#from Samuel Adams

[artcalledgames]

Have You! Have you ever had a Lemon Meringue Pie Drink on a long Summer day? Limited for a time Samual Adams’s Summer Ale Lemon Meringue in mouth Drink Responsibly for taste One bottle add bottle water per hour That taste will still be there Drink irresponsibly All taste goes to waste Now your just drinking The taste was the beginning Not to be drunk Have you Drank today Decipher this code before 2050

It will leave the fridge faster than food allowing the refillable refrigerator that extra space, I’m only speaking, for my six pack bought! This is not apart of code, sorry but you still have until 25.5 approximate years to solve! :( or :) you still have time.

“As I burp, it’s just like you’ve eaten lemon.”

Stated a drinker

[r-h-e-t]

RIPPER STREET (2012-2016) 4x03 | 'A White World Made Red'

[rabbitinthemeadow]

Alas, the cradle of my heart waits elsewhere || Four

[atempause-art]

I was thinking first part of my writing is done after native english speaker looked over it and gave me edits and I could maybe now start posting the early chapters

my brain: how about you give it illustrations me: shit ur right

[themosthatedbeingg]

🌊 - Deep Water

He’s not to scared of deep water once he learned how to swim ( after Adam threw him in a lake in Eden and he had to learn how to swim or drown/be stuck under water ) he just prefers to put himself in it then someone throw him in it .

[aquilaofarkham]

The Story of Orpheus and Eurydice from The Metamorphoses written by Ovid, trans. Sir Samuel Garth, John Dryden, et al Castlevania: Nocturne Season Two Episode 7/8; dir. Samuel Deats & Adam Deats, written by Clive Bradley

[blackflash9]

That Time When AC3 Flipped Indigenous Portrayal

I always liked that AC III flipped familiar tropes about Native Americans in media, particularly regarding the language barrier and cultural awareness. Ziio mocks Haytham for assuming she can’t speak English, subverting the usual narrative where the comedic effect of not knowing the 'language of the land' is on the indigenous.

It is also Haytham - not Ziio - who causes the bar commotion despite his rather arrogant and baseless assumption that her culture would make her more prone to violence despite only being in the country for roughly a couple days. This also highlights that she understands the land and its people far better than he does.

Redcoat: "Oi, where you goin’, cully?" Redcoat: "No. The other cock robin." Haytham: "Well, I uh… I WAS leaving." Redcoat: "Oh? And now?" Haytham: "Well, now… I’m going to feed you your teeth." Kaniehtí:io: "And you were worried I was going to be the problem."

This also extends to Connor, as he regularly defies expectations by displaying more morality and virtue than many of his colonial counterparts. He criticizes the manipulative nature of the media for countering lies with more lies.

Sequence 5: Stop the Presses (Transcript)

Samuel Adams: "So now you've had a chance to see how it all works. Untoward actions will upset the citizens and inevitably lead to the guards being called. Depending on the severity of your transgression, they may simply search a bit before giving up and returning to their posts. But should you offend them severely or repeatedly – they'll become much more aggressive in their pursuit. I've shown you three ways to turn the tide. Remove wanted posters, bribe town criers, or visit a printer to create your own propaganda." Connor: "This feels wrong. Why not just speak to someone and explain my innocence?" Adams: "You can't be serious?" Connor: "We counter one lie with another. Words on paper instantly taken as truth. And all of it without question."

Calls him out on his hypocrisy in fighting for freedom while owning slaves.

Sequence 6: On Johnson's Trail (Transcript)

Samuel Adams: "Of course. I'm headed to a meeting with some men who should be able to help. Why don't you come along? It's good to see the people finally taking a stand against injustice..." Connor: "Says the man who owns a slave." Samuel Adams: "Who, Surry? I practice what I preach, my friend. She's not a slave, but a freed woman... At least on paper. Men's minds are not so easily turned. It is a tragedy that for all our progress, still we cling to such barbarism." Connor: "Then speak out against it." Samuel Adams: "We must focus first on defending our rights. When this is done, we'll have the luxury of addressing these other matters." Connor: "You speak as though your condition is equal to that of the slaves. It is not." Samuel Adams: "Tell that to my neighbor—who was compelled to quarter British troops. Or to my friend who's store was closed because he displeased the Crown. The people here are no freer than Surry." Connor: "You offer excuses instead of solutions. All people should be equal and not in turns."

And even stops Israel Putnam from kicking a dead enemy’s body - emphasizing that even someone as ruthless as Hickey was still a man.

Sequence 8: Public Execution (Transcript)

Israel Putnam: "At ease, men! At ease! I said lower your goddamn guns! This man's a hero! The General can be so stubborn sometimes. Piffle, he said, when we warned him something like this would happen! Piffle!" *Israel Putnam kicked Thomas' body* Connor: "Stop." Israel Putnam: "He wanted to kill the Commander. Nearly killed you as well. He was a scoundrel." Connor: "But still a man." Israel Putnam: "Hmph. You're nothing, if not consistent."

Assassin’s Creed III challenged the traditional portrayal of Indigenous people as either savages or passive victims, instead presenting them as individuals with intelligence, morality, and deep cultural awareness. The narrative highlights their ability to navigate complex social and political landscapes while exposing the hypocrisy and shortcomings of colonial figures. Rather than being depicted as primitive or completely naive, characters like Ziio and Connor demonstrate a greater understanding of their environment and the moral contradictions of their time. The game doesn’t just critique the British - it questions the American revolutionaries, revealing how their rhetoric of freedom often excluded those who did not fit within their social order.

Through Ziio and Connor, AC3 asserts that Indigenous people were not merely bystanders in history but active participants who approached their world with wisdom and integrity.

[tragic-ships-tournament]

GUYS!! GALS!! AND EVERYONE ELSE IN BETWEEN AND OUT OF THE SYSTEM THAT IS GENDER!!

THE MOMENT YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR... IT'S THEEEEEE-

TRAGIC SHIPS TOURNAMENT!

All 64 of your favorite tragic ships will be going up against each other in this head to head single elimination brawl! To figure out the answer to this age old question.... who is the best tragic ship?

The tournament will (hopefully) be starting 1 week from now! On Saturday, January 11th, for 24 hours only vote in our preliminaries to figure out who will be moving on to the next round. There are two brackets, Bracket A and Bracket B, and the winners of each respective bracket will face off each other in the finals

Without further ado, let's see our brackets!

(apologies if there's any typos or mistakes- I had to google like 70% of these characters to get their names.)

Click for quality please! Tumblr is... Tumblr.

Here is the full list of ships!

Marvin Gardens and Whizzer Brown

Orpheus and Eurydice

Ivan and Till

Mizi and Sua

Donald Trump and Joe Biden

The RMS Titanic

Jack Dawson and Rose Dewitt Bukater

Toshiko Sato and Owen Harper

Optimus Prime and Elita-1

The Ship of Theseus

My Hopes and Dreams 😔

Miss Holloway and Duke Keane

Lex Foster and Ethan Green

Margaret Cavendish and Samuel Stratford

Charlotte Sweetly and Ted Spankoffski

Melina Whistler and Janice Quatlane

Dorian Gray and Basil Hallward

Fiddleford McGucket and Stanford Pines

Dean Winchester and Castiel

Glinda Upland and Elphaba Thropp

Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet

Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan

Yamato and Portgas D. Ace

Dewey Riley and Gale Weathers

Archibald Clare and Ludovico Valentinelli

Aura Blackquill and Metis Cykes

Michaela Arklow and Clarith Netsuma

Peter Simonds and Jason McConnell

Jayce Talis and Viktor

Achilles and Patroclus

Captain Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones

Farilane and Kile

The 10th Doctor and Rose Tyler

Jonathan sims and Martin Blackwood

Enjolras and Grantaire

Rachel and Tobias

Rem and Misa Amane

Madoka Kaname and Homura Akemi

Erwin Smith and Levi Ackerman

Cloud Strife and Aerith Gainsborough

The Captain and Lieut Havers

Crick Wellsley and Temenos Mistral

Jason Dean and Veronica Sawyer

Seymour Krelborn and Audrey Fulquard

Agent Curt Mega and Owen Carvour

Jesus Christ and Judas Isacriot

Goro Akechi and Joker

L Lawliet and Touta Matsuda

Thor Odinson and Jane Foster

Tessa Gray, Will Herondale, and Jem Carstairs

Lyra Belacqua and Will Parry

Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru

Tony Wyzek and MarIa Vasquez

Lou Clark and Will Traynor

Phob and Phat

Taranza and Queen Sectonia

Anakin Skywalker and Padme Naberrie

Lawrence Gordon amd Adam Faulkner-Stanheight

Pearl and Rose/Pink Diamond

Ash Lynx and Eiji Okumura

Charles Xavier and Erik Magnus Lehnsherr

Normal Oak and Hermie Unworthy

Rintaro Okabe and Kurisu Makise

Rootspring and Bristlefrost

[docholligay]

If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquility of servitude than the animated contest of freedom - go home from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains sit lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that you were our countrymen! --Samuel Adams, in a speech given August 1, 1776

[impmansloot]

random things i liked about A Woman's Lot because i've been thinking about it again

— the mere fact of being able to talk to Henry and swordfight him (and finding out his injury in the beginning of the game is actually inflicted by theresa). absolutely adored his little lines when you approach him. peak gameplay.

