#stare decisis

[nophunleague]

STARE DECISIS TRAILER!!!

lil update - threw together a tiny trailer, i do not claim for it to be perfect but it can be viewed by following this link

[nationallawreview]

Supreme Court Issues Landmark Decision Upending Deference to Federal Agencies

On June 28, 2024, the Supreme Court of the United States upended the 40-year-old doctrine whereby federal courts gave deference to administrative agencies’ reasonable interpretations of federal statutes. The ruling stands to have significant implications for federal agencies’ rulemaking and enforcement of federal labor and employment laws. Quick Hits The Supreme Court held that courts must…

[calicojack1718]

The Threat to Our Democracy isn't Just Trump, it is the Republican Party

The threat to our democracy isn't just from Trump or MAGA, it is from the entire GOP. The only way to defeat their anti-democratic ways is by voting for Democrats up and down the ballot.

SUMMARY: We lament the focus on the horse-race political journalism instead of addressing the serious consequences of a Trump or GOP victory in the 2024 elections. We highlight the damage caused by the Republican Party and their influence on the federal judiciary, particularly through their judges and gerrymandering tactics. The post examines the Jarkesy v SEC case that demonstrates the party’s…

[mysandwichgiver]

This is a very bad ruling. Another radical Supreme Court decision.

[narcjsistx]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

✶ kaiser micheal soldier official art x fem reader

✶ word count: 1.1k (1152)

The smell of disinfectant mixed with blood is something you've become accustomed to since you've been here. The months spent at the shelter have passed quickly, yet the letters you sent so long ago don't seem to have been received, as you haven't had any response from your family

Or maybe they received the letters, but they chose not to respond. Maybe they are still angry with you for what happened, since it is not usual for a woman to run away from her family. But you didn't run away... or rather, you did, but only temporarily. At the end of the war you will return home as a married woman, perhaps even with a child in your womb. But maybe that's exactly why your family didn't respond to the letters

"Y/n, he's here" your companion says, as she rubs some liquid medicine on the soldier's knee; the man groans in pain, but you pay no attention as you step out of the tent, pushing aside the fabrics that protect it from the cold. Adjusting the miserable uniform you are wearing, you head towards the end of the shelter, passing through the bodies of the dead and living soldiers, plus those of the nurses and your companions

You step outside, placing a hand against your face to shield yourself from the sun. The light wind gently blows your clothes away, as you hear someone coming in front of you, stopping a few inches away. Smile spontaneously, lowering your arm to see who is in front of you, even if you already know it thanks to the similar smell

"Kaiser!" you say happily, as the pale face of the man you love comes into your view. Michael takes off his soldier's hat, squeezing it between his fingers as he raises his hand to place it on your rosy cheek. You tilt your face, burying your cheek in his warm palm, as if that hand hadn't taken the lives of a lot of people. But you're at war, you can't say anything against him, he's the best of his squadron and he has to do what he has to do

“Liebe” the man says, running his fingers over your cheek. Kaiser takes a few steps forward, awkwardly placing his hat on your head. You giggle, as his free hand lands on your other cheek, cupping your face in his hands “My savior”

"I'm glad to see you here. You worried me when you didn't come to my dorm last night" you say worriedly, remembering the anxiety you had felt. Kaiser is fighting a few miles away from the soldiers' shelter, and every day he tries to come to you in the morning or at night. But yesterday he didn't show up and knowing that at the front there is hard fighting, you got scared

"I know. The commander asked me to watch over some cadets" he says, taking a long breath. You nod, focusing more on the fact that your man is finally here. The sun shines on the gold trim of his uniform, the soft grey fabric accentuating his slender form. You smile, breathing a sigh of relief at seeing him alive, which is not a given "Will you stay with me tonight?" you ask hopefully, looking forward to finally feeling his tired, scarred body collapse into you, hugging you tightly. Kaiser nods "I'll be with you late at night. Wait for me, Liebe"

"Of course I will!" you say smiling even happier, happy to know that you can be with him again tonight. Micheal stares at you for a few seconds, thoughtful, then pulls your face against his, lifting your chin to better position your lips on his. You are surprised, then standing on tiptoe to reach a more comfortable height, while you enjoy the affection of your soon-to-be husband. His free hand makes room for your lower back, pushing you against him so you don't escape, as if you even remotely intend to. His lips press needily against yours, the same way he does every time because he knows he isn't absolutely sure he'll see you one last time. He's strong, you know that too, but war kills even the most hopeful

It is precisely for these kisses that you decided to follow him, when he made the decision to go and fight at the front. You have known each other since you were children, and there has always been a deep love between you, even if you have to hide it: it is not common for women to have a boyfriend before the man her family will choose as her future husband. And yet, you know for absolute certainty that you would never love someone like you love this blond boy. Your family hates him, and his father hates you, but you still decided to go with him because of how strong your feelings are, because of how much you need to feel him on your lips. You took the vows of a nurse in a soldiers' shelter near him, and as soon as the war ends he promised to marry you and make you happy, more than he already does. If you get married again, your family won't be able to separate you, especially if there could be a possible child in your womb involved once married. But the war won't end soon, or at least that's what he tells you in the evenings when he sinks into your arms. So there's still a wait

