#Fair Square & all Legal

[wyrmfedgrave]

The Washington Post: Biden denounces Supreme Court decision on presidential immunity

https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2024/07/01/biden-denounces-supreme-court-immunity/

I say, Mr. Biden, the Scotus has given you a 'gift' - way before the election.

You might say that they don't trust the Felon Rapist by not waiting awhile longer to do this...

It would have made sense to give the Rump Con Man a 'boost' to get keep him out of prison.

But no, they chose now, while there is still time to act against Traitor tRump.

I say, "Take up the offered power & clean the Congress out of its corrupt Republikkkan leaders!"

These traitors all blew up their own chances.

It's time to get rid of the swamp gas...

Time to get back to a true, 'working' government.

A government that isn't a tyranny.

Vote Blue, folks.

Every vote is needed...

End.

[reasonsforhope]

"Arizona’s ban on transgender athletes has been blocked by the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals, which called the 2022 law “the essence of discrimination.”

Supporters of the so-called Save Women’s Sports Act claimed that the law protected girls and women in schools and colleges from “unfair competition.” However, the federal court found that pre-pubescent trans girls and trans girls on puberty blockers have no significant physical advantages over cis girls their own age, The San Francisco Chronicle reported.

“[The law] to ensure competitive fairness and equal athletic opportunities for cisgender female athletes cannot be squared with the fact that the Act bars students from female athletics based entirely on transgender status,” Judge Morgan Christen wrote in the court’s 3-0 decision.

“[The law] permits all students other than transgender women and girls to play on teams consistent with their gender identities,” Christen continued, “transgender women and girls alone are barred from doing so. This is the essence of discrimination.”

Two trans girls, an 11-year-old soccer player and a 15-year-old swimmer and volleyball player on puberty blockers, sued to overturn the law; 18 states signed court arguments in favor of the law, and 17 states signed arguments against it.

A lower federal court also ruled against the law, and the two court rulings against it can now be cited as a legal precedent to help other trans girls play sports. However, Arizona could also appeal the decision to be heard by an 11-judge panel on the appeals court or ask the U.S. Supreme Court to rule on the matter.

“A student’s transgender status is not an accurate proxy for athletic ability and competitive advantage,” said Rachel Berg, a lawyer with the National Center for Lesbian Rights who represented the two girls in court. “Our clients are thrilled to be able to continue to play on girls’ sports teams with their friends while this case proceeds to trial.”"

-via LGBTQ Nation, September 10, 2024

[queenie-the-court-jester]

yandere! popular girl x gn!reader x yandere emo boy

A/n: "Mimi" is 18 years old and a senior! This post is nsfw so minors do not interact! Sorry for the shitty ending, I'm too sleepy

💓yandere! Popular girl who first introduced herself as "Mimi", refusing to tell you her real name as she found you sitting alone at lunch. Riley having left to go and get a lunch for himself

"saw you by yourself and I couldn't leave such a cute thing all by their lonesome! What's your name sweetheart?"

🌺Mimi follows you everywhere, much to Riley's displeasure, she quickly becomes someone fun and reliable for you to hang out with. You never seemed to notice the tension she had with the aforementioned goth

🌷Mimi slowly pushes the boundaries of your friendship, Getting very touchy feely and claiming it was how she was with all her friends! Which isn't much of a lie since you've seen how she acts the same with them.. but still, you could swear she was more personal with you..

💓Mimi starts getting dirty thoughts of you 3 months into your friendship, desperately needing to touch herself to get some relief. It was such a problem since she had a high sex drive, just a horny virgin really

"ah.. hah.. babydoll.. fuck, wish you were here.. wonder how you'd take care of me.. ah..! cumming.."

🌺Mimi secretly has low self esteem and confidence, seeing you as her only saving light despite being surrounded by people who love her. She doesn't need them! All she wants is you.

🌷Riley and Mimi who start getting sexually frustrated because you're either so dense to their advances or you're just choosing to ignore the signs. They come to an agreement to satisfy eachother until they can get you, whoever reaches you first wins fair and square

"Riley! Slow down, w-wait not inside-!?"

"...whoops"

"goddamnit Riley... You're so lucky I'm on the pill.."

💓Riley and Mimi who slowly start falling in love, their dates often involving stalking you and/or mutually masturbating to hearing you get yourself off in your room, through the camera Mimi hid under your bed one time when she was over

🌺Mimi has a big breeding kink, and loves it when she gets her clit slapped. Cumming almost instantly. Riley is more than happy to help. (They totally aren't planning on going 10x more roughly on you)

🌷Mimi and Riley who kidnap you as soon as you all graduate, keeping you locked in Riley's basement. Mimi moves in soon after and they both take turns going out to work or looking after you

💓if you're afab Mimi will beg Riley to knock you both up once you're financially stable. If you're amab Mimi will beg you to give her a baby. She's desperate okay

🌺5 years later they managed to forge a three-way marriage contract, keeping it under wraps as you're all now legally married! Congrats to the happy couple

🌷Mimi is incredibly happy, but she can also feel her grip on reality slipping.. hm,must be nothing, right?

[msmk11]

Best Friend's Mom Part Four

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy's best friend)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Word count: 5.5k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends' mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, mentions of food, angst, smut, cursing

Summary: You've finally confessed your feelings to Wanda. Will she reciprocate them? If so, what happens next? And what'll happen if she rejects you? Anything could happen.

A/n: Fourth and FINAL part is here! (I lowkey wrote most of this today so I hope it's good lol!) Anywho, I'd just like to thank y'all for loving this story as much as I have. And, if you're sad that it's over, never fear! Because of all your love and support, I've decided to do something special that you can check out here. Happy reading!

“Well, do you?”

The question hangs in the air between you and time has completely stopped. You hold your breath and your heart beats so rapidly in your chest that you’re certain Wanda can hear it. 

Your instincts tell you to run, to avoid what you fear most.

Rejection. 

But for once, you’re brave. You stay put and hold eye contact with Wanda. It’s her that breaks first. 

“My simple answer is yes.”

All of the air rushes back into your lungs and you dispel a long sigh of relief.

“But,” she adds, “I’m hesitant to say anything else because we both know that nothing about this situation is simple.”

You nod, and this time your sigh is a little more dejected. 

“Yeah, I know.”

You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs, “It sucks. This whole situation is shitty. If only you weren’t my best friends’ mom, and I wasn’t in college, and we didn’t have to hide.”

The silence is thick, weighty with the words left unsaid- the words that neither of you want to vocalize. To vocalize them would be to admit to reality, and the small glimmer of hope still left would be shattered. To put it all into words would also force you to call this thing between you and Wanda what it is- a fling. A word that, right now, disgusts you to your core. A fling- the concept and word itself so casual when nothing about what’s happened between you two has been casual at all. You and Wanda had not casually fucked, casually cuddled, or casually made out. In every interaction with Wanda, there was always something deeper simmering just below the surface. There was an understanding of each other’s lives and struggles, tenderness, only found in a familiarity by association, and a deep love for each other, not even in the romantic sense, though you guess a hint of that existed as well, but in a sense of gratitude. Your shared compassion for the twins, and the undoubted affect you’d each had on them brought you two together in an indescribable way. Though you hadn’t known it yet, you and Wanda’s souls had been intertwined by destiny, forever attached by the two who brought you together in the first place. 

Therefore, to treat this connection between you two as so much less than it deserves makes you not just just angry or sad but bitter. Nothing about it is fair. You deserve more, sure, but it’s Wanda that deserves everything good. After all that she’s been through, she’s maintained a heart of gold, and your heart aches to know the pain she’s being put through yet again.

But you can’t hide forever, and Wanda finally admits what you can’t. Won’t. 

“I think,” Wanda says, hesitating, “that we have to accept that this is as good as it gets.”

It stings, Wanda’s confession, the truth smacking you square in the face. Housed within these walls is a beautiful utopia that you and Wanda have escaped to. It’s been sweet, and raw, and vulnerable, and now it’s all crumbling down. In no world would you and Wanda ever have been able to be together in the way you both wanted. There were the boys to think of, and your future, and the life Wanda had created for herself. Neither of you wanted to risk the happiness of the other for a potential shared happiness. 

“I’m afraid that if we tried to continue what we have going now, everything would fall apart, and I’d come to resent you. And I don’t want that, Detka. For me, or you, or Billy and Tommy,” Wanda adds softly, “So let’s just enjoy this while we have it, and make the most of our time left.”

Tears sting your eyes and so much pressure has built in your throat that you can’t speak. You only nod at Wanda and her gaze, somehow, softens even more. 

“Baby,” she whispers hoarsely. In seconds she’s pulled you into her arms, wrapping you so tightly in her warm embrace that you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. You nuzzle your face into her neck and try to take deep breaths, hoping that her scent will calm the raging storm in your head. She rocks the two of you back and forth slowly, and you can’t tell if it’s more for her or for you. 

“Wanda,” you call out, and your voice cracks pitifully.

“Shhh, don’t” the redhead answers, her voice similarly thick with emotion. 

You bury your hands in her shirt and grip it tightly, trying to hold on to something when everything else around you is slipping away. Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop the sob that racks your body. 

Wanda doesn’t say anything, she just presses a tender kiss to your head. And when you feel a few teardrops fall onto your hair, you don’t mention it. 

“I know it’d be hard, but what do you think about pretending, for just a little longer? I mean, we’ve been doing it this long, so what’s one more day?” she murmurs into your hair. 

You pull away a little, craning your neck up towards Wanda with wide, tear-brimmed eyes, “Yeah, yes. Please. I’d really like that.”

She smiles fondly at you, “Good. Now let’s wipe away these tears.”

She ever so gently untangles an arm from around you and thumbs away the residual wetness on your cheeks, “There we go, all better.”

Her hand traces down your cheek and cups your jaw. She pulls you in and places a tender kiss to your lips. It’s sweet and tastes a little of the salty tears you’d both just shed. Instead of the hot spark that usually shoots through your body when you kiss Wanda, an overall warmth spreads through your body from your head all the way down to your toes. It makes your stomach ache, not with sadness but rather an all consuming happiness. You’re sure that any moment you’ll burst into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. 

*****

The last day and a half of your spring break trip is bittersweet. Though you try to stay present, any time Wanda is around you can’t help but think about how each interaction with her may be your last- your last kiss, your last secret glance, or your last inside joke. To know that the end of something is coming before it ever actually happens is maddening, and you swear that you can hear a clock slowly ticking down to zero as each minute passes. Around the boys especially you don a mask of joviality even though internally you’re floundering. As you go about your day there’s a perpetual ache in your chest and a lump that never seems to leave your throat. 

