#weird bylaws

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“AUTOMOBILE SIREN LAW USED IN CASE,” Montreal Gazette. January 14, 1933. Page 4. ---- Driver Reminded That Horn Blowing Not Allowed in City at Night --- RULING IN COLLISION --- Seldom Invoked By-law Comes Up, But Both Autoists Found to Have Been Careless ---- Automobile sirens must not be sounded within the city limits between midnight and six a.m., city by-law 1093 declares, but the rule is seldom observed by and never invoked against motorists. Nevertheless, it Is part of the law and must be approved when invoked, and for the first time in local courts it was Invoked and applied before Mr. Justice Curran, who used it to aid him in determining the responsibility of two motorists for a collision. 

Lionel St. Cyr, a chauffeur sued Romeo Lariviere for $866 damages arising out of a collision at the intersection of Vitre and St. Dominique streets, and St. Cyr, in order to clear himself of blame, declared that before entering the intersection he had sounded his horn and listened for an answering signal. 

But the accident occurred after midnight and in his judgment Mr. Justice Curran reminded the plaintiff that he had no right to expect an answering signal, as the law prohibited such signals after midnight except in cases of great necessity. 

However, this was only one factor in determining responsibility. Both drivers, His Lordship found, had crossed the intersection at prohibited speeds and the defendant, who was talking to a companion, had not even looked to see if the intersection was clear before crossing.

Accordingly, both drivers were at fault: His Lordship fixed the damages at $666, but because of the Joint fault, awarded St. Cyr only $333.

[navybrat817]

I wish I had a smitten Bucky. Just sees me and wants me. 🥺

I know the feeling, nonnie.

Check Yes or No

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky instantly falls for you, but waits to ask you out.

Word Count: Over 2.1k

Warnings: Fluff, could be seen as instalove on Bucky's side, attraction, slight insecurities, minor time jump, Alpine being the best, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I can't send Bucky your way, lovelies, so I hope you enjoy this short, surprise fic! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wasn't looking for love the day he met you, but it found him anyway.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted from his seat when he walked into the conference rooms and nodded to the spot beside him that you occupied. “I’d like you to meet our newest transfer. She’s also moving into the Tower.”

He was a changed man the moment your eyes met. Breathtaking was a word to describe you given how he had forgotten to breathe. He had witnessed many sunrises and sunsets in his life, a kaleidoscope of colors painted in the sky to both soothe and awaken the soul. They paled in comparison to the beauty before him.

One glance and he belonged to you completely.

“Hi, Bucky. It’s nice to meet you.”

While he wasn't sure if Heaven existed, you speaking his name was like hearing the voice of an angel.

“I’m Bucky.”

Of all the things he could've said, reiterating his name was what his mouth went with.

Instead of giving him a weird look or brushing him off when he scowled at himself, you smiled. “I look forward to us working together.”

Bucky couldn't tell you what the meeting was about that day, but he remembered the details about you. The way you leaned forward in your seat to pay extra attention when someone else spoke, also giving him an ample view of your chest before he reminded himself not to stare. The slight crease in your forehead when you jotted down an important note. And the soft giggle you let out when Steve cracked a joke.

He suddenly wished he was funnier.

“Have a good rest of the day, Bucky,” you said when the meeting ended.

Bucky didn't have to try to smile with you. It just came naturally. When you smiled back, it was easy to imagine what it would be like if you were his girl.

“You, too,” he replied, giving himself a mental victory for not screwing up his words this time. “Wait!”

You paused and looked at him expectantly. “Yeah?”

Bucky realized he had no reason to keep you from leaving. He just didn't want you to go. “Do you need help moving your stuff in?”

“I actually got my things moved in late last night, but thanks for the offer,” you replied, checking the time with wide eyes. “I'm so sorry. I have to go. I’m in 2L if you need anything!”

“Bye,” he called after you, turning in his chair to watch you go.

How did he miss you already?

Though Steve had a knowing look in his eyes, he graciously kept his mouth shut as he left the room. He reminded him an hour later that he wouldn't break any bylaws by asking you out. The punk somehow knew that you weren't seeing anyone.

Which made him happy.

While he appreciated Steve looking out for happiness, he still had to get his head on straight.

“Once I completely trust my own mind, maybe I will,” Bucky said, even though the stuff was already out of his head. He owed it to himself to take his time. And you.

Imagine his surprise when he found a note from you on his door the next day.

Hey, Bucky! Lunch on me today? Check YES or NO.

The lopsided grin on his face wouldn't go away when he read it again. You must've been interested in him enough to ask about him. How else did you know his apartment number? Why else would you ask him to lunch?

He nearly shouted “YES” in the hall before he came to his senses and simply checked the option before he returned the note to your apartment door.

When he met up with you later, he told himself it wasn't a date. It couldn't be, right? It didn't keep his heart from stopping when you answered your door. Dressed down and casual, you looked like an angel went to Earth just for him.

“Hey, Bucky,” you smiled. “Ready to go?”

He hadn't said much on the way to the cafe since he was too busy hanging on to your every word, but it was like he had known you for ages as you carried on the conversation. Your questions weren't invasive and you didn't seem to mind the occasional short answers. It was also the shortest meal of his life, over too soon for his liking, and he also refused to let you pay for his meal.

He wanted to show you that gentlemen still existed.

“Lunch again next week?” You offered.

“Sure,” he answered, his head spinning from giddiness.

But it wasn't a date.

It was time to change that.

Today was the day. Six months from the day he met you. Six months of chatting with you between missions and slowly getting to know you over weekly lunches. Six months of falling for you more and more each day and he finally worked up the courage to ask you out.

But falling was the easy part. Confessing was an entirely different story. He would either crash to the ground and hope his wounds would later heal or you’d catch him as he fell. No matter what, he wouldn't let his nerves get the better of him.

“Just like we practiced, okay?” Bucky asked.

“Meow.”

Alpine nuzzled her head against Bucky’s with a gentle purr when he huffed. She was his little partner-in-crime through and through. Like you, even though you didn't realize it, the little white ball of fur helped save him. He was fairly certain he wasn't supposed to bring her to this floor, but any reprimand would be worth it.

Besides, the Tower, office, anywhere they operated should allow them to have their pets with them, especially for emotional support.

“I'm counting on you,” he teased, placing the folded up piece of paper in her mouth. “Go.”

He peeked around the corner when he set Alpine down. The sun illuminated you from where you sat in the lounge, curled up in your normal spot on the sofa. You liked to relax there occasionally to read. He wondered what book you had with you today.

Thankfully, no one was around to disturb you.

Except for him.

