stuff like a priest absolving someone from breaking the Sixth Commandment (adultery/sexual misconduct) with them. I don't suppose it's a coincidence that RH gave the sexual abuser in the story this particular job.

The other two tribunals of the Holy See - just for the sake completeness - are the Roman Rota, which deals with standard canon law cases like the annulment of marriages, and the Apostolic Signatura, which is the administrative tribunal, where you can, for example, appeal a bishop's administrative decision. The Signatura also removes church officials from their office if they do wrong.

So if Tremblay won't resign of his own accord, the Signatura will remove him from his offices and seize his mismanaged money and stuff, while the Penitentiary will deal with the effect of his crimes on his soul, like what spiritual penance would be appropriate and if, after penance, his excommunication should be reversed. Unless Adeyemi immediately resigns after the Conclave as well because of his own troubles, he will literally be the person who decides on a fitting spiritual penance for Tremblay's crimes. I guess that's a fun scenario especially for the Trembleyemi gang. 😆

Got any questions or suggestions for another lecture? My ask box is always open. 😁

[marsmaximoff]

💊; second try 𐕣 𓉸

content warning: gn!reader. blood, drugs. mentions of dying and overdosing. angst/hurt/comfort/suggestive/fluff. let me know if i missed anything.

word count: 2.9k

author’s note: can’t believe i’m finally posting this. i’ve had this written for so long you’d never imagine. and it feels so good to finally put it out! such a relief!! im super late and idk if anyone’s gonna read it tho. i also have many other squid game drafts if anyone is interested….. i’ve just been really busy with work, and a few days ago i got sick. but anyway, enjoy!! <3

third day, 18:06

“who are you hiding from?” hyun-ju’s voice brings you back to reality -can you even call it that? is this reality? well, to your new reality. “what? what do you mean?” you try to go for ‘total confusion’ but your pulse has already quickened in the blink of an eye. “you always change your hair when we vote, and try to hide your face as much as possible.” the pressure on your stomach comes back stronger than ever.

“you always seem tense, as if waiting for something, super conscious of your surroundings. trust me, i’ve seen that look on people many times.” well fuck. of course she would notice. tho, better her than him. you give her an answer, not a total lie, but still not good enough because “it’s none of my business; i won’t ask again. however, if you need help, come to me whenever you want to.” you could have told her; perhaps it would have been better, she’s not the type to judge.

these three days, you’ve been hiding your hair to make it look shorter, and it’s worked. he hasn’t seen you once. not even during Mingle, crazily enough. the reason why the universe is being so cooperative, you have no fucking clue, but you couldn't be more thankful. half of the game, and you've managed to not let it turn into a total hell. enough, right?

if you saw him in between games, you’d turn around. if he got too close during one, you lacked space to run. as if he was something toxic, and in a way, he is.

but no wall can stand forever.

third day; 20:28

“what the fuck are you doing here?” well, this is as far as you go; certain things are inevitable. “the same thing you are. actually, i still have some humanity left, so i guess not exactly the same.”

with that, you turn around; just because he’s found you doesn’t mean you owe him any explanation. “hey, hey, hey, where the hell do you think you’re going?” tho he could give you one. “what did you do to that chick?” the sudden change of topic confuses him, cooling his anger for a moment. “huh?” “i’ve seen her before. piercing, short hair, was always with you, that purple-haired maniac, and the guy you mess with.” “se-mi… that fucking whore….” those words send a shiver down your spine, but you persist. “what did you do to her?!” he doesn't give you an answer. a verbal one, that is. but there's no need for it; his ruthless eyes do all the talking. oh, god.

you try to walk away again, but he harshly grabs your arm and spins you around, forcing you to face him. “you’ve been ignoring me all these days?!” he has the balls to get mad? him? “no, i was ignoring the person you’ve become here.” you spit, attempting to break his grip, but he’s using all his strength. “let me remind you that it was you who-“ “and i wouldn’t have done it if you hadn't made me!” his jaw hardens, and his beautiful eyes squint, coldly glaring at you. which redirects your focus to them.

“fuck, gyu, you’re stoned?” he doesn’t hear your question; he can’t. his mind stops working halfway through your words. ‘gyu’. shit. how fucking long has it been since you called him that? he hates it, loathes how it makes him feel, especially the craving it awakens for more.

“you’ve voted X? why the fuck do you support those cunts?” of course he would avoid the inquiry. at the end of the day, who is he without that desperate thirst for constant control? “holy shit, that’s your question? seriously?”

thankfully, the sound of doors opening drowns the heavy air between you two. the guards enter with the food, putting an immovable end to the conversation.

third night, 22:10

you can’t sleep, not like you’ve gotten much rest the previous days, but after that conversation your head just won’t stop spiraling.

you decide to go find hyun-ju, now that you’ve told her, talking may help let off some steam.