"It could all be over in less than a year, if our squadron continues to annihilate. The enemy is weak, but we must continue to advance to end all this" he says, briefly breaking away from your lips, only to leave a kiss on the tip of your nose "But, if all this is true, it means that in less than a year you will be my wife. And that is what drives me to go on, knowing that I will finally have you beside me constantly, in a house of our own and with children born of our love. I fight to have you mine as soon as possible" he says, removing his hat from your head, moving some hair from your forehead to leave a kiss "And I will make you happy, and I will be if I know that you will love me every day like the first" he says, in an affectionate tone, the one that convinces you more and more that you have made the right choice

"I can't wait, Kaiser" you say, holding onto him, the fabric of his uniform smeared against your body "I can't wait for all of this to happen. Our children will be so happy" you say, lovingly, and he nods, hugging you close to him

"They will be, just like us. At the end of the war, we will be happy, very happy, Liebe"

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

[nophunleague]

about stare decisis

. . . i’m working on it!! sorry for the delay, i had a big exam in the summer and just recently moved far away from home for my dream job!

starting to get back into the groove now, so i’m back to writing finally!

[queenmuzz]

WiP: A Marriage of Convenience

An AU where instead of heading out with Varric to stop Solas after the War of the Banners, Zea Ingellvar is arranged to be married to Professor Volkarin, who can shield her from the political blowback. She dodges the executioners axe, he gets to fulfill his dream about 'playing house' for a few years before he ascends to Lichdom. It's mutually beneficial for both... but their hearts may have other plans.

She stood there awkwardly, waiting for his return, as the full impact finally hit her. The stress of her impending execution averted, the full realization of what she had done to save herself was now surrounding her.  She blinked and then looked back down at the official paper she clutched in her hand Zea Ingellvar-Volkarin She was now married to a man had met only a few hours ago. A man nearly twice her age. A man she was now to spend time with, eat with, and… she looked around the  small, yet homey apartment, looked at the simple kitchen, the study with multiple bookshelves, the well stocked bathroom, and… the single bedroom. She would be eternally grateful to Emmrich- no, her new husband.  He had no need to agree to this arrangement, especially for an outcast such as her.   And yet when asked by Myrna, he hadn’t hesitated, and on such short notice he happily married her to protect her from the repercussions of the War of the Banners. So, what would he get out of it?  Now that she was his wife, would he ask her to do her… wifely duties?  Or would they both just go on with their lives, as if nothing had happened?  Neither option sounded pleasant.  The first, because she barely knew the man, the second because it made the idea of marriage feel cynical, cheap, and flimsy.  And deep down, she knew a marriage was just more than words on a paper.   He came out of his study, holding something in his hand.  She had been impressed that he’d been able to find a well tailored suit on such short notice, and felt out of place with the ill fitting dress Myrna had lended to her. He had a plethora of grave gold on his hands and arms, she merely had a brooch and a necklace, both gifts from her guardians.  Had an outsider attended the ceremony, they’d naturally assume she was a younger woman marrying a much wealthier old man for his money. “I have one request,” he stated, and she steeled herself for what he’d ask from her, the price for saving her life.  She’d do it, even as she knew it would be unpleasant, and something she had planned for someone she truly loved. “As this was on such short notice, I didn’t have the time to pick out something nicer, but since you are now my wife, I’d like for you to wear this…”  He held out a small velvet box towards her, and opened it.  Inside was a glittering gold ring, with a small, yet brilliant emerald set in it.   So stunned at what he was (and more importantly WASN’T) asking of her, she didn’t resist as he gently grasped her hand and slipped it on her ring finger.  She stared at it for a few moments, touched by such this  gentle gesture that she did not deserve.  She kept blinking again and again, her unshed tears making the emerald sparkle like a thousand wisps were contained within it. “We could, later on, find something more suited to you,” she heard his voice say, a tinge of frantic energy in it, as if he thought she was displeased by it.  “I know these sort of things are more a mutual decisi-” “I love it,”  she cut him off as she turned to look up at his face, shocked at her reaction. “Really, I do!  I wasn’t expecting anything, especially considering the circumstances.”  It took him a moment to compose himself, before his usual smile reappeared on his face. “It used to be my mothers…” his voice was soft, and her heart melted a bit at that confession.  Whatever he felt about their arrangement, he fully intended to treat it as something more than a legal document. “Well, then,” she smiled back at him, “I hope I’m worthy to be considered her daughter in law…” The way he looked at her at that moment, the way his hands still held hers, the way she did not pull away made her believe, for just that moment, that perhaps there was a chance they could make this marriage real.

[c-optimistic]

hello, on this Thursday a year later, I’d like reiterate, fuck the court

good morning. on this Thursday, I’d like to say, fuck the court

[odinsblog]

Elena Kagan issued a devastating dissent to the decision of her hard-right fellow supreme court justices to overturn the Chevron doctrine that has been a cornerstone of federal regulation for 40 years, accusing the majority of turning itself into “the country’s administrative czar”.

Kagan said that in one fell swoop, the rightwing majority had snatched the ability to make complex decisions over regulatory matters away from federal agencies and awarded the power to themselves.

“As if it did not have enough on its plate, the majority turns itself into the country’s administrative czar,” she wrote.

