#attorney jail visit

[remembertheplunge]

A Thanksgiving story

11/22/2023

A Thanksgiving story.

I drove out to the San Joaquin County jail this afternoon to see two clients who are incarcerated there.

As I was walking through the parking lot headed for the jail entrance, I passed a group of young women and children holding signs that said “Welcome back Kevin.”

I visited with my clients for 2 hours.

When I got back to the jail lobby to sign out and to give back the visiting room key and get my ID, I saw 3 men waiting by the jail administration window. I asked the check out clerk if they had just been released and she said yes. Upon exiting , the people holding the signs were still happily there waiting. I told them that 3 men had just been released hoping one of them was Kevin.

I have never seen anything like  that welcoming committee  before in the 100s of times I have visited jails to meet with clients through the years. True Thanksgiving joy.

I got in the car and drove to a nearby gym that I am a member of. As I approached the entrance ,I noticed a man with a shopping cart standing about 40 feet away from the gym entrance at the end of the building. 

I approached him and asked him if he would like a hat and a scarf. A friend of mine and her daughter, for the second year in a row, knitted hats for me to pass out to the homeless. This year they included a knitted scarf with the hat. 

Just then, the gym owner, a friend of mine,  appeared and told the homeless man the he had to leave. The homeless man said that he was waiting for a police officer to arrive. The gym owner became more insistent and the homeless man became more obstinate. 

I had initially tried to explain to the gym owner that I was trying to give the man a hat and scarf. But, the gym owner made it clear he wanted no homeless people near his gym. My giving the homeless man the hat and scarf might encourage him to stay. So, I remained silent .

The homeless man then took off his black baseball cap and offered it to me. With the gym owner standing right there, I accepted the hat.

The homeless man and I had had an encounter. We were under fire, but we had an encounter. We healed each other. I had offered him a hat and a scarf. In thanks he, who had nothing else really but the baseball cap, gave it to me. 

We could “see” each other.

End of entry

Note:

I have been working with the homeless off and on since 2017. They have stayed with me in my house for days or weeks. I have passed out bags with food, socks and toiletries in10 or 12 cities. I do it for the encounter. If they accept the bag, we have an encounter. They thank me, sometimes wordlessly, and in so doing heal me. They have shown ma a compassionate side of humanity I had not experienced before.

[honeykaes]

Ooooooo questions for Lyney? 👀

Let’s see…what does your first date look like?

—☁️ Anon

Most likely it was just lunch at a café—casual but fun and we have the option to do more if we aren’t tired!

After that we walked around the court before doing a match trick (aka putting a rainbow rose in my afro when I didn’t notice)!

send me some selfship questions about lyney hehe

[tonycries]

F*ck You! (Literally) - T.F.

Synopsis. Of course, you hated your ex-husband. Of course, you found yourself in bed with him on your wedding anniversary.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exes to lovers, angry séx, spítting, degradation, y’all are both mean, rough, jealousy (Toji’s side), bréeding, smackíng, arguíng during it, cúmplay, overstím, oral (female receiving), mentions of Megumi and Shiu, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.7k

A/N. Gojo next week because I miss my man smh.

It’s not often that you contemplate something that would definitely end up with a night in jail - but it seems that somehow whenever you did, your ex-husband Toji was always sure to be the cause of it.

Like that time he had the audacity to ask you out to dinner right outside the divorce attorney’s office, mere moments after signing those papers. Or when he “accidentally” sent you some mouthwateringly shirtless photos - through email, of course, because you had him blocked otherwise. Although, you’d saved those pictures - a secret you’d take to the grave.

And now. 

Standing right outside your front door, on the night of what would’ve been your fifth anniversary. His imposing figure filling the frame, that tiny scar you loved and hated so much quirking up ever-so-slightly as he shoots you a sly grin. 

He’s here.

Looking as devastatingly handsome as the day you left him.

“Happy anniversary, ex-wifey.”

And just as irritating, too. 

That snaps you out of your traitorous little reverie, and before long you’re sputtering out a shaky, “Y-you. What do you think you’re doing here?” Not even waiting for his response before moving to shut the door in his face.

“Oh, believe me,” Toji lets out a humorless little laugh, reaching up a sculpted arm to stop the door in its tracks. “I wouldn’t be here even if I wanted to.”

That was a lie - and Toji knew that. He had half the mind to think that you knew that. But it didn’t matter when you’re glaring up at him so prettily. The confusion evident on your face as you grit out a shrill, “Then why am I seeing your stupid face tonight?”

“Chance? Luck? A blessing?” 

Scoffing, “A curse.”

“That mouth’s still as sharp as ever, huh?” He cocks his head in amusement, “Did you not see my email?”

“No, I uh-” you mumble, face burning. And oh you wish you could stop yourself from thinking back to those photos - stop yourself from wanting to smack the smirk off Toji’s face that told you he was, too. “-blocked you on…that…as well.”

“Mhm.” he hums, eyes lingering too long on your comfy pajamas - his favorite ones -  and the way you’re squirming so adorably under the intensity of his gaze. “Well, m’just here to pick up one of that brat’s toys. Won’t take long n’ I’ll be out of your sight, doll.”