“going to see your friend?” oh come on. he’s spying on you now? you ignore the hostile question and keep walking. “you know he’s a-“ “shut the fuck up. she’s a hundred times a better person than you.” those words feel so unfamiliar. he would have never thought it was you who they came from if you hadn’t just uttered them in front of him. the taste they leave in your mouth is bittersweet. you know he deserves it, but deep down it hurts to be so cruel to him. now that you've met again, you yearn to get that warmth back, but everything he's done...

you can't even look at his perfect hands without seeing se-mi’s blood…

fourth day; 00:46

you stay in the bathroom until there’s no one left. looking for a bit of peace; however it may be. while heading out, you spot an ajar door. only some weak sniffling can be heard, but it’s more than necessary to pique your curiosity.

as you get closer, you find him there.

great.

he's sitting on the floor rubbing his face, clearly suffering. blood stains can be seen all over the clothes. your stomach churns at the sight; you don’t like seeing him like this. it’s agonizing how different he seems. ‘leave. just leave and act like nothing.’ you know that’s the smartest thing to do. so why aren’t you moving? the thoughts grow louder, and your heart mutes them; for better or worse, you don’t know. but it gives free rein to what it dictates, almost on impulse. and suddenly you’re holding his shaky yet rigid hand.

as surprising as it may be, he doesn't pull away, and simply stays still, avoiding your presence. must be the weakened state the drugs put him through. you slowly turn around his sweaty fist and find a cross collar in which you assume the pills are kept. “...you need to stop…” you understand the desire to numb the pain, the raw need to find a distraction, but in the end it's only gonna ruin him more.

he quickly yanks it away, “oh, you do wanna talk now?” its snarky; he's pissed off. well, you get that; you have no clue why you’re doing this either. ‘you’re still in time to leave.’

“what now, huh?” his eyes close while leaning further against the wall. he’s exhausted. the bob of his adam apple irregular, his breathing heavy. it's all painfully familiar.

the deja vu surrounds you with poisoned memories. every single one of them like a bullet to the heart. a bathroom. yourself. desperate, begging him to stop. him, unable to do so. you don't want to go through that again. you can't. and you know he doesn’t want to hear it all again either. “how many did you take?” no attack, no confrontation, no judging. not anymore. you won't let it turn into a fight. “too many.” it's nothing new, really. you’ve seen and known more about his high self than the real one during the whole time you were… whatever you were. you are aware of all the different versions. the aggressive one, the horny one, the hyper-energetic one, the goofy one…

his head bumps against the wall, faint voice when he speaks, just not enough to mask the resentment, “are you gonna leave again?” goddamn. can’t say it’s not a fair question. what the fuck do you answer now? nothing feels fitting enough, so you just take his hand again and try to clean some of the dry blood. the contact has your stomach doing backflips; you miss his damn touch way too much, it's no use to deny it. “answer my fucking question. you always leave.” he sighs, “you said you were done. ….so what's happening now?” your presence must be intensifying his daze, because he sounds genuinely disoriented. “.....i dont think any of that matters anymore. not here. this place is like a deadlock…” you try to downplay the seriousness of your conversation and end up making him laugh. “so you just wanna talk when we’re about to die.” his speech is more lively, are you actually helping him?

“what happened to hating me?” that question puts your thoughts on hold. you know what you feel –the conflicting opinions at war inside your body. you can't lie. “i still hate you.” it shouldn't burn your throat to let it out, it's the truth, but you can't stop yourself from adding: “a part of me does, anyway.”

this is wrong. you’re ruining everything. why are you still here? “then why are you holding my stupid hand?” “because the other part is worried.” you need to focus. you can't let his vulnerability get to you this much. you can't fall for the manipulation of past love again.

his laugh gets stronger; god it sounds deranged. he sits up and looks at you for the very first time. and you wish you could see anger, disgust, hatred. but you don’t. or maybe it's just the freezing of your blood that prevents you from noticing. “what? what the hell is it now?”

reality is always crueler.

“your eyes….” no, no, no. “gyu” there it goes, that damn nickname again. he immediately closes them, taking his hand away one more time. building more walls. “god, gyu. how many did you take?” worry corrodes you, fear. you’ve lived this before…. it’s like a nightmare. his laugh turns bitter. “don’t. don’t fucking call me that.” the overwhelming feeling gets the better of you and you can’t help it; your hands reach his face. you know he’ll push you away, you know he’ll get angrier, or curse at you. you expect all of that, but you can’t mind it. not with his pupils looking like that.

there it is, you’re falling for it again; maybe you simply don’t wanna stop it, tho. he flinches and grabs your wrists, ready to push you, but the moment your eyes lock, he stops. you see the whirlwind in them. his mind fighting itself. you know he wants to do it, but something’s stopping him. the dilation makes you feel aghast. you remember his overdose; you were there. you think about how the circumstances are taking a toll on him, the tiredness, the stress. it has to be that, please.