— the fucking -2 charisma debuff because Woman. hysterical

— threatening Matthias to tell everyone he kissed Fritz

— you can brawl as Theresa. that's it. cue footage of my sister beating the shit out of matthias after not being able to convince him and then proceeding to fight a guard with bare fists

— despite the previous point, the game disempowers you and oh you feel it. after playing henry in his plate armor, you're just a girl in a dress, with adam's bow and maybe a short sword if you're lucky. if you're attacked by even one cuman—an armored man with a real weapon—you'll most likely die

— the whole henry/bianca/theresa situationship that is never really addressed nor does it slide into your typical love triangle tropes. it just is, do with it whatever you want

— the horrors of war hit you harder, as well as your first kill feels much more significant than with Henry. You need to kill, you need to escape, you need to hide, you're a wounded animal trying to survive.

— the game explicitly tells you that Theresa has no family left, that her brothers die—and yet in the flashback for some reason you still have hope that maybe by a miracle Samuel survives. i bawled my fucking eyes out

— that walk and chat with Johanka from the monastery to Sasau's market square, catching up on things. Generally friendship between Henry and Johanka, they're so dear to me

— "they're not some wenches, they're bathmaids doing their job," Feminism Won

— getting grilled for all my sins and getting the achievement was incredibly funny actually and it makes you think damn, maybe my misdeeds did matter. Yes, you have your subconscious your dead parents judging you in kcd2. In kcd1 it's Johanka. She will grill you, but not really because she's that mean judgy christian but because she thinks freaking Mother Mary is communicating with her and she's genuinely worried about your soul

— Johanka coping with her trauma of losing everything and survivor's guilt by desperately trying to save everyone vs characters like Matthew and Fritz getting on a slippery slope of crime. All three of them might die.

— you might have been a good christian and did the pilgrimage right, tried to atone for your sins, yet in order to save Johanka you need to lie or threaten or bribe or steal

— at least you can take Johanka and Matthias to Pribyslavitz after the quest :) not immediately but isn't that nice?..

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Trials of Apollo Au

@fanofstuff01 @beef-brisket

Sera tried not to throw a fit, she was too mature for such things but this was her baby. How could she not get upset?

Sera: Michael don't do this. Adams just a ba-

Michael: That's the problem, he's not!

It has been pointed out to Sera that she babies Adam, the angel of music too much. She always wanted a child but angels don't have babies the normal way.

Adam was made to replace Samuel, the fallen angel and devil down in Hell. When he opened his perfect golden eyes he took right to Sera and she knew she had to protect him from everything and everyone.

But that came at a price. Sheltering Adam like that made him naive, uncultured and lacking proper knowledge. And the fact that God made him the first gay angel meant Sera had to keep other men away from him. They only take advantage!

But now they want Adam to lead the Extermination Day army, Sera didn't understand why. He was too sweet too soft. Adam didn't have a real mean bone in his body.

Sera: He's my baby!

Michael: He needs to learn about the world and life! He can't do that with you sheltering him. He's going to earth to help a human better their life, without his powers.

Sera: WHAT!?

Michael: Or would you rather he go to Hell?

Sera winced, she didn't want either thing. She looked at her sleeping son, he didn't know what was going to happen and it wasn't fair.

Sera: No...... But no powers?

Michael: The more he helps them he'll start to get them back. Say goodbye it's time.

-

Down on earth, Lucifer and Charlie were laying in their normal dumpster watching the night sky. The brother and sister duo were about to fall asleep when they saw a shooting star.

Lucifer: Make a wish!

Charlie crossed her fingers and closed her eyes. She wished for a miracle to save them from the streets.

Charlie: Done!

That's when the shooting star...... Started coming for them!!

[atempause-art]

"i wanna draw one of my czech monster ocs in traditional czech dress" i said and then my hand slipped and drew all 6 of them.. i'm not sure if i'm going to actually render the other two pairs tho

samuel wearing kroj from podluží, adam from kyjov. more or less.

[cowboygenesis]

9: eighty-six | kylo ren x reader

part 9 of the "bump it, cool it" series: masterlist. | playlist

pairing: [modern!au] kylo ren x reader chapter warnings: explicit language, vague sexual imagery. word count: 6.2k series summary: when your roommate’s older brother needs a place to crash, you begrudgingly offer up your couch— only to realize he’s the most insufferable, entitled asshole you’ve ever met. the worst part? you can’t seem to stop thinking about him. notes: howdy, we're back after a small break! i've been thinking about the pacing of this story a lot recently. if any of you feel like the enemies to lovers trope isn't shining through anymore, don't worry, because we're still yet to enter the dreaded ANGST ARC. anyway. thank you for reading and enjoy! x

Now Playing: I Heard It Through The Grapevine - Marvin Gaye

It’s been a week since your unfortunate night spent on the couch with Kylo; a week since you’ve been teetering on the edge of insanity.

During the day, you struggle to look him in the eye. He tries, of course—to talk to you, catch your attention, even urge you to spend time together. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s been more cordial. Sweet, even.

But you can’t face him; not when you’re aware of the leverage he dangles over your head after you’ve shown him that brief moment of vulnerability that cost you your all. It wasn’t a joke anymore, or a matter of personal interpretation.

The nighttimes are sleepless and lonely. The little physicality he gave you during your movie night seemed enough to drive you half-mad, but part of you knew it wasn’t just about that. You miss the heat of his body. You miss his digits smoothing your flyaways like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You miss the warmth. If only it didn’t come off as pity.

If only you weren’t falling for Kylo fucking Ren.

“Order up!” you hear a man’s voice call from the steaming kitchen, just above the din of the chaos that lies beyond. When you turn your attention to the service window, his dark eyebrow is furrowed in confusion. “C’mon, if we get these out in time you’ll get to clock out sooner.”

You realize you’ve been leaning against the drink fridge, one arm rubbing circles on your thigh while the other mindlessly clicks a pen. When your gaze falls to your chef de partie, he clicks his tongue impatiently. You shake yourself out of the daze and quickly approach the plates with an apologetic look on your face. “Sorry, Samuel.”

He nods toward you sternly, but there’s a semblance of sympathy in the way his lip twitches. You sigh, giving him a tight-lipped smile before swiping the dishes off the counter and turning on your heel toward the dining room. The smell of buttered pancakes fills your nose.

It’s been a particularly long workday and you’re feeling exhausted. You haven’t checked the time in a hot minute, but judging by the sun shining steadily overhead through the windows, you think your shift might come to a close soon.

The diner hums with life as usual around noon. Silverware clatters against ceramic, and people fill the room with joyful chatter. The air is thick with the scent of coffee, bacon grease, and syrup, weaving together into something both comforting and nauseating after hours on your feet.

Your sneakers scuff against the tiled floor as you weave through tables, past a group of retirees, a father trying to clean up his sticky toddler, and a table of construction workers loudly debating something about a baseball game. You didn’t really like baseball, but one of the gentlemen was always adamant on asking your opinion on recent matches. Needless to say, you eventually came around.

The hum of the milkshake machine rattles faintly behind the counter. The radio croons some classic rock song you’ve heard a thousand times; you think it might be Nina Simone.

You set the plates down in front of an elderly couple and muster a tired smile. “Pancakes and eggs. Can I get you anything else, guys?”

The woman smiles up at you with her red-painted lips and cat-eye glasses. “We’re okay. Thank you, dear.”

You nod with a bright smile and pivot back toward the counter, stretching the kinks in your shoulders as you go. The long shift has settled into your bones, pressing heavily against your spine, your calves, and the aching balls of your feet. You’ve been here since before sunrise, and despite how much you’ve tried to stay busy, keep your hands moving, and keep your mind off him, the hours have crawled at a snail’s pace.