And you can’t say anything about that familiar little petname, because it hits you with a pang - oh, how you missed Megumi. 

He’d thrown a tantrum until he was allowed to visit you occasionally, of course. But still, it was nothing compared to how inseparable the three of you were before your relationship with Toji soured. His line of work too dangerous, the fights more frequent until you’d had enough.

“Ah, yes. Megs probably won’t even leave the house without it.” you chuckle, opening the door wider. “I was surprised to find it the other day since he said that lil’ plushie was his best friend. After me.”

“After me.”

“Liar.”

“Gorgeous.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fitting for our anniversary, huh?” And oh how Toji enjoyed riling you up. To spy that little furrow between your brows as he strides inside your apartment like it was his own - he did know it like the back of his hand. “I already know where the bed is, after all.”

“Yeah, and you know where the door is too.” you mutter, acting like it didn’t make your head spin to think of Toji - in your home. With you. You and Toji. In your home. You and Toji in your home. 

You hadn’t seen him since the divorce just four months ago, and here he was looking so unfairly like he fit right in. Taking up much more time than necessary as he walks towards that little wolf toy on your couch. Eyeing up the sappy romance movie paused on-screen, and those familiar photographs on the wall. 

You still had that one of the two of you from that beach getaway two years ago, he noted with delight. 

“Heh, for someone that hates me so much, s’funny you have my face hung up here.” he smirks, words just dripping with that familiar dark tone that has shivers running down your spine. “Knew you were still into me.” Defiant - challenging, even, because he always did like to push all your buttons. 

Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fall for-

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, walking towards where Toji stood. “I jus’ use it to scare off clingy dates in the morning.” 

And you loved to push his buttons even more. 

“Oh? Dates, huh?” And something about those words make you feel like something’s too-tense. Exciting, even. Especially as he repeats - more to himself than you, “Dates.”

“Jealous?”

“Heh, of whatever scrub took you out? In your dreams, doll.” Maybe it was the way Toji was joking - but didn’t sound like he was at all. Or maybe it was the way he didn’t move as you stepped closer, enough that you’re almost toe-to-toe with him. Probably it was the way he murmurs out a strangled, “M’not jealous.”

Oh. 

You watch the way his body stiffens, darkened eyes flitting between you and the picture and you- Smirking “Good, because m’having one over soon.”

“Oh, you little bitch.” He spits out the words, gaze hardening in a way you knew did not bode well for your - or down there. Hitting it where it hurts, “This is why I’m so fuckin’ glad we divorced.”

“Fuck you,” you tilt your head, anger simmering beneath your skin - and you didn’t know who was pissing each other off more. “So then you can get out before my date gets here.” And the emphasis on “date” isn’t lost on him.

“Such a liar.”

“M’not lying.” You were - but you didn’t care if Toji could tell because it was ticking him off just the same. “You could say he’s an-” Now close enough that you could feel the heat of his proximity. A finger stabbing right in his pecs with each word, “-upgrade.”

Suddenly you’re being pulled to his rock-hard chest, all the dips and curves of his body so sinfully obvious against your skin as he questions, “How so?”

“Well, for starters he’s-” you gasp, casting a sidelong glance at the way the muscles in his arms ripple. And it takes everything in you to try and keep your voice steady, “-bigger.” Thighs pressing together at the tiny grunt of disbelief that leaves your ex-husband, too-aware of the strong hand wrapped around your waist. “And sexier.”

“And?”

“And what?” you gulp, raising your head to blink up at him in confusion and oh- 

Oh, shit. You weren’t going to make it out alive. 

Toji’s eyes were wide, a mirthless smirk spreading across his face, jaw tensing as he leans down to whisper hotly against your ear, words hoarse - stilted, like it pained him to even speak them into existence. “And what other lies are ya gonna make up?”

And you might be a genius - you might just not know what’s good for you. 

Because you’re batting your lashes just the way you knew he liked, the words - saccharine sweet, and falling from your lips faster than your whirling brain could even register them. “And he makes me cum so much harder.”

Toji’s lips are crashing against yours - and you knew it was coming. You wanted them to. Bruising, angry - like he was telling you to just shut the fuck up, another word of your imaginary date and it would kill him. 

He tasted the same as he did all those months ago. Sweet, like those cheap lollipops he would buy you and that absolute sin of his scar rubbing against your lips. 

“Fuck-” he lets out a guttural groan into your lips. Only a sloppy mix of teeth and spit as he kisses you with the collective desperation of a little over four months. “Hate how you’re-” Like he didn’t even care if it left your poor lips swollen and bruised - at least that might give whatever loser coming here a hint. “-still addictive.”

With that, he picks you up like it’s just nothing, your traitorous legs easily wrapping around his toned waist. Letting you pull off that sinfully snug t-shirt to feel the smooth planes of all his muscles. Soft. Warm. 

You gasp at how he manhandles you so that your thin pajama pants are just above his achingly hard cock, throbbing, and so so angry against your core. Trousers already so damp with- precum? Your slick? 

“Hah- not jealous my ass-” you hiss, grinding down on his bulge.