For 40 years, she wrote, the Chevron doctrine, set out by the same supreme court in a 1984 ruling, had supported regulatory efforts by the US government by granting federal experts the ability to make reasonable decisions where congressional law was ambiguous. She gave a few examples of the work that was facilitated as a result, such as “keeping air and water clean, food and drugs safe, and financial markets honest”.

Now, the hard-right supermajority had flipped that on its head.

Instead of federal experts adjudicating on all manner of intricate scientific and technical questions – such as addressing the climate crisis, deciding on the country’s healthcare system or controlling AI – now judges would make those critical calls.

Kagan, displaying no desire to pull her punches, portrayed Friday’s ruling as a blatant power grab by the chief justice, John Roberts, and his five ultra-right peers, three of whom were appointed by Trump – Neil Gorsuch, Brett Kavanaugh and Amy Coney Barrett.

“A rule of judicial humility gives way to a rule of judicial hubris,” she wrote.

Not for the first time, her most caustic comments relate to stare decisis – the adherence to legal precedent that is the foundation stone of the rule of law. Respect for the previous judgments of the supreme court is a reminder to judges that “wisdom often lies in what prior judges have done. It is a brake on the urge to convert every new judge’s opinion into a new legal rule or regime.”

By contrast, she went on: “It is impossible to pretend that today’s decision is a one-off, in its treatment of precedent.”

It has become an unquestionable pattern: the new hard-right supermajority has a fondness for tearing up their own court’s precedents stretching back decades. They did it when they eviscerated the right to an abortion in 2022, upending 50 years of settled law; they did it again last year when they prohibited affirmative action in university admissions, casting out 40 years of legal precedent; and now they’ve done it once more after 40 years to Chevron.

“Just my own defenses of stare decisis, my own dissents to this court’s reversals of settled law, by now fill a small volume,” Kagan said, her final words as plaintive as they were defiant.

(continue reading)

[hoiststowline]

message in a bottle

_rb!chase x reader | prologue

An deceiving darkness has fallen outside. A hasty scan of his surroundings leaves something to be desired, unsteady balance heaved to the left as a one-sided fight ensues to remain upright.

Dissolving into a state of unconsciousness was not an ideal solution to his forthwith problem, however, it was the only feasible one that happened to cross his mind at the given moment. It arrived alongside a bitter reminder as well, it was the only one that proved a high success rate, even if abysmal to register that in full now.

His internal systems buzzed with alerts of lurking hazards and unnecessary risks, threatening his very life force if he did not take action effective immediately. At his grumble of disapproval, it all comes and goes in flurries of leaking Energon and severely damaged plating, his systems vying to discover the worst ailment so it can be treated first.

The only thing he begs for is in reference to his transformation cog, wanting it to concede sooner than later. It fights rather intensely against his wishes for the past handful of minutes, practically screams that it's not a good idea, he's making the wrong choice-

Finally, it moves one more time. The stasis lock eventually overrides all other commands, and he collapses into his alt-mode, tucked safely away in that barn he had dragged himself into. 

"...no keys and it's been locked for, ah, since I've had it, practically."

One hand settles on your hip, the other reaching up to cover your mouth as you cough, the years of dust pulling from the rusty sedan and lingering heavily in the air.

Half listening, you force yourself to nod along to the man's lengthy pitch. It becomes apparent rather quickly that you'd never be able to keep up with the maintenance on such a vehicle, knowing somewhere in the back of your mind that the price seemed too good to be true. 

In your survey of the car, one thing that caught your eye immediately was that there was no logo, no indicator of the make or model. The front bumper seemingly taking the brunt of the rust over the years, encasing it's once white and blue paint in a tarnished hue. Your eyebrow raises at the idea that it could be an older law enforcement vehicle, the seemingly odd color combination filtering through enough to warrant the question. 

"So what do you think?" He asks, query effortlessly pulling you from your assessment. 

"It's...great. It needs a lot of work, obviously." You do a double take, swearing that you just saw an interior light flicker. "But, um, I'm willing to take the time to do it."

It was proving increasingly difficult to pretend like you knew what you were talking about. Every word you've said sounded witless, a cringe following your response. It wasn't that you sought out to impress anyone, but in observing the sedan in such a state, you wanted to appear somewhat knowledgeable.

"Great," The salesman clasps his hands together behind his back, not caring an ounce about your poorly hidden weariness. "I've wanted this out of my lot for years. Nobody wanted to even look at it, 'cause of the whole key situation," 

Right. How the hell were you going begin maintenance on the car if you couldn't even get into it?

"I'll tow it for you, to wherever you want if you're nearby." He extends, but it's not out of sincerity. "It gives me the space to sell, and you don't have to break a window." 

What a gentleman, crosses your mind before thanking him softly. With one last look over at the vehicle, you turn to follow him from the garage, ready to sit through a couple of hours of paperwork for a sedan you didn't have the slightest idea how to fix. 

With your chin in your hands, you sit defeated on concrete steps, staring glumly out at the driveway.

The dealer had towed the car to your house, dumping it squarely on the pavement before departing down the dirt road without as much as another word. As if you could back out now, or beg them to take it back in a hasty decision.

You needed this car to work. It was cheap enough that it cut maybe too many corners and now staring at it, you knew you just dug yourself into a deeper hole. 

