#like it's happening whether i want it or not and we all know it's going to suck in comparison to the original so what the hell you know?

[ladyloveandjustice]

I mean, Legend of Lattes did have a conflict, her coffee place straight up burned down? It wasn't a major focus for most of the book but it happened.

I've only read a few cozy fantasy things, and didn't find a few of them super memorable myself, but the definition of cozy fantasy is pretty broad from what I've seen. Emily Wilde is categorized as that and it is FULL of conflict and action and has some great and memorable characters.

But people have always liked stuff that's low tension/stakes/fluffy. See coffee shop aus in fanfic, or fanfic tagged fluff. See slice of life anime where characters are just hanging out. It's not a new thing. People have always wanted to watch or read things that just give cozy vibes and allow them to hang out with characters. The book industry realizing there was a market for that was inevitable. If it's not for you, it's not for you, but it's obviously for someone or it wouldn't be doing well.

I also think this is a good example of how condescending we can get when talking about a genre we don't like. Rather than say "it's not for me, I don't find the characters memorable and want better stakes, maybe there should be more variety" (which was more where OP was at) it has to be somehow bad for people to read it and write it. like...

And so sometimes it feels impossibly challenging to write any book except one where nothing bad happens and nothing is in danger and nobody is really bothered or worried about anything and everything is mostly fine and there aren't any major setbacks…..

That is a hell of a condescending assumption to make about those writers. Jesus. I'm a professional author too, but I would not want to make these assumptions about my fellow writers.You don't know if they're doing it because it's easy, or if they're doing it because they felt there was a need for it, or it was just an idea they liked writing. You don't like it, great. That doesn't mean those writers are slacking off or doing something wrong somehow. You don't know that they don't also write books with tension and conflict. I feel like most of them probably have, actually. Assuming they sat down and thought "omg this will be easy I'm so lazy" is just...do you make the same assumption about romance writers? It can get pretty formulaic, but that doesn't mean it's easy to write. Have you tried to write a cozy fantasy and sell it and make it do well? If not, I don't think you should talk about how easy it is.

But that leaves readers cold.

I mean not all readers obviously, since it wouldn't be doing well or selling well?

And frankly, I don't feel like it does much of anything to nourish either our souls or theirs.

It feels like eating a bag of potato chips for dinner instead of going to the effort of even just heating up a frozen dinner that has a vegetable in it.

Why does reading HAVE to "nourish your soul", whatever that means? What's wrong with eating a bag of potato chips? You teach college, so I wonder if you've ever run into a colleague who thinks this way about regular fantasy and sci-fi. Where they think that genre fiction is inherently more disposable and less challenging than literary fiction. I've sure as hell run into those professors, that look down on readers and writers of "commercial fiction", and I've seen the bad impact they have on their students. Do you agree with them? Because you're sounding a lot like them right now. This is the exactly the kind of argument they'd make.

You don't know whether these people don't also read books with more stakes or a variety of genres as well. Low effort reading has it's place, it just maybe shouldn't be the only thing you read if you want to actually experience the breadth of literature.

And I see this a lot in the book community, but dissing the stuff people are into and saying they need to challenge themselves more or they won't be smart like you (I see this with YA a lot too) is not going to convince them. It frames reading as a chore, and people often don't like doing chores in a life full of them, and reading is a hobby for a lot of people. Rather that say "you need to read this to better your mind" say what can be interesting or intriguing about these books that are more challenging, what kind of cool things you can get from them. Sometimes it seems to me like the point of these arguments is to feel superior, rather than actually convince people.

Nothing's wrong with reading low effort books or watch low effort shows--it's when say, a YA reader says books are inherently flawed if they don't spell things out like YA sometimes does or has more challenging themes. Or a cozy fantasy reader acting like all books should be cozy fantasy and books with tension are bad. Those are the people that ruin the discourse. But, doing the inverse isn't any better.

idk, man. I've taught university classes about this shit, but what do I know.

I teach grad school classes on writing, (I don't like to pull that card, since it's not like teachers can't have flawed ideas about their subject but since we're here) and have taught similar lessons. Yet, here's what I think I do know: telling students the genre they write is wrong is not something a teacher should do. Those literary fiction professors love doing that, and I'm not them.

As a teacher with a variety of students in a variety of genres, I have to read genres I don't like all the time--god I hate most 'dark romance' and man do I not get or like omegaverse, but I sure as hell had to read both. But just because I don't like them doesn't mean they're worthless, or there isn't a market for them, or it's wrong to write them. So I put those feelings aside, think about what kind of help the student needs to be successful in their chosen genre, and what the audience would want, because that will help them improve. (though I do try to hint if something seems like, incredibly sexist, that maybe we should reconsider that, or look at it from all angles and decide if it's something the story needs). And at the same time, I do teach them basic lessons on how to structure a story, and what's good about conflict, stakes, etc.

But I wouldn't tell any of them they're wrong for writing cozy fantasy even if it's not always my cup of tea, because there is a market for it, and I want them to do well at it and do what they love. What pays the bills pays them, and if you actually like what you do, that's also important. Writers do need to challenge themselves, which is why I encourage students to be open minded about all genres, try out writing them, try writing different POVs, different stuff even if they don't publish it, because that can only help them get better at what they do. But if what they publish is cozy fantasy, hey, it gets them good money and they like doing it, that's more than I can say for most jobs.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

[moonstruckme]

Hi! So I have the issue where I’m not able to turn my brain off I guess and I’m having to constantly be aware of everything happening around me and managing everyone because if I don’t do it no one will. It’s so tiring to never have a minute to not be a very aware of every little thing. That being said, could I request a Remus or poly!marauders where reader is able to not be in constant manage mode? I know that’s really weird and if it’s too much just ignore this. Thank you for everything you do on here ❤️

Not weird! Very relatable actually haha. Thank you for requesting angel <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 823 words

“I like my system,” James says as you kneel in front of his suitcase, folding shirts. “My pants go on that side, then shirts in one corner and the rest in the other.” 

“I don’t think it counts as a system if you’re just piling stuff in, Jamie.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“Well, doesn’t it bother you that they’re all wrinkled?” You frown, taking out a balled-up pair of trousers. It bothers you, and they’re not even your clothes. 

“Not really, no. It’s a holiday, lovie, who am I trying to impress?” 

“Um, me?” Sirius shoots a look across the bedroom. He’s busy stuffing things into his own suitcase on the other side of the bed. 

“Oh, always,” James says gamely. “But you love me whether my shirts are wrinkled or not, don’t you?” 

Sirius makes a wishy-washy noise that sees James tossing a pair of socks at his head. He dodges and they bounce to the floor. 

“Did you remember your glasses cleaner?” you ask James, feeling about the pockets of his suitcase. 

“All under control, angel. It’s in my backpack.” 

“Perfect.” You finish neatly folding the last of his things and stand to kiss him. “Thanks.” 

“Thank you. Though you didn’t have to fold my underwear, I could have managed that myself.” 

“It was no problem.” You round the bed to where Sirius is packing, peering down at his suitcase. 

He looks up with a raised brow. “Can I help you?” 

“Are you packing your conditioner?” 

Sirius’ other brow comes up to join the first. “Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with my hair smelling lovely?” 

“No.” You smile, rolling your eyes when he pinches the back of your thigh playfully. “Just remember that it has to be under a hundred milliliters if you’re not checking your bag.” 

“I’ve got it, doll. You worry about your milliliters, and I’ll worry about mine, m’kay?” 

You hum. “And, um…” 

“What?” Sirius’ tone is dry, but it’s all fondness in the tilt of his mouth as he looks up at you. “You gonna fold my underwear, too?” 

“No, just, have you eaten? I don’t know if we’ll have time to eat at the airport.” 

“I think Remus wants you, sweetness.” 

“Hm?” 

Sirius points with his chin, and you turn to find Remus watching you from the doorway to the bedroom. He looks a particular brand of appealing in his travel clothes. The trackies James got him for Christmas probably shouldn’t go so well with his overlarge jumper, but Remus being Remus, of course it works. He beckons you toward him. 

“Oh, okay.” You glance back at Sirius one more time as you go. “Don’t forget to take your lighter out of your bag, security will take it away.” 

“Love you too!” 

“Hi,” you say to Remus, who wordlessly folds you into a hug as soon as you leave the bedroom. “Everything okay?” 

He hums. “Everything’s great, yeah. Are you excited to go?” 

You’re bemused but pleased by his hand running up and down your spine, his freshly shaven jaw pressed to your temple. “I am, yeah.” 

“Mm. Relaxed?” 

“I’m…yeah, sure.” 

Remus chuckles softly. “You seem a bit strung up, lovely. Are you all packed?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good. Me too. Anything else you need to do before we go? Have you eaten?” 

“I ate, yeah.” You glance back towards the bedroom, the movement almost involuntary. “I think I just need to make sure—” 

“You’re all ready then?” 

It’s not like Remus to cut you off, but when you turn back around his expression is all fond patience. 

“I think so,” you say. “At least, my stuff is all done.” 

“Perfect.” He kisses your head, then takes your hand, leading you away from your boyfriends. “Let’s relax for a bit while they finish up, then, yeah?”

You let Remus guide you to the couch. At first sitting, then curling up against his side, your head resting over the steady beat of his heart. His hand runs up and down your arm, and slowly the tension seeps out of you. 

“Sorry,” you say after a while. “Was I being annoying?” 

“No,” Remus reassures you. “Of course not. You’re only helping. You just don’t have to, you know?” 

You cringe at yourself. At the clarity of hindsight. “Nobody asked for my help.” 

“We’re adults,” he agrees. “We don’t need to be managed—or we shouldn’t. If Sirius packs too much conditioner, he can sort it out himself.” 

“Right. Sorry.” 

Remus tuts, kissing the top of your head. “Please don’t be sorry. We all just want you to be able to relax. Give yourself a break, yeah?” 

“Yeah, okay.” You snuggle closer to him, letting the last of the tension sap from your body. “That doesn’t sound so awful.” 

“I’m glad.” The smile is audible in Remus’ voice. He rubs your arm again, encouraging you to relax further. 

“But what if James doesn’t know—” 

“Dove. He’ll figure it out.” 

[cinnamongirlblogsworld]

Well, these past few days, I had a fleeting thought and debated whether I should write about it. But here we go.

read at your own risk!!!

Haunted

Lilia calderu x reader

The reader is part of the coven (let’s imagine they’re an actual coven, beyond just the Path of the Witches). It’s almost like a "Girls' Night," and everyone is gathered at Agatha’s house. You and her have always been close—maybe you’re the only person, besides Rio, that she actually tolerates and respects. Your relationship is almost like a friendship, in the sense that you talk about feelings every now and then, and she always acts afterward as if it never happened—lol, Agatha being Agatha.

Because of that, she notices that you might have a little crush on Lilia. And honestly, who, being a rational human being, wouldn’t?

So, you’re all eating pizza, having a few beers, hanging out in the living room when Jen suggests a game of "Truth or Dare." You hesitate, thinking, This is such a childish game, but you don’t notice the discreet, knowing smirk that Agatha flashes in your direction.

Between laughter and playful jabs, the bottle lands between you and her. Harkness leans in with a teasing grin.