And Toji’s parting mere millimeters, chuckling darkly at the disappointed little whine that escapes you. “Yeah, well, does he ever get you like this?” He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, purposely not giving you what you want. “Does he ever get you this-” Grinding you against his straining erection, two fingers sliding down, just teasing the drenched front of your shorts. “-this fuckin’ wet?”

“Nah,” you pull on Toji’s silky locks, nipping at his collarbone. “He gets me wetter.”

“You little-”

It’s like something snaps - whatever’s left of Toji’s sanity, your patience, possibly you by the end of this. Anything but the thick, suffocating - tension in your living room. Now too small. Too hot. 

Before you can react, your back  is hitting the soft cushions of your couch. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw as Toji looms over you. 

“Thought you knew where the bed was?” you manage to get out, in the heat of it all. 

“Thought you hated me?”

“Gonna kill you if you break this cou-” but the rest of the retort on your tongue dies as Toji’s hands are suddenly everywhere.

Groping your breasts - your waist - your ass. Barely giving you time to even think before fisting your shirt in one hand. Too impatient - too starved - to do anything other than pull down, down, down until it-

RIP!

“Oh you fuckin’ slut.” Toji’s jaw drops into a soft little oh! at the sight of your heavenly breasts before him. No bra - exactly how he liked it. “How I missed these.” Massaging them under his hands, “Is this for him or ya really had no idea I was coming?”

“You’re t-too fuckin’ hah-” you whine as he immediately takes one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your sensitive nipples. “-full of yourself.”

And you don’t even know if Toji registered the insult - looking like he was on cloud nine as he rolled your other nipple between two fingers. Pulling off with a lewd pop! only to say, “Wonder if you’re the same down there.”

You are - Toji discovers, with wonder. 

Hooking a finger underneath the hem of your already-soaked shorts to pull them off. And, hey, Toji hasn’t had this view in months - so he really can’t help himself from bringing them up to his face. Your jaw drops at his pure audacity as he breathes in the scent of your dripping pussy with a strained, “M’keepin’ these, doll.”

“You’re sick.” 

“And you’re soaked.” strong hands spread your legs so shamefully. You can’t fight it - how fucking wet and glistening you were for him under the dim-lighting. Toji grins cockily, “Who’s she this wet for, huh? Me or him?”

“Not- not you-” you whine, despite how your sloppy cunt was leaking all over your legs - such a mess. A mess that Toji was shifting down the couch to lick up. Slow, lazy circles right at your inner thighs. Sweet - so sweet, his favorite. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste and oh, how Toji missed this. 

Missed teasing you until you broke. 

Which, it turns out, happens fairly early.

“Y-you’re just fucking talk.” you hiss, but it comes out more breathless than you intended. Your voice betraying how badly you wanted him. Needed him to do something - anything. “He-”

Toji doesn’t even let you finish your sentence - and you don’t need to - because without another word, he’s surging forward until he was nose-deep in your messy cunt.

Licking one, long stripe up your swollen folds - up and down, up and down, up and- He murmurs into your cunt, “Do ya still like when I-” Hot tongue flicking roughly against your clit. Just barely, and you’re bucking wildly underneath him. “Ah, you do. Old habits die hard, huh?”

Of course, the only response that Toji gets is a wet, pathetic murmur of something - maybe a plea, probably a curse at him to shut up. 

But it’s something that has all the blood rushing to his aching cock, something that has him biting down lightly on your inner thigh - just a little punishment. 

“What was that?” he purrs, “Didn’t seem to hear you right, wifey.”

It takes everything in you to gasp out, a barely-audible determined little, “I-I said-” fingers threading through Toji’s hair, pulling up his face. Hard, so that he’s forced to meet your eyes instead of admiring your pretty lil’ cunt. “-fuck you.”

And you don’t know what you expected - maybe an insult back, maybe for him to get up and leave you all high and dry right then and there.

But oh you should’ve known your ex-husband better, because he has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh, more to infuriate you than anything as he promptly spits on your quivering pussy. 

Once. Twice.

You flinch as some splatters against your thigh, and you both know it’s on purpose. Because Toji Fushiguro always had perfect aim - but when it comes to you, well, he had to knock his bratty lil’ wife down a few pegs. 

Throwing your legs over his shoulders to lick all over your sloppy pussy once more. “Fuck me, huh?” he groans out little profanities into your cunt, “Fuck me fuck me fuck me-” 

Smack!

You register that delicious little sting on your ass far before the realization that Toji smacked you - and even later do you realize that you liked it. Slick beading through at the painfully good feeling.

Liked the way his rough palm was soothing over the sting, words strangled and slurring together as he smacks his lips against your swollen, sensitive ones. “I’d rather you fuck me than some hah- other loser.”

“S-so fucking mean-” you moan.

“So what?” His thumb draws tight little circles on your throbbing clit, the other hand looping around your waist - bruising - as he drags your sloppy pussy all over his hot mouth. “No one else could do this.” Soft tongue going all the way up from your base, “Get you this wet-” Just dipping into your clenching hole. “-taste you like this.”