“fuck, gyu…” “stop.” it doesn't sound like an order, more like a plea. the conflict still taints his face; you feel it on his arms, the shakiness, the tension, like he’ll snap before you know it. your whole body hurts. “....stay….” your eyes burn, you can’t lose him here, not after everything.

there’s no reaction, his voice sounds robotic, “you said you didn't wanna talk to me again.” you’re getting desperate. “gyu. stay.” your hands tighten, hell, you’re begging again. “i have nowhere…to go.” he closes his eyes, seemingly struggling to keep them open, and leans back. “namgyu, for fuck’s sake, stay with me!” you’re shaking his head now. you know what's coming. his head lolls forward, he tries to focus on you, but his gaze is weak. he can’t hold the eye contact. “shit.” you stand up and wet your hands, then place them on his head. how did you let it get this far? “come on, don’t fall asleep.” he stares at you, at the bathroom. -is he seeing it too?- then lowers to your lips. he is. “you're making me sick.” he mumbles, rubbing his face. you ignore the scorching needles tugging at your skin, “keep talking”, and stand up again to bring him some water with your palms, “drink it.” which he does, thank goodness. and then, takes a second to breathe in. “you left.” your heart drops. “yes, yes i did. keep lashing at me if you want, just don't fall asleep.” he stays still. giving you that wide, drugged-out-eyes face you know so well. “i hate you.” fucking shit, you also feel sick. “yeah. that's perfect, just stay awake.” you feel your voice becoming strained. “i fucking hate you.” you nod, if it keeps him conscious, you’ll worship that hate. “that’s okay…” he grabs your face and brings it closer, “i said i fucking hate you. with my entire fucking soul.” you nod again and gulp. “i hate you too.”

he yanks you forward and smashes his lips against yours. it’s not a soft kiss, or sweet. it’s rough, and hard. desperate and messy. you kiss back. fuck you, you hate yourself too. it feels too good, it always has.

he pulls you even closer, getting worked up, the water making it sloppier, and bites your lip taking control, as usual. your hands dive deeper into his hair, getting to his nape. one of his grabs your throat, the other your waist, and they pull you into his lap. he presses his tongue into your mouth and damn it all to hell, you missed this so much, you tug on his hair.

you’re both getting out of breath, his arms are trembling, but none of you can let go. it’s too much. he keeps his hands around you and stops for a second, only to breathe, and pulls away with your lip in his teeth. then he starts to kiss a path down your jaw and neck. he bites and sucks on your skin. claiming every piece that used to be his.

“you’re a fucking bitch…” he whispers against your hot flesh.

“and you're a bastard son of a bitch.” you retort gripping tighter. he groans at the pain. “am i? you’re the one who left.” his fingers start to trail down your body. as if he was trying to feel every inch of skin, trying to commit it to memory.

“you made me leave.” you scratch his neck. “oh, so now you’re blaming me? now that you’re finally facing me?” he pulls you into another open-mouthed kiss, making you moan. the fucker smiles and bites you one last time before breaking it, panting. then goes back towards your neck, right above your ear, and whispers: “you’re mine. don’t fucking forget that”. but you’re still stuck on the way he just looked at you, it’s like reality makes its way through your lustful haze.

he’s high. he’ll regret this tomorrow, maybe he won’t even remember. you try to stop the thought but it has already infected your brain.

damn it.

he keeps going, still under the influence. “say it….say you’re mine.” you can’t. you can’t do that to yourself. “we need to go back…and you need to rest…” you try to move, “don’t give me that bullshit,” but he’s still stronger. “i won’t rest until i hear the words.” his hot breath sends chills down your spine, “are you going to be good, and give me what i want?” but you can’t bring yourself to say it. it’s the last step into madness. tho the pull is too strong, and you don’t wanna shatter this moment, you still crave closeness, so you caress his lips and he kisses the fingers before taking them into his mouth, playfully biting the tips. he’s looking at you with lust, and something more.

“you gonna keep testing me?” “you gonna regret this?” he smirks, “with how good it feels? nah.” and keeps kissing everywhere. “say it. you know you want to.” god, you hate him. “….i’m yours, gyu…..” the second you say it it’s like something unlocks inside of him. he grabs the collar of your shirt and brings you in for more. “mine, mine, mine.” he chants against your lips, in a trance. “you’re mine. you’re so good to me. why were you so stupid? you could have stayed…” kiss. “but now you know better, right?”

motherfucker.

you cup his face, “i hate how fucking hot you are.” “i know,” he smiles snuggly. “it’s what makes you so addicted to me.” you rest your head on his shoulder, already past the barrier. that doesn’t stop him from marking you even more, tho. hes insatiable. “did you miss me?” he’s not playing now, you feel the underlying insecurity. “you’re an asshole, you already know the answer.” “do i?” he asks, holding your chin. you nod. “i did, i missed you, gyu.” “yeah? missed me or my dick?” “at least your dick made me feel good.” “i did too, you brat. how much can we do in these bathrooms before they catch us?”