"Truth or dare, baby?"

You smirk back, expecting something entirely inappropriate from her.

"Dare!"

"I dare you to give Lilia a lap dance in my closet—for as long as I find it entertaining. And you can’t back out, don’t be a coward."

Time seems to freeze. You remain motionless, knowing she knew—but you never thought she’d actually do something about it.

"That bitch."

From one side, you hear Jen’s uncontrollable laughter; on the other, Alice’s wide-eyed stare looks like it might burn a hole through you. But something else stirs deep inside you, something that makes your whole body feel like it’s seconds away from bursting into flames.

Slowly, you lift your gaze toward Lilia, expecting complete disdain at the suggestion. But what you see makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

She holds a wine glass, having just taken a generous sip. Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips, and her eyes—oh, her eyes—are locked onto you, piercing, as if she can see beyond what you’d ever let anyone else witness.

"So?" she hums. "What are we waiting for?"

"W-What? You’re actually going along with this?"

For the first time, you speak after what feels like hours, though it’s only been seconds.

"Come on, darling," Lilia drawls. "Unless, of course, you don’t want to. Not that it’d be a hardship for me to be there with you. I might even enjoy the private show."

Your thoughts spiral. This is insane. How did things escalate this quickly?

Agatha, clearly entertained, throws her hands up. "Lilia Calderu, I knew I liked you, girl!"

Lilia rolls her eyes at the comment but doesn’t deny anything.

And just like that, you find yourself inside the closet—locked in by Agatha.

Your clothes disappear, leaving you in nothing but lingerie, while a sensual song begins playing in the background—yet another ridiculous Agatha stunt.

"Fucking hell."

Lilia sits in a chair, watching you. No, devouring you with her gaze, as if the sheer lack of fabric on your body is an invitation. There’s something in her eyes, something like hunger—but no, it couldn’t be. She wouldn’t look at you like that... would she?

Heat spreads through you, searing, setting every nerve alight. The blood in your veins turns molten. You take a breath, fighting for composure.

Your body moves, fluid and slow. Your hands skim your own skin in a way that makes confidence bloom within you. You step toward her, swaying your hips with deliberate grace, your gaze never leaving hers. Your hair tumbles around you like a living thing, shifting with every movement.

You turn your back to her, slipping the straps of your bra off your shoulders but never removing it. A teasing glance over your shoulder, a smirk playing on your lips.

But when you see her biting her lip, watching you like that—oh, you shudder all over.

And then you lower yourself into her lap, the warmth of her body against your bare skin making you dizzy. The energy radiating from her coils around you, drawing you in. You roll your hips, slow, deliberate. This is just a game, just a dare, nothing more... right?

She hasn’t touched you. Not once. Not until—

A pair of firm hands grip your waist. And then, in a surge of strength, she lifts you effortlessly.

You gasp, thrown off balance, eyes wide as she spins you around to face her.

"L-Lilia—"

"Shh, darling."

Lilia Calderu is a force of nature—unyielding, commanding, and utterly intoxicating. She cages you between her and the wall, making you feel utterly trapped—no escape, no thoughts, only her.

One of her ring-clad hands trails up to your throat, fingers curling gently before tightening just enough to steal your breath.

Your body burns. Shakes. The submission she draws from you is instinctual, primal, absolute.

Your legs press together in desperation, but she notices. Of course, she does.

She shoves you downward. "Kneel."

It’s not a request. It’s a command, sharp and unwavering.

You drop instantly, sinking to your knees before her, eyes lifting to meet her gaze. The way she looks down at you makes you shiver.

She grips your hair, yanking your head back with a force that hurts—but the pain only fuels the fire inside you.

Deprived of attention, you lean your face against her thick, prominent thigh, and slide your face across the area, seeking raw and crude contact. She looks at you and smiles pretentiously, almost motivated by this reaction. You raise your face a little more, until your intimate area, pressing your nose there. Damn, her scent flooded your being, and you just wanted to beg, plead in her name, like a miserable person cries out to God.

Then, she pushes you away.

"Open your mouth."

You gulp, but you do it. No hesitation.

"Good girl..." Her voice is pure sin. "I knew you had this pathetic little urge to be used."

She leans down, whispering against your lips, "You do realize I’m old enough to be your mother, right? Don’t you have any shame?"

Her fingers trace your jawline, tilting your chin up. The glint in her eyes is nothing short of wicked.

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. Silence is consent.

"Of course, you wouldn’t," she taunts. "How pathetic."

Her fingers push past your lips, forcing themselves inside, making you choke, making your throat constrict around the intrusion. You’re drenched for her, dripping, needy.

Tears prick at your eyes as you suck around them, tongue swirling over her rings, leaving them slick—just like you.

Nothing else exists but this.

You want me?

I walk down the hallway

You're lucky

The bedroom’s my runway

Slap me!

I'm pinned to the doorway

A wet sound—her fingers leaving your mouth.

You gasp, panting, feeling the unbearable loss.

She releases your hair, but you stay put, unmoving, waiting.

"You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?"

You nod. No hesitation.

She pulls you up, and your knees ache, but you don’t care.

Her nose trails along your neck, breathing you in, reveling in your warmth.

She exhales, her lips brushing against your ear.

"I’m going to take care of you, darling."

The sound of a slap echoes through the room—a firm strike against your sex, from bottom to top, reverberating to the core of your cells. No coherent thought crosses your mind.

"But first, I need relief. I want the image of your pretty little face all messy because of me, between my legs. My thighs framing your neck while I feel your tongue licking me until I come."

"You want that too, don’t you, darling?" "I know you do."

.

.

.

.

Well, I don't know what that was but it's been on my mind for a while, comments are welcome so I don't feel crazy alone lol

[funnyjb]

hiii, I hope you’re doing great, could i request aJoe x fem reader where reader has pots and its a bad day for her and Joe just got back from a bad day at training, and she doesn’t want to add more preoccupations to he’s plate, so she doesn’t tell him that she’s been struggling all day with dizziness and all of that until it gets serious and he’s all worried. Love you stories btw🩷🩷

Hi of course!! Thank you🩷

……………………………………………………………………….

Today was the worst. You felt dizzy and even nauseous. You didn’t sleep well last night which didn’t help at all.

You kept having to stop in the middle of the work day to sit down. Whether that be on the floor or in your office chair. You couldn’t focus. You almost spilled your coffee on your white pants this morning from the shaking of your hands.

You couldn’t wait to go home.

Joe also didn’t have the best day. He just got back from the Panthers game after the win on Sunday. He obviously was happy about the win but his hand kept bothering him from how many times he fell on it. The meetings he had were long. His physical therapy wasn’t the greatest thing today and all he wanted was you.

You got home before Joe. Dropped you things down and headed upstairs then the dizziness hit again. You sat on the bed and tried to breathe. You couldn’t take it anymore. You felt your heart start to beat faster. Then the anxiety kicked in.

“Babe?” - joe called from downstairs

No answer.

Joe saw your car so he knew you were home.

He headed into the bedroom.

“Y/n-”- Joe

He ran over to you.

“Hey, hey look at me.”- Joe squatted down to be at eye level

“Y/n, I’m right here. Breathe in and out with me.”- joe

Joe guided you. In and out. In and out.

“Good.”- Joe

You had tears running down your face. Your heart rate was going back to normal. You still felt shaky and a little dizzy.

“I’m..I’m ok.”- you

“You’re not, y/n. You still look a little bit nauseous and your hands are still shaking.”- Joe

“I said I’m fine.”- you got up

Joe quickly bolted up.

“You’re not, y/n! Please sit back down.I want to get you some water.”- Joe

“You don’t need to Joe, I’m…I’m ok. You’ve dealt with enough today.”- you

“Y/n, just let me help you, please!”- Joe

You stood there

“Ok, let’s get you something to eat and drink. Stay here.”- Joe

He lead you back to the bed.

“I’ll be back.”- Joe

He left.

After a couple minutes he came back. He was holding a plate of fruits and some water.

“Here, take this.”- joe

You were sitting on the edge of the bed. Knees tucked to your chest.

“Thank you.”- you

Joe sat next to you as you took the plate.

You took some bites from the strawberry’s and bananas.

Joe pulled a strand of hair away from your face.

“You don’t have to be afraid to let me in. I’m your boyfriend. Let me help you. I want to help you even on a really shitty day or on an amazing day. You don’t need to go through this alone.”- Joe

You looked at him.

You nod.

“Thank you. Truly.”- you gave a small smile

“I had the worst day today.”- you say picking up a grape

“I was so dizzy and tired. I couldn’t even focus. I just wanted to come home. I..I just hate this. I hate it.”- You

“I’m so sorry. I know it sucks. But we will figure out a plan. A plan to help. Ok?”- Joe

You nod.

Joe gives you a kiss on the head

“I love you.”- Joe

“I love you too.”- You

Joe then steals a strawberry.

“Hey!”- you

Joe laughs

“I just wanted to come home to you. I didn’t have a great day either.”- Joe

“Oh, I’m sorry. What happened?”- You

Joe goes on to tell you about his day. These are the moments you cherish. Even when he is telling you about how bad his day was and you feel horrible that he had such a day, but you feel grateful that you get to have these moments. The moments when you aren’t worried about getting dizzy or fatigued. The only thing that matters is being able to have these laughs with someone who you love more than anything. More than life itself. You’re grateful to have someone like him. Someone who gets you. Who sees you. Joe also loves you then anything or anyone in this universe. You feel like home to him. He hates seeing you like this. Hates it. He knows it sucks but he also knows that you are strong and brave to get through anything. He loves you and you love him.

…………………….

After a couple weeks Joe starts to get more worried. You start to have more bad days and sleepless nights.

You were on the couch taking a nap.

Joe was getting dinner ready for the both of you in the kitchen when his phone rang.

“Hey, mom.”- Joe whispered

“Hey, honey! Everything ok?”- Robin

Joe didn’t say anything for a second. Then a tear came down his cheek.

“I..hate seeing her like this. She’s not sleeping and is getting dizzy and fatigued. I just wish there were more ways I could help.”- Joe

“Aw, Joey. Having you by her side is all she needs. She is strong. Just keep an eye on her and see if you can check her heart rate on your phone through an app.”- Robin

“Yeah, that’s a good idea mom. Thank you.”- Joe

“Of course. I love you.”- Robin

“Love you too.”- Joe

He hangs up.

He brings over the plate of food to you.

He runs his hands through your hair to wake you up.

“Here baby. Have something to eat.”- Joe

You sat up.

“Thank you.”- You

“You’re welcome.”- Joe

Joe sits next to you

“Just eat up and then we can cuddle.”- Joe

You dig into your food while watching the office.

As the weeks go on you start to get into a routine. Managing your heart rate and what you eat. Joe gets to check your heart rate on his phone now. Which means getting a text every 20 minutes.

You ok?

How do you feel?

Drink some water.

Please go sit down baby

You liked the gesture. Knowing he’s taking care of you.

You know everything will be ok if you have Joe by your side.

[auroras-void]

...my point is that the article is wrong...

This first of all, is obviously not the first time this has ever happened, nor is it even the first time this has been documented as happening. Your analogy is neither accurate nor proportionate...