“Hngh- fuck-” you groan, as he alternates between flicking your clit so mean and squeezing his tongue into your tight cunt. “Fuck fuck fuck- s’too much-”

Too much? Toji wanted to laugh - if he wasn’t so addicted to the feeling of your gummy walls stretched out so obscenely on his tongue, anyway. He knows you can take it - you always did. 

And he tells you that - a little over ten times, actually, as the hand on your waist arches you deeper and deeper onto Toji’s tongue. Fucking you so harshly - merciless. Unrelenting. Like he was taking any and every shred of anger out on your ravaged cunt.

Bucking your hips wildly, you tipping your head down to look at the sight below you and oh-

You gasp at how sinfully blissed out Toji looks between your thighs. Eyes glassy and hooded, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead. Your slick glossing his lips so prettily - and if you angled your head just right you could catch the way it drips down his jawline. Yeah, maybe you really did like his face between your legs. 

“Always knew ya did, doll.” he echoes against your glistening lips and shit, did you say that out loud? 

It doesn’t matter, because Toji has his lips smushing against yours, such a filthy mess of spit and fingers and tongue - everywhere. Like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to taste more. “Knew your pussy missed me, even when you’re such some other bastard. She’s still so sweet.” Thrusting in and out faster past that first, feeble ring of resistance. “So messy f’me. Fuckin’ my tongue so good for s-someone that hates me.”

And you have half the mind to wonder whether it hurt - how his fingers weren’t cramping up yet, lips aching. Letting you push his face deeper into your pussy, ankles locking around his broad shoulders in a desperate attempt to shut him up. Close. 

“Y-you talk ngh- too much.” Blood roaring in your ears, feeling his smirk against your cunt. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“Nah, I know you ah- love it.” Smack! Another handprint on your ass that has you stuttering and jolting on his face. “Can feel you clenching all around me because I-” Toji gives you such an infuriating wink from below,  “-eat this pussy the best.”

 And you would be mad at how cocky he was being - if you weren’t cumming all over his pretty face. 

Stars behind your eyes with each little lick of Toji’s tongue as he fucks you through your high, lapping up all your sweet sweet juices. 

“W-wait oh-” you were letting out such delirious little whines. “S’too sensitive- too- hngh-”

“No-” he grits out, voice shot. “No no no no- wan’ it. Need it.” Scrambling to pull your hips back onto his mouth. Fingers just bruising on your skin. 

He was like a man possessed, and you can only lay there and take it as Toji tips his head back to let your slick slide, down, down, down his throat. Voice shot, as he grits out, “Oh fuck, been holdin’ out on me.” Eyes unfocused and miles away as he comes up to squish your cheeks together in an embarrassing little pout. “Open that fucking mouth.” 

And you barely even realize it when you are - tongue lolling out so sinfully. The only thing jolting you back to whatever senses you have left is Toji spitting in your mouth. 

A steady, angry stream of saliva before his lips are clashing once more with yours. Purposefully letting your juices smear all over both your lips, tasting yourself and him and how desperate you were on his tongue-

“O-oh my god.” you break the kiss at the feeling of something so hard against your cunt. Delicate strings of spit snapping as you whirl down to look. Shit, when did he even take off his-

Ah, how Toji loves the breathless little whimper that leaves your lips at the sight of his too-tight boxers, the insults failing you now. Humming, “Like what ya see?” 

As if to prove his point, he tugs them down just enough that his rock-hard cock springs free. Fuck, you think you’ll never get used to it, even after so long - Toji was so fucking massive. Flushed red, soaked in beads of precum that drip down, down, down all the way to the tufts of black at his toned pelvis. 

So thick and angry that your legs were clenching together just at the mere sight. And Toji notices - how could he not?

“Yeah…” he murmurs, as if continuing a conversation from before. Muscled arms pushing your thighs apart to watch how your sloppy pussy was drooling all over the couch. “She definitely missed me, look how much she’s gushing.” Pooling your juices on his fingertips, “Clean your act up, doll”

“Shut up.” you squeal, embarrassedly, giving Toji a glare that makes his balls squeeze so painfully. Smirking, “You’re not even as big as him.”

Oh. 

Well, Toji didn’t like that - not one bit, in fact, as he shoves his dripping wet fingers in your mouth - pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way he knows will have your pretty eyes welling up with tears.

“Then why aren’t you with him, you little bitch. Think I like you better when you’re f-fucked dumb.” he spits dangerously against your lips. Fisting his cock to lazily drag up and down your puffy folds. “Don’t you hah- agree?”

He doesn’t get to find out if you agree - and he doesn’t care, either. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to give an answer even if you wanted to. Because his swollen cock was too thick, the stretch too sinful, too dizzying as Toji splits you apart on his unforgiving cock. 

“Mmmpf- fuck! Hah-” you mewl, torn between running away from his cock and bucking down for more more more-

“More?” he laughs, “Ya ask him for more like this too?”

And oh how so very cute and pliant you were being stuffed full. He barely gives you the time to adjust because - why would he? Toji has his mouthy wife all breathless and splayed out so shamefully, desperately trying to milk his cock for all he’s worth. 