Maybe it’s because you’re desperate to slow down, or maybe it’s because you’re so caught up in your head that it passes quickly, but before you know it, time has slipped through your fingers and it’s already Friday evening. It’s late, and the boys are off in their room packing their bags. Desperate to hold on to the last little bit of your trip left, you decide to leave the packing for tomorrow morning and instead lay on the couch listlessly scrolling through channels on tv. You can’t help wondering where Wanda has wandered off to, but you know that if you go looking for her, you’ll only end up in a puddle of tears. 

At some point in your scrolling you end up on an old sitcom- The Dick Van Dyke Show. You’ve never really watched it before, but something about it instantly catches your attention. The simplicity and domesticity of it all soothes you and your brain finally begins to quiet down. 

“Did you know that was my favorite show as a kid?” 

You look up at Wanda in her long gray tee shirt and leggings, hair pulled back into a low pony, “Really?”

She joins you, sitting on the arm of the couch, “Mhmm. When things would get bad back home in Sokovia, my mom and dad would always put on old sitcom tapes to distract my brother and I. I liked all the ones they showed me, but The Dick Van Dyke Show was always my favorite. Still is.”

A warm smile graces Wanda’s pretty features as she reminisces to you about her childhood and your heart feels so full that she’s chosen to share parts of herself with you. 

“I’ve actually never seen it,” you say, “but I just came across it now, and I instantly felt…”

“Calmer?”

“Mhmm.”

You both silently watch the show for a few minutes, and though you’re tempted, you don’t once glance at Wanda. It’s a true demonstration of your willpower because Wanda is so, so tempting. You desperately wish to pull her closer, to hold her, touch her, and kiss her. But if you let yourself give in, you’re not sure you’ll be able to stop. Being around Wanda is addicting and you long to taste her over and over again, to get drunk on her, even if you’re bound to waste away after. 

You’re so lost in your own head that you don’t notice Wanda slowly slipping off the arm of the couch onto the seat next to you. It’s only when she basically crawls into your lap that you look away from the tv, startled. She’s on her knees, legs tucked beneath her, and she rests her hands on your thighs. Her face is so incredibly close to yours that with even the slightest movement, your lips would touch.

Her green eyes search yours intently, “Detka, I was thinking…”

She pauses, and you can’t help but quickly peck her lips to encourage her to keep talking. The embarrassed smile that forms on her face also makes you scream internally. 

“I’d really like to take you out on a date, baby. Just one. Before everything… ends.”

You squeal quietly and jump onto her, knocking her backwards onto the couch. You pepper kisses all over her face and she grabs your hips, giggling quietly. 

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Oh my god Wanda, duh!”

And then more quietly and seriously you say, “I’d really, really like that.”

A hand moves from your waist to the back of your head and she guides you to her lips, kissing you sweetly. You suck gently on her bottom lip and try to ingrain into your mind the pretty little sighs she releases. When you pull away, you watch as her long eyelashes flutter open and admire the soft look in her green eyes. 

She squeezes your side playfully, “let’s go Detka, we have a date to go on.”

You sit back on your heels to give Wanda room to sit up, “where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. Now go get your shoes.”

You obey her immediately, plopping down onto the hardwood and slipping on your tennis shoes. When you’re ready to go, she grabs her keys off the kitchen table and quietly ushers you out to her small black sedan. You’ve yet to ride in Wanda’s car, the boys usually driving, and it’s nice. With black leather seats and wood trimming, you feel like you’re living in luxury. The car, somehow, smells like her too, and you feel blissfully pampered and mindless strapped into the passenger seat of her car. 

She starts the car and rolls down the windows. You pull out of the driveway and speed off down the coastal highway, the radio softly playing in the background. The air is warm, but the wind is cool on your skin and you can smell the salt in the air. Your hair whips around wildly in the breeze, and you know that it’ll look a mess the rest of the night, but you can’t find it in you to care. Though you still have no idea where Wanda is taking you, by the direction you’re going you can at least guess that it’ll be somewhere in town.

While you’d be happy to go anywhere with Wanda, you’re extra thrilled when she pulls up to the local ice cream shop. Your sweet tooth aches with excitement and you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt. You go to open your door but Wanda reaches out to stop you, “Wait! I wanna get it for you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks and you’re so awestruck by how sweet and wonderful she is. She hops out of the car and comes around to your side, opening the door for you. When you climb out you give her a peck on the cheek, “what a lady you are, Wanda. I guess chivalry isn’t dead.”

The redhead wraps her arm around your waist and tucks you into her side. It’s the most public you two have ever been and the thrill secretly excites you. 

She presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, “You deserve only the best, Detka. I hope you always know that.”

She’s being too sweet to you, and it’s making you all shy, so you tuck your head further into her side to hide your face. She chuckles lightly and squeezes your waist, guiding you two over to the counter to order. 

Wanda orders two scoops of strawberry ice cream in a cup and you do the same, though with chocolate ice cream. All of the seating at the shop is outdoors, so you two find a table off to the side in a secluded corner. You cuddle up on one bench, legs tangled together and shoulders touching. The treat is sweet on your tongue and you moan softly at the taste.

“Good?” Wanda asks in between bites of her own ice cream.

You nod, “Very. Yours?”

She scoops a bit of the ice cream onto her spoon and lifts it towards you, “try?”

You eagerly accept her invitation and wrap your lips around the spoon. It’s tangier than your chocolate, but still good. You swirl it around your tongue, savoring the flavor as Wanda watches you with curious eyes.

“Mhmm, I like that too. Still prefer mine though,” you say with a small smile. 

“Well good, because you’re not getting any more of mine anyways,” the redhead answers with a wink. 

You roll your eyes teasingly and happily take another bite of your own ice cream.

“Oh, wait? Do you want to try mine?”

Before you can offer Wanda a spoonful of the chocolate, she reaches out and swipes her thumb across your lips. When she pulls away there’s a little chocolate on her skin and she slowly sucks it off, “Mhmm, tastes good, baby.”

This alone causes your brain to turn to mush and so you just stare at her, lips slightly parted and cheeks flushed. 

Wanda doesn’t attempt to hide her smirk at your dumbfounded expression, “love when you get all dazed and pretty like this, Detka.”

Your gaze drops to your ice cream and you mumble about how she’s a tease. 

She lifts your chin so that you look at her again, “You know you love it.”

“Not when we’re in public!”

Wanda hesitates for a moment, the wheels in her brain turning, before she asks, “wanna go make strawberry-chocolate ice cream in the car?”

*****

You're outside the door to the house and you and Wanda are giggling like schoolgirls as she fumbles with the keys. 

“Shhh, Wanda, be careful. We don’t want to get caught!”

“Sorry, I just can’t get my hands to work,” she answers, giggling again. 

You grab her hands and still them, looking at her gently, “here, let me do it.”

You take the keys from her and easily insert it into the lock. It clicks open softly and you motion for Wanda to go inside first, you following close behind her. Wanda stands by the door slipping off her shoes and grabs your shoulder as she nearly falls over. You grab her waist, steadying her, “careful, love.”

She smiles at you sheepishly while she casts her other shoe aside and you take a moment to admire her windblown cheeks and messy hair. You brush a strand behind her ear and her eyes flutter close at your touch.

“What the hell are you two doing?”

You and Wanda freeze, and a rock settles in your stomach. When you turn around, there stands Billy and Tommy in the living room, mixed expressions of confusion, anger, disbelief and betrayal written all over their faces. 

“Guys, it’s-” you begin, your voice shaking.

“Not what it looks like?” Billy scoffs, “because it looks like you can’t keep your hands off my mom.”

“Billy, wait,”

“Tell us what the fuck is going on right now,” Tommy interrupts. 

You barely spare Wanda a glance as you make your way into the living room. She hesitantly follows behind you. 

“Uhm me and Wan- your mom- we’ve been…” 

What are you supposed to call this thing you and Wanda have been doing?

“Seeing each other,” she finishes. 

Billy eyes you two’s disheveled appearances with disgust, “seems more like you’ve been fucking each other!”

“Billy!” Wanda says sharply.

“What, Mom? I’m gonna call it as I see it, since you two don’t seem inclined to tell the truth.”

You can already feel your lip beginning to quiver but you ignore it, “That’s not fair. Please, just listen for a second.”

“Not fair?!” Tommy protests, “What I think is unfair is that my mom and best friend have been lying to my face so that they can sneak around and fuck. I mean, god. That’s disgusting. Mom- she’s our best friend and you,” he points his finger aggressively towards you, “going after our mom? That’s really fucking shitty.”

A tear unwillingly escapes your eye, “But it wasn’t- it’s not like that. I didn’t intend for it to happen. It just did.”

“So you just fell into each other’s beds?” Billy asks, sarcasm thick in his voice. 

“That’s not what she means, Billy,” Wanda answers solemnly. 

“What she means is that it all just happened so suddenly, so organically. We were just drawn to each other, and that’s not in our control.”

“But your actions are. You could’ve resisted. Instead, you were selfish.” 

You’re entirely sympathetic to the twins’ pain and anger. This comment, however, riles you from your sorrowful stupor. 

“Selfish? You’re calling us selfish? You don’t even know what you’re talking about, Billy! Wanda and I have done nothing but think about you both the entire time. You want to know what we did yesterday? We decided to completely end things after this trip because we wanted to protect you two from our dumb decisions. Wanda and I agreed that even though we both have feelings for each other, your lives and feelings are far more important. This is one of the first really good things that’s happened to both of us in a really long time, and we gave it up for you. So you can sit here and call us stupid, or liars, or traitors, but don’t sit here and call us selfish.”

After your outburst, the room goes completely and utterly silent. Your panting hard and your hands are shaking as you watch so many emotions play out on your best friends’ faces. You glance at Wanda and the sight before you breaks your heart. At this moment, she looks so totally and utterly miserable. Silent tears are streaming down her face and her eyes dart anxiously between her two boys. Guilt pools in your stomach and you can’t help but feel that everything is your fault. Had you never been a part of their lives, nothing would be ruined and Wanda, Billy, and Tommy could’ve been a perfect, happy little family.