Literally the first google search result for "intersexism in cats" is an NIH study talking about various conditions we know of that can cause this:

https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9052703/

It might be somewhat uncommon, but as far as we're aware, it's probably about as rare as it is in humans, which is to say not very. [citation needed]. Having a form that's visible to the level of scrutiny we place cats under might be noteworthy, but not newsworthy.

Hence, "spork found in kitchen" it works on multiple levels.

The article might go on to elaborate why this particular case might be interesting, or it could just be the first time this particular vet has seen this and be a complete nothingburger as I suspect. I don't really want to go research shit right now so I'll leave it to someone smarter than me who might want to elaborate on what we know about intersex cats and how this case relates to that. As I am not an expert.

My point however, is that taken at face value, and as far as I can ascertain, the headline appears to be misleading about what we know about biology, sex, and why and whether this event could be significant.

Lastly. I would like to add that your unprovoked hostility is flatly bizarre to me, and seemingly unhelpful to anyone involved in this interaction.

They/them pussy

[kaisollisto]

“Are you here?" Ava barely breathes it, there's a tension in the air that she can't recognize, an energy that squashes her. Her throat feels scratchy and she can feel the Halo slotted between her shoulders. Ava's flat on her back head turned to look over at Beatrice. She feels wimpy like a stomped flower, her left arm dangles dangerously close to Beatrice-territory. She wants to reach out, to touch Beatrice to confirm that she's here but something stops her. She feels so silly, she could easily shift over to touch Beatrice, shake her gently and - 

Beatrice slides over, a firm sleepy sister warrior knife wielding badass with frumpy hair poofing from what remains of her low bun. She moves towards Ava, inches away from her but moves to answer her. It’s rare for Ava to see her like this. Beatrice is clearly fighting sleep, rubbing her eyes and doing her best to move in hopes that it’ll shake the sleepy spell. 

She’s dressed in one of Ava’s ugly loose white shirts, a huge bass clashing with faded big blocky lettering that just reads “FISH”. Beatrice had looked at her weirdly when Ava had dug it out of the bins at a thrift store disheveled and ecstatic. 

Ava had spent hours coaxing her into it doing her damn best to hide Beatrice’s laundry when she wasn’t looking. It fills a warm feeling in her chest and Ava wants to burrow further into it. It was a fool proof plan. 

Ava found her shortness made it exhausting to reach up towards the Beatrice-level-cabinets. The halo pulls at her pinching and knotting up the muscles in her back after a long day of training. She feels it alive within her, an uncomfortable reminder sealed inside her back. 

At the end of the day Ava settled on hinging at the waist. She had slowly started integrating Beatrice’s sleep shirts in cabinets that Beatrice had to bend down to reach. Ava always tried to situate herself at the scene of the crime doing her best to seem inconspicuous while she leaned over hungry for Beatrice’s reaction. Ava thumbed her findings down in the recess of her mind, her finger tracing over it in a hurried desperation. The time would pass and she did not want to forget. 

(It helped, the imagery of Bea’s furrow when she would find her sleepwear underneath the sink when Ava would have to tuck her spine into the halo as she placed the shirt somewhere clean.) 

Thanks to her genius planning Beatrice had finally caved and worn Ava’s huge “FISH” t-shirt after weeks of her persistence. She looked adorable, she was drowning in it and constantly tugging at it. She had found Beatrice loved to tuck it into the band of her sleep shorts creating puffy funny creases distorting the text even further to say “FSH”. It looked so ugly and old and endearing. 

She looked out of her depth and it made Ava’s heart thump funny. Beatrice with her weird posh mannerisms combined with the peaceful unguarded look when she slumbered made her feel hot all over. 

It was the prospect of the future, a glimpse into her life with Beatrice, of when they would grow old together. It shakes her, the idea that Beatrice will get wrinkles with her. She takes it seriously, a study that she isn’t well versed in but preparing for. It is a long hard internal debate flipping between what wrinkles will show first. Ava selfishly hopes it’s smile lines, that Beatrice will smile at her as much as she does in secret. She’s happy to be wrong, Beatrice’s forehead crinkles have always been cute. She hopes that Beatrice never stops looking at her, thinking of her. She wants to spend a long time being the source of her wrinkles. And just for right now she can handle the role of being just her friend. 

Beatrice blinks one eye open, the other pressed against the pillow as she stifles a yawn. Her hand blocks her mouth in a delicate way and Ava can see her nails are short and uneven in places. Ava wishes she could touch them, study them in a way no one has done before. She wants to press against Beatrice hard enough to watch her skin fold around hers. Some sort of truth that she was here, that she is here. 

Beatrice scoots over slowly, her elbow tucked under the pillow. She stops inches away from Ava, a frown set in her jaw. Ava mirrors her position albeit more awkwardly and more wiggling than Beatrice’s but she finds a place where the Halo won’t bite her back. 

“I’m here,” Beatrice murmurs it, a quiet thing between them. 

Ava closes her eyes hoping Beatrice won’t notice her shakiness. She blinks a few times before she presses closer, the arm she’s laying on moving to support her head underneath the pillow. 

There’s so much to tell her, anything and nothing at all and Ava doesn’t know where to start. It constricts her throat, the constant stream of consciousness from inside of her heart. It’s horrible and she can’t stop it as the feeling balloons inside of her lungs. Ava wants help, she so desperately wants to feel okay again, to feel anything other than the stupid fucking halo. It grates on her nerves and muscles, a burning hot metal ring poking and prodding at the entirety of her upper torso. It leaves her reeling, a sort of anger that beckons for her to hurt (hurt something, hurt someone, hurt), disregarding the aftermath of tears and shame. 

Ava is sure she’s shaking, a layer of sweat gathers between the space of her shoulder blades as the Halo lights up with her inner turmoil. It’s a faint pitiful thing that Ava would be ashamed of if not for the bone aching tiredness. 

She wants to say she’s sorry the words clawing their way up her throat and it feels wrong to feel anything but that. There’s a sort of unspoken shame that haunts her with the Halo. It’s a thing she’s known long before any of this. 

Beatrice drags her out of her turmoil with her hand hovering near Ava’s pinky. She has a gracefulness to it, like she has practiced it a hundred times over. It’s weird, to be in a bed, a soft and lumpy bed looking at Beatrice. Beatrice with such plain features and subtle cheekbones that Ava can’t stop looking. It pays off, watching Beatrice, Ava knows it when Bea smiles a grin too wide for polite acknowledgement and Ava can see her dimples pronounced. 

“Can I?” Beatrice’s finger lingers near her hand, a hovering itch that Ava needs scratched. It’s so wholeheartedly Beatrice that Ava can do nothing but nod. Something inside of Ava aches harder than the rest of the organs inside of her. It’s the unwavering crushing thumping feeling that squeezes around her heart. The sincerity of Beatrice. 

She places her hand over Ava’s and squeezes her gently. Beatrice’s hands are firm and soft. She can feel the callouses on her palms prodding at the back of her hand and wonders if Beatrice has ever had them fade away. If she’s had the pleasure of unscathed palms. Her hands are warm but not sweaty, not like Ava’s.

Ava can’t feel Beatrice’s pulse but she tries her best to match it. She imagines it would be a slow melody playing a duet with a classical track. Some sort of tune that spurs comfort or a feeling of nostalgia. She briefly wonders if Beatrice listens to music, if she seeks out music that has spoken to her. If there was a song that shook her to her core so deeply she had to sit down and digest it. There’s so much she still needs to know and so little time. 

“I admit I’m not sure what you need from me.” Beatrice whispers it quietly, she’s hunched awkwardly, hovering close in Ava’s space but too far away for her own comfort. 

Ava clamps her mouth shut, sure that “come closer” will betray her. That she will reach too far into Beatrice and take far too much. 

Beatrice pays no mind to Ava’s silence and slowly caresses her hand, it’s a small little gesture that seems to have no set course. Ava briefly wonders if it’s the start of a massage or if Beatrice is looking for her joints underneath her skin and touching her tendons in apology. 

It should be awkward, Beatrice and Ava orbiting each other in a lopsided manner. A rotational tilt that is unfamiliar to both of them and yet feels intimate. An unknown dance with their eyes closed and their breaths mingling. (It’s easy to follow Beatrice’s lead, Ava knows love.) 

There’s nothing Ava can say to her, she chokes up at the prospect and they both blink at each other. She’s not sure what she needs, only that it’s nice having someone here. 

Beatrice drowsily blinks rapidly and slowly at the same time as Ava watches swallowing the bits of her smile. Her hand has slowed its pathing, opting to curl on the inside of Ava’s fingers. It’s endearing watching one of her favorite bad ass sister warriors lose against sleep. It softens the edges of Beatrice who is always carrying some unseen obligation. (Here it is only the two of them free of their past and future burdens, just two girls sprawled thinly on hopes and dreams). 

She can feel Beatrice’s grip loosen, she’s going to fall back asleep any minute now but Ava doesn’t have the heart to keep her up. Beatrice is no doubt tired, powered by her own sleeping and eating habits unlike Ava who has the artifact to juice her up. 

She isn’t quite unwound but she feels manageable now. It’s weird to be within reach of Beatrice, someone who cares about her. To be in proximity of someone who will look for her, be in step with her, maybe it’s duty but Ava holds it close to her heart regardless. (It’s all the same to her, devotion, loyalty, love). 

She clings to Beatrice afraid to let the moment go, she had called and someone had answered, Bea had answered. Ava can feel her eyes watering, it almost feels like a distant dream. She tucks her chin closer to chest and thinks, how awful to be loved. 

She can feel her throat closing up and she squeezes Bea’s hand just a tiny bit harder. (She answers in the twitch of her hand, clearly on the cusp of sleep). The Halo still thunders in her back throbbing some fatal fate but here in the hush of night grounded by the touch of Beatrice she has some reprieve.  (Part 1)

[mommyownsmee]

8🙈

8: What are the rules you would give your little/sub/domme?

Rules - For my Submissive

You will address me as „Mommy/Daddy“ in private at all times and I‘ll always call you by a name of your choice [unless inappropriate]. You decided for ���…“ in private and „…“ in public. We decided that you can call me „…“ in public.

You must always obey my orders [unless inappropriate]. If you can‘t you have to give me a reason for it, which I will respect at all times.

You must send me a selfie of you everyday [definitely], or a photo of what you wear [if you can].

You will take any punishment you may receive [without complaint]. Appropriate punishment will be given for breaking any of these rules- and you must give a proper apology: „I’m sorry for [what you did] Mommy/Daddy“. Rule breaking is only allowed under special circumstances [birthdays etc.]

We agreed on the Punishments together and added them to the app already.

You must always tell me when/where you consume any drugs/alcohol and who you are with- before doing so. I want you to be safe and have infos if there is an emergency.

You may not have another treat you as I do allow. I will not be happy and you will not be forgiven if I find out [and I will].

I may add/remove anything from these rules at any time [we can always talk about these rules].

Mommy/Daddy will always tell you if they‘re having a bad day [our dynamic will maybe have a certain timeout].

You will always say good morning and good night to mommy/daddy. You will always tell mommy/daddy when you have to leave and where you‘re going [except it‘s an emergency. In this case you can tell mommy/daddy later what happened].