“Alpine, is that you?” You asked when you looked up, closing the book as the cat approached you. While the feline was cautious of some, she warmed up to you immediately when you met and solidified that you were the one for him. “Whatcha got there? Where’s Bucky?”

His name spilling from your lips was still one of his favorite sounds.

He held his breath when Alpine jumped up beside you, opened her mouth, and dropped the paper in your lap. He immediately began to second guess himself when you unfolded it with a furrowed brow. Why did he think this was a good idea? Why didn't he just ask you like a normal guy?

To be fair, he hadn't been normal for some time.

“Will you go out with me? Check YES or NO. Love, Bucky,” you read out loud with a huge smile, which was enough to make his heart race. You giggled a moment later when Alpine bumped your hand, the soft noise making his stomach do a funny sort of flip. “Okay, okay. Let me get my pen out of my bag.”

Bucky exhaled a little as he moved to stand in the doorway. You didn't toss the paper away, so that had to be a good sign. He carefully kept himself from showing any outward emotion when you met his gaze, but his knees nearly gave out. His palms also began to sweat when you gave him a half smile.

Just when he thought you couldn't look more beautiful than you had the day before, you proved him wrong.

He ran a hand through his hair and hoped he looked halfway decent since he hadn't brushed it. But you commented a few weeks back that you liked it long when you saw an old photo, so he wanted to grow it out. He lost count of how many times he imagined your fingers in his hair

Maybe one day.

Watching you grab your pen, it was like he was drowning. The tide pulled him under as you made a mark on the sheet. His lungs burned when you handed it back to Alpine. He couldn't come up for air. He couldn't breathe.

Until you smiled again.

“Thanks, Alpine,” you said.

His cat gracefully walked back to Bucky and he swore he caught you trying not to giggle as she climbed up his leg. His heart hammered in his chest when he took the slip of paper from her mouth. Meeting your tender gaze, he couldn't bring himself to open it though.

After he told himself he wouldn't let his nerves get the better of him.

“Not going to see what my answer is?” You asked as he carried Alpine into the lounge.

“I want to,” he replied, sighing as he took a seat beside you. His cat was perfectly content to lay in his lap. “But I’m questioning if I did this the right way.”

The note you gave him for a simple lunch request may have been a small gesture in your eyes, but it meant the world to him. He thought by asking you out this way that he could give you something meaningful in return. Something that only the two of you shared.

That was all he wanted.

You turned toward him, your knee touching his. The small touch sent heat down his spine. “Open it and you’ll find out.”

He nodded, thankful that his vibranium hand didn't shake as he lifted the sheet. “Wait, let me say something before I do.”

The corner of your lip tugged as you tried not to smile. “Bucky-”

“I like you. I really like you. I have since the day we met. And I'm going to like you tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that,” he admitted in a rush, catching your sharp inhale as he looked into your eyes. “But I know my past isn't easy to deal with. If you just want to be a teammate or colleague, that’s okay. Just. Being a part of your life in some way is more than enough.”

Alpine lifted her head and looked between the two of you, as if she was waiting with baited breath to see what would happen next.

Bucky felt a crack in his heart when you didn't speak or react, his body slumping slightly into the couch. It was okay. He took a chance and told you how he felt. He wouldn't force you to reciprocate.

“Bucky?” You asked above a whisper, reaching over to help him unfold the paper. He gasped when he saw the checkmark beside “YES”, blinking rapidly to make sure you picked that box. “I really like you, too.”

“You do?” He exhaled, grasping your hand with renewed joy. He was careful not to squeeze too hard. Hurting you was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“Yeah. Pretty much since the day I met you,” you admitted, glancing in your lap before you met his gaze again. He saw stars in your eyes. “And your past isn't your fault, Bucky. You aren't something to ‘deal with’, okay? You’re a good man. I can give you a whole list of reasons if you need it.”

Physically, Bucky’s body was in peak condition. Your confession, however, caused all of the air to leave his lungs and made him weak in the best possible way. A familiar warmth moved through Bucky’s veins as he breathed again and it dawned on him at that moment that he hadn't felt cold since you walked into his life.

Not once.

Your faith in him gave him strength. Your mere existence gave him the courage to try. And he didn't have to go it alone.

“Wow,” he breathed, relieved and elated as he gave you a small smile. “How about tomorrow night?”

“It’s a date,” you smiled.

“Great,” he smiled back. A date. He couldn't wait to see the look on Steve's face when he told him that he finally asked you out.

“And I think the note was purrfect,” you teased at Alpine before you scrunched up your face. “I ruined the moment, didn't I?”

Bucky brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it as gently as he possibly could. He could hear your heart race. So was his. “Not at all.”

He knew it was too soon to say he loved you and it was likely too soon for you to feel that way about him, but he felt hope in your smile that you would one day.

For now, he had a date to plan all because you checked “yes”.

We know it'll be the best date ever, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[pastlivesxpastlie]

♡⟡˙⋆It takes us a little higher⋆˙⟡♡

Summary: You've never been fond of your roommate Vessel, but a mortifying shared experience brings you closer than you ever thought possible.

a/n: MDNI - smut under the cut. Alternate, affectionate title is "Close the Fucking Door. Holy Shit."

roommate!vessel x fem!reader, enemies to lovers, some angst, porn with plot, accidental voyeurism, laundry day tension, vessel's favorite color seems to be emerald, reader and vessel are mean to each other, very brief slut shaming (the word "whore" is used twice derogatorily), “you’re the closest and hottest thing right now” type shit, rough sex but it’s comfort sex

No, roommates don’t have to be friends. There is no bylaw saying if you share a dwelling and the bills therein you have to be the best of friends with your housemate…but if there was, you and Vessel would be faced with a hefty fine. Where you saw the opportunity to be lighthearted, he would claim you never took anything seriously; yet when he attempted to be playful with you, you accused him of mocking you. Is this brownstone in town worth the strife? Actually, yes. Everyone has their own comfortable spaces, it’s close to everyone’s workplace, the rent is reasonable. And yet. This afternoon you’re in the little laundry room sorting things to go into the washer when you hear the heaviest sigh. “Just going to start laundry, then? No worries if anyone else needs it.” Oh, he’s grumpy today.

Vessel has his barely filled laundry basket in his long arms and impatiently drums his fingers on it. 

“Doesn’t seem like you were going to ask me. Now does it?” You nod at his laundry basket as he stammers a bit. “Just put it in with mine.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Vessel, seriously,” you snap, “you have barely anything in there. We’d be wasting water if I didn’t…”

“This is how I always do my laundry! Saying I’m the reason the water bill i–”

“JUST… put your laundry in the washer. Jesus.”