You sigh heavily and look at the three people you care about most, “Look, I’m sorry. I-”

“Just, stop talking,” Tommy says, interrupting you again, though this time his voice is a little less harsh.

“You, you said that you have feelings for my mom?”

“Yeah, yeah” you answer, vigorously nodding, “I care about her so much.”

Billy looks at Wanda hesitantly, “And you feel the same way?”

Although she’d just confessed her feelings yesterday, a small part of you fears that she’s changed her mind, or maybe even lied. You chew on your lip anxiously, awaiting her response with bated breath. 

Instead of answering Billy and Tommy directly, she turns and looks straight at you, “Yes. I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.”

You know your eyes are shining thick with tears and you give her a great big wobbly smile. 

Billy sighs, rubbing his face roughly, “And you make each other happy?”

Simultaneously you and Wanda answer yes. 

“Then who are we to get in your way?” Tommy replies, shaking his head.

You gasp quietly and turn towards the twins, hope bubbling up in your chest. They still don’t look totally okay, but the small, tired smiles on each of their faces tells you that they will be in time.

Wanda makes the first move, walking towards them both and cupping each of their faces, “You really mean it moya lubov? Because I stand by what I said, the happiness of you two will always be the most important thing to me.”

Any residual tension in the faces of your two friends fade under their mother’s touch.

“Yeah, mom. We mean it. We just want you to be happy.”

Tommy looks at you then and raises his eyebrows sternly, “And I swear to god, if you hurt her.”

You let out a watery chuckle, “I won’t. I promise.”

“And you,” Billy says, looking to his mom, “if you hurt her?”

Wanda turns and looks at you softly, “I could never.”

Then at the same time Billy and Tommy say, “okay.”

*****

When everything has settled, you and Wanda find yourselves alone yet again. Though there’s still so much new ground to navigate between you, Wanda, and the boys, you can’t ignore the unbridled happiness overwhelming your senses. You and Wanda look at each other with the biggest, goofiest smiles on your faces and you jump into her arms.

Reminded once again how strong she is, Wanda catches you easily and you wrap your legs around her waist. She presses a heated kiss to your lips and you encourage her, arms circling her neck. Somehow while still kissing you, she makes her way down the hall to her room. When she steps inside she kicks the door closed and carries you to the bed. Wanda throws you down on your back gently and then climbs on top of you. She kisses you a few times on the lips, and then the neck, before trailing her hands lower to the hem of your shirt. She makes eye contact with you, seemingly asking if she can take it off, and you nod aggressively. She chuckles lowly and grabs your shirt. You stick your arms out as she pulls it over your head and tosses it somewhere across the room. You shiver, and you’re not sure if it’s from the cold air, Wanda’s gaze, or her burning touch across your stomach- probably all three. 

“So beautiful, baby,” she mumbles, placing kisses at your collarbone and then slowly trailing down to the valley of your breasts.

You moan at her featherlight touches, but you still need more. Wanda seems to read your mind as she slides her hands underneath you and unclips your bra. Your nipples are hard from arousal and the cold air and Wanda moans at the sight. She surges forward and takes your left nipple into her mouth, sucking softly at the bud and letting her tongue roll casually over it. Her hand stimulates your other tit, groping and pinching it lightly. She alternates, so that both get their fair share. When she pulls away she plants a kiss on your panting lips before moving downward to the lower half of your body. She pushes your knees up, so that your feet lay flat on the bed, and your legs spread for her. You look down at her, her eyes full of lust and cleavage on display as she bends towards your pussy, and you moan. She places kisses and bites across your calves and then thighs before tugging off your shorts and then grabbing your underwear, pulling it tantalizingly slow down your legs. 

All of it’s painfully hot, and you're desperate to tell Wanda to move faster- but you know better than to rush her.

Wanda gasps as she throws your panties aside and eyes your pink, glistening folds, “such a pretty pussy, and all for me.”

You hum, “yes, only you Wanda.”

“Good,” she answers, patting your thigh. She moves back up your body and kisses you, though  one hand travels down between your thighs. Lightly, she places pressure on your clit and rubs slow, soft circles. The only way to describe the sensation is white, hot pleasure and you cry out- luckily into her mouth. As her mouth migrates down your body, so do her fingers. They dip into your outer folds and tease your hole with your gathered wetness. As she sucks on your nipple yet again, one finger slides slowly into you and you let out a loud moan, “Oh Wanda, that- that feels so good. Please.”

“You’re doing so good for me Detka”, Wanda praises, “So tight and warm.”

“Th- thank you Wanda. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you repeat as she thrusts her finger in and out of you slowly. 

Wanda then inserts a second finger, stretching you wider. It’s a little painful, but it feels so good you don’t mind.

As you writhe in pleasure, you watch Wanda. Her long, red hair falls over her shoulder as she bends down to suck a hickey onto your neck. Her face is flushed and her green eyes are lust-blown. As Wanda’s hand continues to pound into you, you reach out and pull Wanda away from your neck. 

“Wanna touch you Wanda,” you say breathlessly. You pull her in and kiss her lips roughly again. One hand stays in her hair and tugs at her red locks while the other wanders down to grope her tits. She moans into your mouth and her fingers falter for a second at your touch. As you continue your ministrations on her clothed breasts, Wanda adds a third finger and you nearly see stars. Desperate for her own release, she begins to hump your thigh as she fingers you. Observing her pleasure nearly sends you over the edge. 

You beg Wanda to stop for just a moment so that you can slip off her shirt. You unclasp her bra and grunt at the sight of her naked tits. Wanda continues to pound into you and your legs tighten around her hand. As she humps your leg, you watch her beautiful tits bounce and the way her head is thrown back in a fit of pleasure. The image of Wanda before you sends you over the edge, finally, and your stomach muscles clench. You cry out loudly and moan Wanda’s name over and over as you finally come. Your body shakes with pleasure and you really do see stars this time. When you come down from your high, you are panting heavily. Wanda is still chasing her own, and you can tell she’s getting close. You grip her hips and stop her, “Don’t want you to cum on my thigh, Wanda.”

Suddenly, you flip her onto her back and straddle her.

“Drawer, Detka, look in my drawer,” Wanda breathes out desperately. You reach over her and open the top drawer on the left. Inside is a pink strap-on.

“You want me to use this, Wanda?” You ask seriously. 

“Please, please fuck me baby,” she answers huskily. 

You stand from the bed, Wanda groaning at the loss of your touch, as you step into the harness and tighten it against your skin so that it bumps your clit a little. When you crawl back onto the bed, you grab the hem of Wanda’s pants and yank them down. Then, you grab her lacy black underwear and pull that down too, revealing her pussy to you. You moan loudly and instantly surge forward, licking a line up her slit. She tastes so sweet, and you want to eat her out so badly, but you decide to save that for later. 

“Please, Detka. Don’t tease me,” Wanda orders. 

You nod and do as she says. You line the tip of the dildo up to her entrance and tease her folds. She moans softly and grabs your waist. Then, slowly, you slide inside her. She’s wet enough that there’s not much resistance, and when your hips meet hers you pause. 

Wanda sighs out, “So big. Feels so good, baby. So full of you.”

“Anything for you Wanda. Your pretty pussy deserves everything,” you whisper in her ear as you thrust your hips for the first time. The squeal she lets out sends you into a frenzy, and quickly you are pounding into Wanda at a rapid pace. She’s only letting out a series of moans, whines and squeals and it’s so incredibly hot. You suck on one of her nipples and play with the other till she is writhing underneath you. When you get her close, you move down a little and throw her legs over your shoulders, allowing you to lift her hips off the bed and drill into her at a deeper angle. You know you’ve found her g-spot by the way she lets out long, loud moans, and you muffle her mouth with your lips so that Billy and Tommy don’t hear. With one final thrust, Wanda’s eyes roll into the back of her head and her back arches into you, tits touching. The moans of your name light a fire in your stomach, and the added stimulation of the strap on your throbbing clit sends you over the edge a second time. You both cum together before slowly coming down from your high. You’re left panting as you collapse on top of her, the dildo still inside.

As you start to recover, Wanda slowly starts stroking your sweaty hair away from your face. You smile against her chest and place a soft kiss there. 

“That was really good, Wanda. Thank you.”

Wanda only lifts your chin and smiles at you before she locks your lips in another kiss- this time more sweet and tender. 

*****

The time you’d been dreading the entire week- saying goodbye- has finally arrived. While it once left you sick with dread, now it doesn’t seem so bad. The fact that you and Wanda aren’t saying goodbye forever certainly helps. Wanda’s in the kitchen sweeping out the sand and you and the twins are packing up their car with your bags. You were nervous this morning that they’d act weird around you now that you’re with Wanda, but they’ve been fairly normal besides the occasional dark jokes here or there. 

When the last of your stuff is loaded into the car, the three of you make your way back into the house. 

“Mom? Want us to take your bags out to your car?” Tommy asks, swiping a banana off the counter. 

She smiles sweetly at him, “yes, please. Thank you.”

You give Wanda a wink and begin to follow after the boys when she calls out, “wait, Detka. I need your help.”

Billy mockingly gags and you roll your eyes at him before trotting obediently back to Wanda. 

“What’d you need help with?” You ask her eagerly.

She peers over your shoulder, making sure the boys aren’t in sight, and then grabs you by the shirt, pulling you in for a kiss. 

You can’t help but smile against her lips, and when you pull away you chuckle.

“Was that it?”

She hums contentedly, “though I think I need one more for good measure.”

“I’m here to serve,” you tell her teasingly, kissing her again. 

“Nope! No! Okay, that’s enough you two,” Tommy declares as he comes back into the kitchen, “Jesus, I’m gonna throw up.”

You both have the decency to look sheepish and say, “sorry!”

He sighs, feigning annoyance, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Now come on, we gotta get back to school.”

Billy joins you all in the kitchen, “Yep, we gotta go, so no more public indecency, please.”

You snort a little and slap his arm lightly, “shut up.”

He gives you a pointed look and then goes up to hug Wanda, “Bye Mom. I’ll call you next week, okay?”

She hugs him tightly and kisses him tenderly on the forehead before taking Tommy into her arms, “Goodbye, moya lubov.”

Then she says to both of them, “You let me know when you get back safe. I love you!”

“Love you too,” they both say at the same time, heading towards the door.

Tommy looks at you, “you coming?”

You nod, “Yep, be right out in a second.”

When they’re gone you don’t say anything to Wanda, you just pull her into a tight embrace. 