You have to put on your online time and checkmarks for messages on your social media for mommy/daddy. I want to see if you‘ve read my messages and when you‘ve been online. Otherwise mommy/daddy will be very worried. This is a point that can‘t be discussed.

Bedtime is at midnight. Only exceptions are weekends [Friday and Saturday] or birthdays, etc.

You are mine. You belong to me alone.

I want you to tell me your location when you‘re not at home or at work.

You have to stay within 2 meters when we are walking in public, no walking away from mommy/daddy.

You have to inform mommy/daddy about your plans for the day [in the morning].

You have to ask mommy/daddy whenever you want to buy expensive (things that are not groceries/ drugstore articles/... Like electronic devices, clothes etc.)

No eye rolling, no sticking tongue out, both gets you -500 points OR one overstimulation punishment.

Rules - For my Domme

| I AM AUTISTIC |

Communicate clearly & directly – I sometimes struggle with subtle cues or unspoken expectations. Please be clear in your instructions, tone, and intentions so I can fully understand what you need from me.

Correct me, but with understanding – If I make a mistake or displease you, I accept discipline, but I also need to understand what I did wrong and how I can improve.

Acknowledge my efforts – I thrive on pleasing you, and knowing that I’m doing well fuels my devotion. A simple acknowledgment, whether praise or correction, means everything to me.

Give me the freedom to express myself – I need a space where I can express my thoughts, emotions, and concerns without fear of punishment or dismissal.

Establish routine & predictability when possible – I function best when I have structure. Please help me by keeping routines, rules, and expectations as consistent as possible, and letting me know in advance if things will change.

Encourage my growth – Submission is a journey, and I want to grow both as your submissive and as a person. Help guide me to be better, not just for you, but for myself as well.

Allow me to seek comfort in you – When I am vulnerable, uncertain, or struggling, let me turn to you without fear. Your dominance is my anchor, and your presence is my refuge.

Recognize when I need you the most – There will be times when I struggle to express my needs. Please be attentive to my unspoken signals and guide me when I cannot guide myself.

Give me time to process changes – Sudden changes in routine or expectations can overwhelm me. If something needs to shift, please let me know in advance when possible, so I have time to adjust.

Respect my sensory needs – Certain textures, sounds, or touches may overstimulate or distress me. Please be mindful of my sensory sensitivities, especially during play, discipline, or intimacy.

Allow me to use stimming or self-regulation methods – If I need to stim (rocking, tapping, fidgeting, etc.) or take a break to regulate myself, please allow me to do so without judgment. It helps me stay calm and present.

Be patient with my emotional processing – Sometimes I may struggle to express what I feel or need right away. Please give me the time and space to process my emotions and communicate them in my own way.

Understand my social exhaustion – Engaging with people can drain me faster than it does others. If I need quiet time or struggle with social interactions, please allow me the space to recover without guilt.

Rules - For my Little

Littlespace rules for public

Always hold hands with mommy (you can also hold onto mommy‘s arm if you need/want to)

Mommy will always open and close all doors for you

Mommy will talk for you in every situation

Please whisper into mommy’s ear if you want something or have the need to say something

Basic rules

You must always respect Mommy

You must always be be truthful and honest to Mommy

If you are sad Mommy prefers to know immediately.

You are allowed to eat snacks if you will eat a lot of healthy stuff (We will discuss this further).

You don’t have to do anything that you don‘t feel comfortable with.

You are always allowed to speak your mind without punishment given, but Mommy doesn‘t want you to use bad words.

„No“ is „No“. There is no „maybe“.

Evening rules

Your bedtime is 12-1 am (We can talk about a specific time).

You should always take care of your body (shower daily, brush teeth and take makup off etc).

You get Mommy-time daily before bed (read a book, talk or play something) in which Mommy will be there for you only. No distractions.

Morning rules

Your wake up time is 7am (We can talk about a specific time).

You have to brush your teeth in the morning.

You have to eat a healthy breakfast.

[kendrysaneela]

Let’s go through the events of Severance from Helena’s POV cause it’s wild from Helena’s POV as well as Helly’s. (I’m just going by memory so I may miss a few things or mix up the timeline a bit) I am not moralizing any of Helena’s actions cause this is just from her POV.

You get (presumably) coerced into splitting your consciousness in half by your abusive father to serve the cult you were raised in.

You then get the brain surgery and then you wake up in a hallway. Millchick says it’s cause you need time to adjust. But it’s okay because sometimes this just happens you’re not trying to leave.

Then you keep ending up on the other side of the door! Millchick comforts you and tells you about how grateful he is that you’re here and you’re happy to get any approval at all even if it is from your family’s cult. Maybe you’ll get some approval from your father.

Then you run through the door MORE! You’re pretty sure at this point that Millchick is lying to you when he says your innie is realizing she does want to be there but you run back through anyway.

Your innie asks to resign you reject that resignation (whether that was Helena’s decision or the board’s is not yet something we know)

Then on a later day you wake up in the elevator and your hair is all messed up your wrist is bandaged up and your makeup is running and you feel just such DEEP exhaustion but you don’t know why

Then you show up on another day and you’re in an elevator with a cd from a camcorder in your hands you watch it and your innie is asking to resign again. But this time she’s threatening your fingers??

So you record a video back (whether those were Helena’s words or words placed in front of her to say by the board yet to be seen)

THEN you wake up in an elevator GASPING for air not knowing what’s happening. I guess your innie tried to KlLL you??

The you’re forced to go back so when you do you crouch in the corner of the elevator in panic before you turn into your innie

THEN later you’re getting ready to do a speech about how great Severance is (you certainly haven’t had a good time but the board demands you do this so you’re gonna have to fake it)

Then all of a sudden you wake up being pulled off stage by Cobel you don’t even remember getting on the stage!

And you’re told that your innie took you over and said a bunch of bad stuff about Severance onstage so after your father insults you for a while you then you’re forced to read an embarrassing script in front of the whole country or the whole world talking about how you drank too much and thought it was a funny joke at the time.

THEN. You’re looking over footage of Helly who is your other consciousness and you see her kissing Mark. You see her being more free and more loved than you ever have. So you rewind that kiss over and over again.

You’re told you have to go back down there to the severed floor but it’s okay you can pretend to be Helly you don’t actually have to be her. And you actually are having a good time? You are having fun with them you’re feeling free youre feeling loved for the first time in your life, you’re making jokes about your family’s ridiculous lore it’s awesome. You’re trying to soak in the love they all have for Helly because you’ve never felt love and you don’t understand you can’t steal love because you’ve never had love before. You come clean with one of the innies about your self hatred.

Then one of the innies finds out you’re Helena and tries to DROWN YOU. To get back your other consciousness that lives in your body your innie who they love more than you. You thought they liked you but now you’re realizing that they just liked you cause they thought you were Helly you’re still stuck in a loveless life now. And now as a bonus you’re having an identity crisis about how Helly is essentially who you could’ve been if you weren’t weighed down by your family’s name.

Then you’re thinking “I definitely won’t have to go back now obviously I’ll tell my father” then you’re told that no you are going back down and you’re going back as Helly to the place where all of this happened because “The Board appreciates your sacrifice” and no one thinks the trauma you’ve faced so far is actually a big deal not even your father he won’t even talk to you about it. So you go back down against your will to the innie floor again and let the consciousness take you over again.

[kazhanko-art]

(prev tags from @tuulikki)

If I am honest, I am at this point functionally pro nuclear proliferation.

not because I love the idea of a nuclear warhead filled world, but because there seems to be no other option.

And with the current stance Trump is taking, Ukraine has been sentenced to genocide and what feels like the being of Ukraine being once again colonized and split by empires.

I can’t imagine being Ukrainian right now; I’m fuming enough as a diaspora member, but for those living in Ukraine, their lives have been placed in grave danger due to the spinelessness and deception of the West, and in this case specifically the US. Every other country that’s protection relies on a peace of paper and faith for the powerful countries to have integrity and honour will be looking at this moment and know where they stand.

I want more than anything for the rest of the west to backup Ukraine, to honour our words.

But if I’m honest it’s hard to have faith right now.

In Canada, with trump just coming out and saying he’s serious about his desire to annex us, and Trudeau having before said he isn’t joking, rebuilding our frankly pitiful military is now becoming a priority. And I fear it will come with calls to pull back on frankly already pitiful amounts sent from Canada to Ukraine. I hope I am wrong, but with the US rapidly becoming an unreliable ally to outright hostile entity which blatantly disregards international law and agreements, I would not be surprised if members of NATO start turning to an every country (or clusters of countries) for themselves. And while I doubt this will happen, some here are asking for Canada to build its own nukes, and I’d be shocked if that sentiment isn’t growing elsewhere.

Frankly the most pessimistic parts of me think that this will actively murky the desire to abide international laws, agreements, or human rights and ethics. If the most powerful countries in the world can ignore the rules at their pleasure, and following them only serves to hurt you, what is the point of being a weaker state which follows them?

Like, I of course don’t agree with this sentiment, but if doing the ethically and morally better thing only serves to get you killed, the logical conclusion for many is going to be fight dirty, regardless of the human cost

all of that is to say that this election, these choices, everything that lead up to this, will have profoundly negative and widespread consequences for the world. Whether that be the deaths of Ukrainians and Palestinians condoned by the Trump administration, countries going backwards on nuclear disarmament and international cooperation, or the effective stripping away of the power behind laws and agreements meant to protect us.

I hope usamericans that voted for this outcome, whether directly or indirectly, are ready for the new world your country has made, because it will undoubtedly be more hostile than the one we had before. And for one will never forgive you for it, and I will do what I can to remind everyone, for the remainder of time on this planet, never to forgive you for it

for the record, every dead Ukrainian, every act of genocide by Russia, every home destroyed, every inch of soil lost, will be a stain on the US, and I hope no one forgets how the US repeatedly failed to back up the Budapest memorandum, and whatever happens under Trump

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo at The Status Kuo:

There was a bloodbath over at the Justice Department, signaling real trouble ahead for the Trump administration. In the first major challenge to Trump’s new Attorney General Pam Bondi, the resignation of acting U.S. Attorney Danielle Sassoon, a top prosecutor in the Southern District of New York, set off a chain reaction that has shaken the Justice Department to its core. The Department had been planning to drop all charges against New York City Mayor Eric Adams, who is facing federal corruption charges and possible new obstruction of justice charges. Lately, Adams has been working hard to curry favor with the Trump White House, and it looked like his efforts were about to pay off. Enter Sassoon, who was in charge of the Adams case. When she learned of the plan to dismiss all charges against Adams, she offered her resignation in a polite but damning letter. In it, she laid out why she could no longer in good faith work for the Department, which had put political considerations above the rule of law. Sassoon wasn’t the only lawyer to quit the Department yesterday. When it tried to hand the case to the Public Integrity Section in D.C., its top lawyers resigned, too, rather than dismiss the charges against Adams. Then more lawyers followed. By the end, six attorneys had quit, dealing a stunning blow to the administration. Normally we don’t get much of a view into the inner workings and politics of the Justice Department. They are usually quite tight lipped. But thanks to Sassoon, we now have a clear picture of what happened and why it’s so indicative not only of the corruption at the very top but also of the high levels of integrity throughout the rest of the Department.