Swearing under your breath, you move to kick a rock that happened to be within reach. It bounces down the last step, rolling lazily until it comes to a stop right in front of one of the front hubcaps.

Hauling yourself up, you walk down the remaining steps until you're now in front of the sedan, where it's then you see the same light flicker from the interior. 

"So, obviously some wires are crossed." Talking aloud, you move to the driver-side door, tugging the handle lamely. "That gives me some hope that you have a few years left in you." 

On the third pull, the door pops open, headlights clicking on with a muted hiss. You jump backward, startled, but find yourself thrilled by such a small victory.

The whole no key fiasco could be put on the back burner for now, though you would eventually need it to start the damn thing. For today, it was satisfactory that you could now get inside to assess any damages to the interior.

Curious, you slide into the driver's seat, taking in the cabin with dimming faith. The seats were a cracking black leather, the center dash outfitted with dated technology, and just as much dust if not more than the exterior.

"What did I do." Your forehead meets the steering wheel with a gentle thud, about ready to give up before it all began. Maybe you could sell it to a junkyard for spare parts, and use that cash to put towards a car with at the very least a key.

After a short spiral, you blink your eyes open, enthralled by the red emblem that sat on the airbag module. It was unlike anything you had ever seen before, pulling back slightly to run your fingers over it, collecting the dust as you push it away to get a better look. 

A squeak erupts from your throat as the door slams shut, the small screen sitting in the dash blinking to life with scratchy feedback. As if at all at once the car came to life, the engine attempting to turn over with little success, overhead lights wavering wildly.

"What the hell?!" Your hand hastily runs along where the ignition would be, hoping to find a button or key jammed in there, but the ignition switch was expertly sealed off. 

A trembling palm grabs at the door handle, tugging, then yanking on the hilt, but to no avail did it release. "Definitely not crossed wires-"

Your scream is cut short as a voice pushes through the speakers, a choppy and mostly invariable sentence heaving as if it hurt to vocalize them.

"Who...are...you?"

The string of words sounded as if they did not belong to the same person, though in your horrified and delusional state, you take it that the radio is busted, and not that the car is trying to communicate with you. 

"So stupid, why did I-" The seatbelt clicks over your waist, moving on its own to your utmost horror.

Now, you irrationally, but finally conclude that the car is alive, and not in a fun, cool way, but it an 'oh my god, I'm going to die in here' way.

"Okay, okay! I hear you, I hear you loud and clear."

A garbled reply of nothing echoes, and whatever is trying to talk to you, no longer can.

"Um, you asked who I am, I'm y/n," Talking straight out of fear, hopped up on adrenaline, you gasp as the seatbelt winds tighter against your waist. "That didn't answer your question, alright. Uh, you were in a used car lot, I bought you for like three hundred bucks-”

The rearview mirror tilts down to look at you, giving you a disapproving glower even though you are looking at your own expression. 

"I don't understand! I don't-" Tearful eyes move to the windshield, watching as his hood pops open with one fluid motion. "O-okay, I understand that. You want me to fix something in your engine?"

The screen blinks thrice, and your shoulders sag in relief, hoping that that means yes. However, your momentary cheerful mood is dampened by the thought that you likely have zero idea how to rectify the problem that it wants you to.

Terrified, you dare to pose an inquiry: "Do you have an instructions manual?"

The door swings open in response, and the seatbelt retracts, allowing you to exit of your own free will.

Realistically, you could just leave it in your driveway, call a towing company in the morning, and get it sent away forever. That would make the most sense, a reasonable and wise rejoinder to such a shocking discovery.

Yet, the intrigue of the situation got the better of you, thinking it wouldn't hurt to see what was under the hood. Carefully, you push out of the seat, feet hitting the concrete with a dull thud. Keeping somewhat of a distance from the car, you walk around to the front, gingerly leaning forward to stare down at such intricate technology, enough that it makes your head spin. 

"Woah." It's breathless, fingers fumbling as you still can't seem to understand what they want you to understand. "I'm assuming you're trying to get me to fix your...?"

Headlights flicker at your knees, blinking with urgency as your gaze catches a square-shaped object, nearly emitting steam as more jumbled audio noises emit from the cabin.

"Voice box. Of course, you wanna talk so you can probably tell me you're going to kill me," Sighing, you take a step back, grease and oil coating your hands at just the minute touch of the machinery. "Is it okay if I go get a toolbox? It looks like it's pretty damaged, but I might be able to find a temporary solution."

Lights blinking three times once more, you take that wordless proposal as a yes, hesitantly turning before disappearing into the small garage. It takes some fumbling around in the dim light and dying sunlight until you find the tools.

After some struggle is displayed to lug the metal container back to the sedan, you eventually bring it to the ground with a thunk. "Listen, just so you're aware: I don't know what I'm doing at all. So please, don't kill me if I strike a wrong wire. I'm gonna mess around with it until…you can speak, I suppose."

An hour slinks by, then two, and halfway through the third you were still shoulders deep under the hood, covered in whatever had gathered within the gears.

Upon closer inspection, the voice box was heavily rusted but also improperly placed. It took maximum effort to find the right bolts to tighten, then the correct cables to rewire, even hitting it once or twice for good measure.