“We’ll see each other soon, okay?” she tells you.

You pull away and admire her pretty features one final time before you have to say goodbye.

“Okay, Wanda. I’ll see you soon.”

She smiles warmly at you and kisses goodbye, but not, you happily note, for forever.

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

Tag list: @xenaizogie @alexawynters @eclipse727 @idkwhatever580 @opp-jumpscare @starynn @alessiaswifey @noturlondonboy @chickenlittlsblog @lizzieolsen89 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @wandasdove @unity-rae @traveler-at-heart @wandasreallover

[robertreich]

5 Facts About Trump’s Indictments

Trump’s defenders are still lying about his indictments. Here are 5 crucial facts you can share with whoever in your life needs to hear them.

1. President Biden did not indict Trump.

Four different grand juries — made up of ordinary citizens — indicted Trump after being presented with evidence they found compelling enough to warrant criminal prosecution.

The reason we have grand juries is specifically to help make sure no one gets prosecuted out of a personal vendetta.

2. This isn’t about “free speech”

In all four cases, Trump has been indicted because of what he allegedly did, not what he said. Lots of crimes involve speech, but that doesn’t stop them from being crimes. Even Trump’s hand-picked attorney general, Bill Barr, recognizes this defense is nonsense.

3. It doesn’t matter whether Trump believed the election was stolen

There’s plenty of evidence that Trump knew he lost the election fair and square. His claims of massive fraud were rejected by his own campaign manager, White House lawyers, and his hand-picked Justice Department officials. 

And privately, Trump seemed to admit that he either knew or didn’t care that his claims were false, allegedly criticizing VP Pence for being “too honest,” and allegedly admitting to his Chief of Staff Mark Meadows that he lost and wanted to cover it up.

But even if Trump really did believe the election was stolen, that doesn’t give him the right to allegedly commit a criminal conspiracy to try to steal it back.

4. Trump has received preferential treatment because of who he is.

Trump’s defenders complain about a two-tiered justice system.

They’re right about that, but not in the way they claim. Trump has been given special privileges most criminal defendants would never get.

In all four criminal cases, he has been released without bail. He has repeatedly been spared the indignity of a mugshot. He has not had his passport suspended or had limits placed on his ability to travel — even though two of his criminal cases involve direct threats to national security, and even though he has used social media to issue insults and threats against potential witnesses, behavior that would cause many criminal defendants to be held without bail pending trial.

5. Trump was in legal trouble long before entering politics

Some of Trump’s defenders claim the sheer number of criminal charges and civil suits he’s now facing is proof that he’s being targeted for political reasons. But you have to remember that Trump was the subject of about 4,000 legal actions before ever running for president. From his fraudulent Trump University scam to federal lawsuits over racist housing discrimination, Trump has spent his life in court because of his own shady behavior.

Trump is being prosecuted now because, as four grand juries have found, the strength of the evidence against him merits it. If we fail to hold him fully accountable under the law, the precedent will embolden future presidents to break the law, jeopardize national security, incite insurrections, and possibly even overturn an election.

The principle that no one is above the law is only true if we make it so.

[mysticworks]

I believe in you ~ Lewis Hamilton

Lewis turns up at your workplace...9 years later. You both realise your feelings are unchanged.

Preview ~

Lewis leaned forward, placing his elbow on the desk and resting his head on his palm. 

His face had matured; still young and youthful, yet somehow he exerted confidence, charisma, surety. 

Your eyes met and neither broke contact first, his big brown orbs staring straight into your own.

"I could get lost in your eyes. For hours on end."

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: mystery, angst, sparks flying, fluff

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

Sau Paulo Grand Prix - 2021:

The silence in the room was deafening. Air thick and heavy, weighing down upon you mercilessly. Lewis sat across from you at your office desk, his eyes glaring intently on your FIA Legal Consultant name plaque. If he stared any longer, it seemed the glass would burn up in flames from such a stare. 

Lewis’ legal representative sat beside him, shoulders high and squared as if preparing to fight with you. His appearance was demeaning, shirt buttoned right to the top, his thick neck, plump, red and threatening to burst. Tom Priestley wore a grubby smile on his face - sinister and cold. 

So much for cooperation. 

You resisted the urge to sink into the ground and call it a day. 

Clearing your throat you drew in a long, slow breath.

Stay calm. Stay level-headed. Stay powerful.

“Once again Mr Hamilton, I ask for your cooperation, that’ll make this meeting much easier for both of us.” 

Since the moment he’d stepped into your office, Lewis had not looked you in the eye once. His head remained lowered, his gaze finding new objects to focus on. Not that you were surprised. It was your first meeting since that had happened.

He hadn't said a single word either, Priestley interjecting for him wherever possible.

 “We see no reason to cooperate with you. In any case, my client, Mr Hamilton, is the victim here.”

If you had a baseball bat handy, Priestley's head would be your first target. 

You shot him a glare and you could’ve sworn he jumped a little, before clearing his throat. When Priestley opened his mouth again, his tone was rushed, voice slightly squeaky. 

“As we’ve mentioned before, the Mercedes car was always built within regulation. To even dare to insinuate otherwise is an absolute farce of a-”

You cut his pitiful rambling off, keeping your tone stern. Your eyes remained trained on Lewis, seeking some kind of response. 

“I have no intention to indict Mr Hamilton, or the team. I am here to clear Mr Hamilton from untruthful claims.” You let your words fall powerfully. 

You saw Lewis shift his gaze to you for a fleeting moment, looking away as soon as your eyes made contact. He turned to Priestley. “It’s alright Tom.” You’d never expected his voice to be so… lacking in energy. It was quiet. Uncertain. 

You saw the pitiful lawyer’s face fall. He looked shocked, destroyed almost, at being asked to leave, but he rummaged his things together and took off from your office, muttering words of distaste that you didn’t bother deciphering. 

Tapping the intercom button on your desk phone you reached for your secretary, “Show Mr Priestley the envelope we prepared for him. I’m sure he’ll opt to wait in the car after seeing the contents.”

It was Lewis’ response that made you shoot your head back in his direction. The first time he’d spoken. Unlike what you’d expected there was no malice in his voice. No long lasting hatred.

“Did you just threaten my lawyer?” 

Amusement. A suppressed chuckle lay beneath his words and a flood of relief passed through you. 

“Well technically I made a fair deal.” You shrugged your shoulders upwards, allowing a small smile to rest on your face.

9 years on and his presence was still the same; warm. The awkward air had shifted - all from his one sentence. The effect Lewis had, was powerful.

The driver’s shoulders visibly relaxed, he raised an eyebrow, “Is that what you’re going to do with me? Make a deal?”

You shook your head, turning away from your laptop screen to look straight at the driver.

“No. I’m going to get to the bottom of this investigation. I’m on your side Mr Hamilton.”

Lewis leaned forward, placing his elbow on the desk and resting his head on his palm. 

He seemed so much closer, so much more in reach. You subconsciously found yourself tilting your head forward, taking a better look at how much he’d changed. 

His face had matured; still young and youthful, yet somehow he exerted confidence, charisma, surety. 

Your eyes met and neither broke contact first, his big brown orbs staring straight into your own.

I could get lost in your eyes. For hours on end.

They were so welcoming. So friendly. In that moment, you realised just how much you’d missed Lewis. 

9 years ago, both rookies in your respected positions. He’d just joined Mercedes and you’d been assigned as his press manager. At his side for every interview, every press conference, every media event; behind the camera where only he could see you.

Before the accusations came thundering down.

You pushed the thought away, blinking and breaking contact with Lewis’ eyes.

Clearing your throat you focused back onto your screen, “I just need you to answer a few questions for me, then you’re free to go.”

“Hmm?” He was unfocused, his gaze still piercing into you, and you felt your cheeks heat up. 

“Mr Hamilton. The case.”

“Oh right, yeah, fire away.” He looked like he’d just woken up, off guard.

You gave a curt nod of your head, before taking on the task at hand. 

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

30 minutes in and you’d finished a full official statement from Lewis’ perspective on his rear wing meeting FIA standards.

“So, do you think we’ll be penalised?”

Lewis had been lit with a different passion in that crucial half hour, eager to prove himself innocent of breaching race guidelines. 

You scanned your documents before looking up to Lewis. His eyes were wide open, eager. Desperate. “I can race right?”

“I can't control the outcome Mr Hamilton.” His face fell, eyes dulling immediately. This really meant the world to him.

“But I promise you, you will be in that race. I will do everything in my power to get you in the Brazilian GP.” 

He looked slightly more hopeful, yet sceptical, the doubt dancing across his mind. 

“You sure?” His voice seemed to have dropped. 

“You will be in that race, or I will quit this job.”

Your statement exuded a deep chuckle from Lewis, the corners of his eyes creasing as he grinned wide. “As dramatic as ever.” 

That earned him an eyeroll. Just like it used to be.

The diffused tension was calming, making you reminiscent of old days. The ones you now so eagerly missed. “If I get on that podium, dinner is on me.”

You raised your eyebrows, letting your lips curl into a smirk. “You get first place and I’ll consider the offer.”

Lewis’ eyes shone playfully, his head nodding as he considered your response. 

“Damn you really do know how to make these deals.” 

There was laughter filling your office - hearty and playful. You still couldn’t believe how much he’d grown into a fine gentleman, from his appearance to his aura. Everything was different yet the same. It made goosebumps rise on your skin, your heart thumping faster than ever.

“Shake on it?”

You offered your arm across the table, and Lewis reached out, taking it. But he didn’t shake your hand, he held onto it, his thumb stroking the back of your palm ever so slightly.

His hand was so big and warm - callused yet gentle. You found yourself trapped in his gaze again, enticed by those chocolate eyes.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You felt your stomach go wild. 

His voice was low when he spoke. Raspy, on the edge of a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You knew what he was referring to. All those years ago…

…the accusations that Lewis had the power to question. The hatred you’d felt from the glaring eyes of all the Mercedes team. The disappointment in Toto’s eyes. The shame. You’d gotten orders to resign hours later - forced to walk away and never look back.  

“I never believed what was said. Not for one second, but I never spoke up.” There was a deeper pain in his voice; remorse.

It all made sense now. He’d been consumed by guilt. He never kept in touch because he blamed himself, burned himself with regret. 

Yet it made all the difference to you to learn that he never believed any of itl for a second. Somehow, him knowing it wasn’t true made you forgive him. 

You found yourself smiling in reply.