[...] Bove’s main rationale for dismissing the case was a headspinner. He claimed the indictment “unduly restricted Mayor Adams’s ability to devote full attention and resources” to Trump’s efforts to crack down on migrants and had “improperly interfered” with Adams’s re-election campaign. (If that sounds familiar, it’s essentially Trump’s long-held rationale for why charges against him were a “witch hunt” designed to create “election interference.”) In other words, Bove provided only political justifications for dropping the charges, with no rationale related to the actual facts, evidence or law of the case. That memo made big news on Monday, and legal observers assumed, with a sinking feeling in our collective guts, that the matter was finished. Adams had played politics well, and Trump had bitten and apparently ordered his Justice Department to comply. [...] It’s important to know something about Sassoon’s political leanings. She’s a conservative, Federalist Society attorney who clerked for Justice Antonin Scalia. So this is not some progressive or liberal, though I have no doubt that the MAGA ghouls will try to paint her that way. She was the lawyer the Department picked to head the Southern District of New York, an office so important and so aboveboard that it’s often referred to as the Sovereign District of New York. [...]

Bove fires back

Bove is a real piece of work, and he wasn’t going to let things go quietly. Whether Bondi instructed him to answer or he took it upon himself to do so, his letter responding to Sassoon blasted her personally and her handling of the case, along with her decision not to obey a direct order. Bove didn’t just stop with her. He wrote that the other prosecutors on the case who had worked with her, and apparently supported her position, would be placed on administrative leave, too, for disobeying his command. He threatened them with an investigation by the AG and the Department’s internal investigative unit, both of which would also evaluate Sasson’s conduct, which could be taken as a veiled threat to bring bar disciplinary action. (Bove may want to think twice about this investigation now, as his own conduct might come under the microscope, and the judge overseeing the dismissal could demand some answers about what really went down.) The most telling part of the letter was where Bove placed fealty to the President above all other considerations, including Sasson’s oath to uphold the Constitution. “In no valid sense do you uphold the Constitution by disobeying direct orders implementing the policy of a duly elected President,” he wrote, “and anyone romanticizing that behavior does a disservice to the nature of this work and the public’s perception of our efforts.” [...]

The ensuing bloodbath

This is the point where things got really interesting. After Sassoon resigned, Bove sent the file over to the Public Integrity Section of the Justice Department in D.C. There, he expected that the heads of the Section, Kevin O. Driscoll and John Keller, would obey his order and dismiss the case. Instead, they resigned as well. Bove went to other lawyers down the line, including one who reportedly was in the hospital giving birth. The response was the same: We quit. In all, there were six resignations, including Sassoon’s. This is twice the number of people who were sacked when President Nixon ordered the firing of special prosecutor Archibald Cox, who was investigating Watergate. They had to go three officials down the line until they got to Robert Bork, who was unprincipled enough to order Cox’s firing. That series of dismissals became known as the “Saturday Night Massacre,” and it soured the public badly against Nixon who was clearly trying to obstruct the investigation. [...] Moreover, there is significant pressure now on New York Gov. Kathy Hochul to exercise her power to remove Adams from office, especially now that there is unrefuted evidence that Adams sought leniency in exchange for throwing migrants in New York under the bus and letting ICE have free rein, in contravention to the city’s existing policies. Indeed, shortly after Sassoon’s resignation on Thursday, following a meeting between Adams and Trump’s new border czar, Thomas Homan, Adams declared he would issue an order allowing ICE agents into the Rikers Island prison complex, signaling a stark departure from the city’s prior sanctuary status. Through all of this, one thing is now crystal clear: This story has gone from a local case of mayoral corruption to a stunning and significant national case of embarrassment for the Justice Department. The resistance to the behavior of top officials, explosively displayed by the mass resignations of top Department lawyers on Thursday, spells real trouble for Bove and Bondi as they seek to bend the entire DOJ to the will of the Trump White House.

Happy to see Danielle Sassoon stand up for the rule of law by refusing to cave in on the Trump DOJ demand to drop the charges against Eric Adams, along with at least 6-7 others who also refused to cave.

See Also:

Talking Feds (Harry Litman): Thursday Night Massacre

Campaign Trails (Kevin Kruse): The Thursday Afternoon Massacre

everyone is entitled to my own opinion (Jeff Tiedrich): prosecutors to Donny: fuck straight off, we’re not dropping Eric Adams’ charges

TPM: DOJ Enters The Darkest Period In Its Long History

[moonshynecybin]

any humble updates on airport au...

context. SURE man what the hell. i actually have a good ass chunk written after this but hey. this is right after vale shows up at PI post sex dream and marc nearly crashes his scooter. happy birthday to these two filthy animals

Vale, like a mosquito, shows up at his box later that day, just before Marc is about to head out of the paddock. Probably because it’s a flyaway and he can’t show up at Marc’s motorhome to plague him there, and because he doesn’t know what house Marc and Álex are renting on the island.

He also, as a man put on the planet to consternate Marc, brings a good bottle of Merlot. And what with all of the recently healed very public animosity, it’s not like Marc can turn him away.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

“What was that about, this afternoon?” Vale asks immediately, rummaging around in the cabinets in Marc’s rider’s room and conjuring two cups without asking Marc if he even wants a glass. He’s pretty sure that the mug that Vale is eyeballing to see if it’s dirty is Jose’s.

He folds his knees up on the little couch in his rider’s room, a small act of self protection. He’s directly post-shower, and his hair is wet, his skin overheated. It's all a little — exposed. Like Vale might happen across his guts if their conversation winds down the wrong path. “I have a race tomorrow, quali, too— maybe I don’t want any wine.”

“God, I am glad I retired before they made us do sprints,” Vale cranks out the cork, then sniffs the bottle and makes a comically considering face until Marc breaks into a smile. He raises an eyebrow in the direction of the couch. “Well, do you?” He asks about the wine.

They sit and Marc takes his glass. Vale has unsubtly poured him a humongous portion.

“You didn’t answer me,” Vale ponders, sipping like a cat. “You know, you are not as good at lying as you think you are, it’s just that no one has the balls to call you out on it.”

Marc privately thinks that Vale is actually historically very bad at telling whether he is lying. He does not share this, he just crosses his arms on top of his knees.

“Hah, you should see my mom— she always let me blame stuff on Álex when we were young, it would make him so mad, and I would always get away with it.”

Turning towards him, Vale twists out of his hoodie, and Marc catches a soft strip of skin as his t-shirt rides up. The band of Vale’s underwear. He bites his lip and looks away. This is embarrassing.

“Hm, a born criminal, then? Not a learned one?” Vale is saying, throwing his hoodie over the chair and settling back on the couch.

Marc really hopes Vale has enough grace to let this afternoon go. He doesn’t have a lie ready, really, that he thinks Vale will believe.

“No, please. Most of those tricks I learned from you.”

“Like what?” He’s looking at Marc with big, innocent eyes.

He knows exactly what, he just likes to hear Marc say it.

“Lots of things. It’s probably the reason I was second place at Jerez in 2013, instead of third.”

It works, and Vale guffaws. Marc knew that it would— He used to love it when Marc would do shit to Jorge. Marc used to love doing shit to Jorge for that exact reason.

“Marc, please, please. We are in Australia, you have to pay your respects to Mick Doohan for inventing that move. He’s probably only about twenty meters away.” He drops his voice into a whisper. “Be careful, honestly maybe he can hear you.”

Marc looks at the ceiling, responds gravely, “I’m not a Repsol Honda rider anymore, I can do what I want.”

“Cin-cin. Hey, me neither,” Vale says brightly, and clinks his cup (José’s travel mug that says LESS TALK, MORE COFFEE) against Marc’s (a protein shake bottle that is missing its lid).

He can do what he wants. Marc turns that over, chewing on the edge of a thumbnail. He’s always thought so, but this is a little bit different. He changes the subject.

“Álex wants to go shopping on Monday at the airport, before our flight home. His girlfriend— it is her birthday on Wednesday, and he wants to get her this at one of the stores there, you know,” Marc pulls up his phone, finding a picture Álex sent him of the necklace. It's— Marc doesn't like it, but Marc’s picky. “And I think it is such a bad idea. It is so ugly, too much. He’s going to scare her.”

Vale looks for a second at the photo, picking at one of his nails, and then looks over at Marc.

“You wouldn't get that for your girl?”

“I wouldn’t get her something like that.”

“Well, what does she like?” Vale takes another pull of his drink, a little more subdued now. His face looks– pinched, for some reason. “Your girl. Maybe she has some ideas.”

“Oh, um.”

Vale just stares at him until he breaks. “No, no girlfriend. With travel, it's hard, you know.” Marc puts down his wine, leaning down to grab his racing boot and fiddle with it. “So. Not really looking.” The strap won’t close. He might need to get one of his backups tomorrow, for the race.

After a moment he notices Vale is still looking at him.

“Hm.”

“Yeah,”

“It’s hard.” Vale agrees, and then goes silent. “Tell Álex that the necklace is not so good. Try simple. Expensive.”

After a taught second where the both sip at their wine, Vale looks like he wants to say something more, but when he starts talking it's bright, airy, unrelated. Some story about him and Mick and being a Honda rider at the tobacco money fueled turn of the millennium, hands moving in the air as he mimes some poor mechanic scrambling to switch a tire. Marc watches, and he can’t stop looking at his hands, his neck, the way his mouth curves around syllables, the slant of his posture.

The thing he is realizing, while Vale boyishly shakes his head in a disapproving impersonation of Jeremy Burgess, is that— this hot fixation he’s discovered, it isn't a one-off. It's not the past, it's here, and it's now. He’d thought a little space would clean things up, work the frustration out of his bones, but the lack of space is serving to be just as clarifying a force. He sits and he stares. It's not just a dream or being pent-up from a long season, he’s not even sure that this is new. It doesn't feel like it is, it feels a lot like when he was 15 and meeting him, like when he was 20 and friends with him. Like when he was 21 and at the Ranch. Like when he was 22 and feeling like he was going to throw up, boring holes with his eyes in the side of Vale’s neck and willing him to look at him.

Hero-worship, he’d thought. The thrill of being friends with Valentino Rossi. People usually grow out of that, don't they? Marc didn't, and now he knows why.

He can do what he wants, Vale had said, except that he doesn't know that he can. Because what he wants, what he thinks he wants, well. That’s not really an option.

He takes his first sip of the night, and the Merlot bursts earthy and light on his tongue.

[acourtofthought]

I agree with your post that Azriel was an asshole in that scene 100%. But I think making it seem like Elain didn’t have a choice whatsoever in that moment is also why people keep saying the fandom infantilizes her. She was wrong too for thinking it was okay to do that especially when Lucien was there. Again I agree that Azriel acted like an ass there, but Elain wasn’t forced to do anything with him. Let’s start treating her like the adult she is in this fandom. If you want Azriel to apologize to Elain, then Elain should apologize to Azriel too because she was aware she’s a mated female and still chose to accept that kiss.

I actually don't agree with this take and it sounds like you're confusing infantilizing a character with what is you wrongly thinking a female somehow owes a guy something. A guy who, even if she's confused and secretly wants him, has not at this time been giving him any mixed signals therefore her actions were not in any way "cheating" or disloyal.