Contrary to your first few weeks under Kylo’s reign, you’ve been sleeping like a baby recently. Every time the rain picks up at night, you’re reminded of his digits against your scalp, or, more improperly, your thighs around his waist.

With a frustrated sigh, you turn back toward the table. As you step forward, the bell above the diner door chimes. You look up instinctively, plastering on your best customer-service smile. “Morning, welcome t—”

It drops immediately when your next client walks in. For a second, you just stare and blink, hoping the apparition will dissolve into thin air.

He’s clad in dark jeans, sneakers, and a matching knitted sweater. When you squint, you realize it’s the same one you donned during your movie night. Somehow it’s only now, seeing it draped over his broad frame, that you realize how… domestic the gesture was. Your cheeks fill with warmth at the fact.

Then his dark eyes settle on you.

And his mouth—his sharp, stupid, smug mouth—quirks just for a second. God. It’s moments like this that you weren’t sure if your infatuation wasn’t just some glorified instance of hatred. Could you be irked by someone and desperately want to fuck them at the same time?

You force yourself to step forward, but it feels awkward, like you’re a baby deer trying to take its first steps. You brace yourself against a nearby wall with your palm, and size the man up with a sharp, confused glare. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Kylo exhales dramatically, trudging toward you. He leans against that same wall, broad arms bracing against the laminate as he levels you with a meddling look. You mindlessly inspect the freckles lining his cheeks.

“Good morning to you, too,” he deadpans, right before you feel his eyes flick over your figure. It’d be mildly riveting if you didn’t remember what you’re wearing.

Scalding heat rises to your cheeks as he rakes over your snuggly-fit dress, matching knee socks, and your frilly fucking apron. If you didn’t feel ridiculous the two years you’ve worked here, you sure do now; why would they ever think to put a grown woman in this get-up?!

“Don’t.”

“Cute outfit,” he murmurs, lips curling at the edges. His finger gyrates in the air as he nods toward your dress. “Is this like a roleplay thing, or—”

“I work here, jackass,” you scowl, taking a step away. “It’s a diner.”

“Right. Obviously.” He gestures vaguely to your apron, then tilts his head. “What’s with the little bows, though?”

You cross your arms like a shield, but his eyes roam nevertheless. “It’s a uniform.”

“Uh huh, “ he hums with clear trepidation, head tilted when his eyes finally meet yours. “Do you ever wear it afterhours?”

“What?” you quirk an eyebrow, wondering if he’s even been listening to you.

He shrugs casually, quickly shifting out of his leather jacket. Your eyes hungrily run down the smoothness of his forearms before he speaks again.

“You look good.”

Your stomach tightens. Heat flares at the base of your spine, creeping up the back of your neck like an ambush while your attacker quirks a smile your way.

“Kylo,” you warn, voice tight.

“What?” His smirk is infuriating, his tone all faux innocence as he sizes you up again. “It’s a look. Cute, flattering.” He pauses for a beat like he’s savoring the thought, inching his gaze toward your skirt. “Short.”

You hate the way your heartbeat fills your panties at that, pussy squeezing around nothing. He laps up your figure with glittering eyes, and suddenly you feel in the nude, unsure if his gaze is teasing or judgmental.

He watches for a reaction, and you eventually roll your eyes, snatching a menu from the counter and slipping it under your arm. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for his flirting at work of all places, even as your loins burn with hellfire.

“Alright, no loitering,” you sigh, nodding at him to follow you down the crowded dining room. “If you’re here, you gotta order something.”

Kylo’s brow lifts, but he plays along, walking a few steps behind you until you reach an empty booth near the large windows. Outside, the street is busy with chattering passersby as they enjoy their Saturday afternoon in the soft sunlight.

Kylo slides onto the leather seat wordlessly, taking the menu card between his fingers when you hand it to him. He flips it open lazily, scanning the pages with mild disinterest that irks you more than you would’ve liked. You sometimes realized that the line between frustration and arousal was as thin as a rake.

“What do you recommend?” he asks dully, like being treated to a meal was offending his pride.

You try to contain the scowl rising to your face by flipping open your little notepad. In your peripheral, you catch the couple you were serving before Kylo arrived. The woman smiles at you with mirth when your gazes meet, and while the gesture is sweet, you wonder why she’d be staring so intently.

When you look at Kylo again, he’s drumming his fingers against the table and looking at you curiously. The smile you had previously put on for the nice lady drops, and you scoff audibly. “Whatever will get you out of here the fastest.”

He chuckles lowly, and you clear your throat as you click the sleek pen open. You wanted to get this done as fast as possible and finish up your shift for today, just so you could go home, take a long shower, and hopefully knock this stupid crush out of your head.

“I’ll take a coffee, then.”

You jot ‘coffee’ down in your notepad, eyebrow furrowed as you glance over at him. “Anything else?”

His eyes brighten at the query, gaze flickering down to your uniform again. When you feel his keen gaze down your stocking-clad legs, your thighs squeeze. Suddenly, you kind of hated your boss for making you wear this ridiculous thing; but you hated Kylo even more for objectifying you so blatantly. If he wanted to joke about it, he had better make it funny.

“I’m good,” he finally shrugs, closing the menu and shoving it toward the far-end of the table. “Thanks.”

His sudden properness catches you off guard, but you don’t let yourself stall. Instead, you pocket your notebook and pen, shoot Kylo a quick glare and turn toward the beverage station. You hear him chuckle from behind you as you approach the laminated counter, his rumble disappearing under the din of chatter.

You grab one of the mugs with a sigh, then the glass coffee pot. You’re not sure what it is, but your fingertips tingle against the ceramic at the thought of turning around. The brief annoyance you felt at Kylo’s sudden appearance has finally vanished and made way to something a lot more visceral. You knew that facing him again would regurgitate all those inappropriate thoughts you’ve been having about him, and it might not be something you’re ready to deal with now—or ever, actually.

But again, the quicker you’d get this done, the quicker you could deal with your predicament from the privacy of your room. With a deep inhale, you put on your best deadpan expression and spin on your heel.

Your tongue goes dry, mouth parched. The echoing chirp of conversation and soft rock fades into static as your eyes spot two people hovering by Kylo’s booth. The elderly couple from before.

“Fuck,” you mouth as your legs carry you forward, holding onto the coffee pot and mug like they’re your only lifeline.

As you close-in on the trio, you spot Kylo relaxing his arm against the faux-leather of the backrest. He’s nodding along to something the woman is saying with a wide, toothy grin plastered on his speckled face. God, fuck! If you weren’t already jittering with confusion, the sight of his creased eyes and curled lips sends your body into overdrive.

And then he spots you. His dark, smiling eyes find yours, and suddenly you want nothing more than to rip this stupid, frilly apron off and call it quits forever.

Kylo calls your name as you stand by the couple’s side. They’re smiling wide, even as their attention turns to you.

“Martha, Don,” you greet them with a nod, voice saccharine to mask the grit of your frustration. When you notice the shake of your digits, you slowly set the mug and pot on the empty table.

“Oh, honey,” the woman speaks, reaching out to pat your shoulder. “We were just about to leave, but, well…”

“We’ve been coming here for what, ten years now?” Don pipes up, nudging his wife with a scrawny elbow. “Never seen you bring a fella before.”

Your stomach drops, eyes wide with shock when they flicker to Kylo. His wide grin has shifted to a smirk, eyeing your pallid face like he’s found the perfect opportunity to strike.

“She’s been keeping me a secret, huh?”

Your eyebrows shoot up toward your frazzled hairline, nostrils flaring as you plant your arms on your hips. “No, wait, we’re— I’m not—”

“Oh, don’t be shy!” Martha scoffs, waving a wrinkled, jewelry-clad hand around. “He’s positively gorgeous.”

You try your best to hold back the scoff growing in your throat when you catch Kylo preening. He tilts his head at you, like he’s saying: ‘indeed, take notes.’ You don’t necessarily think they’re wrong, he just doesn’t deserve to hear it.

“He is quite handsome, ain’t he?” Don chuckles warmly, placing a firm hand on Kylo’s shoulder. “Got that old-Hollywood look going on. Very romantic.”

“I try to be,” Kylo sighs, shrugging.

“Oh, just how lucky you are, lady!” Martha coos, giving you a pleasant smile. The two men follow suit, and suddenly, you feel like you’re about to be interrogated.

Your jaw clenches tight, but eventually you manage to croak out a weak: “Uh, yeah.”

Kylo’s brow lifts in mock surprise, smirk evident as he urges you on. “Yeah?”