Vessel huffs and drops his laundry in like you said (or as you demanded as he would have put it). You two can hardly look at each other. He doesn’t even acknowledge you as you thank him. He shows his gratitude by switching the laundry and then sorting it once it’s dry. He does this in the living room with an inconsequential movie on. You join him for what you call “a folding paaarrttyyyyy.” This actually gets a little laugh from him. Humorless laugh, but it’s a sign of life. 

It had been a month or so of just existing in the same space since an “incident” had occurred. Neither of you brought it up but it lingered heavily between you.

𓍯𓂃

The morning of the incident you two had a civil, even thoughtful, conversation. You told Ves you’d be out that evening, maybe even all night. This delighted him. He could do some audio mixing without fear of interruption. Spread out in the living room. Oh the possibilities! He even asked who the guy was. Anything to encourage you to leave him alone for the night. Get you talking and excited about whoever the hell this poor man is so that maybe you’d get yourself all giddy and blushy and convince yourself to stay out all night. You deserve it…no wait…no. Vessel deserved it. He had to keep reminding himself he didn’t actually care. 

Except he did. The evening was actually boring. You’d only been gone an hour, and he was already thinking about going to bed. He idly wondered what you and the guy were doing. That emerald green dress you had on made it seem like you were dead set on seducing on him. The way it hugged your hips and didn’t even graze your knees. How your sheer black stockings made your legs glimmer just a bit. Vessel came to the conclusion that you actually could seduce this man without even trying…you’d just have to show up. Fuck. These weird, clouded, thoughts that flirted with being both positive and lustful rubbed Vessel the wrong way. That’s his roommate he’s thinking about. Maybe he’s just lonely.

Yes, that’s it. He’s desperate. And that feeling churns and grows to the point where he can’t ignore it anymore. He’s home alone, after all. Why not make a little “to do” about it? He dimmed his lights and slipped out of his clothes, splaying out on his bed with a little bottle of lube close by. This was something he missed. Indulging in a little fantasy and playing with himself, all while not having to wonder if someone would hear him or walk in or just make some goddamn annoying noise that would distract him. All he could hear was his ragged, raspy breaths and soft moans…and the slick pornographic sounds of his fist pumping his cock. God it was so nice to just edge a little…he really did deserve this. He tries to think of something to calm him down and dull the feeling. Your most recent argument about where the reusable grocery bags were was very helpful in this instance…except for when he remembered your little dress. How soft you looked piled in the satin. What kind of panties did you have on under that? No panty line was visible so maybe…no don’t go there. But he has to. He has to imagine what it would be like to let his fingers trail up your inner thigh to then lift your dress and see those fucking tights hugging your plush ass and maybe even how your soft thighs would expand as you sit back on your heels, your pretty eyes gazing up at him…

“Oh…fuck!”

But it wasn’t Vessel exclaiming. Why were you home? “CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR. HOLY SHIT.”

You had scurried into your room. Your cheeks hurt from your nervous grin and the blush dusting your cheeks; you feel like a little girl running from her crush. But this wasn’t innocent. You had just watched your roommate cum. The little whimpers and groans piqued your attention the second you entered the hall. You actually thought he had been crying but…good god. If there had been tears, they’d have been ones of ecstasy. The look on his face…you’ll never forget that. The way his jaw fell and his eyebrows knitted together…how his bobbing throat signaled yet another desperate moan. You had left your date way early for…reasons you’d rather not think about at the moment. You had a new problem. The image of arrogant, quiet Vessel truly enjoying himself…looking absolutely delicious…vulnerable…that wasn't leaving your mind anytime soon. And you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his abs flexed as he came…what would they feel like under your hand if you were riding him? Or against your own soft tummy while you’re on your back? Or even against your back as he spooned and fucked you while whispering filth in your ear. You stared up at the ceiling by the low light of your bedside lamp after taking care of yourself. The thrill from your momentary distraction from your bad date turns into guilt and settles in your tummy where your arousal once was.

Your mind won’t shut up. Berating you for being such a perv. And that’s when you hear Ves. Pacing. He does that sometimes. Of all the sounds you hear from sharing a wall with him, that’s the sound you’ve come to anticipate the most. How his mind reels at night. You start to ruminate, imagining that he regrets this. But it seems you finally have something in common tonight. You’re embarrassed. You’re awake. And you’re alone. Instead of nodding off, you take a chance. You reach up and knock softly on your shared wall. Just a little, “I’m right  there with you.” And as you drift off to sleep you hear two soft, timid knocks above your head.

𓍯𓂃

With the laundry folded in complete and utter silence, you sigh heavily and take your folded laundry into your room. Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you grin at the text…completely ignoring the visitor in your doorway. You don’t even look up but you speak. “I’m going out tonight.”

“Oh? Uhm. Cool.” Vessel tries to act as if he isn’t the one encroaching on your space. Too aloof to care. He certainly wasn’t feeling touch and attention starved. Not at all. That had nothing to do with why he was standing in your doorway, watching you poke at your phone. “Another date?”

“Yep. Been too long since the last one.”

Ves looks at you thoughtfully and weighs his options. Does he risk perhaps having to talk about the “close the fucking door. Holy shit” incident? Or does he continue to push you away? Continue to make you the villain in his inner monologue? He takes a deep breath, holds it, and bites the bullet. “Why did you come home so early that night?”

A long sigh escapes you. “I…got to the restaurant and, well, basically he told me I looked easy and that he liked that. So the whole evening was just…” you pause and look away. 

“He didn’t try to…like…”

“No.” You don’t mean to snap, but you did. Vessel nods, nonplussed by your tone. “No, I didn't give him a chance. Turns out I’m a whore for dressing like that and for not putting out. Such is life, yeah?” 

“Waste of an outfit, if you ask me.” You stare at Vessel for a bit. He seems angry. Tense. His legs jitter a bit and he wipes his face with a long exhale. “You should be taken out in that dress whenever you want…wherever you want.” 

You go to your closet and pull out a few dresses like your emerald and hold them up to yourself in the mirror. “Well, he’s getting a second chance tonight.”

He scoffs and crosses his arms. His height allows him to take up most of your doorframe; he secretly hopes that might keep you from leaving. From seeing that degenerate. If you just wanted to get fucked he wishes you’d just ask him. But he has to remind himself that some people need a bit more than that. He wouldn’t know the first thing about what you needed. He pleaded with himself nightly to not worry about it. It won’t work. It shouldn’t work. But damnit…you’re right there. The single hottest and closest thing. Vessel doesn't realize he’s just been staring, shaking his head with disappointment.

“Care to share or are you just being weird?” You say without looking away from the mirror.