After some more time had passed, eventually the thing erupts with nonsense, frightening you fleetingly as you pull yourself from the front. 

"It really did take me a hot minute." You wipe your hands with a rag, sparing a glance over your shoulder to the clock hanging inside the garage.

Even though you had been working on a means for it to speak, somehow, you were still not expecting it to talk back in the slightest. 

"Yes."  You scream, the oily cloth almost leaving your grasp. "You did mention repeatedly how you did not know what you were doing." 

It was talking. It crosses your mind that amongst all the ridiculousness, a conversation arises.

"Sorry for the apprehension," You warble, feeling you're treading dangerous waters. "I didn't think that the car I just bought would be talking to me right now."

"It is a reasonable reaction, rest assured." You could tell that the voice box was not completely fixed because some of the words rejoined were hitched and not complete. "I owe you an apology as well. When I awoke from stasis in an unfamiliar place, I did not know if you were friend or foe."

"I still don't know what-who you are." Correcting yourself, not wanting to offend by any stretch. "Are you a friend?"

"Ah, most certainly, y/n." The way your name is spoken sends a chill straight down your spine, rooting you to your spot in the driveway. "My designation is Chase, that is what most call me."

"Chase." You say it with some disquiet as if such an insane situation could have such a simple name. "Well, Chase, since you are clearly some kind of machinery well beyond my scope of knowledge, I don't know entirely what to do with you." 

Chase placidly laughs, and it sounds almost robotic. "Since you repaired my voice box, I could walk you through reparations, if you could be so kind. I am in bad shape, but since I awoke from stasis, I am stable for the time being." 

"What is the end goal?" Moving some hair away from your forehead, you unknowingly leave a streak of dirt there. "I mean, what is the goal in general?"

"It would be best to work on my transformation cog first," You blink slowly at him as if he expected you to understand what that meant. "Then, we can work on all this rust and my internal systems."

"A transformation coil-" You start, but are promptly interrupted. 

"Cog," He corrects.

"Cog." You nod once more as if you knew what you were talking about. "Implies that you transform into something?"

"This is my alternate mode,"  Chase explains simply. "I use my bipedal form most often. It is typically very uncomfortable to remain in alt-mode for extended periods of time."

"Right. Of course." Your hands settle on your hips, shoulders jumping to your ears as his hood slams back into place. 

"Apologies." He mumbles, trying to demonstrate his earnestness. "I understand this is a lot to comprehend, believe me. Be that as it may, you saved me, y/n. I have been sitting in long recharge, rotting in that lot," 

Your nose wrinkles, a heavy feeling perching in your chest. Somewhere, you knew that this was insane, a huge ask and only looking for trouble, however, it was blatantly obvious that he did need help. As astronomical as it may be, you felt as if you were in no position to turn down his plea.

"I don't know if I'll be able to fully help you, Chase." You eventually say, swallowing your rising fears momentarily. "But I'll try. I needed a car, and I guess you're stuck with me just as much as I am stuck with you."

"My mobility functions are in working order." His tires spin once. "As repayment, I will take you wherever you so desire. Many thanks for taking such a task on, I can assure you I will make it as painless as possible."

"That's kind of you," A smile finds its way to your face, unable to stop. "One more question before we get to your transformation cog," 

"Anything. Ask and I will answer to the best of my ability." He replies easily, a lighter, happier hum to his tone.

"You mentioned bipedal form earlier. So who exactly are you?" You move to his door as it opens once more, his center screen lighting as he responds.

"I am an Autobot." The red emblem on the steering wheel alights. "I am Cybertronian, and I was here to learn the inner workings of Earth and protect its inhabitants from Decepticons."

You falter, his rearview mirror turning your way once more. "Kinda like a robot?"

He sighs, but it's half-hearted. "Sure, y/n. Kind of like a robot."

[saphronethaleph]

Stare Decisis

“All right, that’s all the spells I can think of,” Hermione said, lowering her wand and inspecting their new camp in the Forest of Dean.

“Which probably means there aren’t any spells left to cast,” Ron noted, wincing. “Ow. I hate splinching… so, uh. What do we do now?”

He frowned. “You know, we’d better win at this point, right? Because I bet Hermione could pass exams anywhere in the world, but you and me, Harry, we’re comparatively buggered.”

“If we don’t win we’re absolutely buggered, not just relatively,” Harry replied, groaning. “So, we’ve got a horcrux… now we need to destroy it, right? And find the rest.”

He looked up at Hermione. “How do we destroy them?”

“We need to use something powerfully destructive, powerful enough to break the magical protections on the horcrux,” Hermione replied, considering the locket they’d retrieved at such peril. “Unfortunately, there aren’t many such powerfully destructive kinds of magic – the only one we know is basilisk venom.”

“Oh, we’re fine, then,” Harry said, relieved. “Sidney can help.”

Both his friends looked at him in some confusion.

“...Sidney?” Hermione asked, eventually.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed.

“Who’s Sidney?” Ron said. “Is he one of your cousin Dudley’s mates?”

“What?” Harry asked. “No. Why would my cousin be friends with a basilisk? You’ve met him.”

“Have I?” Hermione asked. “I don’t think I have. If I did, it was so brief I don’t remember it.”