And in that moment, you think you could murder him in cold blood. If you were to pounce on him, he’d certainly deserve it. Still, when you catch the couple’s beaming smiles and glittering eyes, you feel like you’re being put in check again. Despite yourself, you quickly school your expression into something a little more pleasant.

“Yeah,” you repeat a little smoother this time around, meeting the pair’s gaze with a tight-lipped smile. “We, um—yeah.”

Genius, you think. Such sophisticated language.

“Yeah,” Kylo reiterates, his voice mocking but only to your own sensitized ears.

But to Martha and Don, your mild approval seems enough to make them burst into warm chuckles and approbates.

“Young love.”

“How long have you been together?” Martha questions, turning her attention to Kylo. You’re almost stunned at how easily he seemed to have won their sympathy while being such an insufferable ass to you. Yet again, sometimes all it took was a cute smile and hot forearms—a fact older ladies seemed to appreciate just the same.

“We actually moved in together just recently,” Kylo utters smoothly, and you want to yell at the audacity of faking fondness with his buttery tone and glazed-over eyes.

“Oh, how wonderful. That’s such a big step!” Martha gasps, pressing a hand to her chest.

“Yeah,” you say tightly, fingernails pressing into your palms, “Massive.”

Don gives Kylo a knowing nod, crossing his arms like he’s interviewing his own son on his newest romantic conquest. “Bet it takes some adjusting, huh?”

Your roommate exhales, eyes flickering toward yours. Despite it all being a wonderful act, the softness of his gaze makes your heart wrench.

“You have no idea.”

“Oh, you poor little thing,” the woman sighs, clasping her hands while Kylo positively bathes in the lights of this stupid pity party. Poor thing? As if.

“No, no, it’s been great,” he chuckles softly, catching your attention. He looks down at his feet and snorts like he had just remembered something. “Except one thing.”

“No,” you say immediately, voice edging with harshness.

Martha and Don lean in, somehow utterly delighted at the instance of gossip. For a beat you think to excuse yourself to the kitchen, but leaving these three alone would nearly guarantee a disaster. You had to persevere until the end of your shift, and perhaps longer.

“She has this thing,” Kylo starts, drawling the sentence out like he’s pretending to give a shit about considering your decorum. “Things, even. Plural.”

“I do not have ‘things’,” you counter, but he’s already grinning and you just hope he makes up something mild.

“Oh, she does,” he insists, tilting his chin and squinting his eyes like he’s recalling a specific memory. “She loves to argue, for instance.”

Don hums in approval, as if it was some sort of universal truth about girlfriends and wives—except you were neither of those things, and it’d be hard to fix the damage with how deep Kylo has dragged the both of you.

“Like for example, yesterday she almost bit my head off for using the last of her plant milk.”

“You put the empty carton back in the fridge!” you snap in defence, making the elderly couple coo and sigh with sympathy, seemingly unaware of the venom in your tone.

“See?” he braces himself with raised palms, “And that’s not all!”

You scoff, arms crossing tightly with your clients’ attention turned toward the shameless drama devil.

“And don’t even get me started on the shampoo situation,” he drawls, and your ears prickle with heat. His gaze catches yours, pulling you in with that strange mirth. “She swore up and down she doesn’t use it, yet every time she leaves the shower she smells like me.”

You’re brought back to that day, standing face to face with Kylo as he leaned in against the doorframe of your shared bathroom; the rolling moisture of the chamber, his gaze, and the fresh aroma of pine that you longed to chase the times he was away.

“Don, isn’t that so poetic?” Martha gasps, tugging on her husband’s corduroy sleeve.

You’re fuming with embarrassment now, eyes narrowed as your fists bunch against your front. “It’s nice shampoo.”

“It’s expensive.”

“It was just one time—”

“And,” he cuts you off, running a hand through his dark locks as he tilts his head upward, “she loves having her hair played with.”

“Kylo—”

“Seriously, she’s so needy about it, too,” he elaborates with infuriating enthusiasm, motioning dramatically like he’s recalling your one night of piece. “We’ll be watching a movie and she’ll just throw her head in my lap, purring and sighing like a kitty.”

He grins at you, while your own lips shift into a frown. Besides the bellowing of your heart there’s not much keeping you grounded. When you meet his gaze again, your eyes are glazed with defeat and nearly pleading for him to stop this madness. “You can be real insufferable sometimes, you know.”

Martha, for the first time since Kylo’s storytime, turns toward you. Her eyes shift between you and Kylo, gleaming with sympathy and something strangely akin to pride. You can’t fathom what else that glint could be, boring into you like she’s bringing back something from the depths of her memory.

“Oh, honey,” she finally speaks, going to grab her husband’s hand. Despite the feverish droning in your ears, you can’t help but smile at the sweet affection. “You’ve got yourself a real fine gem.”

Your eyes flicker to his on instinct. Kylo tilts his head at you, your smile not going unnoticed. “Yeah, honey. You really do.”

If the prickling in your feet wasn’t bad enough already, his sudden mockery sends you leaning against the booth, mouth agape in shock. The trio watches you, smiling from ear to ear at how obviously affected you are, albeit not in the way they think.

Except this time, you don’t feel so angry. Kylo’s antics would normally send you half-insane, especially something of this caliber. But now? The usual blanket of rage is embroidered with a soft, silver lining, enveloping your beating heart and making you shiver with something velvety.

“Yeah,” you croak quietly before a thick swallow, urging yourself toward a good posture again. You force a sweet smile for the couple that they quickly reciprocate. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” Martha nods sympathetically, smoothing your forearm before she turns toward her husband. “Well, then. Let’s not get in their way.”

“Indeed,” Don clears his throat, reaching to adjust his flat cap before locking his arm with Martha’s. He turns toward Kylo, leaning down just enough to meet his gaze. “Treat her well, Ben.”

You tighten your lips. Besides Senna, this is the first time you’ve seen anyone call Kylo by his birthname. The sound feels strangely unfamiliar, but equally gratifying. You wondered why he’d feel comfortable sharing this part of himself with strangers, but not you. Sometimes you felt like Kylo and Ben were two people, differing in personalities but sharing a soul.

So much feels obvious once you catch Kylo’s eyes soften. Instead of looking at Don when he answers, his gaze turns toward you. “I will.”

A shock of electricity shoots down your spine. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he sounded genuine—but you do; you know that your arousal-addled mind is to blame for your moments of vulnerability and softness, just how it seeks out the same qualities in Kylo when all he means to do is poke and prod.

The elderly couple turns to leave, Don’s hand briefly finding your shoulder as they walk past you. “Atta girl.”

They give you a fond grin before muttering something between each other as the bell rings. A soft breeze rolls into the diner and musses your cheeks, so you close your eyes to let it cool you down. It does little to sweep off the frustration, but perhaps you’re better off just riding the wave at this point.

When your eyes flutter open again, Kylo’s already turned his head to toward the window. As you wordlessly match his gaze, you spot Martha and Don exchanging a chaste kiss on the far end of the sidewalk.

“What a sweet couple,” Kylo mutters, though his features don’t betray a smile. When his eyes flicker to yours, they’re glittering with something unfamiliar. If it wasn’t for the twitch of his lips, you’d think he was about to cry.

You sigh slowly, straightening out your frilly apron.

“They are,” you nod, taking a step closer and reaching for the coffee pot, “You, on the other hand…”

He quirks a brow at you and half-smirks, leaning into the table against his forearms. “Me?”

“You’re a douche, Kylo,” you spit, gaze sharply pinpointing the mug to avoid watching his self-satisfied expression. “What the hell was that just now?”

Kylo chuckles softly, his fingers drumming idly against the table as he watches you pour. “What was what?”

You hum, tilting the pot and giving him a brief glare. “I’m pouring hot liquid right now. Consider your next words carefully.”

“I’m serious.”

You scoff, placing the pot back on the table with a little extra force. The liquid inside sloshes around while Kylo retrieves his filled mug. “That little performance you put on,” you mutter, still pointedly avoiding his gaze. “You didn’t have to drag me into that shit.”

He stays silent for a beat to take a sip of coffee. You can’t help but watch his expression for a moment, as if the quality of your diner’s brew somehow defined you as a person. Nevertheless, he seems relatively satisfied.

“I spoke the truth.”

“The truth?” you chuckle joylessly, leaning against the table again to size him up. “Yeah. Sure. Except the part about us dating, you jackass!”

“You wound me,” he sighs melodramatically, grinning subtly over the rim. “I just gave Martha and Don what they wanted to hear.”