How was Elain in the wrong for exploring something outside of one likely super serious commitment after she just got out of a super serious commitment when she has currently made no commitment to anyone?

I LOVE Lucien, my heart breaks for Lucien but I also realize how much Elain has gone through.

Lucien lost Jesminda but spent the next how many centuries having casual liaisons with others. Yet for some reason people think Elain has to go from an engagement with Graysen immediately into a super serious mating bond which is a forever sort of thing. Somehow she has to accept her bond with Lucien RIGHT NOW because .....? Why? Why is she not allowed to have a hot girl summer before maybe deciding to explore the thing someone else decided for her. Make no mistake, I am all here for Elucien's story and the reluctant soul mates / arranged marriage trope but that doesn't mean she's not entitled to take time to herself without worrying about Lucien's feelings. Did you forget everything she's been through in the last two years on their timeline? Lost her entire life in the human lands, rejected by her fiance, forced to become a species she grew up fearing, had to stab someone, lost her father and on top of that everyone seems to expect that she focus on Lucien. Everyone but Lucien of course because he's a complete green flag which is why he is her endgame. But she's allowed to be a 24 year old girl processing trauma even if that means having a meaningless fling just to see if she's ready to get back on the dating horse.

Rarely does the fandom fault Nesta for all but confessing her love to Cassian, being willing to die by Cassian's side then turning around and (without any sort of discretion) sleeping with MANY other males, something he was fully aware of. I also do not remember Sarah having Nesta apologize to him for sleeping with others.

Elain did not set out to hook up with Az that night, she thought everyone was asleep. And yes, Lucien was in the house but as far as we know he was also asleep and not aware which means she was a lot more discreet than Nesta had been.

Elain does not need to apologize to Az for anything because Az was fully aware she has a mating bond. They both chose not to discuss her mating bond, Az never asked her whether she planned on rejecting it which means he was fine moving forward without those answers. And just because she has a bond doesn't mean she owes Lucien loyalty. Again, Nesta suspected Cassian was something to her yet she still went on to hook up with multiple others.

Infantilizing Elain is when others act like she's the only person who never had a choice therefore she HAS to end up with Az, that somehow ending up with Lucien isn't a choice because "we need to respect what she wants" as if she's not a fictional character whose wants can change from one book to the next.

Acknowledging that Az hurt Elain in that moment and not the other way around is what happened and I think if you somehow think Elain needs to apologize to HIM than that is you infantilizing a 500 something year old guy with communication issues.

Edit thanks to @zenkindoflove :- Here's your apology from Elain, anon: She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I'm sorry." "You don't - Don't apologize he managed to say. "Never apolgize. It's I who should...." He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression. "Goodnight."

The 24 year old apologized to HIM when he called things a mistake after he was the one who left his hands on her neck then titled her head. And instead of saying, "It's I who should apologize, I'm so sorry" he just decided he couldn't handle telling her he was sorry.

[dejavew]

precis: some of the infinite things that levi does that will never make you question the feelings he has for you. (bulletins)

content: fluff, just simple little things that levi shows how he loves or likes you

warnings: none, except for the fact that your friends are questionable in some of them.

⁠

❥ Walks to the park was always a part of your weekly routine. It wasn’t the walk itself that made it fun for you, but it was the scene that would entertain your eyes. Watching dogs, carelessly run around fetching frisbees, and tennis balls to return them back to their owners, and seeing people enjoy their time with the small little family that you hope you’ll be gifted one day.

However, these weren’t the reasons why you came.

It was the guy with the undercut who sat right under the shade, sipping what it look like to be tea in his hand, wearing his reading glasses, and scanning the contents of his book that kept you coming back to this very park every week.

You’d walk countless times around the park over and over for at least within an hour at least but under an hour and a half at most.

It made you feel like a creep. You couldn’t stand to imagine if a stranger did what you were doing, whether a man or a woman. That thought alone gave you an unsettling feeling. However, you couldn’t help the longing feeling of him being so familiar to him.

Still, it felt wrong.

You scrunch up your face. Resisting the urge to continue on being a creep, you let out a sigh. As much as you wanted a chance with this stranger, you knew that it shouldn’t happen this way. Please, give me a sign—you begged to whoever was writing your story.

And as you pass him once again, you got your answer.

Just beside his own cup of tea that he bought from the tea shop not too far, sat another cup of tea sat right beside him. Something your eyes were heedless to catch. It’s safe to assume that he’s waiting for his partner to arrive.

Instead of making a fuss about it, you nodded your head all while you continued to walk along the path so he wouldn’t know that you were staring. You accepted that maybe this wasn’t meant to be, and so instead of turning to go around the park a couple more times, you walked towards the entrance.

“Hey miss!” A light jog can be heard behind you.

You turn around, attracted to the sound and the sound that was addressing to you.

The guy with the undercut that sat under the shade. Was now the same guy who was face to face with you—only a couple feet in front of you.

“Fuck, I thought I’d have more time to think about what I was going to say.” You catch his mutter. “My names Levi. I noticed that you’d stare at me every time you took a walk here.”

Your face burns red. “I thought it was weird. But when I saw you do nothing but stare, so I became content with it.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh when nothing was said back to him. Just you and your dumbfounded face. He didn’t know what he was doing, he wasn’t confident in his skills of flirting, but yet, he persisted. “Look, I’m not really good at this, so let me make this short and simple. I bought you tea.” He points to where he sat, and sure enough the tea was still sitting next to his.

“I know it’s not smart to take things from strangers, but there’s something about you.” If possible your face reddens even more.

“If you’re not going to talk at least take the tea. I can save it for later, and we can go back to the tea shop to get another one.” He awkwardly sticks his pretty hands out for you to take.

This could be the sign that you were looking for, and so you take a leap of faith.

You place your hands in his, and you let him guide you back under the shade.

“My name’s Y/N.”

With matching shy and goofy grins, the two of you walk back to the place where he would catch you staring, and he would stare discreetly back too.

⁠❥ Nights out with your work friends were always the one thing you looked forward for on Fridays. You don’t have to worry about working the next day, or the day after.

It seemed like everything was going as planned. A karaoke room reserved for the six of you, everyone participating in the imaginary singing contest that was being held, the winner getting an imaginary one million cash prize, and the food, as well as the booze, was filling up all your stomachs.

Until it wasn’t.

“It’s alright guys, just make sure she gets home safe, and she doesn’t throw up anymore.” Worry etches on your face, you peak into the car and your sick friend was slump over the window, with the support of your other friend—who was rubbing her back.

They all say their quick goodbyes and tell you to be safe as the uber pulls out onto the main road, along with the owner of the karaoke spot, panicking about the vomit that was marinating the floor.

You were now alone.

Just hitting 1 am in the morning, you were now aware that you were standing under lamp spots that provided very limited light.

You knew Levi would be grumpy if you woke him up. With his luck, he’d be able to get at least four hours of sleep, but you also knew he’d be upset at you if he found out if you were transporting back home all by yourself.

After a couple of minutes, conflicted in your situation, you decide to call your boyfriend, Levi.

“Hey baby. I know it’s really late, but everyone left. Is it alright if you pick me up? I’m only about ten minutes away?” You chew on your thumb, nervously.

With no reply, you took it as a sign as annoyance. “I’m sorry Levi, I know I should’ve went—“

He cuts you off mid sentence, surprising you. “You don’t have to apologize, brat.”

“I’d rather you call me to pick you up late at night, than for you to try to get home, all alone.” You hear him get out of bed, sheets dancing as he moves out of them. “Also, who are your friends? Aren’t they supposed to make sure that you get home safe?”

“One of them got sick.” You let out a sigh remembering the different emotions everyone went through. “The uber that pulled up only had four open seats left.” You explained to him.

“I thought there were six of you.” You hear his car unlock, and the car door closing a few seconds later.

“One of my coworkers left an hour ago.”

He lets out an annoyed sigh after hearing where your coworkers were. “You’re gonna stay on call until I get to you. There’s no good reason why you should be by yourself at night baby.”

“I know. If I knew that tonight was going to end up this way, I would’ve planned way more.” You kick your legs trying to busy your body.

“Or just get new friends.” He teases.

You roll your eyes, smiling. “Maybe I should.”

Somehow, his car got to you within six minutes, instead of ten.

As he rolls down the window, and you capture his pretty face, you can’t help the giddy feeling you always get when you see him.

You get into the car, and buckle up. “Have I ever told you that I love you?” Trying to hide his shy smile, he looks away and coughs.

“I’m glad that you’re with me now, and not with your inconsiderate friends.” You smile at his words knowing that that was his way of saying I love you back.

⁠❥ ”Ugh I know! I haven’t ate some in a while.”

You were engaged with a phone call with your friend. The call was at least reaching twenty minutes old, and you just so happened to be in the same room as Levi.

Who was trying to do his work.

“I think it’s been-“ You try to calculate in your head. “Two months?”

“I’ve actually been craving for it recently.” You twirl the ends of your hair standing weirdly leaning on the wall.

Ever since you walked into where Levi does his work, which was ten minutes ago, his progress had slowed due to the constant and loud replies that your friend received.

“No, I used to—“ A small object hits your shoulder. “What the hell!”

You turn to face your boyfriend, giving you looks that could kill you. “Would it hurt to keep it down. Or at least go to another room?”

“Are you okay?” Your concerned friend asks on the other side of the line.

“Hold on girl. My boyfriend wants attention from me. Give me two minutes.” You mute yourself on call.

“Yes, it would hurt if I quieted down a bit. You should know.” You reference to the time you gave him the silent treatment for not even a full five hours, and he was bothering you every second, minute, and hour.

Knowing that you weren’t wrong, he scoffs. “What were you guys talking about anyways?”

Forgetting the fact that your boyfriend threw a pen at you, you get excited immediately. “Oh this one place that sells the best pastries! I haven’t had them in a while and—"

You squint your eyes at him, thinking you caught him in his little scheme. “Actually, I was talking to my friend about this bakery not my boyfriend.”

His eyebrows slightly rise, amused, as he watches you unmute the call, bringing the conversation to your right ear, and walk out the room.

You find yourself in the kitchen now, ready to continue on the conversation, letting Levi to finish up his work.

“I’m sorry about that. My boyfriend—who doesn’t know how to have fun.” You said that loud and clear and on purpose for him to hear. “But anyways it’s these little buns called warm bears because they feel warm, as if someone was giving you a bear hug.”

You pause to hear your friend’s question. “No, I just made that up. But they’re really called warm bears.”

The next day, after a long day of work, you celebrate quietly as the keys to open up to the apartment your shared with your boyfriend.

You mindfully place your work bag where it belongs, and take your shoes off by the door, knowing how Levi gets on you for the lack of tidiness you have compared to him. You walk past the living room, and head towards the kitchen, your stomach ready to eat.

But before you could check out the fridge, a familiar looking box, with new, updated designs on them, was sitting patiently to be open. Attached was on the top was a little sticky note on it with Levi’s handwriting.

‘For you brat, Levi.’

You open the box, and there, the aroma and the sight of warm bears stare right back at you.

Unlike all the other times, it wasn’t the warm pastries that warmed you up, but rather the little act of love your boyfriend continuously pulls off.