as if on cue, an armed soldier enters the bathroom. “you’ve got great timing, man.” and as you exit the room, he whispers: “not what i had in mind, but we can still work with this.”

fourth day, 02:26

“do you regret tonight? being with me?” you shake your head. you may regret being so weak, so addicted, but in the end, it was bound to happen. you two were bound to happen. your souls are tangled by pain, blood, and love. and they can't exist separately. “is it because you missed me or do you have a soft spot for bad boys?” “laugh all you want but you scared the shit outta me with those big-ass pupils.” he nuzzles you with his nose and teases back. “i’ve had bigger ones than that, you shouldn’t be surprised. besides, didn’t you miss playing nurse?” you know he’s only pulling your leg, but there’s a thin layer of worry enveloping you still.

“shut up,” you scoff. “make me,” he taunts. and you comply, giving him the softest kiss so far. “so good. you’re so good at taking care of me.” he mutters against your swollen lips, and you can’t stop the grin. tho at least it’s dark and the blushing you can keep to yourself. “can’t believe i missed your stupid-ass sweet talk.” his tongue gives you a playful lick. “you missed more than that, baby.”

[rainandsentences]

conrad fluff to balance out the DEVASTATING ANGST whenever ur ready would be greatly appreciated 🙏 the angst hurtsssss

i am so sorry but i absolutely love writing angst... but, here is your compensation for all the sorrow. he he

hope you like it, gumpy <3

A Playlist for You

post-canon conrad x f!reader

synopsis: just monotony and some old devices.

rate: 16+

warnings: finally some short fluff.

————————————————————————

It was a lazy Sunday in the kind of way that made time feel like honey — slow, golden, and stickier the longer you let yourself rest in it.

You had left Conrad alone for maybe twenty minutes — just long enough to run to the corner store for almond milk and his favorite granola. He insisted you didn’t need to go; you insisted that he didn’t know how to shop without accidentally bringing home three pints of ice cream and none of the actual groceries.

So you left. And when you came back, the apartment was quiet.

Almost too quiet, he was not a very loud person but it was weirdly quiet.

You walked in, bags crinkling at your side. “Hon?”

“Bedroom!” he called, faintly distracted.

You followed his voice, setting the bag down on the kitchen counter as you passed. When you pushed the door open, your breath caught.

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside your old shoebox of tech junk — headphones around his neck, tangled charger cords everywhere, and in his hands...

“Is that my old iPod?”

He looked up at you, sheepish.

“I didn’t mean to snoop,” Conrad said, holding it up. “But this little guy was glowing like a time capsule, and I had to know.”

You blinked. “I haven’t touched that thing since, like… sophomore year of college.”

“Yeah, I figured when I saw that your top played song was Lorde circa 2017.” He smiled, small and lopsided. “But then I found this playlist.”

You froze.

“Oh no.”

Not the playlist, not THAT playlist...

“It’s called—” He checked it. “‘Literally No One Can Ever See This.’ Bold title, by the way.”

You groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t—”

“I did.”

Fuck.

He pressed play and the room filled with the quiet swell of a song you hadn’t heard in years. Soft vocals. A slow piano build. A kind of aching, tentative hope embedded in every word.

You folded your arms over your chest, leaning against the doorway. “You’re not allowed to judge teenage me. She was… melodramatic.”

Conrad stood slowly, slipping the headphones off his neck. “She was in love.”

Your breath caught.

He walked toward you, gentle and sure, as the music carried on from the tiny speaker in the iPod.

"There's actually a note in the box that explains with detail why you added the songs... literally, its like six sentences each... this is awesome-"

You grabbed the iPod and hugged it.

"Why the hell are you spying on my things?!" You say, you're not fully mad, more like embarrassed because you knew exactly what the note said...

"Well, I'm sorry..."

"Yeah, you should be!"

He stands up and walks towards you with a tender gaze, his blue eyes piercing you.

"Honey...I'm sorry if you felt bad, it wasn't my intention to make you feel that way. I should've ask you first..."

You sigh and hold his hand.

"I'm not mad..."

He lifts his eyebrows like a question.

"Okay, a bit... I'm more embarrassed than mad." You chuckle softly

"Might seem weird but it's actually very adorable." He says softly caressing your hand with his thumb.

"I was a teen."

"Precisely."

You scoff and smile at him.

"I forgive you and honestly I had no idea I still had that thing."

"It's hilarious, babe." He kisses your hand. “You know, your old self picked all the songs that said everything she couldn’t say,” he murmured “You know what track five is?”

You closed your eyes.

He answered for you.

“‘It Must Have Been Love.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “Okay, well, that's an old song, beautiful by the way-"

He cut you off, softly.

"Well, you've mentioned me that... someone reminds you to that song."

"Conrad, stop." You say as you feel you cheeks blushing.

“Nuh, uh... when were you going to tell me you’ve been in love with me since track five?”