Barely even halfway in, yet he rocks into you in shallow, teasing little grinds just to fit himself inside your tight pussy. So mean. Not giving a fuck about those teary whimpers leaving your mouth.

“They ever ngh- fuck you like this?” he rasps, dropping his head to leave little bites down your tender neck. “Ever h-having you crying for his dick like ngh- this?” And despite all his confidence, Toji didn’t want to hear the answer - didn’t want to know the truth. “Such a slut.”

Your nails rake angrily down his sculpted shoulders - a warning, and it’s about the only thing you can do as Toji speeds up. Faster. Deeper. 

“Heh, what? Markin’ me up for others to hah- see?” he cooes, mockingly. And you could just cry as his grin widens, finally - finally - pulling his fingers out. “Why don’t you ngh- use your words instead?”

And you should probably breathe, probably tell him to fuck you exactly the way he wants to - to confess to him that this is all you’ve ever wanted on those lonely nights these past four months. But the both of you know that it’s more fun this way.

So instead, you smile sweetly, “F-fuck you. They do - a lot better, too.”

If only your voice hadn’t cracked so unconvincingly at the end - if only you hadn’t let out such a pornographic moan as Toji pulls your face to meet his. Kissing you over and over and his hips-

“I’m the one fucking you, doll.” he bites down on your lower lip, tugging and pushing at a senseless little rhythm - the complete opposite of his hips. “Remember that.” And that’s all that’s said before Tojis finally bottoming out all the way to the hilt. Heavy balls smacking sinfully against your ass, fat head just kissing your cervix. “It’s me. I don’t give a hah- shit if it’s been f-four mouths, it’ll always be ngh- me.”

The couch creaked in protest as Toji fucked you like it was the last thing he’d do. Like he was trying to fuck every thought of whoever came after him right out of you - along with those silly little thoughts about the divorce.

“B-but-” your eyes widen as Toji runs his mouth - as hasty and urgent as his movements now. Fingers snaking up to toy with your still-sensitive clit, not even drawing circles anymore - just messy, little patterns just to get you off. “We’re already-”

“You s-still think we’re oh- nothing but exes?” he questions, sounding as surprised as you felt. “We can’t stay ah- God, we can’t stay apart and you fuckin’ know it. So…”

You gulp, already knowing the answer to the question he was just goading you into asking. “So?” 

“So…” Toji muses, giving your swollen lips a short, chaste peck. Whispering against them, “M’gonna hah- fuck you till everyone knows you’re mine.”

A promise that Toji Fushiguro was well and fully intent on fulfilling. And you didn’t doubt that he’d have any trouble with it, in fact. 

Because he’s rutting into you so animalistically now, so so sloppy. Torn between savoring the feeling of your plushy walls squeezing him to insanity and abusing your poor cervix. Prominent veins making you feel a maddening little thump thump thump as he roams for that one-

“Ah! Hngh- Toji!”

Found it. 

And Toji had everything he needed - you, his wife, spread so sinfully and stuffed to the brim with him. Hitting your sweet spot over and over- 

“No loser’s gonna fuck you like this.” he breathes against your ear. “Have you ngh- feeling this good.”

“I- ngh- fuck fuck fuck, Toji-” you let out, hips mindlessly bucking down in a pathetic attempt to meet his rough thrusts. “S’too- hah- oh my god. S’too good-”

“Shut up.” Oh he sounds so absolutely wrecked. Sanity crumbling away bit by bit every time he’s plunging his cock - so painfully hard - into your wet pussy. “Do you even ah- realize how sexy you look right now?” Toji throws his head back, eyes still locked on you like it killed him to look away. “Never lettin’ anyone else s-see ya like this. They’re gonna look at you and see me-”

You don’t even know what he’s babbling about anymore. Just that his achingly hard cock was making such a mess of you, pulling back only to go deeper. Massaging all the right spots as fucked you harder into the couch. 

“Me-” he gasps. “That date is gonna fuck- know,” Hips stuttering and absolutely filthy, “That cashier d-down the ngh- street that eyes you up every time is gonna know-” Angry. Desperate. So, so needy. “Your fucking lawyer- ngh- s’gonna know. They’ll s-see you and see me me me me-”

At this point you can only nod deliriously, letting out a broken little, “Hngh- yeah, wan’ that, Toji. Wan’ you so bad.”

Toji presses another chaste kiss - this time to your forehead. Whispering a quiet, “Then cum f’me, doll.”

You do - the hardest you ever think you ever have in your entire life. Thighs shaking, vision spotty, sparks of white-hot electricity going all the way from your hazy brain to where Toji was fucking you through it.

Muffling your moans with his mouth as he gives one, harsh thrust. Then spilling into your gummy walls, painting it all an obscene white with rope after rope of hot cum. 

So wet and hot - with him. All him. 

And you look so cute taking it all like the good little wife that you are, that he can’t help but press down on your lower stomach. Awe-struck at how your cunt gushes around him, coating his twitching cock as Toji fucks his seed deeper and deeper into you. 

But, hell, that wasn’t his favorite part - not by a long shot. Instead, it was probably when you pulled him into his arms, whispering sweet little nonsense in his ear about “how you missed this” and “that date wasn’t real anyway” as he fucks the two of you through your highs. Sweet. Familiar. 