“Why are you putting yourself through this? Hm? Do you like being treated like that?”

He purses his lips when your eyes pierce through him, getting ready to strike. “Well, not that present company can understand this but people can change and redeem themselves. Besides, what do you care?”

You’ve got him. Vessel looks down, sniffs, and shrugs. “Maybe you are a whore.” He immediately winces. That was mean…and stupid. He pushes himself off the doorframe and sulks back to his room. But you’re on his heels.

“Tell me why you care, Vessel,” you demand to his back. He won’t turn and face you. “Fucking look at me.”

With a heavy sigh, he turns, shoulders slumped…and hard as a rock. His arousal can easily be attributed to the blood rush and emotions from being angry but truth be told it’s from imaging you in those dresses you were considering. And imagining you in that green dress, letting him take you out and then have his way with you.Your eyes are boring into him with a look he’s never seen before. “Want some help?” 

He nods softly. 

“Can I get verbal consent? Jesus Christ,” you huff. 

“Yeah…yes, I’d like help.” He watches as you slip off your hoodie and kneel like you’ve done this before with him. What a sight. 

“Take your shirt off, Ves. Please.” It all feels like a dream. Vessel is standing before you, rock hard and willing. Your hands rub up his thighs… to his hips…his abs…and he actually caresses your arms when they stretch up to gently play with his nipples. After moving your hands down to remove his pants, you place soft kisses on stomach and around his happy trail. Fuck. This is living. Your arms wrap around to his back as you hold him place, making him whine softly with each kiss. It’s impossible to keep from kissing and caressing your face right below his belly button. It’s unfair how good he feels against your lips and how lovely he smells from his body wash and just…him. As toned as he is, you find a soft spot and gently bite it. You look up expecting him to have his eyes closed but he’s actually staring down at you, biting his lip. It’s too much to bear. It feels like second nature to take his cock in your mouth. You’re lost in the feeling of taking him deeper until you gag softly. When you do, he caresses your hair, asking if you’re ok. His touch is so gentle, but you’re confused when he slowly pries you off his cock and stands you up. You’re about to take off your bralette when he shakes his head and tsks. 

“I need something to hold onto, don’t I?”

You’re unable to answer as he presses a hot, messy kiss against your mouth. He’s quite literally taking your breath away as he wraps his long arms around your body and his tongue prods at your lips. He needs to taste you. He meant to not just enjoy you…but to know you. To know how you like…no…how you need to be kissed. And where you like to be kissed. It’s not enough to kiss you where “everyone wants to be kissed” like your neck and collarbone…he needs to map it out. No one will ever know this body like he does. It’s like his brain has shut down. He doesn’t remember pushing you to the bed and  lowering himself to the floor on his knees as he took off your sweats and panties. But he’s fully lucid when he, without preamble, delicately presses his tongue against your heat for the first time. The sound that comes out of you…my god. He wonders to himself if you’d ever record yourself cumming for him or even let him make a little video sometime. Better yet…he’d just have you every night. 

But that takes time and that’s what he’s doing right now. His tongue is tracing slow circles around your clit as he commits this moment to memory. The feeling of your fingers playing with his hair excites him, makes him feel giddy. He moans softly against your little sweet as he brings it into his mouth. It becomes very clear after a while that he’s chasing your orgasms along with you. 

When he pulls away, he’s  all starry eyed and a little giggly. “Oh…you are divine. Can I do more?”

All you can let out is a pathetic whimper as you catch your breath. He looms over you, wiping you off his mouth. “Can I get your verbal consent, angel?” 

“Please. Yes…please…” you get out as your core aches to feel anything from him again. 

“Look at you. You’ve got a little pulse down there, good girl.” He lets his fingers trace your throbbing clit, but there’s no relief. You whine against his touch. “Made you feel good, huh? Tell me something…how badly do you want to get fucked?”

You whimper softly and roll over onto your tummy for him. No words from you are required when Vessel whispers soft encouragements and makes sure you’re comfy before teasing your cunt one last time with his fingers. “Just put it in, Ves, please.” 

Vessel gently pops your bralette strap against your back and chuckles at your impatience. “No warm up? I didn’t think you’d be this much fun.” Your front lifts from the bed as you moan into the bed, but Vessel smooths his hand down your back.“I know….I know. Just breathe, baby. Open your legs for me a bit more.” He runs his hands along your thighs and presses them into his bed. Like he said he would, he grasps the band of your bralette with one hand as he starts to fuck you. The stretch and feeling of him stroking you from the inside makes you cry out. You realize momentarily who’s fucking you…who’s making you cum. The forbidden idea that the energy between you two could spark both anger and the most palpable lust you’ve ever felt makes you press back against him harder. “Oh there she is,” Vessel grunts out as he lands a sharp spank on your ass. And another.

“Ffffuck. Ag…again. Please.”

“You like that?” Spank. “Such a sweetheart for me.” Spank. “You feel so fucking good…” 

Your head feels fuzzy as his hands melt into your soft skin and his moans become higher pitched. More desperate. He’s saying your name. He’s cumming for you. 

𓍯𓂃

You’re getting in late from a girls night out. It’s unsurprising that the house is dark, but you can hear whatever video game Vessel is playing…and sounding like he’s about to rage quit. His back is to you as he’s hunched over on the couch.

“Ves….” A beat. “VES! Turn that down…or off, preferably,” you huff.

“Tsk yes, mum,” he says smartly, turning the game off and tossing the controller. He wants to be grumpy…but there you were, settling in his lap…in that fucking…emerald…dress. He puts his forehead to your chest and presses sweet little kisses onto it. “Welcome home, angel.”  No, roommates don’t have to be friends.

[copperbadge]

I'm still working on Chicken Salad War, but I've been thinking about the next book (or books) and reminding myself that sooner or later I'm going to have to write the book where Ofelia finishes democratizing Galia and they have their first elections. I was thinking just now that when they do it's going to be a big event, and Michaelis, who has taken on a kind of part-time mentorship role to Ofelia, would want to go witness the elections and bask in all the politics.

Which led to the realization that the funniest possible outcome of the Galian elections is if Michaelis wins on a write-in vote.

I won't do it, it complicates things too much and he retired for good reason, and certainly there's something in the bylaws about having to be a Galian citizen to become president. But I can't help laughing about it. Imagine his expression when he sees his name on the list of candidates whose votes are being tallied, and then his growing alarm as his name slowly rises to the top and just sits there.

"I am not going to become the president of a country whose previous head of state I punched in the face!" Michaelis announced loudly.

"Oh man," Eddie said, "I'm totally going to leak the fact that you punched the Duke."

"Georgie would kill you undetectably if I asked," Michaelis replied.