“Do not say their names like that,” you groan, pressing a hand to your temple. Just from this one instance, you knew Kylo was an old-lady whisperer, you just weren’t sure if that was a red flag or not yet.

“Why not?”

“Kylo,” you begin once more, forcing your voice to soften as your gaze levels with his. For once, his eyes narrow like he’s actually listening to your pleas. “They’re regulars. I won’t hear the end of it until I quit, or get fired for strangling you on the job.”

His smirk deepens, like the idea is actually amusing. Maybe he’s become immune to your threats, or maybe you’ve just gotten soft. Either way, when he places his mug down, you can’t help but bite your lip at the slickness of his mouth.

“I’ll make sure to keep this lie up by showing up regularly,” he shrugs, and you immediately roll your eyes at the suggestion. Even if he’s joking, the thought makes you grow warm.

“Yeah, no,” you sigh, grabbing the coffee pot and readying yourself to leave. When his lip twitches at the corner, a certain realization suddenly dawns on you. You never told him about your workplace, just that you waitered.

“How did you find me?”

He scoffs, taking another languid sip. “You make it sound so dramatic.”

“You know what I mean,” you scoff, and Kylo shrugs half-heartedly in return.

“I asked Rey.”

Obviously. It feels like this isn’t the first time his sister has meddled in your demise, and probably not the last. Sometimes it felt like they were in kahoots, but most likely Rey was just cleverly juggling both playing fields.

“Okay,” you trail, eyebrows furrowing. Your grip flexes around the handle before you speak again. “Why?”

Kylo drops his gaze smoothly, rapping his fingers around the ledge of the table before chuckling. You meet the sound with a hum of confusion, eyeing him like he’s gone mad. After a beat, he straightens out to meet your gaze again.

“You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“Probably,” you shrug with pursed lips, and the giggle he emits makes your lips quiver. You hate how your body reacts to these things without your consent, like it’s plotting against your better judgment.

Kylo sighs loudly, placing a hand around the mug. His porcelain skin covers the circumference with much ease, dwarfing the dish with its size. You swallow thickly.

“I locked my keys in.”

Your eyebrows lower significantly, head tilting in confusion. “You… okay. At home?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

You stay silent for a beat, drinking in your unwanted feelings. Somehow, the idea of Kylo deliberately finding your workplace to see you feels a lot more desirable now that it turns out to be untrue. Your stomach twists, and you wrench your free fist into your skirts.

“I need my keys,” you explain dryly, angrier than you’d planned.

Kylo nods, blowing a raspberry before taking a long sip of his coffee. You watch him tap fingers against the mug for a while before he turns to you again. “When does your shift end?”

No. God, no.

It’s like he had sensed your confused arousal and decision to stay away, because now you’re faced with a choice. You could lie and stay working longer, or spend some extra time with him and leave your shift as planned.

The unfortunate object of your desires makes the choice easier than you’d like.

“In five minutes.”

Kylo’s eyes widen slightly at the perfect coincidence, downing the rest of his coffee with a quick swig. You try not to focus on the way his Adam’s apple bobs with every swallow. Why did it look so… dirty?

He sighs once he’s done, placing the mug on the table and tilting his head at you. “Go on, then.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What?”

His eyes roll haphazardly, but there’s no real malice to it. You think he expended it all when you framed you as his girlfriend. “I came by car, I’ll drive us.”

You hesitate, rolling your lips together. The pot in your hand begins straining your muscles. “You don’t have to.”

Kylo raises an eyebrow, nearly offended at your unwillingness to take the free ride. “I know I don’t have to, but what’s the alternative? Squeezing into a packed metro? Going on foot?”

You look down at your frilly socks, fiddling your lip between your teeth. “I like the metro.”

“Yeah, you’re a true New Yorker,” he mocks, leaning his arm against the backrest like he’s ready to leave. “C’mon, get changed and let’s get out of here.”

You sigh, eyebrows furrowing for a beat before you meet his gaze again.

“Fine,” you agree quietly, making Kylo slide out of the booth. When he stands to his full height, you’re somehow intimidated not only by his size but the closeness. If he wanted to, he could carry you out of here with ease. The thought, unbeknownst to you, makes your thighs squeeze. “But.”

“Uh huh,” he replies flatly, somehow impatient at your hesitance. Still, you size him up properly, sticking out a finger against his chest.

“If you come here again, you’re gonna explain yourself.”

Kylo quirks an eyebrow. “To whom?”

“Martha and Don,” you elaborate, eyes narrowing. “Tell them you were joking around.”

He scoffs, tilting his head like you just asked him to commit a crime in your name. “You want me to what— retract my statement?”

You cross your arms, resting the pot in your palm. The glass bottom is hot against your skin, but you persevere.

“Yes.”

He shakes his head with a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Not happening.”

You glare harder, shifting your weight from one foot to another. Kylo catches your discomfort, eyeing the pot sitting awkwardly in your arm. “Then you’re paying for my emotional damages.”

His lips twitch, but he bites the smile back. “Emotional damages?”

“Yes,” you say firmly. “You just lied to two very chatty regulars about a relationship that does not exist. Do you understand what this entails?”

Kylo doesn’t look ashamed. If anything, the thought of your suffering keeps his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Fine,” he suddenly relents, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. “Name your price.”

You blink, a little thrown off at the ease of his agreement. “What?”

He shrugs, tipping back and forth on his feet. “You want compensation, yeah? What’ll it be?”

You stare at him with your jaw hanging slack, brain scrambling to come up with something suitably ridiculous to make a point, but as usual, he beats you to it.

“Want me to buy you a coffee? A real one, I mean.” His voice dips slightly, just enough to make your stomach flutter with something irritatingly warm and palpable. “Not this sad diner brew.”

Your nose scrunches and you do your best to avoid the subtext of his offer. If you agreed, it wouldn’t be a date because that’s not what he means. It’s a… peace offering. From Kylo Ren.

“It’s not sad,” you croak quietly, trying to avoid the subject.

“It is.”

You huff, rolling your eyes again. As usual, it was better to ride the wave than try to fight it. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” he replies flatly, taking a step away from you. Without a warning, he reaches out and takes the coffee pot from your hands. His fingers barely brush yours, but the contact is still enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Go get changed.”

You narrow your eyes at him, rubbing at your straining muscles. “I don’t need you to—”

“You were about to drop it.” He deadpans, tilting his head. “Or throw it at me, maybe.”

That… that was a possibility, yes. Still, with a final, suspicious glance you exhale sharply and spin on your heel, marching toward the kitchen. Kylo follows you quietly, pivoting toward the beverage station where he sets down the coffee pot.

As you push through the swinging door, you hear the familiar, gravelly voice of the cook from behind the counter as you untie your apron on your way to the staff room.

“That your boyfriend, chula?”

“Samuel, for god’s sake!” You groan loudly, earning an echoing, guttural laughter from Kylo.

When you enter the bathroom to freshen up, your reflection stares back at you with a smile.

୨ৎ

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Kylo’s lacquered sedan, bunching your fists in your lap and wondering how you got there. The beige, leather seat is plush against your strained spine, letting you lean back and enjoy the view of the city as you swerve through—it’s what you’ve been doing since Kylo got the engine started; turning your body toward the passenger-seat window and trying your best not to think about the minimal distance between you.

As March slowly came to a close, you began witnessing the first signs of spring. Tiny, pink buds sprouted from decorative trees lining the promenade, swaying softly in the warm wind. Each passerby was dressed quite minimally, occasionally donning a thin sweater or hoodie. It was the perfect weather for a quiet drive with your unwanted crush.

“What are you getting Rey for her birthday?” you suddenly utter as the car reaches a red light.

There’s a strange beat of silence from Kylo, the air between you filled with the mellow vocals of Marvin Gaye pouring from the car speakers.

“It’s her birthday?”

Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide when they meet his profile. Kylo’s hands lay lax on the steering wheel, digits tapping to the rhythm of “I Heard It Through The Grapevine”. His lips move subtly, silently mouthing the lyrics until he catches your disapproving gaze in his peripheral.

“What?” he raises an eyebrow, like your reaction wasn’t warranted.

You gape at him, your lips curling into a disbelieving smirk. Despite yourself, you let your knees lean toward the gearbox. “Did you forget?”

He exhales slowly, voice dropping an octave like he’s dreading your inevitable lecture; and inevitable it is.

“I didn’t forget.”

“You literally just asked if it’s her birthday.”