“Oh, God-” he mutters into the crook of your neck, slightly calmer now. Much more clear-minded than the two of you were mere seconds before. “We broke the couch.” 

And it was true - one side was sagging much more than the other. Though you can only let out a giggle in response. Doesn’t matter, the two of you’ll pick out a new one tomorrow - he always hated this new one, anyway. “Happy anniversary, wifey.”

---

“Damn kid, that ol’ dad of yours sure is running late.” Shiu crosses and uncrosses his legs with slight nervousness. Eyeing the small, dark-haired boy playing with blocks a few feet away, “Maybe we should-”

“It’s okay. He’ll be back.” Megumi deadpans, sounding like the absolute last thing on his mind was why his dad was taking way too long for what should’ve been a half an hour errand. Shiu - on the other hand - had his mind whirling with imaginations of traffic accidents or murders or- what if the two of you killed each other- “And he’ll bring back mama too.”

You could almost hear the record screech to a halt. The older man stared wide-eyed at a slightly-smiling Megumi. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Wait- no, what did you-”

“Nothing.”

Because, hey, Megumi might’ve had to go without his favorite wolf plushie for a bit - but a magician never reveals his tricks, right?

A/N. So how does it feel to be played by a kid, hm?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[festeringfae]

Krisnix is so fucking funny. Imagine the only things you care about are being a successful defense attorney and being so obsessed with your crush that you'd go through the most convoluted, wildly inconvenient bullshit just to keep him close. And then you meet another guy who also only gives a shit about those two incredibly hyper-specific things. He doesn't have a crush on you, though, he has a crush on a guy who is basically exactly like you but infinitely more inconvenient and also went gray before he hit double-digits. You torch your crush's entire life for his audacity. He absolutely is not as much in love with you as he is the other guy still, even though that dude is an entire ocean away, but he does still take you to the world's shittiest dive bar once a week for 7 years. You kill his daughter's biological father and try to send him to jail for it. He makes your own employee send you to jail instead. He comes to visit you in jail and you find out he didn't even know you owned a dog this entire time.

[girlactionfigure]

Rabbi Reuven Israel Kott was a Torah prodigy whose cleverness and chutzpah saved thousands of Jews from annihilation by the Nazis.

Born in a Polish shtetl in 1897, Reuven was one of fifteen children. His family were Hasidic followers of the Ger Rebbe.

Reuven’s exceptional intellect was apparent at a young age. He was a gifted scholar of Talmud and Jewish scripture, so precocious that he was given rabbinic ordination when only 17 years old.

The Rebbe took a special liking to Reuven, and every Friday night Reuven sat next to the great man at his festive Sabbath gathering. Small in size - he stood only 5’1” - Reuven was known for his big brain, and big heart.

Reuven was selected by his community to represent them as the Jewish voice on the local provincial council. When the Polish president died in the 1920’s, young Reuven stood at the graveside with other clergy and delivered a eulogy on behalf of the Jews of Poland.

Although life seemed fairly good for Polish Jews at the time, the Ger Rebbe sensed that big trouble was coming. He urged his followers to get out of Poland and move to Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel), at that time British Mandate Palestine.

As the Rebbe’s right-hand man, Rabbi Reuven Kott threw himself into the mission of helping Jews leave Poland and return to their ancestral homeland.

The British had a quota system restricting the number of Jewish families they let in. Reuven took advantage of a bureaucratic loophole defining “family” as two parents and an undetermined number of offspring.

Reuven collected money and bribed Polish authorities to get blank birth certificates. He would then “create” new families, matching people up, changing names and identities as needed. Every “family" had at least a dozen children.

Reuven told those he helped that they must stick with their fake identity. Most people complied, but a few didn’t and were caught. Under threat of being sent back to Poland, somebody gave Reuven’s name to the authorities.

Reuven and his brother were on a train in Warsaw when three plain-clothes officers approached. After verifying his identity, they arrested Reuven for bribery and forgery and threw him in jail. As a pious Jew, Reuven couldn’t eat the non-kosher jail food, so every day his daughter brought him a kosher meal - a two hour journey each way.

After several long months, his brother finally got word that there was going to be a hearing in the case. He went to visit Reuven in jail, told him the news and asked which lawyer he wanted to hire.

Reuven scribbled something on a scrap of paper, folded it up and slipped it through the bars of his cell. Outside the jail, Reuven’s brother unfolded the note. He was shocked to read the contents: “Hire me the most anti-Semitic lawyer in Warsaw!“

Reuven’s family was baffled. With so many top-notch Jewish lawyers, why would he want an anti-Semite? Had his incarceration led to a mental breakdown? Reuven’s brother assured them that he was of sound mind, and he went to Warsaw and found an attorney notorious for his fierce hatred of Jews.

The day of the hearing arrived, and the courthouse was packed with hundreds of Hasids from Reuven’s community. Reuven was allowed only three minutes with his lawyer, and then the hearing began.

To everybody’s shock, Reuven’s lawyer stood up, made a brilliant argument, and got the case dismissed.