⁠❥ You felt awkward watching your friend show PDA with her new boyfriend. Is this how they all felt when you would invite Levi to tag along? Well, it’s not like Levi was one to be into extreme PDA. Anything that involved making out, sensual eye contact, dirty innuendos, or anything that should be kept private wasn’t his thing. He could handle hand-holding, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, having you walk inside of the sideway—to put it simple, the softer kind of PDA.

You were sat at a food court sitting across your friend, trying to get some rest from the two hours of walking around the mall. What you thought was just going to be you and her, turned out a thirdwheel trip for you.

So as you watch your friend maul her boyfriend’s face off in front of you, you couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed.

So naturally to avoid letting your friend know that you were repulsed, even though there was no way she would notice given the fact that she had her face smushed against his, you go and text your boyfriend.

Hey babe. You desperately wait for his reply. And in an instant your phone goes off.

Hi sweetheart. You smile, completely forgetting—what you consider—live porn in front of you.

Your fingers excitedly type back, I’m really bored.

Bored? I’d be annoyed if my friend who asked me to hang out with her was making out with her boyfriend.

Confused on how he guessed right with the lack of information that you gave him, you look around the area for his figure.

Where are you? You text him, after failing to do so.

You wait for his reply, that now suddenly stopped die off. You kissed your teeth, closing the app, to scroll endlessly on social media. Eager to ignore the third wheel feeling, you wanted to see people’s stories. Unfortunately, your face cringes, seeing that the first post you see, was the same exact friend who was making out in front of you.

You let out a defeated sigh, close the app, and turn your phone off. Only to gaze off into the sidewalk wondering where your boyfriend could be.

A pair of shoes shows up in your field of vision. But too involved with your daydreaming, and your goal of avoiding at looking at your friend who was now flirting shamelessly with her boyfriend, you ignore whoever stopped in front of you.

“Are you just gonna stare off into oblivion or are you going to take my hand?” Your head snaps to Levi.

Now filling your heart up with relief, you take his hand, and stand up to greet him with a tight hug. Unlike the couple across from the two of you, you gave Levi a quick kiss on the cheek as a little thank you, and he gives a small smile.

This gets your friend and her partner to look at the two of you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was with one of my friends who wanted to buy something for their partner.” He points to his friend, you recognize them as Hange, who in return waves back with a gigantic smile. “And I just so happened to see you.”

“Perfect timing.” Your friend’s boyfriend chimes in. “That means we won’t need to get you home.”

Your friend who was a little embarrassed by his comment hits his thigh. “Babe you don’t say things like that.”

“It’s alright, we can drop her off.” She says to Levi, with a polite smile.

With a deadpan, Levi looks at the boyfriend, and it’s clear that he already made the decision that he doesn’t like him. “No it’s alright. Thanks for considering it though.” He says only to your friend.

“Just remember for future reference.” He glares at the guy next to her. “If your girlfriend was hanging out with me and Y/N. She wouldn’t need to worry about her ride bailing on her, whether you show up or not.”

Levi turns back to you, his expression now soft, and his hand grabs yours. “Let’s call it a day then darling.”

And with that, he walks off—not wasting another second talking with a guy who couldn’t even do the bare minimum—with you towards his friend, backs now turned to the couple as he whispers, “she deserves way better than that guy.”

You giggle, agreeing with his statement.

⁠❥ “I promise I’m not going to fall.”

There you stood confidently a few feet from the floor. You so stubbornly wanted to grab a book that was inconveniently stored at the very top of a bookshelf in Levi’s office. Your arms were stretched out to its maximum length, but with no use, you barely touched the base shelf that the book sat on.

“Hold on.” Only looking up at the book that was calling your name. “I can grab it I swear!” Levi was next to you, worried that you could fall at any moment.

I mean look at you. On your toes of the highest step of the stool, with one leg trying to push you to somehow go higher.

“Babe you can seriously get hurt.” His arms were angled in a way where you would fall bridal style in his arms if you were to fall.

“Let me get the damn book for you.” His words filled with stress.

He was stressed even more when he sees you, still on your toes, but now jumping like it was going to help you at all. Miraculously, it was working. You managed to swipe the book your way, and with each small jump and your hand swiping continuously, it inched towards you.

You feel a smile grow on your face, knowing that you could prove that you could do it yourself. As the book got closer to the edge, where you could grab it, you swear you felt like you could conquer the world. You were almost there!

Yes! The feeling of accomplishing something so small made you feel good.

And then you landed wrong.

Eyes now wide, pride now spilling out from you, you feel your body slowly pull towards the ground. You swipe at the air, hoping that you could grab on to something, but of course it was too late.

You were about to hit the ground.

Twenty minutes later, here you two are at the hospital getting both your injuries checked out. The whole car ride you couldn’t even look at Levi. Not because you were scared that he was going to crash into something, because he did hit his head when you landed on him. But at the fact that he was silent the whole car ride not even bothering to hum in response.

Seeing an ice pack on his head, and your foot naked—for the doctor to check out—while you sat on the hospital bed. You knew you fucked up big time.

Instead of admitting to your mistake to your concussed boyfriend, you instead let the pride sit in your chest, and wear your head high.

“Babe, why would try and catch me?”

Levi looks slowly to you, as he sits next to you on another hospital bed. The two of you looking hopelessly.

“I’m asking myself the same exact thing.” His face cringes after finishing off his sentence.

Of course now fully observing him, your pride shamefully hides somewhere in you. Feeling a bit foolish at the situation you got you and your ever so loving boyfriend in. Over a damn book too.

“Don’t give me that look.” He says. He adjusts his position, facing the ceiling, and he closes his eyes

“You look pitiful.”

Scratch that. It looks like your pride was starting to show itself again. “Alright then. As soon as I start to say my wrongs, you want to comment on how sad I look.”

He doesn’t reply for a couple of seconds. Letting his beating head calm down, and his eyes open slowly. He looks back at you, lips in a pout and your arms across your chest.

“That’s not what I meant brat.” He hisses at the sentence.

“I meant you shouldn’t apologize, because no matter what the outcome was going to be, I was going to be right beside you the whole entire time.” Again he moves his head back to face the ceiling.

“You did alright trying to get the book.” You almost laughed at his stubborn semi compliment. “But next time. Let me do it.”

“So what I'm hearing is that you’ll be there for me through any life crisis that I go through.”

“That we go through. Also getting a book is not a life crisis. But you know what is? Hearing any more talking. Now shut up.” He cringes again turning away from you.

You smile at his grumpiness.

“I love you too.” You whisper just loud enough for him to hear.

What he was able to hide from you was a big fond smile that matched yours.

In the end, whether Levi had enough or ran out of patience with you, he knew that you were made for him. Even when life threw constant obstacles at you, none of it mattered, because what truly mattered to him was the fact that he was with you to experience it all together.

As well as the next lifetime, and the next, and the next…

[juchily]

Yellowjackets S3 Ep1 thoughts

Spoilers below ⚠️

not them buttering us up with the cute fun scenes like them playing tag so they can hit us with the horrible stuff later... I see you showtime

edit: MARI CALLED SHAUNA GAYWAD WHEN SHAUNA TACKLED HER?? ALSO JUST IGNORING THAT SHAUNA IS COMPETITIVE IT WAS INDEED VERY GAY THE WAY SHE WAS MANHANDLING MARI

Taivan taivan taivan taivan!

taivan broke up after rescue 😞

Travis is one of the girls ✨🧚

Shauna's freaky as shit... But like 🙇

That whole scene with Melissa and Shauna was gold, "You have a personality?"?? Be fr the extra gets her first real line and the writers write in a character pointing it out this is so funny

Melissa being so eager to suck up and impress Shauna, two girls telling each other "yeahhh", Melissa wants that cookie. Genlissa shippers it's OVER

what do we think Nat got arrested for when she was 24?

Love Callie for that... I've never hated her be real she's too much of an icon to hate

Im going to be real, when those girls talked about the girls eating pig blood and then having a druggy orgy I did infact go "we all wish" because do we not?? The writers KNOW what we want at this point lol

did Shauna know pre crash that Lottie was schizophrenic? Did she find the pill bottle post crash? If she knew this, would this be a fuel for her hate for Lottie because of her visions, miracles, etc

Lottie being a therapist... God she's too much of everything I can't even begin <3

Lottie and Travis as a duo are so cute (AS NON ROMANTIC, I HATE THEM ROMANTICALLY THAT)

...i thought Van and Tai were going to go at it in the restaurant bathroom ngl, dining and dashing and fucking in an alley is cool too

also that scene in the restaurant where Van seems to be feeling weird... And then right after that the waiter guy dies (supposedly) and we see that onscreen effect go away... Just saying

Id eat the shit (read: spit) out of that soup...

Mari and Shauna getting treated like misbehaving dogs... They low-key are. Poor Mari honestly. And Shauna gaslighting...

SHAUNA AND CALLIE BONDING OH MY LORD CALLIE'S A MINI SHAUNA AND I DONT KNOW WHETHER I SHOULD BE SCARED OF THAT

i can believe Ben finding a war/apocalypse prep container especially considering Cabin guy's insane amount of ammo, but I find it odd that the case is pristinely clean despite being covered in a pit of dirt and dust. Maybe they just didn't bother making it look weathered and I'm looking into it too hard.

NAT HALLUCINATION PLUS CHERRY BOMB 💥💥🎉

Honestly I think Walter may have lied to Misty, on the other hand Van and Taissa were getting down and dirty and Shauna was actually bonding with her kid for once

they make memorial for Javi, then Jackie, then Wilderness baby, im just confused on the fact they don't mention Laura Lee? Especially that Lottie of all people wouldn't mention her. Also the five lanterns I still think that's a clue to a death count this season (past and present, maybe just past timeline)

Ben is up to some evil shit... I don't think Mari dies in that hole though from some of the teasers we've seen

callie pocketed that tape... Didn't anyone tell you not to open other people's mail young lady 🤓

CAKE, they played CAKE, oh I can die happy

Ending thoughts:

Wtf is that sound Travis heard? Does the sound have something to do with being drunk? He hears it first when he's high, and the other girls hear it after the feast (they had like wine or something).

The no eyed man... come on let's get a good look at 'im

Who left the letter? Will the other Yellowjackets get a letter like the one that was supposed to go to Shauna?

What will happen to Mari? What is Ben's purpose of making that trap and what does he plan to do now that he's catched one of the girls. Furthermore, this would prove he knew they survived the cabin fire. Will this lead to the girls finding where Ben is?

Laura Lee erasure... 😭

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

hey friend I just massively failed and I gotta redo my student teaching can I get some just confort from our fav slytherin boys this is the first time I've failed this hard so it stings

A Lesson in Mistakes | Sebastian x Reader x Ominis

Hello friend, I’m so sorry to hear you’re going through a hard time with your student teaching :( I worked through this as quickly as I could to get it up for you. I hope it helps 💚

Words: ~1,600

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Friendship, Fluff

You don’t realize something is wrong until the spell has already landed.

The flipendo was supposed to be countered. That was the whole point of the lesson.

You were training your students on reading intent, on recognizing the difference between a controlled spell and one that’s fueled by unchecked magic. A proper duel demands control, discipline—something you should have been watching more closely.