“I wouldn’t be who I am today without what happened.”

“I like who you are now.”

The sentence hit you much harder than you thought it would, palpitations running through your heart. There was a throb in your brain, your hands clammy with sweat. 

Lewis seemed surprised at his own sentence, recovering quickly with a sheepish grin. He scratched the back of his head, “I’ve never seen Tom more frightened.” 

You snorted at his comment, the tension falling again, and Lewis released your hand, picking up his coat before turning towards the door.

You let him leave, the both of you saying nothing else but departing with small smiles of understanding.

Each footstep of his, echoed loud in your ears - ringing. 

He was leaving.  

You felt a sudden urge to go after him. To say something more. There was a burn in your heart, pulling you to your feet and you rushed out onto the corridor, heels clicking against the marble. 

You caught him at the elevator, and your eyes locked once more. “Lewis,”

Your voice was breathy, a low, soft whisper.

His mouth opened. You’d called him Lewis, not Mr Hamilton - electric shocks went flying through his limbs, his hands tingling. He beamed a wide, toothy grin.

“I believe in you Lewis. I believe you can win.” His eyes lit up with a fire you'd never seen before.

The elevator door slammed shut. And you were left in the corridor, standing alone. 

The 9 year old burden had been lifted.

—---------------------------------------------------------

That Friday:

6pm and you were calling it a day. The sun was approaching its farewell, its golden rays painting the city skyline a beautiful yellow.

As you wrapped up in the office your phone buzzed. It was an unknown number.  

P1 it is.

Deal is on. Be ready in an hour.

You beamed with joy. I knew you could do it Lewis.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Fundemental Cultural Misunderstanding

Can I just say that there is so much humor potential in Star as far as cultural misunderstandings go. 

Try this AU on for size. 

-Note:Though it is not necessary for this idea, it is important to me for you to know that in this world Anakin did not slaughter the Tuskens. He reached Shimi in time to save her and his focus was getting her to safety. Thus his relationship with Padme is much healthier.-

Anakin on a fundamental, and somewhat deliberate, level misunderstands some parts of Jedi culture. He believes that Jedi cannot get married.  In this world, this is not true.  

Marriage in this Jedi culture includes a marriage bond between all parties that, if not set up correctly, can do a fair amount of damage (and even when set up correctly doesn’t provide more than a sense of the other person's physical condition and emotions; rarely bonded might be compatible enough that that they can track each other through the bond). This is particularly true if one of the parties is not Force sensitive, or one of the parties is particularly Force Sensitive. So there is a lot of pomp and ceremony around getting married in the Jedi tradition to make sure the bond is correctly set up. Also consent is such a large portion of Jedi culture, so extra pains are taken to make sure non force sensitives understand what such a bond might mean…to the point where it freaks out most non force sensitives.  This all culminates in, by the time of the prequels, most Jedi just don’t get married.

-It should also be noted that marriage as a legal institution and marriage as a cultural institution are actually two very different things, though they are often conflated. Marriage as a legal institution means absolutely nothing to Jedi, and in fact many cultures, because the rights granted by the legal institution of marriage either don’t apply to Jedi or are covered by other Jedi related laws.-

This is also misunderstood by the Galaxy at large.  Also, because of this misunderstanding most cultures do not discuss their marriage customs with Jedi, sure it might come up organically but no one thinks that this is a cultural norm that the Jedi need to know. Which means as much as the Galaxy misunderstands the Jedi’s marriage customs, the Jedi misunderstand most other cultures' marriage customs as well.  In fact the Jedi, through generations of a benign misunderstanding, believe that most cultures will not discuss their marriage customs with Jedi, so all they can go on is their own observations. 

Picture if you will, little padawans vibrating their way into the Archives, up to the nearest archivist, who drops everything because the little Padawan wants to report that they ATTENDED A WEDDING. 

This leads to the archives being chock full of conflicting information about the various marriage customs throughout the galaxy, because anything that happens at a wedding now becomes a TRADITION of that planet, even things might be just a preference of the people marrying, or even a happenstance. The Jedi have all collectively agreed that they are just gonna roll with it, no matter how strange the custom or if it contradicts anything else (It is not like they can get information directly from the source after all).

Now when Anakin got married to Padme, he thought that Jedi cannot marry.  He thinks that his elopement would have to be a secret. He does not realize that he broadcasted his joy at marrying Padme to every Force Sensitive in the galaxy (no seriously, there are Force Sensitives on planets that don’t even have space flight yet, on the other side of the galaxy that felt an abrupt and incomprehensible wave of utter joy-some of those were physiologically incapable of feeling joy like near humans and had to lay down for a while). Also, not that he realized it, the part of his Force Signature (which Jedi are taught in the creche how to read) that deals with identity flashed with the equivalent neon lighted dashboard in Times Square that he was ‘Mr. Padme Naberrie’ from that point forward. 

So when Anakin leaves on a mission, unmarried, and comes back very married, but clearly hiding it, it is quickly noticed. But no one thinks that it is Anakin who does not trust them. Of course not, he is family. They decide that this must be some heretofore unknown Naboo marriage TRADITION, elopement followed by hiding the marriage. 

No one, not a single jedi in 10,000, thought to ask Anakin directly. 

Several Archivists promptly write some very well written papers on this tradition, and how it fits into their other knowledge, basically filling in the gaps to create a tradition out of whole cloth (even though they are acting in earnest). 

The war still starts, with all that entrails. But every Jedi knows about Anakin’s ‘secret’ marriage. The little ones all giggle about it. Most are eagerly waiting for the tradition of hiding to be complete, because surely ‘The Man Without Fear’ and his wife would also want to marry in the Jedi tradition.  There was so little to be excited about these days that everyone bought into this notion, even those that had long decided they would not go through the process of the Jedi Marriage. 

The children in the creche insist on making decorations for the eventual Jedi Wedding.  In fact there were multiple sets of decorations, depending on where the happy couple wanted the ceremony performed. Just rooms and rooms of decorations and drawings and artwork of all kinds. 

The High Council, including Obi wan, started researching to make sure they knew all the steps and traditions for the Wedding backwards and forwards whenever they had the chance. The last time a Jedi Wedding had been performed was 200 years earlier and enough had happened since that even those who were alive during that time were a bit fuzzy on the details.  They wanted to be ready to support Anakin and Padme in any way possible.  Padme’s biometrics are quietly added to the Temple’s banks; ready to be activated as soon as the couple is ready. A plan is put together so that Padme can be quickly evacuated if there was an active threat against Anakin specifically, or Jedi adjacent beings in general. 

And the Archivists are practically having duels to see who would get to speak to the happy couple once the period of hiding is done. There is hope throughout the archives that maybe, if they ask really nicely, Padme would be willing to answer a few questions on Naboo marriage traditions (All the Archivists want to learn so badly, all they want to do is be able to learn. Can they please learn).

Perhaps if it had gone on much longer someone would have cottoned on to how stressed this secret was making Anakin. Maybe not.  Perhaps this world still could have ended in unimaginable tragedy. 

Perhaps in another world like this. In this world, we look to humor instead of horror. 

A little over a year into the war several of the youngling clans, ages ranging from about 4-6, got to go on a tour of the Senate.  One of the younglings (Age 4, species was Sabetue and was genderless) got separated and couldn’t find a clone guard or anyone they recognized. They were wandering and scared, but somehow made it up to the level where Padme’s office is. And the Youngling recognized Padme’s Force signature as Master Skywalker’s wife, so they knew they would be safe with her.  

So now Padme has a small Jedi child in her office. Thankfully she was not in a meeting. She manages to get a hold of the Guard, who send up two of creche masters, who had been beside themselves with worry.  While in her office the child said things that made it clear that the child knew about Padme’s marriage to Anakin and how they couldn’t wait to see how pretty she would be in the Jedi Wedding.  One of the Crechemasters very gently reminded the child that Anakin and Padme might decide not to get married in the Jedi Tradition, that it had to be their choice and followed up with:

“And if we forced them…”

The child piped back with a solemn “we would be meanies”

One of the creche masters brought the child back down to the group while the other remained behind. First to thank Padme for finding their lost child. Then also to apologize for the child breaking the Hiding Tradition, expressing a hope that this would not have any negative impact on Padme’s marriage. 

The Crechmaster seemed so proud at saying ‘Hiding Tradition’ that Padme did not have the heart to tell them that she had no idea what they were talking about (they are very proud of remembering what the Archivists were calling this tradition).  They continue to have a brief conversation where Padme learned a number of things:

The Jedi, every single one of them, knew about Padme’s marriage.

They are all, every single one of them, actively supportive instead of the at best disapproving she thought they would be.

The Jedi somehow believe that Padme and Anakin are hiding their marriage over a Naboo Tradition

There are rooms full of crafts created specifically to decorate for her wedding in the Jedi Tradition created by hordes of earnest younglings. 

The Jedi are very into consent. 

Anakin is not due back on Coruscant for another week, and during that week Padme made discrete inquiries (oddly enough these are actually discrete) that told her nothing important about what was going on and driving her to distraction. So Anakin comes back to Padme nearly screaming at him ‘Why do the Jedi think we are hiding our marriage over a Naboo tradition?’

Anakin very much does not know but suggests that they ask the Chancellor (Anakin has very much been conditioned by the Chancellor to turn to him first in any instance of confusion).

Padme stares at him for a moment, tells him that is a stupid idea and to call Obi Wan.

Anakin does not want to call Obi Wan. He does not want to tell Obi Wan about their marriage and get in trouble. 

Padme stares at him with the dead eyes of someone dealing with too much ridiculous information at once, then says ‘Call Kenobi’.

Anakin obeys. 

Obi Wan comes over, they all sit down and Padme very calmly tells Obi Wan that she and Anakin are married. Obi Wan immediately begins radiating blinding excitement.  He congratulates them and starts to ask about having a Jedi wedding before deflating again and asking if not pretending he was surprised would ruin anything. He offers to go out and they can do it again, he can pretend to be shocked. 

Padme reassures him. Anakin starts to express his surprised (in a way that would have made it really clear about why he was hiding his marriage) but Padme quickly interrupts him, asking about Jedi Wedding traditions and lets Obi Wan ramble really happily about the research that the High Council had been doing to make sure they can recreate those traditions if Padme and Anakin want.