You looked up at him, cheeks warm. “I wasn’t.”

He tilted his head. “No?”

“I mean, you're my boyfriend now... I didn’t think I needed to,” you said. “I figured you’d already know. You were always… the song in the background.”

His expression softened completely.

“I played the whole thing twice,” he admitted. “Sat here with your old headphones like I was sixteen again, trying to figure out if the girl I loved maybe, possibly, secretly loved me back.”

Your eyes widened. “You—”

“I didn’t make a playlist,” Conrad added, voice lower now. “But if I did, it would’ve been full of songs that reminded me of you.”

You stepped in closer.

He held your gaze.

And then, with a soft smile:

“I guess we’ve been playing each other’s music all along.”

That night, you danced around the kitchen barefoot while he made dinner — the playlist playing in full over the speakers, your iPod propped on the counter like a little ghost of who you used to be.

Conrad caught your hand as you twirled past him, kissed your forehead, and whispered:

“Track five is my favorite.”

And when you searched for his lips, you didn’t need any more lyrics.

Just this.

Just him.

Just the song of it all finally making sense.

[mariacallous]

In February, 1983, lawyers for the American Civil Liberties Union in Georgia faced a dilemma. After years of looking, they believed that they had found the ideal plaintiff to challenge a state law against “the offense of sodomy,” which carried a sentence of one to twenty years. He was Michael Hardwick, a twenty-eight-year-old bartender who had been arrested after a police officer, following up on an old ticket for drinking in public, came into his home and found him having oral sex with another man. No one involved was a minor, or a sex worker, or afraid of being outed—Hardwick was openly gay. And he’d immediately asked the officer a question that many jurors might have: “What are you doing in my bedroom?” An A.C.L.U. lawyer later said that it was “the best fact pattern we will probably ever get in a sodomy law case.” But, perhaps for that very reason, the Fulton County district attorney stalled on bringing it to trial. So the A.C.L.U. sued to force the issue: it was the eighties, a decade and a half after Stonewall; Georgia’s law was archaic and cruel. It was past time.

Yet when the case, Bowers v. Hardwick, came before the Supreme Court, in 1986, a 5–4 majority upheld the law—a profound shock for many people in and outside the gay community. As Martin Padgett writes in a new book, “The Many Passions of Michael Hardwick,” some factors contributing to the defeat were specific to that period, including the rise of Reaganism, fearmongering about aids, and the personal pique of Justice Lewis Powell, who later said that he had found the whole business “frivolous.” But its lessons may be useful in these unsteady days, too, with our own uncivil Court.

President Donald Trump is trying to ransack the Constitution, and the Supreme Court’s conservative majority too often appears to be either complacent or just lost. The blows come weekly, even daily, with headlines about, say, the Court permitting the deportation, without adequate due process, to South Sudan of migrants with no connection to that country. The Court has also allowed Trump to begin dismantling the Department of Education, and issued rulings constraining trans rights. Most remarkably, in Trump v. CASA, a decision whose declared purpose was to stop lower-court judges from issuing nationwide, or “universal,” injunctions—in itself a reasonable enough move, as such injunctions have been misused in partisan ways—the conservative Justices acted as if there might be some constitutional mystery about the citizenship of babies born in the United States. There is not, under the plain language of the Fourteenth Amendment. “Shamefully,” as Justice Sonia Sotomayor put it in a scathing dissent, the majority seemed too timid to say so.

There have been wins; in a case now known as W.M.M. v. Trump, the Court, ruling after midnight, temporarily blocked some deportations. But there are more tough fights ahead, involving universities, law firms, cities, and, crucially, Trump’s ability to assert that the U.S. is under invasion by foreign forces, which would give him certain wartime powers. There will likely be more losses.

One lesson of Bowers, however, is that what feels like the end can be a beginning. Sarah Schulman’s “Let the Record Show,” from 2021, a history of the act up coalition, describes how going to a Bowers protest was often the first step on a path to activism. The streets were not the only venue; advocates also pursued parallel campaigns at the ballot box and in state courts and legislatures. The Court finally overturned Bowers in 2003, in Lawrence v. Texas, but the Georgia Supreme Court had thrown out the state law in question five years earlier. The lawsuits need to keep coming.

The birthright-citizenship question will surely be back in the Court soon. It was prompted by Trump’s January 20th executive order to begin denying citizenship to babies born to mothers who have either no legal status or a status that is lawful but temporary and to fathers who are neither citizens nor green-card holders. Lower-court judges quickly blocked this wildly illegal order by issuing universal injunctions. The CASA decision, written by Amy Coney Barrett, took that particular legal tool out of their hands, saying that those judges could give “complete relief” (a legal term for remedying harm) only to the parties before them, and to no one else. Some observers feared that only children with a lawyer ready would be able to secure their citizenship. Thankfully, that worry has abated.