The fourth-year had been eager, a promising student with sharp reflexes but poor restraint. He had asked to push himself, to try something a little stronger, and you—caught between encouraging his ambition and remembering your own hunger for skill around at that age—had said yes.

You should have seen it. You should have noticed the way his grip tightened on his wand, the way his breath hitched before he cast the spell. You should have realized the instant he overcharged the charm that it was going to go wrong.

But by the time the red streak of light slammed into his opponent’s chest, sending them crashing into the stone wall with a sickening thud, it was too late.

The student didn’t get back up.

A chorus of gasping classmates, the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears—all of it blurred together as you rushed to them, panic gripping your throat like a vice.

“Someone get Nurse Blainey. Now!” Your voice came out sharper than intended, but the urgency in it had the students scrambling.

The duel had not been meant to go this far. A simple exercise, that’s all it was supposed to be. The worst they should have gotten was a bruised ego or a temporary jinx—

Not this.

By the time Nurse Blainey arrived, the injured student was stirring, thank Merlin, but badly concussed, with broken ribs and a wand arm that would need of healing overnight.

Professor Hecat said nothing when she arrived, but the look in her eyes said enough.

Disappointment.

You had failed.

You don’t remember much of the meeting that followed in her office.

Only her voice, cool and measured, as she laid out the reality of the situation.

“The student will recover, but this should not have happened,” she said, her piercing eyes fixed on you. “You were meant to be supervising, not enabling. We are lucky the consequences weren’t worse.”

Each word landed like a blow, but you only nodded, fingers curling into your robes as you forced yourself to take it.

It wasn’t unfair. It was true.

“I’ll take responsibility,” you murmured, throat dry. “If the parents—if the headmaster wants me removed—”

Hecat’s lips pressed into a thin line. “No one is suggesting that,” she continued, “but you must learn from this. Errors in judgement so severe cannot be tolerated, and if you cannot handle that reality, then you must decide whether this apprenticeship is truly for you.”

She dismissed you after that.

You left the office feeling more lost than ever.

You don’t do any grading in the living room that evening.

You don’t attend dinner with the boys.

Or breakfast the following morning.

Instead, you retreat into solitude, telling yourself you need time to think, to process—to figure out if you even deserve to continue this apprenticeship.

But Sebastian and Ominis know you too well.

It starts with a knock on your bedroom door.

You ignore it, but Sebastian is insistent.

“Open the door, or I’ll use Alohomora,” he calls from the other side.

“Go away.”

The knock comes again, louder this time.

Sebastian isn’t the type to be deterred, and you know it. You bury your face in your hands, willing him to just give up, but of course, he doesn’t.

“Come on,” he presses. “Either you let us in, or Ominis gets creative. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

You hear a sigh, softer than Sebastian’s voice but no less insistent. “You could at least tell us you’re alive.” Ominis’ voice is level, but there’s something edged beneath it—concern, maybe even frustration.

You squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m fine,” you say, though the words feel like ash in your mouth.

Sebastian scoffs. “Yeah? Tell that to the fact you haven’t left this bloody room in two days.”

You don’t respond.

Another moment passes before you hear Ominis shift, his voice quieter now. “Please.”

And it’s that—the way he says it—that changes your mind.

You push yourself up from the bed, dragging yourself toward the door and unlocking it before stepping back. You don’t have the energy to do more than that.

Sebastian wastes no time. The moment the door is open, he steps inside, followed by Ominis, who moves carefully, wand in hand. Sebastian closes the door behind them and crosses his arms, looking you up and down.

And whatever he sees makes his expression falter.

Ominis, though he can’t see you, seems to sense it too.

Sebastian exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “All right,” he says, “out with it.”

“There’s nothing to say,” you mutter, moving back toward the bed, sitting down at the edge.

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “So you just woke up yesterday morning and decided, ‘Hmm, I think I’ll shut myself away from my two best friends, just for fun’?”

You exhale sharply, but there’s no real anger behind it.

"Sebastian, please, it's nothing."

Sebastian makes a noise in his throat, something between a scoff and a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, it’s nothing, is it?” He gestures vaguely at you, at the way you’re slumped forward, at the dark circles under your eyes, the unmistakable tension in your posture. “You look like hell.”

You roll your eyes, rubbing your temple. “I’m just tired.”

“Bollocks,” Sebastian fires back.

Ominis, who has been standing silently at your desk, lets out a slow breath. “We’re not here to badger you,” he says, pointedly angling his his head toward Sebastian. “We just want to know what’s going on.”

You sigh and your voice comes out quieter than you intend. “Fine. I messed up at work, alright?”

Sebastian’s brows knit together, his sharp edges softening. “Messed up how?”

You press your lips together, hesitating, then finally, you force yourself to say it.

“At a duel,” you murmur. “I let a student cast something they couldn’t control.”

The words are bitter on your tongue, heavy and awful, but they keep spilling out. “I should have stopped them—I should have seen it coming—but I didn’t, and now a student is lying in the hospital wing because of me.”

A long silence follows. You don’t look at them. You can’t.

Sebastian is the first to break the silence. “That’s it?”

You blink. “What?”

“That’s why you’ve locked yourself in here for two days?”

Your fingers curl into your palm. “Sebastian, I made a massive mistake, I should have—”

“What?” Sebastian interrupts. His tone is sharper now, more serious. “Had perfect foresight?”

Your jaw tightens.

Ominis sighs, resting his hands on his lap. “Sebastian’s delivery is questionable, but he has a point,” he says. “You aren’t a Seer, and you’re not omnipotent. You’re an apprentice, and you’re still learning.”

Your stomach twists. “That’s not an excuse.”

Ominis shakes his head. “It’s reality. Nobody is perfect.”

Sebastian leans forward. “Look,” he says, his voice quieter now. “You think you’re the first professor—or near-professor—to misjudge something in a classroom? Hecat’s probably seen a hundred mistakes worse than yours. I’m willing to bet some of our professors have made worse ones too.”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling in your chest. “I’m still the one who let it happen. I should have been watching more carefully. I should have stopped it, I should have been better."

Sebastian exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Just because you messed up doesn't mean you're suddenly the worst person alive.”

Your chest tightens. You know exactly what he’s talking about.

Sebastian knows guilt better than anyone. He’s worn it, lived in it, let it consume him whole—and now, he’s watching you do the same thing.

He shakes his head. “Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t take responsibility. But don’t sit here and act like one mistake is enough to wipe away everything else.”

You let out a breath. “Hecat said—”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Hecat says a lot of things.” His eyes flick up toward the ceiling before he huffs out a bitter laugh. “And look, if we got exiled from Hogwarts every time we fucked up, Ominis and I would have been gone by second year.”

Ominis tilts his head toward Sebastian. “More like you would have been gone by second year. I would have made it to fifth, at least.”

Sebastian waves a hand dismissively and despite yourself, the corner of your mouth twitches.

They both catch it.

Ominis exhales. “Do you still want this apprenticeship?”

The question startles you.

“What?”

Ominis crosses his arms. “You haven’t failed until you quit at something you still want. So, do you still want this?”

Yes. Yes, you do. You still want this.

You nod.

Sebastian claps his hands together. “Brilliant. Now, let’s get you out of here before you start fusing with the bedsheets.”

You groan. “Sebastian—”

“Nope. Up.” He stands, reaching for your arm, and tugs.

You stumble forward. “I hate you.”

Sebastian grins. “A common sentiment.”

Ominis snorts. “I’m inclined to agree.”

You roll your eyes, finally—finally—feeling something other than shame pressing down on your chest.

Because they’re right.

You made a mistake. But it doesn’t define you.

And as Sebastian drags you toward the door, loudly insisting that you owe him a drink for all this emotional labor, you think that maybe, you’re going to be okay.

[tokiro07]

Something I alluded to in this week's Ichi review was that while I've been invested up to this point, I haven't been as completely immersed as I had been with Undead Unluck or Cipher Academy, which both captured and held me from ch.1 all the way to the end

I decided to chase that and analyze why Ichi wasn't connecting with me the same way

Looking back at chapter 1, the thing that hooked me was the setting; a world where only women can wield magic, and do so by passing tests posed to them by monsters who embody the individual spells. Even ignoring the premise that a man manages to break the status quo, that core concept alone was enough to spark my curiosity

From there, each chapter continued to expand on that setting - giving examples of the types of monsters we'd see, teasing the process of finding and facing them, showing glimpses of the society built by the women who use magic, their tools and their fashion, but something was still missing

Every week I found myself asking "what are we doing this for?" What was the grander goal, and who was going to stand in the way?

It wasn't until the most recent arc with the introduction of the World Hater that I really got the answer to that question - one of the monsters, moreso than any other, wants to destroy everything. In turn, our protagonist, more than anything, wants to kill it - regardless of whether or not it would save lives, he just knows it would be fun. It's a fairly simple goal, but a compelling one nonetheless, allowing me to not only be invested in the setting, but now also in the plot

But something was still missing

And it was only during this chapter that I realized what it was. Desscaras, The Strongest Witch, faced with a situation that her strength won't help her overcome, chooses to be open and vulnerable, and suddenly that something wasn't missing anymore

I was finally invested in the characters

I thought Ichi was interesting enough, for sure, with how unhinged he was and the themes that his philosophy suggested for the series, but I didn't know what the intentions were for his arc. Desscaras was silly and fun to watch, but I didn't have a good read on how she would contribute to the narrative. Kumugi was the only one I particularly saw thematic potential in from the get, which is why I latched onto her pretty quickly, but it was clear she was meant to be a slow burn and wasn't going to be getting a ton of focus for the foreseeable future

In other words, everyone in the cast had an interesting hook, but no one had shown any real depth yet, at least not to the extent that I wanted

But now I can see it

The flaw in Ichi's philosophy that makes him reckless with the life that he supposedly cherishes so much, the weakness in Desscaras' heart that necessitated she become the Strongest in the first place, and the connection forged between the two of them

Granted, I also said from the beginning that I expected that sort of connection to come up between Ichi and Uroro, so it's not like I couldn't envision how this story would deepen its cast, but just imagining how it would do it and actually seeing it happen are two different things. Now that we're seeing the bonds deepening between two characters, we're likely to start seeing it happen with others more and more often, though likely still fairly slowly

Now that I have a clear picture of how the cast will grow, I can definitively get excited for it rather than just projecting a hypothetical that I hope to see

I think this is also why there are so many manga in Jump that I don't get excited about

I didn't care for Kagurabachi from the beginning because I didn't care about the setting, plot or characters. It was only during the Rakuzaichi Arc, which really started focusing on the characters, that I started feeling invested, but I still don't care about the setting and only slightly care about the plot. In the Samura Arc, though, I'm starting to care a bit more about the plot, and I can see a bit more of interest in the setting, but I'm still not there yet. If it can clinch that, I'll be all in

There are other factors that matter, of course - art style, pacing, themes, etc. all contribute to my enjoyment, but I can look past the art and pacing if everything else works, and I can only care about the themes if I like at least one of the previous factors

By analyzing my experiences like this, I'm getting a clearer picture of my tastes and how I define the quality of a work. Hopefully this framework will help me better articulate my opinions going forward and give me a better approach to appreciating what I read