Back home in the shtetl, everybody wanted to know what Reuven had said to his lawyer in those three minutes. Reuven said his Talmud study had taught him that in a business deal, if you get three “Yes” answers, the deal will close.

He asked his lawyer three questions:

- You hate us Jews, don’t you?

- Do you want to see me rot and die in jail?

- Would you like all of us Jews gone from Poland?

The lawyer answered yes to all three questions. Reuven immediately shot back, “What good would it do if one measly Jew rots in jail? If you set me free, I can get all the Jews out of Poland!”

Reuven got what he wanted by blinding the lawyer with his own hate. He continued his work “creating” large families and helping them move to Palestine. The anti-Semitic attorney even helped him procure more blank birth certificates. People often asked Reuven when he would go to Eretz Yisrael. He said, “I’m like the captain of a sinking ship. It is my responsibility to get all the passengers out before I get in the lifeboat.”

Over the course of 20 years, Reuven helped tens of thousands of Jews escape Poland. Today, almost half a million descendants of those Polish Jews owe their lives to Rabbi Reuven Israel Kott.

Unfortunately, Reuven himself never made it to Israel. He was murdered at Auschwitz in 1942.

For proving that one small man in three short minutes can accomplish miracles beyond measure, we honor Rabbi Reuven Israel Kott as this week’s Thursday Hero at Accidental Talmudist.

This story was told to us by Reuven’s granddaughter, Ziporah Bank. She heard it from her mom - the daughter who brought kosher meals to Rabbi Kott in prison. 

Accidental Talmudist

[llamagoddessofficial]

What if MC in the Prisoner!AU was the boys’ attorney?

@recklesslycaffeinated au where Don convinced Reader to go into law with him, lol

Mc is a defence attorney who often defends monsters pro bono. It can be difficult for them to navigate the complex human legal system, and she’s there to help.

Sans: They got along well from the start. Sans is charming, smart, and gives off such a harmless aura. Although she got the sense some of his niceness was for show, he was still helpful and polite, and he seemed really interested in the legal processes. As his defence attorney, Mc is privy to a lot of information that not many other people get to see. She digs into his old records in preparation for his trial... and she starts to see some worrying patterns. As such, despite Sans’ persona, she wisens up to what he’s really like a lot faster than her nurse & asylum counterparts. He seems sweet, for sure, but the records she’s digging through paint a portrait of a different monster entirely.

... But she tries her hardest to treat him well, and get him a fair trial regardless. It’s not her job to be the jury. It’s her job to make sure the jury can do their job.

Initially, Sans was sweet to her in the hopes that it would bore her and convince her he’s harmless. The last thing he needed is some human lawyer discovering his past, and stopping his ‘mission’. But... then he started getting attached. Very attached. He started falling in love. Now, he’ll do anything he can to stay close to his little lawyer- and to protect their future together, he’ll do anything to prevent her from finding out just how high his EXP really is, and how deep the rabbit hole of his past goes. 

Red: Their relationship is a somewhat fraught one. He adores her and is a relentless flirt, trying to get her to be his, meanwhile she desperately tries to maintain professional boundaries, unwilling to get involved with the head of a mob. Though she first was intimidated by him, she now just considers him a big (annoyingly charming) nuisance. They met after she defended some of his underlings and successfully kept a few out of jail, without realising just who they were working for, and now anytime it’s his turn to face legal music he ignores all the expensive lawyers his brother wants him to take and goes straight to her.

She’s so cute. He loves her. He loves how she tries so hard to paint him as a half decent guy when taking press statements, he loves the way she glares at him if he starts saying dumb things in interviews. He’s got bribes running through the whole legal system at this point, from judges to juries, he just likes being able to spend time with her during trials. 

Is he committing minor, easy-to-defend crimes, just so he can hire her as his attorney and enjoy taking up her time? Perhaps. He’ll be pleadin’ the fifth on that one.

Skull: The human-eating beast we all know and love. He has very little left in his head- nobody else would take his defence, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t do her best to help. And despite his... reputation... she decides to take his case. The gory details of it all deeply upset her, but her aim for his trial isn’t to say he didn’t do it- it’s just to successfully plead insanity and get him placed in care instead of in a prison. Sans actually helps her out a little, telling her about how monster Souls can warp after tragedies, which she hopes is grounds for arguing that Skull was under duress and didn’t act with malice or forethought. While his case goes on, he’s held in a specialised facility. She decides to start visiting him face-to-face regularly, just to get a sense of him... tell him about how his case is going. Maybe it’ll help him, if he understands he’s got someone on his side through this.

Their meetings take place with him fully tied down and masked. Animalistic or no, he’s still legally entitled to meetings with his lawyer. Unlike his prison self, this Skull hasn’t been rotting in a cell for years- he’s fresh from his murders, just as powerful, but still sharp. Still aware. Still violent. From the very beginning, he becomes more alert when she’s in the room, he leans forward when she talks. He breathes faster when she’s nearby, and he holds her gaze until she gets shivers. 

At first, she wishes he’d say something.

Then he starts talking. And she wishes he’d stayed silent.