For one thing, an option left standing in what Sotomayor called “the rubble” of CASA is a class-action suit, which she urged the parents of affected babies “to file promptly.” Such suits, in which a small number of plaintiffs are recognized as representatives of a larger group, have a longer and far sounder track record than do universal injunctions, which have become common only in recent years. Brown v. Board of Education, for instance, was a class-action suit. (Justice Thurgood Marshall, who argued Brown as a young lawyer, dissented in Bowers.)

Sotomayor’s advice was heeded: on July 10th, a federal judge in New Hampshire provisionally certified a class of all babies targeted by Trump’s order born on or after February 20th, when it originally would have gone into effect, and enjoined its enforcement against any of them. The class-representative babies are known in court papers as Matthew, born in Florida in March, and Sarah, born in Utah in April. The A.C.L.U. and others have also brought a class-action suit on behalf of all detainees at Alligator Alcatraz—the actual name of the now notorious migrant-detention facility in Florida—on the ground that they don’t have access to lawyers.

In addition, the plaintiffs in CASA included twenty-two states, and Barrett herself came frustratingly close to acknowledging that complete relief for them would require something very much like a universal injunction. The alternative could be a dizzying situation in which people lost or gained their citizenship as they crossed state lines. But Barrett left that call to the lower courts. Indeed, last Wednesday, in a case brought by Washington, Arizona, Illinois, and Oregon, the Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit blocked the order nationwide—at least for now—finding that states would otherwise be in an “impossible” position.

The Court’s conservative majority seems at times uncomfortable with the position that Trump has put it in. It has largely expressed this unease by being avoidant—focussing on ancillary technical issues, sending questions back to lower courts, or deferring decisions to another day. But the Justices can’t procrastinate forever, unless they’re ready for a constitutional crisis. The danger is that some of them may be. 

[khathir-bowl]

Spn s8 pls give me more pergatory lore pls pls plssss. I dont like the 2 episodes a day that is happening for me, cuz of life stuff but things have to be done and then I can enjoy this show. As usual pls try out the notes taking it makes watching so much funner.

Ep 5 -BENNY!!! I like his fit mostly his hat, his hat is cool.

-so he wants revenge okay.

-i wonder what going on with kevin.

-dean is immediately getting ready to go get benny.

-I really need to know more about what happened in pergatory for dean to rush to get him.

-sams having the younger sibling urge to know everything. Same buddy same.

-"your a wascally wabbit, Mr. Tran" does sam mean rascally rabbit??

-"Im not your aunt."

-Benny and Cas agreeing on the cas is highly likely may not be able to pass and is just making it harder, while Dean still doesn't care and wants to bring cas either way.

-no joke Bennys eyes are so blue what the flip.

-her comment of the things that stood out to be weird about sam made me giggle.

-so they board a yacht feed on it then burn it and let it sink in the sea.

-I love all Bennys lines and he deliveries them really well too.

-vampire+pirates = vampirates, made by the one and only dean winchester.

-the look of confusion and concern on bennys face over deans response im weezing.

-I wanna dress like Benny. Man the aesthetic attraction is hitting me harder than a bolder.

-let the man drink his blood like a cool-aid packet.

-greek AND an heiress i would have proposed immediately.

-NO WONDER HE WANTS TO KILL THE OLD MAN. IMAGINE THE LAST THING YOU SAW, BEING YOUR KINDA DAD RIPPING OUT THE THROAT OF THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE.

-im learning new english words just by watching Benny talk.

-Dean helping Benny get his revenge.

-NOT DEAN WANTING TO TELL SAM WHATS HE DOING CUZ HE KNOWS HIS LIL BRO MIGHT BE WONDERING. Oh he deleted it i guess he knew that sam would ask him who he is with.

-kinda had a feeling she would be alive.

-poor Benny he was stuck in a shocked and hurt state.

-average sibling conversation on the phone.

-have a feeling she's gonna get killed.

-i expected a older dude like old man looking vampire kinda nosferatu or something like that.

-dean going to save the damsel And sam on his way. Its giving Mario going to save peach and mid game has lungi tag along.

-ngl shes only speaking facts.

-did he just call him a mosquito??!

-I feel a heart break coming.

-THAT HIT ME HARDER THAN I THOUGHT OMG THE ANGST WOW.

-the sad look on benny and the sympathetic look on dean (i would be a liar if i said i didn't rewatch that a few times the rawness of bennys emotions hitting dean).

-he asked him why he resurrected him, hold me back. HOLD. ME. BACK.

-oh benny saved cas yippe.

-sam looks confused mad.

-oh hes MAD mad now.

-Did anyone else realise that dean and benny keep patting each other? And they always understand the meaning the other is sending with that pat.

Ep 6 -the arguments heat is going up.

-knew that sam was gonna bring Amy up in some way

-I KNEW IT I KNEW DEANS DECISION TO LET THE WEREWOLF GIRL GO WAS RELATED TO BENNY.