Obi Wan leaves with a promise that Padme and Anakin would come to speak with the High Council to make sure all the legalities (making sure everything is set up so that Padme can come and go as she pleases at the temple, and have a login to access the Archives, and would it be possible for her to come in for a baseline check up so that medical their records are up to date) are taken care of. As soon he is gone Padme grabs Anakin by the collar and goes ‘we can never tell them’

Anakin goes ‘what?’ 

‘We can never tell the Jedi why we were hiding our marriage. I’ll contact my parents as soon as it is morning on Naboo. They can back us up. We can say it is an old family tradition to hide the marriage for the first year. It isn’t used much, but after being in the public eye and with the War I was feeling superstitious, ok?’

Anakin goes ‘What, Why?’

Padme shakes at the arm in her hand, ‘telling the other Jedi that you didn’t trust them with your marriage would break their hearts. Do you want to be the reason small children are crying?’

Anakin looked far too considering for Padme's piece of mind, and what little sanity she had left. 

‘Let me put it this way, do you want to be what finally break’s Obi wan’s heart? That man was vibrating with excitement to celebrate our wedding so hard I could feel in the Force.’

Anakin deflated, ‘Oh. No.’

Padme’s parents laugh their ass off that she needs to create a long held family tradition because she doesn’t want to admit to the Jedi that she had thought they would react badly to her marriage.  They agree to do it. 

<Somehow this does derail Palpatine’s plans. Personally I want it to be in a way that leaves people unaware that he is a Sith, so for the rest of his life he needs to maintain the kindly old grandpa look and suffer for it- maybe something that means he has to actually live a clean life; no more crime or torturing for him.>

Twenty four years later Obi Wan helps Leia Naberrie meet up with Han Solo in order to Elope in the long held family tradition (Bringing with them only R2 to follow the actual tradition closer than they realize). Obi Wan very carefully leaves before Han arrives, so that he can truthfully say he does not know that they eloped. 

Leia’s twin Luke does not need to elope, as he followed his Uncle Obi Wan into the Jedi (an unrelated note he also followed Obi Wan into the mindset of ‘Why Monogamy when Harems naturally occur’-From that day the war ends Obi Wan has no less than three clones with him at all times; he also appears to have a lover, a friend, or an antagonist that he has weirdly sexual dialogue with on every planet he visits. Or Hondo Ohnaka, who has a category all his own. The years that Boba Fett comes to the holiday meals as one of Luke’s plus 6’s-He couldn't choose just one and no one would think of making him- are among the most awkward of most of their lives.)

[milliesfishes]

Okay, throwing my hat into the kidnapping fic ring (there's a sentence I never thought I'd say... and probably got me put on some list somewhere) with a twist, where, in an attempt to get Billy to turn himself in, some lawmen arrest the reader, exploiting some legal loophole. And Billy comes to break her out?

୨ৎ⋆𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓳𝓪𝓲𝓵୨ৎ⋆ 𝓯𝓮𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓲𝓭

The law had never been fair, despite its reputation.

You knew this better than you knew the back of your hand, better than you knew the names of every constellation freckling the sky above. Both you and Billy knew it. But what good was knowing anything you couldn't change? Sitting here now in a darkened cell, cool of the concrete beneath your thighs breaking through the skirt of your dress, you put your head in your hands. How had it all come to this?

It had been a day free of anything out of the ordinary, which was welcome. Being with a man like Billy meant embracing the mundane, growing to love it as dearly as you did him. A day like this was wrought in simple pleasures. The sun on your face as you rode into town. A ladybug that landed on your wrist, allowing you do make a quick wish before it flew away.

Meandering about in the market, you daydreamed happily about Billy coming home later that night. You'd make him something he'd be excited to eat, listen as he told you about his day. And at the end of the night, you would let him kiss you all over, lingering in certain spots as you whispered how much you loved him.

Standing on tiptoes to peer across the square, you spotted a fruit stand, lighting up. Peaches were fresh in season, and your mouth was practically watering at the sight of them. Billy would love to have such a sweet treat when he came home. You began to head in that direction, visions of peach pie and fresh cut slivers dancing through your head.

Just as they were within reach, someone grabbed your arm. Your bag was pulled roughly from your grasp, and a low voice announced that you were under arrest.

A sharp bolt of shock tore through you, eyes widening as you looked up at the men who detained you, the glint of their badges nearly blinding you. In a tone shakier than your hands, you asked, "Under what charges?"

"Cavorting with an outlaw," one growled, binding your hands with the cool metal of handcuffs. Heart beating in your ears, you stumbled forward as they pushed you, breathing heavy, tears stinging your eyes.

"I haven't done anything wrong," you protested tearfully, trying to struggle out of their hold. "Please-"

A silent glare put an end to your struggling, and they escorted you forcefully to the jail, shoving you into a cell without so much as a word. Mind racing, you scrambled for any kind of out. Any sort of solution would present itself to you soon, you were certain.

But your head was drier than the desert, empty except for the single, obvious thought that you were utterly alone. Here in the prison cell, completely shrouded from hope, there was no clear outcome. Why had they chosen now to arrest you, if what you were doing was such a crime? So many times had you been seen out with Billy, one of his arms looped around your waist, nosing a kiss into your hair. Where had the warrant for your arrest been then?

With nothing else to do in sight, you sunk your eyes into your knees, tears falling fast and steady. Everything was tipping precariously, leaning down a chasm of many things terrible. You saw a future of this, of never again seeing another person without bars between you.

It was an awful experience- imagining such things. They only pushed you further over the edge into tears. It felt as though you would never dry up, your eyes producing fresh twin rivers the second you thought it was over. You were despondent, inconsolable. Nothing within your reach could comfort you now.

When the sky grew dark, you scarcely noticed, too lost in your tears to focus on much else. Moonbeams split through the crude window, almost taunting you. To you the sky was freedom, and you didn't have any of that right now. Everything you'd wanted for your future was cracked and shattered, dangled in front of you before being snatched away. It was cruel, the way everything changed in the blink of an eye.

Closing your eyes, you tried to find a reason to sleep. It wasn't like you were going to be able to do anything else. But your tired body refused to slip under the waves of unconsciousness, stubbornly floating above them. You opened your eyes in frustration, staring into blackness. The horror of your situation hit you once more, and a fresh wave of tears soaked your cheeks. How had Billy reacted when he came home to an empty house? Did he know what had happened?

For his sake, you hoped he didn't.

Footsteps sounded nearby and you did not lift your head. There was hardly a point. It was likely another deputy there to tell you you'd be relocated in the morning. Preparing yourself for the inevitable, you sat up, smoothing your hands over your hair and leaning your head against the wall with a quiet thud.

The steps stopped, and you inhaled softly, ready for words that would inflict another torrent of tears. But the voice that spoke instead was familiar. "Sweetheart."

Your head snapped up, eyes widening when you noticed Billy there, clenching the bars as he stared at you through the darkness. Springing to your feet, you ran to him, nearly hiccupping with relief, your tears starting up for an entirely different reason. Billy grasped your face through the bars, thumbs swiping away any tears that came their way. "Oh my baby. What've they done to you?" Billy searched your eyes, seemingly checking for any sign of injury.

"I'm okay," you choked, holding his wrists. "Billy-"

"Shh, shh, sweet girl," he hushed, stroking your cheek, eyes running over your figure in a concerned way. "I'm gonna getcha out of here. Hold on-" He seemed to remember something, letting go of your face and reaching into his pocket for his knife. Bending at the lock, he fiddled with it for a moment before you heard a click, and the door swung open creakily. You flinched at the noise, sure someone would come after you, but no footsteps echoed.

Billy reached a hand into the cell, beckoning to you. "C'mon darlin'."

His hand was the symbol of freedom you had been waiting for- the candle in the darkness you sorely needed. In the pale moonlight, Billy looked every bit the knight in shining armor you had dreamt of since you were a little girl. Oh, here he was, ready to sweep you off your feet and spirit you away to a happy ending.

Stepping forward, you took his outstretched hand, letting him pull you away. The instant you were out of the cell, he slid an arm under your knees, whispering, "One set 'f footsteps is less suspicious."

You buried your face in his neck, clinging tight to him as he carried your tired body down the hallway, careful so his boots hardly made a sound. In his pursuit of the doorway, he managed a kiss to your hair, comforting you as he charted the course to your decided liberty. It was a precious thing he held in his hands.

The night air was a rush, and he tightened his arms around you, doing his best to shield your shivering body from the cold. Clarity cut your being as a sort of realization enhanced your self vision. Had this been a trap? Had they arrested you to lure him into the shadows of the jail, so he would not be able to exit?

When you opened your mouth to ask, he cut you off before you so much as said a word. "Took care of the guards already, baby. Don't worry 'bout a thing."

How had he known? Had someone told him you were incarcerated? Or had word of mouth done the trick? You didn't know, and at the present moment it was hardly important. The blue of your world an hour before was painted back into vibrancy because of Billy's rescue.

Hoisting you upon the horse, Billy climbed on behind you, tugging you snug against his chest. The utter warmth of him heated your back, and you leaned against him, smiling when he nudged a kiss into your temple. "I've gotcha sweet girl. Forever 'n ever."

Riding off into the distance with your outlaw holding you tight, you felt more secure than you had in ages. Billy protected you like a dragon guarded his treasure, and you knew his habit would increase tenfold in wake of this event.

But it was hardly to be minded. When you were finally between the sheets again as you'd dreamt of in the daylight, swaddled in his arms and covered in his kisses, he drenched you in apologies, promising this would never, ever happen again.

"We're gonna go far away from here, sweet thing," Billy murmured, softly pressing his lips to your nose. "Just you 'n me. We're gonna be okay."

Sleepily disarmed by the dart of his love, you nodded, burying your head in his chest once more. Because your Billy had never uttered something so steadfast that he didn't intend to keep.

[palmtreepalmtree]

This is honestly still so shocking to me. As a California lawyer, I feel like it's difficult to understate the impact of John Eastman's fall.

Before Trump, John Eastman was a fixture of the California legal community. He was the Dean of Chapman University's law school for years. He was regularly interviewed in local media to get the conservative legal viewpoint, and even though I almost always disagreed with his positions, his reasoning was usually cogent and thoughtful. He clerked for Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas for fuck's sake (this is not a thing that stupid, sloppy, or thoughtless people can achieve or do--you can have bad and seriously wrong opinions, sure, but you can't be thoughtless).