“Yeah,” he drawls lowly, shifting the gear to one when the light turns green. As the car accelerates, you can’t help but lap up the sight of his relaxed posture, one hand on the gearbox while the other expertly maneuvers the wheel.

“…And?” you taunt, eyebrow furrowed at his uncharacteristic silence.

His eyes fix on the road ahead as he ponders your query, tongue licking languidly over his bottom lip. You try not to stare, and fail.

“I wasn’t sure if it’s this weekend or the next—”

“Oh my god,” you cut him off with a sardonic chuckle, leaning your head back in disbelief. Kylo’s gaze briefly flickers to you, taking in your horror and smirking at it sadistically.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” you mimic, turning to face him fully again and throwing an accusatory hand in the air. “She’s your sister, Kylo.”

He hums with a shrug, smoothly switching lanes as James Brown begins to croon through the speakers. In passing, you deduce that Kylo is a big fan of soul.

“I was gonna get her something,” he finally replies, resting a free hand in his lap. You’ve never seen him this defeated, and despite it being a fantastic opportunity to torment him, you don’t find yourself rooting for his failure. For once.

“What, a gift card?” You roll your eyes, lips stiffened into a bittersweet smile. “A handshake?”

Kylo chuckles deeply, the sound reverberating through your chest and stomach. You let your bottom lip catch between your teeth when his smiling eyes briefly reach yours. “Do you really think so little of me?”

Despite yourself, you withhold a snarky retort with a deep exhale. The situation was dire, even if he didn’t seem to deem it as such. Sometimes you thought he got off on seeing you stress.

“What I think,” you trail, slowing your speech to showcase the gravity of this situation, “is you’re lucky I asked. Otherwise, you’d be showing up empty-handed.”

He mulls your words over as the car rolls toward another red light. His lips flicker at the corner, jaw clenching like he’s withholding another smile. He switches the gear and turns toward you.

“You gonna help me, then?”

The question catches you off guard, but you don’t let it show. Instead, you issue him a lazy shrug and sigh dramatically.

“I guess,” you drawl slowly, feeling his gaze scan down your body. Your ears drone with the sound of your heartbeat. “But you owe me. Big time.”

Kylo’s eyes hesitantly drag to yours, lips curled into a smirk. “Yeah?”

Your throat runs dry at his honeyed tone, so you swallow thickly before nodding.

“Yeah.”

Satisfied, he slowly moves his attention back to the road, like that wasn’t a shameless innuendo. You try to remove any subtext you’ve imagined in his request by toying with your fingernails, telling yourself it’s all an unfortunate fantasy.

“Turn right,” you utter as the traffic light flickers yellow.

“What?” Kylo quirks an eyebrow in your peripheral, but you just cross your arms.

“You heard me,” you say, not looking at him. “Turn right. We’re going shopping.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he flicks the turn signal. “Unbelievable.”

You allow yourself the tiniest smirk of victory as the car glides into the next lane.

[us-cj]

𝖘𝖎𝖈 𝖘𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖞𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖘

A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed. — U.S. Constitution Second Amendment

The militia of the United States consists of all able-bodied males at least 17 years of age... — 10 U.S. Code § 246

Patrick Henry

* “Guard with jealous attention the public liberty. Suspect everyone who approaches that jewel. Unfortunately, nothing will preserve it but downright force. Whenever you give up that force, you are inevitably ruined.”

George Mason

* “To disarm the people…[i]s the most effectual way to enslave them.”

James Madison

* “The right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed. A well regulated militia, composed of the body of the people, trained to arms, is the best and most natural defense of a free country.”

* “The ultimate authority, wherever the derivative may be found, resides in the people alone.”

Noah Webster

* “Before a standing army can rule, the people must be disarmed; as they are in almost every kingdom of Europe. The supreme power in America cannot enforce unjust laws by the sword; because the whole body of the people are armed, and constitute a force superior to any bands of regular troops that can be, on any pretense, raised in the United States.”

Samuel Adams

* “The Constitution shall never be construed to prevent the people of the United States who are peaceable citizens from keeping their own arms.”

Richard Henry Lee

* “A militia when properly formed are in fact the people themselves…and include, according to the past and general usuage of the states, all men capable of bearing arms… “To preserve liberty, it is essential that the whole body of the people always possess arms, and be taught alike, especially when young, how to use them.”

Thomas Jefferson

* “I prefer dangerous freedom over peaceful slavery.”

* “What country can preserve its liberties if their rulers are not warned from time to time that their people preserve the spirit of resistance. Let them take arms.”

* “The laws that forbid the carrying of arms are laws of such a nature. They disarm only those who are neither inclined nor determined to commit crimes…. Such laws make things worse for the assaulted and better for the assailants; they serve rather to encourage than to prevent homicides, for an unarmed man may be attacked with greater confidence than an armed man.”

* “The Constitution of most of our states (and of the United States) assert that all power is inherent in the people; that they may exercise it by themselves; that it is their right and duty to be at all times armed.”

**********************************

No emergency justifies the violation of any of the provisions of the United States Constitution.

----------------------------------------------

Ex parte Milligan, 71 U.S. 2 (1866) which yet stands to this day: "The Constitution of the United States is a law for rulers and people, equally in war and in peace, and covers with the shield of its protection all classes of men, at all times, and under all circumstances. No doctrine, involving more pernicious consequences, was ever invented by the wit of man than that any of its provisions can be suspended during any of the great exigencies of government. Such a doctrine leads directly to anarchy or despotism..."

----------------------------------------------

Volume 16, American Jurisprudence 2d, § 52: “It is sometimes argued that the existence of an emergency allows the existence and operation of powers, national or state, which violate the inhibitions of the Federal Constitution. The rule is quite otherwise.

No emergency justifies the violation of any of the provisions of the United States Constitution. An emergency, however, while it cannot create power, increase granted power, or remove or diminish the restrictions imposed upon power granted or reserved, may furnish the occasion for the exercise of power already in existence, but not exercised except during an emergency... The Constitution of the United States is the law for rulers and people, equally in war and in peace, and covers with the shield of its protection all classes of men, at all times, and under all circumstances”

----------------------------------------------

Volume 16, American Jurisprudence 2d, § 177: "The general misconception is that any statute passed by legislators bearing the appearance of law constitutes the law of the land. The U.S. Constitution is the supreme law of the land, and any statue, to be valid, must be in agreement.

It is impossible for both the Constitution and a law violating it to be valid; one must prevail. This is succinctly stated as follows: The general rule is that an unconstitutional statute, though having the form and name of law, is in reality no law, but is wholly void, and ineffective for any purpose; since unconstitutionality dates from the time of its enactment, and not merely from the date of the decision so branding it.

An unconstitutional law, in legal contemplation, is as inoperative as if it had never been passed. Such a statute leaves the question that it purports to settle just as it would be had the statute not been enacted.

Since an unconstitutional law is void, the general principals follow that it imposes no duties, confers no rights, creates no office, bestows no power or authority on anyone, affords no protection, and justifies no acts performed under it... A void act cannot be legally consistent with a valid one. An unconstitutional law cannot operate to supersede any existing valid law. Indeed, insofar as a statute runs counter to the fundamental law of the land, it superseded thereby. No one is bound to obey an unconstitutional law and no courts are bound to enforce it."

----------------------------------------------

“All laws, rules and practices which are repugnant to the Constitution are null and void ...if any statement within any law which is passed is unconstitutional, the whole law is unconstitutional.” Marbury v. Madison, 5th U.S. 2 Cranch 137, 180.

----------------------------------------------

"Even a state of war and the declaration of secession by the people cannot suspend the Constitution or remove its protection." Houston County v Martin, 232 Ala 511, 169 So. 13.

[irishmammonagenda]

Hi! Can i request MC with older brothers (i have four older brothers 😂) who are very protective of their little sister, and reaction of demon brothers, when MC wants to introduce them to her siblings?

hiya! ofc u can, im so sorry this is so late i saw it in my askbox like a week a week ago then forgot about it 😭😭 and then went away for easter and forgot abt it again😭😭

grma for the ask <3 fic dividers by @cafekitsune

MC With Older Brothers-Obey Me Brothers x Reader

When you had first been transferred to the Devildom, the inital shock of the new environment, the fact that demons and angels were actually real, the fact the fact that magic was actually real had made you forget about the reactions of your family back home upon realising yoou had just disappeared without a trace. It took you around a month to even remember, after the shock had worn off, and you had stopped living in survival mode. You hastily travelled to the Demon Lord´s Castle, and requested a formal visit to your family.

They were livid. Relieved but livid. Your parents, who were workaholics hadn´t noticed until around halfway through the second week. Your older brothers however, noticed the first day. And oh boy, did they want answers.