-of course he feels Benny is different.

-DEAN LOOKING AWAY GIRL HAHAHA.

-the older sibling need to switch the heat of the argument to the younger one. Ngl im pretty sure i did that before too.

-GARTH? GARTHHH!!! Amazing slowmo.

-HE'S THE NEW BOBBY!?

-nice to see off screen character development.

-the mask immediately falling off of deans face bros so done with it.

-DEAN JUST LOOKED HIM UP AND DOWN WITHOUT HIDING IT, HE WANTS HIM TO KNOW HES JUDGING HIM.

-Did dean just change his whole demeanor around garth after realising dude knows what he's doing.

- i...did he just...yup he just licked that.

-the brothers disgust.

-still same old garth just more knowledged.

-Garth asking the real question, Sam even had to turn.

-HE WENT TO COLLEGE AND DENTAL SCHOOL?!?!

-He killed the tooth fairy as his first hunt, wow im actually impressed.

-oh noo its those worm things.

-its not, its a ghost lol.

-dean bringing up oedipus complex and admiting he doesn't understand what it means. He just said it cuz it sounds smart.

-thats bobbys hat.

-i really wanna know the hype around southern sweet tea, like is it really that good??

-Garth gotta understand there is a difference, yes bobby helped hunters but for sam and dean he was a paternal figure the only actual paternal figure that didnt treat them like soldiers but like actual children and humans. He raised those boys and also helped them with hunting.

-bobby hand writing is so pretty man.

-why did he sniff him.

-Garth tryna be the middle man.

-from what im understanding cas and sam detrayed deans trust while Benny hasn't.

-Garth bro one day ill achieve your lvl of chillness and acceptance.

-if garth is actually talking about the sega genesis like the game console, he 100% is a fan of sonic and sees dean as shadow. (Plus sam as tails or amy lol). "Your the shadow to my sonic man."

-idjit..AW THAT WAS ACTUALLY SWEET MAN.

-Deans smile to himself.

-pls dont tell me sam is gonna get revenge on Dean for killing Amy, by killing Benny. that kinda beats the point of him letting Amy go in the first place.

(My fav of this season for now gotta be Benny, plus my mischievous drawing idea will be drawn tmr HEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHE)

[one-foot-in-if]

I got this amazing review of Chapter 1 that absolutely floored me. I'm still not over it. The level of detail and thought that went into this—thank you so much for taking the time to write all this, Anon. 💜

Since it contains massive spoilers, I'm copying it here so I can respond to everything and keep the spoilery parts below the cut.

Anonymous asked: What an excellent demo ! Congratulation, really👏 The setting is original, the writing immersive, the characters believable and touching, and the drama is delicious. I enjoyed learning about Lebanese cuisine (I discovered a lot of new recipes, thanks to you) and getting some knowledge on Lebanese culture and traditions in general. The visual for the arabic calligraphy after choosing MC’s name was a nice touch, as well as an original and immersive idea. As for the rest, many spoilers ahead : It was a touching read. I could feel the sense of community and loss emanating from the gathered characters (as well as the sense of impending drama, that the demo didn’t fail to deliver). You succeeded in making these characters feel alive (yes, even poor ghost MC 😹).

Thank you so much. The fact that you picked up new recipes while reading makes me ridiculously happy! (Also now I'm dying to know which dishes caught your eye!)

And I'm so glad the calligraphy moment worked. I wanted choosing a name to feel meaningful and rooted, not just filling in a blank.

[WARNING: Massive spoilers for Chapter 1 below the cut. Please read the demo on Itch.io or Neocities before proceeding!]

I was particularly moved by grandfather Georges sitting alone at the corner table, looking at the empty chair where his deceased wife and MC used to sit, while holding his prayer beads with trembling hands. It’s a scene that resonated with me and literally brought tears to my eyes. As the MC could probably say, to deflect : who is cutting onions ?

Aww, poor Georges. He really does carry so much weight in this story—more than he lets on. I'm so touched that his moment hit you like that. 💜

The gossip between Aunt Mona and Mrs. Khoury was harsh for MC’s father, but also realistic as people tend to judge those who are less demonstrative in their affection and don’t process grief the ‘expected’ way. MC’s father, Maroun, is obviously torn between his sadness, guilt, and his need to keep up appearances (some would say his pride). His reaction when Mrs. Maalouf compares MC to their mother, the strangled voice and him cutting the conversation short, shows that he isn't as unflappable and cold-hearted as he pretends to be and that he is in fact deeply hurt by the death of his close relatives. I find it fascinating how he only allows himself to show some vulnerability to a six year-old child, how his voice softens and he feels comfortable enough to confess part of his grief. And here I am, hoping for MC to find closure with their father in the course of the game, what will certainly make for a very emotional scene : will we finally see this stoic man ‘break’ ?

Children have a way of slipping past adult defenses, don't they? You've read Maroun perfectly—that moment is central to who he is. As for closure between MC and their father... that's definitely going to be a rocky journey.