I swear though, it sometimes feels like the entire conservative base has been captured by some kind of mania. He continues to insist that his prosecution is politically motivated. Even as his own witnesses collapsed on the lies he continues to peddle:

Testifying in Eastman’s defense was Michael Gableman, a former Wisconsin Supreme Court justice who has stated the election was stolen. But at the trial, Gableman admitted that his own 14-month inquiry into the election failed to prove that fraud cost Trump the election.

Another Eastman witness, John Yoo, a longtime friend and a Berkeley Law professor, testified that Joe Biden had won the White House “fair and square” and that Pence had “unassailable grounds” in refusing to reject electoral votes.

I mean, I guess at this point he just has to go all in on the lie. He allegedly says that his legal fees are going to cost him between $3 to $3.5 million and he's raised something like $500k for his legal defense.

But this doesn't sound like someone who is lying. It sounds like someone in a fucking cult:

[Eastman] said the bar trial was “extraordinary and unprecedented” but gave him a chance to present wider evidence of election fraud than had been previously aired. “It was eye-opening for a lot of people about the amount of illegality that we exposed during that trial,” Eastman said.

My dude, the Judge issued a 128 page ruling that found you guilty of 10 out of 11 counts of misconduct. Exactly what did you expose except your own ass?

Eastman portrays himself as a battling patriot who has been subjected to “false narratives and calumnies.” He said he is the victim of “lawfare,” an attempt to silence unpopular views with legal machinery.

“We are in a rather significant fight, and for whatever reason, I am the lead point of the spear in that fight, and I am taking it on, as I think my duty as a citizen requires,” he said. “We’ll do what it takes.”

My god, someone needs to fucking deprogram this guy.

Anyhow, this continues to be insane to me.

[tyrantonutx]

Overlord Huskerdust plot thoughts.

Angel is won fair and square thanks to Val's dumbass betting but he knows Val isn't going to let this go. Husk is in danger of an all out war and he might not win, so Angel agrees to go back to Val to save the family he's found at Husk's casino

Brought to you by me listening to Legally Blonde (the song) and imagining a dramatic scene where Husk begs Angel to stay and wonders if he'd just told him how he felt to begin with if Angel'd be willing to stay and fight with him.

Please don't make me write this myself I'm so tired

I'm probably gonna do it anyway

[alexblakeisgay]

Hook, Line, and Sinker

Ship: Emily Prentiss/Reader

Summary: When your father had started dating Lauren Reynolds, you couldn't help but seethe with jealousy that a piece of shit like him could get a gorgeous milf like her...

Word Count: 1087

Author's Note: This fills the Coercion square on my @cmkinkbingo2024 card.

Lauren poked her head into your father's study, frowning when she caught sight of you. "Should you be drinking that?" she asked, crossing the room to snatch the glass of whisky out of your hand (and downing a greedy sip herself).

You rolled your eyes, pouring yourself another glass in spite of her reprimand. "You think Ian really gives a fuck?" you replied.

She couldn't help but bark out a laugh at that. "I also doubt he'd approve of you calling him by his first name," she said wryly, only to laugh once again at your lackadaisical shrug. "You're kind of a brat," she said.

You just flashed her a mischievous grin that could've been agreement...not that you were saying as much. You watched as she took the seat opposite you, still gripping the pilfered glass of whisky. "You look tense..." you said, almost conversationally, but for the undertone of sexuality simmering beneath the surface.

She raised a brow, gestured vaguely at your surroundings, which...fair.

Before she'd had the opportunity to realize what was happening, you'd circled behind her, hands finding her shoulders and beginning to massage them. "Your muscles are like concrete," you purred as you kneaded them, "You really need to loosen up..."

She was clearly taken aback by the forward gesture, but she couldn't seem to form words in the face of it. She swallowed thickly, opened her mouth, and once again failed to speak.

"Why don't you get more comfortable?" you suggested silkily, hands slipping down towards the buttons of her blouse.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she stammered, but made no move to stop your progress, even as you unfastened the first button. You didn't bother answering with words – your actions spoke loud and clear as you slipped her blouse off altogether. It wasn't until your fingers landed on the front clasp of her bra that she seemed to spring back to life. "This can't happen," she said, but the protest was weak.

You smirked, though she couldn't see it from her vantage point in front of you. "Why not?" you asked, as if you truly didn't know where her protests were coming from. "I'm eighteen, it's all perfectly legal..."

She scoffed. "For one thing, I'm dating your father," she pointed out.

"So?" You popped the clasp on her bra, thumbs finding her nipples, brushing them teasingly.

You could hear her breath hitch, in spite of her best efforts to hide the reaction. "So," she repeated urgently, but she didn't seem to know what to follow it up with.

Then, you were in her lap, leaning in close enough that your lips were hovering over hers. "Please, Lauren..." you husked, breath hot on her lips. "Don't pretend you haven't thought about it...I've seen the way you look at me."

"Y/N..." she protested weakly. "W-we shouldn't..."

"We should," you pressed, then your lips were on hers, your tongue delving into her mouth and, in spite of herself and her insistence that this couldn't happen, she was kissing you back. You indulged in the kiss for several long minutes before finally pulling back, dragging your teeth along her lip as you did so. "Tell me you don't want this..."

You could tell she wanted to, wanted to stop this because she knew it was the right thing to do, but knowing it and actually doing it were two very different things. She groaned, attempting to work up the words, but couldn't seem to actually say them aloud.

Saving her the trouble, you once again pressed your lips to hers, shifting in her lap to properly straddle her. This time, she didn't hesitate before kissing you back, her hands delving beneath your tank top to explore the planes of your back. Your hands were once again on her nipples, teasing the sensitive buds until her breath was catching and her hips squirming beneath you.

You knew you had her right where you wanted her...

"I want you, Lauren," you said breathlessly, pulling back to fix her with a laden look. She nodded eagerly, apparently lost to arousal and the eroticism of having you grinding in her lap and begging to fuck her. With a smug grin, knowing you'd succeeded in convincing her, you moved so you were kneeling in front of her, working on the zipper of her khakis.

She assisted you in removing her clothes and, once her pants and underwear were discarded, you trailed kisses and gentle nips back up her legs until you reached her centre, burying your nose in her folds and inhaling deeply the scent of her.

Then, staring up at her with mischief twinkling in your eyes, you dragged your tongue through her cunt, finally getting to taste her the way you'd spent all those nights touching yourself, dreaming about what this moment would be like...

"Oh, Y/N, you're going to get yourself in trouble if you keep doing that," she warned.

You waggled your brows as you found her clit with the tip of your tongue. "I happen to love trouble."

"Cocky little slut..." she muttered, though there was no heat behind it. She wound her fingers in your hair, using the leverage to force you deeper into her cunt, smearing your face with her juices. "Let me guess: you've spent a lot of nights lying awake, dreaming about being exactly here, hmm? Wondering what it would be like to be at my complete and utter mercy?"

You nodded eagerly.

She pulled you back from her cunt, stared you down, and ordered, "Open." You were quick to open your mouth, tongue lolling out, awaiting her fingers. She let you suck on her fingers for longer than you would have liked, but you certainly weren't about to complain and risk her ire.

Without warning, she pulled her fingers past your lips, then – gentle, but firm enough to leave a sting – she slapped your cheek. When you gasped sharply, she raised a brow, wearing a smile that only grew as she watched your pupils dilate. "Oh, you're one of those..."

Briefly, you were tempted to make a smart Aleck remark, but you had a feeling that doing so would cost you dearly, so you remained silent and nodded once again.

"Oh, Kitten, I'm going to have so much fun with you..."

[merakiui]

more octavinelle thoughts (albeit more floyd-focused) but!!! a concept in which you are an idol and the twins are your bodyguards and azul is your very scummy, sleazy manager who would do virtually anything so long as his star angelfish can shine brighter than the other idols and their agencies. though the idol industry is cutthroat and stressful, thanks to azul’s quick wit, the leech twins’ connections, and lots of smart investments you manage to gain success relatively quickly. that’s the entire point, after all, and yet even with your success in recent years there are ominous shadows that stretch far and wide. 

floyd dwells in these shadows, always teetering between being happy for your newfound success and loathing the fact that you’re so popular and busy now. even though he follows you everywhere (he and jade are bound to you via contract, but floyd could care less about the legal bond between the both of you), it’s always for business. he’s forced to keep within certain boundaries so as to not cause legal trouble, personal trouble, and just overall trouble for the fans and you. there are times he’s thought of wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him after it became an irritating chore to watch you pose for pictures or sign various things when fans would recognize and approach you. he wants to prove something by doing this, but he’s not sure what. prove that you’re untouchable to the general public—that only he can lay a finger on you? prove that you are no one’s idol? prove that you belong to him? 

floyd hates this feeling. it’s as if he’s wrapped in fishing netting and there’s no escaping no matter how much he bites and claws. the more he thrashes, the more it winds itself around him, constrictive and painful. it hurts to see you shine so brightly while knowing fully well he can’t truly have you. you’re meant to put on an act to prove to everyone that you are accessible and loyal only to the arts. therefore no romance for you. even your personal and work relationships are difficult to navigate because no matter who you’re associated with fans will get envious, or they’ll make rash judgements. 

floyd’s thought about yanking you up to his height to kiss you square on the mouth while out in public with you. he’s thought about taking you in the recording studio so they’ll have recordings of your voice as it wavers with moans and sobs, and for the right price azul can sell it to tabloid journalists and they’ll release it and the whole world will hear their slutty idol getting fucked by a faceless, mysterious bodyguard. then you’d truly be his because no one would want you. 

he’s thought about keeping his hand planted firmly on your hip when at social gatherings or clinging to you like a luxury handbag. jade often advises against it. as physical as floyd would love to be, he has to follow the rules. floyd hates the rules because he never knows what half of them are or what they entail. he’ll get away with fleeting touches when he can, masking them with the excuse of his job. if a fan attempts to get too handsy with you, he gets to put his hands on your shoulders and steer you away while jade politely advises them of the rules. 

floyd spends so long trapped in this troublesome stage of pining from afar, never to surpass any boundaries, always remaining as your bodyguard, that he begins to wonder if anything will ever change. he wants to get married; you can’t. he wants to settle down and start a family; you can’t. he wants to publicize his love; you can’t. there are so many things you can’t do and it’s so annoying. floyd tries to tell azul that it’s not fair—that you ought to be given more freedoms (“fuck the fans,” he often says)—but he may as well be a petulant child whining over impossible, unsolvable problems. this may be a reality to everyone else, but it isn’t the reality he wants. the reality he wants lies in unreality—in the far corners of his mind, each one a sugared fantasy he often considers when he needs material to get off to. thoughts of you in your pretty, frilly, elaborate idol outfits, each one shredded to pieces to get to warm skin beneath (he’ll buy you a dozen replacement outfits if it means you’ll let him fuck you; hell, he’ll spoil you rotten just so you continue to allow him to stand by your side as your most loyal bodyguard), have him falling over the edge into orgasmic bliss. god, you’re so perfect. so sweet. so soft. so deliciously noisy when you’re practically howling beneath him when he fucks you so hard the bed shudders (and the dreams always fall apart right when he’s about to tell you he loves you in the aftermath). fuck. he wants you all to himself. 

at some point, as his love twists into something unfathomably crooked, he gets it in his mind to knock you up. it’s the perfect solution! secret relationships, publicized romance, and rules be damned; a pregnancy would unravel the carefully crafted spool of thread azul has spent so long spinning to perfection. you really would be his then because it would be undeniable proof. and when your belly is so taut and round with his child, even with azul’s silver tongue, it will be impossible to explain away. and everyone would know. everyone would know you belong to him. your picture-perfect, successful world will cave in on itself, fold itself away into a packet of misery, and from the tendrils of bad, terrible, hateful things floyd will pull you free—right into his arms where you’re meant to be.

today you smiled at him, brought him a snack to thank him for his hard work, and tomorrow he’ll return the favor when he slips something into your drink so you’ll fall into your own little fantasy.

the idol industry is cutthroat, but then so is floyd.