Going through Barbatos' portal was never a truly pleasant experience, although it wasn't unpleasant either. It was like that feeling in the pit of your abdomen when you're pushed too high on a swingset, but to a lesser extent. It almost looked like stars as the insides of the vortex falshed before your eyes before fading to reveal the park that you grew up near.

The reds and oranges of the leaves shone sparkling against the reddening sky with the morning dew. The early birds chirped, diving for worms, leaves fell gently down to the ground. You made your way home.

The familiar white door stood out like the gates of the Celestial Realm, your own personal paradise, everything you knew before the rug was pulled under you. You tried the doorhandle. Locked. Sighing, you looked under the entrance mat for the spare key and unlocked the door, walking into the hall. You had entered the kitchen and saw Evan, your second eldest brother making a sandwhich.

"Hiya!" You greet him. "Whatcha makin', Evs?"

Evan, who had just picked up his plate turned around and dropped it, his jaw slacked open, eyes wide. He stared at you, not even caring that his sandwich had fallen. "Y-you…where the fuck have you been?!"

"Uh...I-"

"Y'know what? Don't answer that yet." He steps away from you, moving out of the kitchen to the base of the stairs. "Sammie! Ben!" Evan shouts a few times, before hearing a pair of 'what?!'s back. "Get your asses down here now!"

Soon enough, reluctant thuds sound from the top of the stairs, getting louder as two of your brothers thunder down the stairs, you gulp. Lord Diavolo, you were in for it now.

Samuel appears downstairs first, the baggy MCR shirt he always wears to lounge around half hidden by his stained jacket. Ben follows soon after, phone in hand, no doubt open on the game he had been testing out. They both stall when they see you, Ben trips, and starts to fall, taking Samuel down with him.

“I-…MC..” Samuel swallows thickly. “W-where have you been…”

Ben parrots this.

You gulp. Adam—your oldest brother—would no doubt be the worst. And he wasn’t even home yet!

When Adam, your oldest brother did return from his date with his girlfriend (as you found out), he had demanded answers, and a hug. You try to explain it away, saying you found a scholarship at a college in another country, you must've just forgot to mention it! Silly you! Atleast that's what you were telling your older brothers, they didn't need to know you were taken to hell and the scholarship wasn't too far from the truth!

"Why didn't you visit? Or call? Or anything?" Was a question you heard parroted back to you multiple times.

"I...uh...it was just the craziness of it all....I forgot to call..." You rub the back of your neck. "I had to get a new phone anyway..." You say, giving them your number. It was a reasonable excuse. They couldn't exactly argue with it.

Samuel grabs your hand, the rough callouses of his fingers comforting. Permanent dents from his mastery of the guitar, he swings your arm back and forth, reminding himself that you're not in a ditch somewhere. "As long as you're safe...."

Evan huffs, Adam stares at you, eyes following your every move, he grumbles, "You're coming home every holiday you can. And calling us regularly. No more dropping off the face of the earth."

"Haha alright!" You laugh nervously, he didn't need to know that you technically did fall off the face of the earth.

"And I want to visit this College." Adam adds, Evan nods in agreement, as do the two younger of the brothers.

Shit.

Ben stretches, before sitting forward. "So tell us all about your dorm. Got any roommates?"

And boy, did that cause a few heated discussions. Though in the end you got away pretty much scott free. Though you had to visit bi-monthly, and call atleast bi-weekly.

On one of these bi-monthly visits, you'd decided to bring one of your 'roommates' along with you....

Just how would that go?....

LUCIFER

"Oh?~ Care to repeat that, MC?"

It had been a busy day in the Devildom for the Avatar of Pride. He was finishing up on paperwork when you came into his office asking him to come to the next visit to your brothers with you.

He acts a bit cocky over it, with his signature smirk and all, but agrees almost instantly.

Despite the fact that you asked HIM to meet your family, and that he was feeling quite flustered, he still somehow managed to make your cheeks burn and make you feel much more flustered about the situation.

"Hi everyone, this is Lucif-Lucius...! He's one of my roommates!"

"Lucius?"

"...My parents were Greek."

"Yeah, Ben, his parents were Greek don't be racist."

Lucifer relates to Adam on the sole basis that they're both the eldest, though he does feel second hand embarrassment anytime said brother would do anything a little too like him.

Overall its a pleasant time, your brothers were quite charmed by the Avatar of Pride, and it makes your pact mark buzz.

Lucifer fights the urge to place his palms over his face and re-contemplate his entire life and every single action he'd ever taken as he watches Adam, your eldest brother, lecture Samuel, the youngest of your elder brothers. The older man is glaring exasperatedly, Samuel hides his hands in his pocket, clearly uninterested. You watch on and feel a sort of deja vu, so does Lucifer. Does he seriously look like that when he gives out lectures? No wonder his brothers are so unruly! You pat his back from where you both sit on the sofa, he glares at you, though there's no bite to it. The second hand embarrassment is very strong.

MAMMON

"WHA- ehem...I-i mean of course ye'd want te intreduce yer b-brothers to the great M-mammon...!"

If Mams has a tail it'd be wagging like a helicopter propeller thingy.

You want HIM to visit your family?!

He's super tempted to go back and buy the engagement ring he'd saw in a jewellery shop window when shopping now!

He had been too nervous at the time....was he moving too fast...?

He's a nervous wreck, all the way there he's muttering things you can't understand in irish (gaeilgeoir mams agenda)

You can pick up the word 'focáil' (fuck) being thrown about a lot.

What de ye mean MC? He IS calm! Calmer than the sea on a stormy day...but thats still sort of calm!

The name Mammon isn't really known to anyone outside of the occult, so he doesn't change it.

"Mammon?" Evan says raising a brow, "What kind of a name is that?"

"He's Irish Evs don't be racist."

"Oh."

The dinner is quite awkward, but in the end, he somehow manages to win over your brothers.

and hey, if Ben gets more donations from people when he streams, Adam gets more costumers for his personal training, and Samuel and Evan get promotions at their jobs, well he didn't mean to! Honest!

Mammon sits at the dinner table with about as much nervousness as a schoolboy waiting outside the principal's office, he answers every question with a stutter, and tries his best to remember his table manners, your brothers are eyeing him suspiciously, until a clang sounds through the small kitchen, you had dropped your fork. Mammon perks up, happy to be 'useful' to you, "I'll get it!" and he practically dives down to get the utensil before washing it off and giving it to you. Your brothers relax slightly, deeming him too whipped for you to truly be a scumbag.

LEVIATHAN

"You want ME to WHAT?!"

bros panicking more than mammon☠️

Are you sure you want a stinky smelly otaku like me to-😰😰😰😰😰

It takes ages to calm him down enough, then he just feels flustered.

This reminds him of an anime with an insanely long name!

When you arrive at your house, he's so fidgety and nervous someone give this man a hug (dont he'll scream)

You introduce him as Levi, no one bats an eye to that one, hooray!

the atmosphere is very awkward until he notices the sticker on Ben's phonecase.

He finds out that your brother is a streamer, MC how could you never tell him?!

its a lot less awkward a lot more nerdy now.

"O-oh well I see where you're coming from, the mechanics and graphics on the game were great, but the lore needed work!" Levi says, stuttering far less than you'd expect him to. Ben nods, "I mean, I just kind of stayed for the boss fights, but yeah the lore was a bit..." He makes a face. Leviathan leans over, eyes sparkling, you admire them freely, normally he'd notice by now and be too flustered to continue talking. "Yeah! It had so much potential! But it just seemed so rushed!" You look around the room, Adam and Evan are conversing amongst eachother quietly, whilst Sam is trying his best to follow the conversation that Levi and Ben are having.

SATAN

"Oh? I'd be honoured..."

He's giddy, you wanted him of all of his brothers to come with you? Take that Lucifer!

This reminds him of when the love interest brings the protagonist to meet their family!

He reads up on the scenes as a sort of revision, though his natural charm is going to win them over anyway...or maybe not...

"Hello my name's Satan." He reaches out to shake Adam's hand.

Adam swallows, "Satan?"

Satan chuckles, having made a rookie mistake in his nervousness, "My parents were...devout satanists...I've had a hard life..."

Samuel pats his shoulders, "Oh you poor thing..."

He's honestly quite the gentleman, your brothers quite like him, despite his 'unfortunate' name.