Funny you should mention the word "break", though... 😈

It really feels like Seydou/Safiatou can hear MC’s voice, like they are talking with MC and not to them. They are also the only one who seems to be able to feel them. I wonder if they are more sensitive to the spiritual plane than most or if it’s due to the deep bond they share with MC, the kind of bond only shared by soulmates (platonic or romantic). Even ‘just’ the story of their singed eyebrows, and the mention of MC waking up earlier for three weeks to draw them new ones with a marker, gives off the feeling of a shared past. These two feel like best friends, we are not just being told they are.

You're asking all the right questions about S, there! (Also I rewrote that damn eyebrow story like eight times trying to get the friendship/almost-conversation vibes right, so thank you for letting me know it worked as I'd hoped!)

You managed to make me care about all these characters, and that’s why I ended up trying all the options to check on each of them, because I was genuinely curious about how they felt or why they reacted in a particular way to MC’s death. And after reading those scenes, I still find myself wondering what is on the paper MC’s father is constantly looking at (probably something he meant to say or confess but couldn’t get himself to ?), or even what MC’s grandfather means when he says that some ‘bridges’ cost more than expected.

I love that you took the time to explore all the different branches! It's so awesome to hear you were curious enough about each character to see how they were handling everything. 💜

The beginning really surprised me : I chose to help Yasmine, and I didn’t expect for MC to literally go through her. I really thought they were still alive at this point which, I think, was the intended impression for the reader, as it mirrors MC’s own disconcertment at their new state of being.

Yes! I'm so glad that surprise landed! The first draft actually started with MC already knowing they were dead, but it felt so flat. I ended up scrapping everything and rewriting it as this kitchen crisis where you might think you're about to witness their death or something. I'm much happier with this version where you get to realize the truth alongside MC.

I was eagerly waiting for Nour’s arrival and they certainly made an entrance, what a mood shift ! I’ve always loved playing a twin MC but the concept of this story makes it even more riveting. Nour is obviously hurt by their twin’s death and bitter due to the cause for said death : family duty and expectations. I find it fascinating how differently they grieve from most others : no tears, no tender reminiscing, not even cold detachement. In fact, they are like a volcano, their pain is overflowing lava, causing chaos in its wake. The contrast with their father is stark : where Maroun is all controlled grief and guilt, perfect stance and countenance, they storm in like chaos, drunk, disheveled, clothes wrinkled, loud. The embodiment of ‘unstoppable force (Nour) meets immovable object (Maroun)’. From this tense face-off is born an upsetting truth, that is the core conflict of the story : MC lived their life to please their family and make their father proud, they never got to live how they wanted to and died from this.

That "unstoppable force meets immovable object" description is spot on—might have to steal that!

And yes, Nour's volcanic grief! They're the only one who refuses to perform "proper" mourning. Everyone else is going along with the expected rituals, and Nour tries to brace for doing just that, but they can't help it, they take one look at the others and just... explode all over them with the messy truth.

I worried a lot about whether starting with so much family drama was too much, but then I figured—other IFs open in the middle of epic battles... this one just happens to be fought with chickpeas and emotional devastation 😅

On the subject of MC’s cause of death, I found myself holding my breath at the parts mentioning their worsening panic attacks. The countdown of the days since each message was sent really helps creating a sense of tension and impending doom.

Yes, that countdown was meant to be a little anxiety-inducing, to mirror some of what the MC was feeling in those last few weeks. And yes, those panic attacks are definitely a symptom of something wrong, but they're not what ultimately killed MC. We'll get to that soon enough.

Nour’s tirade is touching because it’s a raw and clumsy one. They are well-meaning and genuinely think of restoring the truth as a way to honor their deceased twin. But they are also under the influence of grief, anger and alcohol, and thus don’t realise how disrespectful they are being to their twin, by revealing private messages post mortem without their approval. Yet, in doing so they finally give a voice to MC’s suffering. We witnessed the people gathered here talking highly about MC, praising how dutiful, talented, generous and self-sacrificing they were. These people erected an altar to the perfect image they have of MC, and in doing so they also paradoxically disrespected them. After all, aren’t they paying their respect to the front MC put up, the very same front that was the root of their suffering and led them to an early grave ?

This is such a deep analysis. Yes—Nour thinks they're defending MC, but it's not entirely selfless —that violation is also about their own pain and anger and guilt. And you're right about the mourners, too. They're so busy polishing MC's mask for the memorial that they don't realize they're erasing the real person underneath. Everyone's failing MC, just from different angles.

It should be too late to repair anything. And yet death in this story in only the beginning. From here anything is possible, and I’m really excited to see how everything goes. Best of luck in your writing !

Thank you again for reading so carefully and sharing such a thoughtful analysis. You're absolutely right—MC's got a lot of unfinished business to handle. I can't wait to share more with you! 💜