“I think we need to go back and start this conversation back at a bit where I understood what was going on,” Ron suggested. “I hate splinching. What do we do now?”

“Sidney,” Harry said, firmly. “Sidney is the solution to all our problems.”

He rethought.

“Sidney is the solution to some specific problems, one of which we have right now.”

“Who is Sidney?” Hermione asked. “Please, let’s not get distracted.”

Harry rummaged in his pockets, paused, rummaged in a different pocket, and pulled out a small red and gold bag.

“Alohomora,” he said, touching his wand to the knot, and it unravelled in a trice. “I still love that I can just do that instead of spending a minute undoing it.”

Smiling slightly, he pulled open the bag, and poured out approximately six inches of greenish snake.

The snake hissed slightly, mumbling something about nap time, and rolled over.

“...Harry?” Hermione said, slowly. “Is that a basilisk?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed.

“Why?” Ron said, not unreasonably.

“Well, I had this idea,” Harry explained, making sure not to look at the serpent in question while actually talking. “See, after I had to kill the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets I got to thinking about how it actually really sucks that there was someone a thousand years old in the school and I had to kill her, and also how actually there can’t be someone who’s just evil because of how they’re born, because there can’t be someone who’s just good because of how they’re born either, and I know people in the magical world think snakes are evil but they’re clearly wrong because the first snake I ever met just wanted to visit his homeland.”

Hermione and Ron looked at him, then each other, then back at him.

“You realize that’s enormously illegal, right?” Ron said, in an interested voice.

“Yeah, I didn’t tell anyone at first because of that, but at this point what’s one more crime?” Harry asked. “I’m already guilty of Being Harry Potter in the first degree.”

He stroked Sidney’s spine with a fingertip, then glanced up. “And, honestly, he’s been kind of helpful in my not going completely insane once or twice.”

“Not going completely insane?” Ron asked. “So, um, how come this Sidney is still alive, anyway? Hagrid’s got his cockerels back.”

“Silenced bag,” Harry explained. “It’s got a warming charm too, he likes it in there. I’ll probably have to get a bigger one or expand the inside in a decade or three.”

“...um,” Hermione said. “I was actually hoping for this topic to come up, but how old is Sidney?”

“About… four?” Harry said, frowning. “Yeah, he turned four not long ago. He’s a lot smarter than a human four year old, I assume, I haven’t actually met many of them but he’s better conversation than I was at eleven.”

“Oh, I see,” Hermione realized. “Didn’t you say the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets was fifty feet long?”

“Easily that!” Ron said. “I don’t see.”

“Fifty feet long, but nearly a thousand years old,” Hermione pointed out. “So that’s about twenty years a foot.”

“Say what you like about Salazar Slytherin, but he was a long term planner,” Harry noted. “Though he did hatch out at about four inches… all right, sleepyhead, wake up!”

Sidney mumbled something, burrowing into his own coils.

“Can’t basilisks kill you with their gaze?” Ron asked. “I assume you’ve got some kind of answer for that, just saying.”

“Yeah, at this point a prolonged staring match causes a headache,” Harry replied, as Sidney finally accepted that he wasn’t going to get back to sleep any time soon and yawned. “Hey there, mate. Got something for you to bite, it’d be a real help.”

“You’re sure it’s okay?” Sidney asked, tilting his head and yawning again. “Because I remember you were quite firm about the rules.”

Harry nodded.

“I know,” he agreed. “This is an exception because it’s a bit of the soul of that person who tried to kill me about… it’s got to be at least a dozen times by now.”

“Oh, that’s probably all right, then,” Sidney decided.

“Hagrid is going to love this,” Ron said, as Harry held out the locket and Sidney gave it a determined nibble. “Once you tell him, anyway.”

There was a sharp crack, and a kind of black mist flew out of the locket before dispersing.

“Ew,” Sidney said, doing the snake version of making a face. “How many more pieces are there? Because that didn’t taste very nice at all.”

“There might be a few more, but not many,” Harry said. “Want to go back and have a nap, or meet my friends?”

“If you’re being open about my existence, why not?” Sidney said, flicking his tail in something like a shrug, then coiled up into a little spiral.

“I’m almost sure I recognized one of those words,” Ron muttered.

Hermione was already on her second page of notes.

(so I saw a post about something similar to this, and decided to one-scene snippet it)

[glitterrosesnzz]

Chalk Dust

i feel insane. here's a 1k word long W/anderer fic.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” 

“Hey, it’s your own fault for sassing the professor.” 

The Wanderer glared at Aether, who was sitting in the swivel chair behind the professor’s desk. The Akademiya classroom had long since been emptied of any other students, as well as it’s teacher. Usually, at this time, the Wanderer would be either running errands for Nahida, or simply resting in a tree in the forest. 

Unfortunately, today, he’d been assigned the duty to clean up the empty classroom- a task usually reserved for the teacher themselves. 

The Wanderer slowly released an angry breath of air, restraining himself from sending a blade of anemo at the Traveler’s head. That would get him absolutely nowhere in this scenario, and in fact, would probably add to his wasted time by earning him a lecture from Nahida. Aether spun around in the chair, seemingly unphased by the murderous vibes the Wanderer was mentally trying to project at him. 

“Why are you even here?” The Wanderer asked, crossing his arms, “Just to act useless, as usual? You don’t even go here.” 