"So S-satan..." Adam begins, "What was it like growing up with Satanist parents?" Satan sets his for down, "Oh, not as bad as one would think..." he quickly bullshits, "I did grow up in a very gothic style house though.." Your brothers nod, Evan intterupts, "So did you ever sacrifice any cats?" Satan grips his knife tightly, you feel rage bubble up in his pact mark. "No, satanists--atleast sane satanists--don't do that..." "Oh right..." Evan raises his hands in defense, "Just curious." "Oh no you're fine..." He says smoothly.

ASMODEUS

"Oh my Devil!~ I'd love to!"

Posts about it to his devilgram.

He's geniunely honoured, and sososososo excited.

"Hey guys, this is Asmodeus!"

"..Asmodeus?"

"...His parents are french..."

"Poor thing..."

ofc he wins them over, who do you think he is?

Adam loves him now, and Asmo is his goto for relationship advice.

Adam growns, looking at his phone, you give him a knowing look, "Trouble in Paradise?" "I forgot about our anniversary coming up! It's tomorrow!" He looks geniunely stressed. "There's no way I can get a restaurant reservation in time!" He says, stressing about his upcoming anniversary, it was his turn to do something. He didn't want to disappoint his girlfriend. Asmo shrugs, "So don't." Adam looks at him incredulously. "Excuse me?" "Don't go to a restaurant...the weather forecast says it'll be nice tomorrow, do a picnic or something." Adam gapes his mouth, breathlessly replying, "Yeah that could work...that could work..." A day later, Adam rings you, the picnic was a success! He demands Asmo's number.

BEELZEBUB

"Oh? Yeah MC I'd love to." :D

He's a little bit nervous, but happy that you asked him to go

Plus there's food involved.

Things that are important to you + you + food? He's in heaven (figuratively, last time he was in heaven he got thrown out, literally thrown)

Overall he's really sweet, has to eat a lot before he gets there so he doesn't accidentally eat one of your brothers.

"Hi I'm Beel."

"Beel?"

"He's Russian Evan, don't be racist." You bullshit, Beel looks at you, then smiles because he's looking at you :D

Your brothers love him, he's such a gentle giant.

Beel smiled happily, "This food is amazing." He says, closed eyed smile. "Thanks!" Evan grinned, "Cooked it myself!" Samuel scoffs, "No you didn't you microwaved it." Evan hits him over the head, "Shut up." He grumbles. Beel smiles again, they remind him so much of his own brothers.

BELPHEGOR

"No."

"What do you mean no?" :(

"I'm not going."

"Please."

"No."

"Pleaseee."

"Still no." He groans, putting his pillow over his face.

"I'll just have to ask Lucifer then..."

He jumps up. "Like fuck you will...c'mon, we have a family dinner to attend."

As per usual he is a bastard.

The waling talking definition of a bastard.

Your brothers hate him at first, but as the night goes on, they find out he's actually kind of funny.

"This is Belphie!"

"Belphie?"

"He's Russian don't be racist." You lie.

"Poor thing."

Belphie glares at you.

Belphie groans into his pillow, finally home, he drags you and pulls you onto the bed. Holding you in a vice like grip. "I'm never doing that again." He says tiredly, using you as a teddy bear to go to sleep. Bastard.

im experimenting with post designs :D

'gaeilgeoir' means irish speaker, i've seen it spelt other ways tho

[aragaki]

Porter & Bright Eyes Thoughts

I thought about this just before I went to sleep and I didn't forget about it when I woke up so I guess I need to write what I'm thinking down

When he'd heard that in 3 short years, the clan had gained three new vampires he wouldn't say he wasn't shocked. It wasn't like William to be rash with turnings but learning that it was Vincent and Sam, and subsequently Sam's new progeny that were the makers? He was intrigued.

Meeting Frederick was a boring affair to Porter, honestly. He was the exact kind of man he could see Samuel turning, bleeding heart that he had... and then there was Bright Eyes. Taciturn, stubborn, difficult Bright Eyes.

Their maker was a freshly turned newborn, they were easily the weakest vampire in the clan. And you'd never know it by looking at them. The turning did nothing to dull a defiant brightness that burned in their irises, in the sharp roll of their eyes. This was someone who would do well as a vampire, provided their clan was giving them the room they needed to be themselves.

And they weren't.

Bright was under constant scrutiny. They were blamed for their death and Frederick's as if they ever could have known what was hiding under Dahlia's facade of normalcy. It was as if they could do nothing right, even three years into their turning.

Porter had no interest in playing as their maker, in being any kind of older brother figure to one of the newest additions to the Solaires. They were out of the bloodlust, they'd been taught the rules and how to behave. It really was only a matter of time until they were fully independent and wouldn't need the intervention of more experienced vampires.

That didn't stop Porter from weaponizing Samuel's clearly bad relationship with his progeny to get under his skin. He'd called Sam a deadbeat dad more than once, even in front of Frederick or any of the other Solaires. He'd grinned and said that even Alexis was shown more grace than Bright.

He tried to ignore that there was a wave of actual anger behind his barbs.

Porter was many things but if anyone tried to call him stupid he would laugh in their face. He saw the forest for the trees, as it were. Bright had become a scapegoat to the Solaires, to Sam. It was easy to blame them because it was their choices that put them in the path of Quinn. And they died for it. Shouldn't that have been punishment enough?

It agitated a familiar sting when he saw the way Bright lingered on the outskirts of their family. William was trying his best with Bright but clearly, there was some bias there... burned by trusting Adam, no doubt. Their relationship with their friend Frederick was fraught. Sam had burned that bridge before he even had a chance to meet Bright in the middle.

By the time he'd returned to Dahlia, the newborns were weaned off of Sam. They'd learned enough to be independent and only need occasional guidance... so Bright had moved as far away from the Solaires as they could while still being in Dahlia... just in the opposite direction of Sam. The lines in the sand had been drawn long before he'd returned home.

Something about the way Bright seemed to hate their new life bothered him but not in the way Vincent had. He had more perspective on Vincent now and maybe that's what was getting under his skin.

Sam was turned when he explicitly asked not to be. That was bad. Vincent was turned when he wasn't able to give consent. That was bad. Bright Eyes was turned when they weren't able to give consent. That was their fault?

Being shortsighted and dangerously stubborn clearly wasn't as much of an issue to their favorite cowboy as Sam liked to pretend it was. Porter learned that quickly when he met Sam's partner... so the wolf was worthy of kindness but the newborn was not. The double standard grated on him.

Bright truly had no one in their corner in the Solaire clan... and before he knew it, he'd stepped up.

It started easily enough. Bright had some pent-up aggression to work out, the kind that Sam would tell them to just bottle up and be quiet. Not Porter. He'd take them out in the forest and they'd spar. He'd let them be as vicious as they needed to be until their tense muscles loosened.

If Alexis or even Sam were making their "harmless" little comments, he'd slide up beside them and show them what true vitriol looked like. He was Wiliam's vampiric hitman, not a young vampire's bodyguard. And yet. And yet seeing any bit of shit being thrown Bright's way pissed him off beyond belief.

Bright could talk about that night to someone who they knew wouldn't judge them. They could talk about their guilt, their frustration, all of it, to someone and know that their abrasiveness wouldn't turn it into an argument. He just listened.

Porter was teaching them the things that Sam wouldn't. They were learning how to love themselves in this new life. Things were different and maybe some of their relationships would never be the same again but they were a Solaire. That name held power and that power would allow them to have fun again.

By virtue of being a Solaire, they had access to quite a bit of money and Porter was willing to show them all the fun ways they could spend it. It wasn't really Bright's thing as much as breaking into abandoned places was but it was nice to get back at the Solaires a little bit, even financially.

(As if William didn't know and didn't have more money than they could ever spend.)

Being under Porter's wing was really bringing life back into Bright. They were happy again, even if it wasn't all the time. They didn't spend as much time alone, they weren't getting into arguments as much because they were spending less and less time around Sam and the others. Frederick was watching the wonderful side of his friend come back, even though it was from a distance.

Instead, they were spending time with Porter and learning what being a vampire was like through his eyes and not Sam's and they found the immortality they faced to be a lot more entertaining.

Porter knew enough about being the outcast to empathize with them. He was well aware of how strong they were and how hard it was for them to hold their tongue for the sake of "peace." So he didn't ask them to. They could be themselves, unapologetically. The clan would handle the fallout whether they like it or not, the same way they did for him.

He would never have imagined himself as a role model for anyone but after meeting Bright Eyes, he couldn't imagine anyone other than him fitting that role for his vampiric sibling. He shuddered at the idea of someone as fiery as Bright trying to model themselves after Vincent.