"Not if she wants to stay in Monday's good graces, she wouldn't," Eddie said complacently. "Jes, are you prepared to become First Theydie?"

"Oh, man, that joke's so good I might force you to accept," Jes said to Michaelis.

"I am betrayed by all those I love," Michaelis declared.

"Not everyone. I think you'd make a dreadful president," Joan said loyally.

"Thank you, mio Ioannina, I knew I could count on you."

"You know, they say we're a country of trolls, but I don't think we can top electing the former king of a neighboring country for sheer audacity," Gregory said.

"I'm going to accept the presidency and then invade and conquer you," Michaelis informed him. "Joan will help."

"I want the Shivadh throne if I do," Joan said.

"Well, the job of a grandfather is to spoil his grandchildren," Michaelis replied. "Gregory, you're on notice."

"Our family is super weird," Ephraim said to Noah, from where they were playing video games in the corner.

"Truer words never spoken," Noah replied.

[seat-safety-switch]

At the flea market, there's always something great to be had. Sometimes it's something obvious, like a cool Proto-branded wrench at the bottom of a bin full of scrap wrenches. Or it's an album from a band you've never heard of that you pick up on impulse, one that becomes your all time favourite. Or it's the curse you pick up from the weird old lady who runs the honey booth, the one that makes you awaken in the middle of the night, having set fire to a rival meadery without any memory of doing so. All classic moments, but there's one person that really doesn't belong at the flea market.

First, let me explain the context. In my part of the world, food trucks are extraordinarily expensive. I don't mean the truck itself, although buying the fancy kitchen parts for it can get wallet-scorchingly unpleasant. No, I mean the license to run it. You have to submit to all these interviews in order to get approvals, and regular inspections, and file registration fees every quarter. Bureaucracy run mad, if you ask me.

When I was a kid, you used to be able to buy a clapped-out old Econoline and sling burgers and fries out of it into whatever jobsite you decided to stop at. Then, once Big Bylaw started opening the dictionary to look up how to spell "ptomaine," you just went to the next one or laid low for a little while. Nowadays, hipster food that isn't big enough to merit a truck? That food is in a booth at the flea market.

Now, the food is perfectly alright. You've got ramen with hot sauce, ramen with a different hot sauce, and ramen with a third hot sauce. If you're there early enough, you can get a fourth booth's limited-edition ramen with soy sauce and hot sauce. I like this food. What I don't like is that these booths are pushing out the traditional flea-market supplier, sketchy dudes who are trying to sell stolen video games, old car parts, and tools. I can only eat one $18.99 bowl of artisanal craft ramen at lunch, but I can fill my entire hockey bag with tools of whose origin the cops will ask questions about.

If someone doesn't do something soon, the flea market will become a food market. I'll have to go back to getting my deals the traditional way: scaring suburbanites at their domestic garage sales. Nobody wants that! Not least because there's no decent restaurant within walking distance of a cul-de-sac-laden exburb for when my Plymouth blows its radiator after creeping along at 5 km/h all morning.

[helltothenaw]

Bless the Bad Kids. Those emotional, stressed & caring darlings. The moment they each heard Kristen has being failed & expelled after seeing an actual upswing in her academic work, they all wanted to throw down.

And after hearing from Jawbone exactly HOW Bobby Dawn was failing her? NOW THE WEAPONS COME OUT.

In their bent for Justice, they ignored the gimme handed to them.

They have documentation from Bobby Dawn himself, in Kristen’s own student file, that he chose to throw out a previously decided upon work load for a child without informing said child of the decision. Thus making all her school work that she has been turning in for the past months useless.

The acting principle & final say on matters at the school, at least for now & by the weird bylaws, is currently The Student Council President.

A Student.

Bringing that file + Jawbone’s read of the situation to Mazey would’ve probably still lead to the Last Standard Exam for the party.

But it would’ve also gotten Bobby Dawn kicked from the Cleric Teacher position since Mazey told Kristen she would take her experience in the new class with this Teleport Evangelist very seriously. And if anything was weird? They’d address it.

So.

The Bad Kids. They love The Long way.

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 44 - HORROR

See You On A Dark Night by ironforged (sarisa), redpepperink

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 15,846 Tags: Bad Ex Tiberius, Canon Divergence, Protective Steve

Summary: An It Follows AU. One lonely evening, Tony runs into an old friend. What happens the next morning tests his grip on reality in a way that even a futurist couldn't have predicted.

Reasons why I love it: Oooh, ominous ending alert! I really enjoyed the movie It Follows, so seeing the concept in fanfic form was really satisfying. Plus, the way it ties into Marvel canon here is super fun. Definitely check this one out if you haven't, it's amazing!

The Official Avengers Movie Night Movie Selection Bylaws by phenominable_snowman

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 18,020 Tags: High-Tech Haunting, Extremis, Canon-Typical Violence

Summary: It was just little things at first. Elevators opening on the wrong floor. Wild temperature fluctuations. An odd, glitchy babble from J.A.R.V.I.S. that went from amusing to annoying to alarming and then righted itself without explanation. Tony nursed a persistent migraine. His body ached. He slept, but he never felt rested. He was sure there was something lurking on the edge of his periphery, but whenever he gave in and looked, it was gone.

Reasons why I love it: There are some truly chilling lines in this that stuck with me long after I finished the fic. And the whole concept itself is utterly terrifying, technology turning on people as tech-reliant as the Avengers is truly a nightmare. This fic is fantastic, and you should definitely read it!

A Cabin in the Woods by nightwalker

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 26,779 Tags: Relationship Issues, Tentacle Monsters, But Not That Kind

Summary: It was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, a chance for them to spend some time as a couple and work out some of the kinks in their relationship. That was before everything got weird.

Reasons why I love it: Reading this fic feels like watching a movie. The action scenes are beyond fantastic, and as a huge fan of horror, I really love all of the horror movie tropes. The underlying plotline of Steve and Tony figuring out some things about their relationship is amazing too. Just all around an incredible fic that you don't want to miss!

[transwicky]

Farm Boy Wicky has clearly hit y'all somewhere deep and accepting and I'm pleased by it.

So some headcanons:

Ollie visits the farm for winter break Year 2.

He loves the animals dearly, but mostly he loves how excited Wicky is with introducing him to every single animal.

Wicky can make jerky out of just about every kind of meat imaginable because he uncle taught him.

His mother taught him how to milk the goats.

He HAS in fact artificially inseminated a cow or 2 before (fascinating process btw)

He has also assisted in castrating a bull before (His cousin is a vet and her assistant was sick, so he helped her. No, it is not in fact legal. Nobody discusses it).