“Well…” Aether placed his feet on the ground, abruptly stopping the chair mid spin. “Nahida got worried when you didn’t immediately show up after classes ended like usual, so she sent me to check in on you. I didn’t think you’d be in here cleaning, and I especially didn’t expect you to be doing such a thorough job of it.” 

The Wanderer let out a sigh. Cleaning was in fact the thing he least wanted to be doing right now, but well, if he had to do something, he was going to at the very least do it well. In fact, he was almost done. All that was left was the second chalkboard. 

Grabbing the bucket of water he’d previously set down on the ground, the Wanderer dipped the washcloth in it and floated up in order to reach the top of the chalkboard, ignoring Aether very obviously snickering about the fact that the Wanderer needed to fly to reach. Like Aether would be able to reach this high up either. 

He did his best to put the Traveler’s presence out of his mind, focusing only on getting his job done, so that he could finally leave. 

However, it was only a few moments later that movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. 

The Wanderer dropped his wet cloth and zoomed over, harshly gripping onto Aether’s wrists just moments before he could slam two chalkboard erasers against each other. 

For a moment, they both froze, staring at each other. 

“...Idiot.” The Wanderer relaxed his grip on Aether’s wrists, but didn’t yet let go. “I did not ask you to help. You’ll get chalk dust all over everything if you do that in here.” 

“Maybe I just wanted to help.” Aether said, and the Wanderer scoffed, finally letting go of the Traveler’s wrists.. 

“Keep your unneeded sense of heroism in check.” He said, turning away- 

Only to immediately get whacked in the back of the head by an eraser, sending a cloud of chalk dust into the air. 

“Gah- seriously?” The Wanderer stumbled a little, turning back to glare once again at Aether, who was whistling innocently, his hands behind his back. “Of all the immahH- …immatu-hiH- sh-shiH-shit-” 

The Wanderer harshly rubbed his nose, quickly trying to get himself back under control. 

“Oh, what’s this? Do you need to sneeze?” 

“N-nohH-hheH-...” 

 “Careful~!” Aether said, a little bit of sing-song in his voice, “Better hold it back, you wouldn’t want to accidentally get chalk dust all over everything would you?” 

The Wanderer didn’t bother to give the Traveler a response, continuing to harshly rub at his nose as he tried to stop hitching, his eyes flickering with the power of anemo. Despite the teasing way in which the Traveler had said it, he’d made a good point, if the Wanderer was to sneeze now, the anemo energy that would be released would likely spread the chalk dust over the whole room. He’d have to clean it all over again… 

Determined not to let that happen, the Wanderer made the decision to stop breathing. 

After a few seconds with no hitching, he slowly pulled his hand away from his nose, cringing. The itching, tickly sensation was still there, and it was annoying, but at least he wasn’t- 

“Hey, that’s cheating!” Aether said, one hand on his hip, and the Wanderer was abruptly reminded of the fact that there were, in fact, two chalkboard erasers as Aether held up the other one. “It’s not fair if you do something no human can possibly do.” 

The Wanderer gave him a look of utter befuddlement- followed up with a brief flash of panic as Aether started walking closer to him, eraser raised. He quickly started backing away from the Traveler, placing both of his hands over his nose and mouth. Aether let out a small laugh. 

“Looks like someone isn’t confident in his ability to hold back.” He said, patiently standing in front of the Wanderer, who’s glowing eyes narrowed at the challenge. After a beat, the Wanderer slowly lowered his trembling hands. 

In response, Aether reached out and gently tapped the Wanderer’s nose with the eraser, sending a new small cloud of dust into the air between them. 

“Ggh… hh-hAh- hIHh’t–... hH-” Small tears started forming in the corners of the Wanderer’s eyes as he choked back a sneeze, turning it into a false start. “HehH- ngh… h-hH-” 

 The marks along his body were starting to match his eyes and glow in time with his hitching breaths now. …He wasn’t sure he could keep this up for much longer. 

He wasn’t going to tell Aether that of course. 

And yet, somehow, the Traveler seemed to instinctively know when the Wanderer had reached his limit. An arm wrapped around the Wanderer’s waist, pulling him closer, and the Wanderer’s breath briefly caught on a startled squeak as Aether put his other hand against the back of the Wanderer’s head. 

The Wanderer was given no time for confusion as his breath suddenly hitched much more desperately. 

“Hh-ihHH-hH’IsHKiu!! HhiH’SHhkiu! Heh- hH’inKShhii!!” The Wanderer had no choice but to muffle his sneezes against Aether’s shoulder, the Traveler gently fiddling with the Wanderer’s hair while he waited for him to finish. “Hh-hiH’ksh! Heh’Shkii!! Hih- Isshiiu! ‘Kshiu! Heh- hhiH- hH’InKShiiuu!!” 

The Wanderer breathed heavily for a moment, his eyes slowly opening, the glow fading from them. 

“...You done?” Aether asked, and was immediately shoved away. “Hey, is that any way to thank me? There’s a reason we didn’t just have a miniature wind storm in here y’know.” 

“...Tch. You’re a freak.” 

“Would you hang out with me if I wasn’t one?” 