[battybiologist]

Playing the Original Trilogy Ace Attorney games back to back, it really struck me as early as 2-2 how much Franziska is very bad at the whole "Demon Prosecutor" schtick

What made Edgeworth so tough isn't just how he would run logic circles around you, but also because he shut down every line of inquiry that was not directly related to the case and substantiated with hard evidence. His one weakness was that he still followed the due proceedings of court and the Judge's rulings without a fuss. And, you know, that he still had morals

Manfred von Karma is on a whole other level. He's even more ruthless than Edgeworth, but he's also so intimidating that he essentially takes over as judge in the beginning, and his moral compass was surgically removed because it hurt his shoulder.

But Franziska, while she also controls the social dynamics of the court, lets so much shit fly that Edgeworth would not. If he was the prosecutor, he would have needed hard evidence that Pearl was in the Winding Path, and he definitely wouldn't have let him badger Ini about the sports car she drove all those years ago.

Hell, Edgeworth's most common dirty tactic in the first game is concluding a cross-examination before you can squeeze the info out of the witness. And just in 2-2, Franziska lets, and sometimes forces, the cross-examinations to continue, even when said cross-examination reveals she was concealing evidence.

Even Winston Payne, the jobber prosecutor par excellence, is more ruthless than her IIRC, as in he tried to conclude a trial early before Phoenix could finish his reasoning, whereas the Judge literally tried to declare Maya guilty and Franziska objected

You could interpret this behaviour in many ways. In fact, Phoenix even gives us his own: he thinks she's being arrogant, à la "hit me with your best shot". It would track, as she's been pretty arrogant up until now, but I think it's a little shallow.

My own interpretation goes a little deeper into Franziska's character: We know Franziska has been raised by Manfred "my card PIN is 0001 because I'm number 1" von Karma to believe perfection is the ultimate goal. She HATES lying witnesses, but is perfectly fine with "preparing" testimonies. She's the most volatile and youngest prosecutor to date. Lastly, she felt pressure to live up to the von Karma name all her life, but when her father died, she was more concerned with Edgeworth's presumed death than it

My conclusion: Franziska's truest desire pre-character development is to win fair and square, but because she associates her father with victory, she forces herself to emulate him and tries to play dirty. All of her Manfred-like tactics are done outside of court, where she would be able to think it over, letting her conditioning kick in. But in the thick of legal battle, especially facing Phoenix Wright, who thrives on hectic trials, she would let her heart decide what to do.

[novlr]

I’ve written a novel featuring real people, specifically public figures. I’ve only shared it with friends and haven’t published it anywhere. Could I still get into trouble if those people found out?

That’s a great question. In the specifics, you ask about public figures and if you could get into trouble for that. I’ll start with the disclaimer that I’m not a lawyer and this is not legal advice. I can’t say where the line between fair use and libel exists. If that’s your concern, and there’s no other way to tell the story you want to tell other than including that person, then you should consult a lawyer. But, let’s assume, for the sake of this question, that we’re squarely in the domain of fair use.

When are public figures spoken of?

People write about public figures all the time, both in fact and fiction. Sometimes a mix of both happens across media, which blurs the lines. Public figures can serve as rich sources of inspiration. They are frequently fictionalized or rewritten to add a sense of realism, glamor, or controversy to stories. They feature in unauthorized biographies, and are written about in news stories and exposes. We know a lot about public figures because they are written about a lot.  So, yes, you can write about public figures. Whether you should, and what approach you take, is another question entirely. 

You can, but should you?

This is where it gets tricky.  I have written about public figures, both living and dead, in my own stories. In one of my alternate history tales, for example, I had a President of the United States hold a meeting with my main character. 

I was careful about mannerisms and making the character believable. It is important to me when I do write about public figures that they are recognizable and that I don’t have them act in ways contrary to what they have publicly stated they believe or ways they have acted. That is a very subjective line I have drawn and one each writer must find for themselves. I mean, there’s the whole Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter thing out there, and I’m pretty sure Mr. Lincoln never took a stance on Vampires. I would advise you to think about where that line is for you. 

Public figures vs private citizens

I’d also like to toss in a note here about private citizens – friends, family, enemies – you might consider writing about as well. I do not write about people I know, at least not as whole characters. I definitely take turns of phrase, characteristics, or mannerism and borrow them with impunity, but I almost never use the name of a person I know. I don’t want them to feel ownership of any part of my story. It’s also a matter of not wanting to damage those relationships with unintended slights if they don’t like the way I’ve represented them. 

Ultimately the people we write about – real or imaginary, public figures or private citizens – are seen through the filter of our own biases, perceptions, and beliefs. Public figures have a public life, so their thoughts, behaviors, and actions are more universally seen. People you know in your personal life don’t have that. There are more concerns about privacy when you’re writing about those close to you. It’s also more difficult to remain impartial in how you feel and write about them if you have a close, personal relationship.

Every word you write is a choice. Ask yourself what serves your story. Do you need to write about a public figure, or can you create a character inspired by that person?  What impact will your words have on them should they read it, and what impact do you choose to have on them? 

[randomtable]

1d6 Odd Foreign Coins

For when treasure in convenient mints is just too easy. 1. Iron rings - this smallest denomination coin belongs to a nation far across the sea. Even trading with them, though, these rings are small change. 2. Butterflies - this odd currency belongs not to a nation but to a thieves guild (or other underground faction). It is made by permanently attaching four coins of the realm together in a sort of square or clover shape. It is not legal currency, but has value in certain illegal transactions. Carrying it can also, of course, get you into trouble. 3. Bricks - so called because rather than being flat disks, these coins are rectangular and almost as thick as they are wide. Bricks come in different denominations, in varying sizes but all made of silver. The small alliance of nations who use Bricks are nearby, but not on the friendliest terms with your home region. However, the raw silver is of decent value. 4. Beads and Medallions - smaller and thicker than the average metal coins, these coins are made of dyed glass. They are the coin of a small, wealthy principality, where literally displaying one’s wealth has become quite fashionable. Merchants who accept these coins are most likely to trade in small, luxury items. 5. Golden Daggers - these slender gold coins are not uncommon to see in the northern part of your realm. They are the most used coin in the neighboring kingdom, whose odd manner of minting begins with slender metal rods. They aren’t commonly accepted  except near the northern border, but it isn’t too difficult to find someone who will exchange them at a fair rate. 6. Silver Gems - so called because of their geometric design that resembles a cut gemstone, these coins are highly valuable. The empire from which they come has dissolved. The upper class of your realm romanticize the fallen empire’s glory days, and prize anything from it, including its odd currency. They can’t be spent like regular money, but to a collector they can be sold like valuable art.

[blarefordaglare]

The Time Link Refused To Get On a Boat

This can be read as platonic or not, as I suck at shipping (so I wrote it as platonic), so here’s some cr*ck but it’s LEGAL because it ends in fic (don’t do drugs guys, I’m serious)

Oh yeah this is for @breannasfluff btw ik you said nvm but I wanted to anyways

Pre LU btw

——————

Link bit his lip in confusion when he looked at the sight in front of him, “Ravio?” 

No response.

“Ravio?” The fairy chimed again.

No response.

“Listen!” Link tried again, blinking in surprise when the housemate in question looked up, “Why is there a boat in my house?” 

“Well,” The other fairy looked up, as if staring right through Link’s skeptical gaze, “I just had so much profit, what better way to spend it, than on a boat?” He looked down at the hole in the wood, the patching clearly stood unfinished, “Maybe I need to up my prices.”

Or maybe you shouldn’t buy a boat, the adventurer bit back that thought, he earned that money fair and square after all, maybe I should start charging him for rent though, “And what are you planning to do with the boat?” 

The green wings glowed in excitement, “I’m going to take it out to the lake -once it’s repaired- want to come with?” 

Link should have said ‘no’. Link should have said ‘no there is a very obvious hole in it’, but his head clearly disagreed, nodding up and down, “…sure.” Hylia, Goddesses, whoever, I will actually have faith in you if you destroy this boat here and now.

Clearly, nobody answered. 

The day that the boat outing arrived, Link was, in his opinion, far from prepared. How could he be so stupid to bring nothing?

Yet, he got into the boat anyway, “I hope you patched this up.” His heart spiked when the other fairy let a… nervous chime, to say the least. Please don’t let me drown here.

The water was still, which was considered surprising compared to the typically uncontrollable waters, “You know, the last time I got into a boat I was struck by lightning?” 

The other fairy looked up, the green light in his wings brightening with interest, “How did you survive?” 

Link only smiled, “I’m not sure actually,” he tapped onto the boat, a rhythmic beat, “All I know it was the weirdest dream of my life.”  The tapping halted as he tapped his foot, noticing water splash onto his leg.

“Are you sure the hole was properly patched?” 

Ravio grinned, “Nope.” 

The boat sank deeper and deeper into the water, “I swear, am going to drown you!”