Ollie has walked to help Wicky collect the eggs but they pass the goats and find one of the bucks mounted on a nanny goat (based on the 3 times I've gone to the zoo and found the tortoises fucking)

Wicky assures him that's normal.

Ollie is scarred for life

Wicky owns a pony that he spoils absolutely rotten with affection.

In Year 3, Ollie resigns himself to the fact that he is, in fact, going to propose to Wicky on their anniversary, and he's accepted he's going to marry a farm boy and hopefully they can plan a good future around a bunch of cute, albeit smelly, livestock.

Year 4, Wicky brings a whole ass live chicken to Samwell and Bitty is torn on following the no animals bylaw and letting it go due to the fact he gets free eggs now.

Nursey is deathly afraid of the chicken whose name is Henny (like Penny, get it?)

The coaches have no idea how to react when Wicky shows up to first practice with a handful of eggs and just. Gives it to them.

They're so confused but Wicky was always weird when it came to animals.

Tango regularly sits and cuddles with Henny.

Ok tbh once the "brings a chicken to school" headcanon happened, the rest became crack headcanons but also I'm not wrong

[imsodishy]

I'm having sort of formless thoughts that I'm gonna kind of ramble about a bit in order to try to give them shape:

About fandom as a community garden and how there are different ways to interact with the garden that are all completely fine and wonderful. Some fans tend their garden and cultivate lovely things from the earth and seeds of canon. Some fans are just there to enjoy the garden mostly passively, but they're respectful and appreciative of what the gardeners do. And there's some fans out on the fringe of the garden, where things are a little more wild and untamed, and that's fine too, sometimes they leave slightly disturbing gifts near the edge garden (like the occasional dead dove for instance) but if that’s not for you you can just leave it where it lies and it's part of the ecosystem too.

And sure, there's always been people who will stomp on other people plots of land or try to push weird bylaws on everbody else, but there’s a kind of new type stomping around in the garden. Who doesn't actually seem to care for the garden at all, dislikes it as a concept really, and would much prefer to roll out some nice tidy astroturf that the landlords have provided for them, and actually they kind of think the people who like the garden are gross and weird for wanting to hang out in a garden where there's dirt and bugs and stuff.

[internet-girl-friend]

No Fun City

Being a Vancouver transplant from Edmonton, Alberta, I feel resentment when people refer to Vancouver as No Fun City. The only thing this tells me about the people who say this is that they're boring.

They must never have had to find fun in someone's mom's mini van that they borrowed to drive around for the night only to end up in the mall's abandoned parking lot after-hours listening to their fellow suburbanites freestyle. Or in someone's weird uncle's basement watching him feed his illegal snake a live mouse. As a teen, the main event of my night was often going to 7/11 with Chloe, my childhood bestie, before we hunkered down to watch Burlesque for the hundredth time. Sometimes my friends and I would go to house parties and bush parties, other times we would bus to the city and hang out at the mall until we'd stolen all we could fit in our second-hand, falling-apart-at-the-seams Guess bags and needed to flee the scene. Drugs never really became my thing but I know in a place like where I am from they became seemingly everyone else's. So then, realistically, shouldn't I be having less fun than everyone else who's high? Idk.

Concerts I wanted to see rarely came to town, the closest lake was give or take an hour away and would probably give you a yeast infection or something if you swam in it, and any cool event that was happening required a car to get to because buses usually just... didn't show up. I'll put it this way: I love Edmonton dearly, and I still left.

No Fun City, as a concept, doesn't exist only because of Vancouver locals who have been spoiled rotten by easy access to concerts and beaches and good public transit, though. It exists for a number of additional reasons, too. Like the insane nightlife bylaws, the exorbitant cost of living, the struggle of making friends, the egregious display of wealth disparity, the (allegedly) shit weather, and the geographical layout of the city. These are all, in my opinion, weak excuses for the fact that in spite of all of them (which affect me massively, too) I am still having a really good time. If the city truly were that bad, it would be spoiled rotten by even one of these factors.

Maybe my mind will change once I've been here for a little longer, but I want to remember my life here with excitement.

This blog is going to be dedicated to documenting all the Fun I manage to have in No Fun City (and probably a couple other places too)

Now I need to go back to packing -- I kinda got evicted.

[dinozarr]

› ˖ ͘ ★⠀TRACK BYLAWS . . . ❞

CZAR o YOCIÉL ⸝⸝ ❪⠀ABBY ANDERSONS L♡VR⠀❫ ♱⠀please read everything that is listed below. therefore, if you ever have any questions or concerns don't be afraid to dm them to me, i will try my best to answer them at a timely manner.

(ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ BEFORE YOU FOLLOW . . . i don't necessarily mind if my works are posted on other platforms, as long as proper credit is given. i also don't mind translations either considering the fact i speak spanish myself. however, if i find a work of mine posted to a different platform, or even on here, without any proper credit, then there will be a problem.

⠀ please do not overly like my posts because tumblr will think i am a bot, when i am not. do not like more than five posts at a time because that can/will affect the state of my blog. if you do not listen to this, then i will have no other choice but to block/mute you.

(ﾉ´ з `)ノ I DO NOT WRITE FOR . . . sukuna. anything that is sexual content with minors, seeing as i am nineteen. this also includes aging up minors for sexual desires (you're fuckin weird if you do). dubcon. noncon. cnc. incest/stepcest. grape/s3xual 4ssault. pregnancy anything. somnophilia. pedophilia. teacher x student (only teacher x assis. teacher is acceptable). feet kink. piss kink. orgies. ed’s. race play. pet play. scat. mpreg. large age gaps. breast feeding. age regression. DDBG. MDBG. suic!de/s3lf h4rm. scat. yandere (this romanticizes ppl with bpd so absolutely not).white readers. eating disorders. abusive characters. p3dophelic characters. vore. necrophelia.

(♡-_-♡) I DO WRITE FOR . . . on my blog i will write for any/all of the things that i'm interested in. ranging from the marvel cinematic universe, to five nights at freddy's. if you request a character or idol i am unaware of/have no knowledge on, i will try my best to do research on them. if you do so happen to request a minor character x reader, i will only write sfw content. if you request anything else you will be hard blocked. don't try to be slick with it either.

(๑˘︶˘๑) DO NOT INTERACT . . . wattpad writers/new tumblr users that come from wattpad (y’all r so unoriginal i cant fathom). men/male identifying people (this is literally a lesbian account). white people. dsmp fans. stray kids fans (specifically bangchan fans). leia apologists (black swan). kids under 15 (you're a middle schooler and i'm in college, so it makes me a tad bit uncomfortable). racists. white celebrity stans. homophobes. transphobes. fatphobes. ableists. yandere lovers. he/him lesbian haters (kys fr).