The Wanderer didn’t respond, crossing his arms and avoiding eye contact instead. Aether let out a small laugh. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

If a sane/politically adept blonde Joffrey won a Great Council against Stannis and Renly and convinces the realm he’s legitimate, what would happen afterwards? Would Stannis and Renly give up or keep trying for the throne? What could they do after having lost stare decisis before the whole realm?

Sorry, I don't think Joffrey would win a Great Council even if he were "sane/politically adept". He's 13, and Great Councils have shown bias against child-age candidates before, much preferring mature men who could rule with no need for a regency. See Laenor (age 7) vs Viserys (26) at the Great Council of 101 AC, or Maegor (1) and Vaella (11) vs Aegon (33) at the GC of 233 AC.

Joffrey would have to be as strong a political personality as Daeron the Young Dragon (who took the throne without a regent at age 14, though that decision may also have been from his uncle Viserys's terrible memories of Aegon III's regency), and I doubt any child of Cersei and Robert could ever approach that level. (Not a nature argument but a nurture one, alas.) Even Robert didn't accomplish his great deeds until the age of 20-21. And Joffrey's counterpart, Robb Stark, was at least 15 when he was acclaimed as king by his bannermen, and he had already won an important battle and showed his worth and maturity. And note though Robb had no legitimacy questions, he did still have to deal with his young age causing doubt among his bannermen.

Maybe in the AU of GRRM's original concept letter, where Joffrey does take the battlefield, he could prove his worth to a Great Council? Although there Joffrey (who was probably a bit older) lost in battle to Robb (and got maimed) and was likely assassinated by Jaime afterwards, so, uh, maybe not.

Anyway. I think the only way even a political/military genius young Joffrey could come close to winning a GC versus the bias is if Tywin bribed all the lords. Which he would have to do heavily, and there's enough lords with true honor (a few, but enough) to reject it and also spread the news of bribery. (Bad ending #2!)

Though either way, there's reasons Renly rejected the idea of a Great Council out of hand. Both he and Stannis would likely refuse to attend in the first place (the same way Rhaenyra refused a GC for her own succession situation). And with both Baratheons' allies also refusing to attend (including the Tyrells, Hightowers, Velaryons, all of the stormlords, etc), there would be no true Great Council to begin with. Sometimes political hypotheticals are just impossible on too many levels to speculate further, I'm afraid.

[peachdues]

Hey peach I know you said no lawyer stuff but can you explain the most recent post thank you bless

Mmmkay so basically, in the US, most of our day to day lives are controlled by federal agencies. Basically there’s an agency in charge of everything you can think of, but some major ones include the EPA, the FDA, USDA, Transportation, etc. that’s just some of them.

The people who head these agencies/work at them are largely considered industry experts — so you have environmental scientists at the EPA, engineers at Transportation, food and drug safety experts at the FDA, etc. etc.

These agencies, however, are created by the Executive or Congress (depending on whether it’s an executive agency or independent agency). Once the agency is created, Congress will then pass laws that speak to the agency’s authority, but more importantly, they’ll pass laws that fall within that particular agency’s expertise. So for example, there’s a limit on, say, the level of emissions a car can produce into the air. Congress passes that.

The problem (but not in a bad way) is that Congress is not made of experts in these industries — they’re politicians. So they don’t necessarily have the facilities to legislate as exact as they might like to, or the knowledge to make well informed legislative decisions.

Now, while Congress passes laws, agencies draft and pass regulations that enact those laws. The point of the regulations are to be specific and to conform to legislative intent as much as possible. These regulations are what actually affect your day to day life. So, for example, the FDA will enact regulations controlling food storage temperatures during transit that are specified to the kind of food that’s being shipped — think meat versus produce.

Obviously there are times where Congress isn’t exactly clear on the extent of an agency’s authority to enact those regulations — which opens them up to legal challenges. This is where Chevron comes in.

The Chevron doctrine is based on a Supreme Court case that basically said, when Congress’s language in a given regulatory/admin statute is ambiguous, courts will defer to the agency’s interpretation of that language since *they* are the experts. This made sense because, again, Congress is not made of experts and they also feasibly can’t think of every possible little thing that might come up/need definition/even understand what parameters need to be set. This was good — ideally, experts are acting in the interest of the field and not lobbyists (though don’t get me wrong — lobbying federal agencies is a lucrative business). But simply put, you *want* experts deciding what level of lead exposure is safe, or the amount of pollution being discharged. You don’t want Congress doing that.

But today’s decision overruled Chevron explicitly — meaning, deference to agencies is no longer the rule. Now, Congress will be expected to either legislate the crap out of things they already don’t know how to legislate for OR else leave the agencies unable to effectively regulate.

It’s a terrible decision (never mind the utter disregard this Court exhibits for stare decisis) but it’s one that WILL have very direct consequences on our daily lives.

Voting in November is important. I don’t like Biden, personally, but there is so much at stake in this election that we can’t afford not to vote for him at this point.

[themoonglitch]

All'inizio non fu facile andare avanti senza J, ma poi decisi di dedicarmi a me stessa e alle cose che mi facevano stare bene.

A volte con pessimi risultati é.è

Oltre alla pittura, mi concentrai sui miei canali social su sport e benessere. Con fatica arrivarono anche i primi risultati e, pian piano, divenne un vero e proprio lavoro.