⠀genderfluid/nonbinary lesbian haters (kys ×2). female-identifying venom simps (he's literally fucking gay, you're weird). female-identifying BL/yaoi readers. coryxkenshin haters (you deserve absolutely nothing). you age up minors to write smut for them. miles morales antis. you anti any of my favs !!

♡ ～('▽^人) FOR MINORS . . . i won't block you if you're a minor because that'd be extremely hypocritical of me since i was introduced to wattpad/smut at a young age. however, it does make me uncomfortable when i'm AWARE of the fact that minors are on my account. so i don't care if it's in your bio, just don't explicitly tell me you're under 18. i am not responsible for what you read on the internet nor am i responsible for you not liking my works. if you don't, then leave cause it wasn't for you in the first place.

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ FOR REQUESTS . . . you can send requests to my inbox whenever you'd like. but, just know that i have a job, so i might not be able to always get to your requests as quickly as you'd like me to. i also always put my works first because they mean the most to me. if you want to request anonymously then dm me and i will turn them on for you. but only if it’s a request because i won’t turn anons on otherwise.

⠀when it comes to writing actual fanfic STORIES (not oneshots), i will only ever write for “x oc”. i don’t write real stories for “x readers”, only oneshots, drabbles, and thirsts.

[innytoes]

OMG the generator game me Gilmore Girls and flower shop. This seems ripe for so many things. Taylor would be insufferable about regulations

So everyone knows that either Stars Hollow attracts weird people, or if you live there long enough you become Like That.

Taylor was a little apprehensive when he heard that the building next to Doose's market was bought by a bunch of former rock stars. Okay, so they only had the one album before the lead singer blew up at the record company for not letting him have creative control, their rhythm guitarist ran off with half their songs, and the other two went 'fuck it this isn't worth it anymore'.

(Lane breathlessly tells Rory all about this when she finds up three fourths of Sunset Curve is moving to Stars Hollow.)

They also bought a big house on the edge of town, with some land.

Nobody is exactly sure who lives where. Like, do the drummer and his cute skateboarding husband live in the house and the other two live above the flower shop? Do they all live in the big house? Is the apartment above the flower shop just storage? Are they growing something illegal up there?

(Taylor tries to get up there so many times will all kinds of HOA and town bylaw nonsense and they never let him. Luke Danes encourages this. And maybe trades tips with Alex about how to further annoy Taylor.)

In fact, they all live in the big house but also sometimes above the flower shop (it's Luke's Writing Den. The suspicious activity that Taylor thinks is Weed is really just Reggie trying to breed a new type of lily. They sometimes crash there after town festivals or when one of them needs some alone time.)

Reggie is the person who mostly runs the flower shop. He likes talking to people and he likes making bouquets, he took an online class!

Some old lady eventually takes pity on him and teaches him how to do it correctly. And tells him what thorn strippers are.

Alex does most of the gardening. He finds it relaxing. Sure, not all of their flowers and plants are home-grown but it keeps him busy. He also likes taking dance classes at Miss Patty's.

Luke actually has nothing to do with the flower shop except that he hangs out there a lot. But he also does that at the music store. And at Luke's. It's very confusing to everyone for a while. Some people have started to distinguish them as 'Beanie Luke' and 'Baseball cap Luke' or 'Coffee Luke' and 'Music Luke'. Or even Luke-Luke and Luke. (Luke Danes is of course Luke-Luke and he hates it.)

Luke tries to play for tips ones and nearly comes to blows with the town troubadour.

He really likes Hep Alien though and encourages them whenever he can.

Luke (Patterson) quickly rises to Gilmore levels of 'should not have coffee but will get it anyway because he doesn't take no for an answer'. Except where Lorelai and Rory usually plague the diner in the mornings, Luke comes just before close.

Alex and Willie would go so hard for the dance marathon. Reggie would beg Luke to be his partner and they'd drop out after like two hours because Luke never actually went to bed and has been up for 24 hours straight and Reggie got distracted because someone brought their dog.

Okay but you know that in between Max and Luke, Lorelai tried to date Reggie and Lane nearly exploded because YOU COULD HAVE A MEMBER OF SUNSET CURVE AS YOUR NEW STEPPARENT RORY and Rory was like: yeah no I'm pretty sure Grandma made him cry at Friday Night Dinner and he and Mom are better off as friends.

Reggie is Very Relieved when he and Lorelai break it off after like two weeks and Diner Luke stops glaring at him and will make him hot chocolates again.

Miss Patty and Babette have this bet going who will have the longest slowburn, Luke and Lorelai or Other Luke and Reggie.

Luke and Lorelai actually win and get together first and the only one who called it was Alex.

[seat-safety-switch]

We both know that, at some point in the past, you’ve been to a town that was enjoying a carving competition. Lumber, ice, marble: it’s human nature for some incredibly talented individuals to carve a statue out of another material, and then have their fellow cattle appear to gawp at it. Recently, I was in a small town, and they were doing a chainsaw carving competition. Artisans were busy hewing classical art out of broken trees, and it really got my creative juices flowing.

When I got back home, the only thing I could think about was making art of my own. Of course, I don’t own anything as clumsy as a chainsaw, and the municipality in which I reside has only recently removed their “no tree zone” bylaw, enacted after a particularly bad weekend in 1912 in which several beavers invaded City Hall. In their place, respectively, I chose an angle grinder, and the three-sixteenths of a 1974 Chrysler Newport that had been clogging up the corner of my yard for four presidents.

Of course, as with any art form, my first attempt at it was clumsy. Inexpert. I became frustrated at not being able to get my emotions into my work. I also went through a lot of AliExpress’s best “Holy Shit Very Sharp!” brand carbide wheels, some of which fractured even as I was loading them into the white-hot grinder. I persisted. My second production would be better, I told myself, and threw myself into it. Days turned into nights, and nights turned into days, because otherwise that would be kind of weird.

There is a name for the phenomenon which I was now experiencing. “Outsider art” is the polite way that the art community refers to anyone who had not received any classical art training (I never even learned finger painting, because my pre-school teacher, Ms. Ellersly – who I cannot remember the face of, but who drove a 1958 DeSoto Adventurer in puce – got busted for pot that day) but still manages to make art. Well, bitches, I got a whole gallery full of it now, and every tuned-in patron of sculpture was lining up to tell me how brilliant I was and how I should be asking millions more.

Well, I stopped doing it shortly after that. They say you should always leave your audience wanting, but that wasn’t it at all. Between you and me, I’d probably be making more, but I got bored of the whole thing. And I definitely didn’t want to cut up any more cars. At least, not any cars that I owned, and something about the high-boron steel superstructure of the Kia Sportage that keeps parking at the end of my driveway on weekends is not conducive to my particular muse. Oh? You’re right, I can keep it on hand in case I need some rust repair panels in the future.

[liesmyth]

I just know that freaky shit goes down during nine houses marriage ceremonies. I feel like they do something like literally eating each other’s flesh on the third and like a full on medieval bedding ceremony on the 9th (since they don’t have any ART) opinions on weird sex stuff in tlt marriage ceremonies?

At the basis of my belief system re: House wedding ceremonies is the firm conviction that the Saint of Joy is the patron saint of newlywed bliss or some such shit. There's no marriage in the Houses without someone asking the Saint of Joy to bless this lovey-dovey couple :) (She hates it. Augustine started it ofc)

Honestly, I think the Third would do some shit like matching cuts and tasting the other's blood or something equally over the top. The Fifth House have either ghost summonings (to give their blessings to the new couple!) or like. Semi-public sex. They are THE designated freak House after all.

One between the Second or the Fourth House do something extremely kinky with orgasm denial and/or chastity devices in the days leading up to the wedding that's supposedly about something with a higher meaning to show devotion or fidelity or whatever but. It's a kink thing.

The Sixth House canonically have super intricate contracts regulating reproduction and childraising for those who decide to have children together so... They probably think weddings are kind of quaint and aren't very popular BUT for those who decide to get married the intricate contracts also have sexual stipulations. Like there 100% are bylaws about who gets fucked where and when how many times a week. You know those couples who are like "My partner gave me a freebie pass if I ever get the opportunity to fuck my celebrity crush"? The Sixth House would have that ENSHRINED.

The Seventh may do something freaky like public consumption and/or nude art of the happy couple.

The Ninth probably have a very elaborate blessing and specific sacrament paints for weddings that goes all over (if you know what I mean) and the Eight are the ones who go more medieval Christian doctrine with it. Not to bring up Catholic Augustine AGAIN but. "Offspring, faith, and sacrament" vibes—that's the Eight.

[olchowys2024]

We landed in London! We even successfully crossed the Atlantic sitting next to each other (having previously had no end of hilarious complications day of preventing this seemingly simple thing from happen.). We are so psyched and calling it a win.

We did not end up seeing London outside of our Airbnb’s Harlington neighbourhood though bc the weather was dicey and we didn’t get into our place till 5pm. Harlington is neat. All row houses of brick and for some reason a weird field that belongs to a private school that had 6 horses in it and nothing else. Right next to a car mechanic shop…. I don’t get the bylaws here yet but I do think they lead to fun things!

Instead of leaving the area, we found right down the block from our place the Pheasant Inn which has been going since the early/mid 1800ds and whose current owner is a celiac! So winner winner, chicken supreme and lamb and mint shepherds pie dinner! There was even gf sticky toffee pudding with hot custard and ice cream!!! I love the UK 🇬🇧

However we are now absolutely exhausted. Headed to bed, very happy with the various London-adjacent things we did get to experience: a double decker bus but in actual London! And driving on said bus the other way thru several complex traffic circles.

We’re hoping to breakfast near Big Ben tomorrow morning and then off to Luton airport for a 3pm departure to Catania Sicily!

[abwatt]

Robert's Rules - Constitution & Bylaws

I've just done my fourth or fifth deep-read of Robert's Rules of Order, originally published in 1876, and lately (2020) published in the 12th edition newly revised. I found so many gems for future magical practice. As I read, I attached these little tabs to the book.

One of them is something that I wish more magical groups knew: that there's a formal framework called a Constitution and Bylaws for defining the framework of a voluntary association (like a temple or a lodge or a druid grove or an astrologer's circle or a coven).

Writing a Constitution and Bylaws doesn't actually obligate your group to file articles of incorporation, or put in filing fees with your state or get a tax ID number (in the US, at least), as long as no money changes hands. It's just a guide to how you're planning on running things. If you decide to file paperwork later, you need a Corporate Charter which probably needs to be drafted by a lawyer.

The Constitution and Bylaws is nine (and a half) articles long:

Article I - The name of the organization

Article II - the purpose of the organization.

Article III - The Members - who are they, what are their rights and duties, how do they join, how do they leave.

Article IV - The Officers - who are they, what are their rights and duties, how are they elected, what do they have to do, how long do they serve, how do you replace them? (Most groups need three - a president, a VP of some kind and a Secretary... give 'em any title you like, but those are their functions).

Article V - Meetings - What kinds of meetings are there (usually either a. program, b. regular business, c. special business, or d. emergency business), who gets to decide when they happen, how far in advance do you have to inform members that there's a meeting, what can happen at each kind of meeting, how the date-time-place confluence is chosen, when those date-time-place elements can change, who can change them, and most importantly, what's Quorum or the minimum membership for a meeting's actions to be valid.

Note -- a program meeting is one at which there is a ritual or educational event, but no business (i.e., no money is spent or collected, no votes are held, no discussion of business is made. Regular Meetings are for money/discussion/voting. Special Meetings are for issues that will take a long time; Emergency Meetings are when the floor of your meeting place caves in and you have to decide what to do about it right now while meeting at a different place than usual.

Article VI - Executive Committee - Who's on it, how often do they meet, what can they do without the permission of the members, and what their quorum is when meeting on their own.

Article VII - Committees - in addition to the executive committee, what other committees exist, and how does someone get on them? What do they do, and who (on the executive committee) leads them? Are special committees (ad-hoc) allowed, and if so who appoints them, and how is their business handled?

Article VIII - Parliamentary Authority - if the group has a weird situation come up that might be solved by referencing a manual on group procedure (like Robert's Rules of Order), what book will be used?

Article VIII.5 - (this is the half-article). ANYTHING ELSE that your group thinks belongs in the bylaws.

Article IX — Amendments — when you want to change any of the preceding articles, how do you do it? Usually the requirement is a minimum number of days written notice (plus whether it has to be via USPS, email, etc) of a meeting at which the discussion and vote will be taken + the exact wording of the change you want to make and where in the constitution and bylaws + the minimum number of members who have to vote for the change expressed as a fraction, e.g., 2/3s majority of members, for it to occur.

And you might look at this all, and think, wow, that's way too much business for me and the folks I do spiritual work with. But Henry Martyn Robert wrote Robert's Rules of Order in part so that Americans would learn how to conduct themselves as citizens in citizen-led meetings, using a shared set of guidelines and principles. This is a grimoire quite unlike any you've ever worked with, because it not only teaches you how to organize people... it shows you how to run the government(s) you live under.