[seat-safety-switch]

When the fires finally got put out, the reporters were there. This was odd to me at the time, as I was convinced in this timeline that "reporters" were obsolete. These folks, such as they were, were in fact contractors, eking out their precarious pseudo-employment by selling tasty nuggets of news to the omnipresent media sentiences that decided which of them we got to see on TV. Er, the other thing, not TV.

Better people than myself have complained about the decline of journalism, especially local, human-interest stories like the one I was now at the epicentre of. What's important here is that the story was so exciting, so salacious, so profitable, that I was swarmed like toddlers playing soccer. A million questions were shouted at me. Near-infrared beams scanned the contours of my skull to see if I was perhaps some kind of wanted criminal or previous-generation internet celebrity. One of the firefighters even stopped, mid-dousing, to see what all the hubbub was about.

Here now is the story I couldn't give them then. It was Lobsterfest at Red Lobster. For those of you unaware of the tradition, it is a period of time in which Red Lobster gets a little cooped-up and starts making crazy, experimental dishes for cheap.

Where this becomes a must-visit event for me is that Red Lobster corporate is historically very bad at pricing, especially when a short-term promotion is being forced on untrained management. Someone with a devious enough mind and absolutely no shame about arguing the minutiae of the menu can easily combine the cost of two meals into enough lobster to fill a bathtub.

I have many great memories of Lobsterfests past, which lured the entire Safety-Switch clan out of their various hibernations in an attempt to do what we did best: exploit legal loopholes in restaurant promotions. When I was 14, my uncle got shanked by a waitress at the former place off Halton when he asked for a sixth refill on his "bottomless" shrimp cocktail. He still ate another full one before collapsing at the table from blood loss. My dad covered the bill, half out of shock and half out of awe.

Well, Uncle Disconnect was going to be really proud of me this year. It's just as well, because I didn't have time to buy him a Christmas present while he was in jail and all (his attorney stresses I must tell you it was for an unrelated matter.)

Still, "driving a line manager insane enough with special requests for substitutions that he tries to burn his own kitchen down with a homemade Molotov Sizzler®" is the gift that keeps on giving all year.

[rius-cave]

Hi, I'm new to this, I do have a question for your prison AU in regards to the other characters like Alastor and Husk, though I don't know if you already answered this or not. Who is in prison, who is NOT in prison, and what are they in prison for? Like from what I see, this is what I predict: Angel Dust is in prison for illegal prostitution(since he most likely was too afraid to rat out Valentino as his pimp he was sent to jail), Husk was arrested for illegal gambling, Alastor was arrested for murder, Niffty arrested for burglary, and Sir Pentious was arrested for smuggling illegal weapons. Correct me if I'm wrong. I'm still new to this AU.

Hello! Welcome!

I HAVE indeed gone into this in the past! If you want the long answers, I suggest you check out my tag "prison au" to get up to speed, but I'll give you a TL;DR :)

Most of the male characters are in prison. This is an all male prison, the ladies are still present one way or another, though!

Nifty is the lunch lady, Charlie visits her dad often and is a law student and aspiring defense attorney. Vaggie is a former cop who is now a private detective, helping out Charlie. Sera is the head judge and also mother of Adam (most likely adoptive). Emily is Adam's sister and also a law student. Lute was Adam's protege and next in command until Adam was arrested.

Angel Dust is in prison because of his mafia family. The details aren't ironed out yet, but something along the lines of taking the fall for something gone wrong (think kinda like Moxxie from Helluva Boss). His 'prostitution' only started once he got in prison, much like how Angel only became a pornstar after he died in canon. He met Valentino in prison too.

Husk is indeed arrested for illegal gambling!

Alastor IS a serial murderer, but he's not in prison for that! His crime isn't yet set in stone, but it's something along the lines of illegal radio broadcast of sensitive information or something like that lol

I think I actually haven't talked about Sir Pentious in this AU, but yup! Probably something to do with possession or distribution of illegal weapons and is just a general disruptor of peace lol

[octuscle]

As a lawyer I'm on the way to some young criminals as new clients doing some pro bono jobs but my luggage got lost. There's just a suitcase from MIA

I think this is really absolutely great of you. But defense lawyers are famous for their generosity. So it's a pleasure for me to let you have the suitcase. Is it okay if I have it delivered directly to your hotel room? That makes it easier for you in case of doubt.

You're sitting in your room at the Holiday Inn at the airport. If your life plan had worked out, you wouldn't have to work at all at the age of 36. Or you should at least stay at the Grand Hyatt. But in that case, you don't get any money. You can only hope that your calculations will work out and that you will get the two gangsters off. Then your market value should increase considerably. And Holiday Inn will never see you again. The phone rings and someone at the front desk tells you that your luggage has arrived. That's right, the suitcase! You get up, panting. You could have taken the stairs down one floor to the lobby. But you're in a bit of bad shape. Poor diet, little exercise. Have you ever wondered if your appearance has something to do with your professional success?

The suitcase is at least a major hit. A metal suitcase like that must cost over $1,000. And this one is brand new, too. Conveniently, the combination lock is also still factory set to 000. You take the elevator to your room, heave the heavy piece onto your bed and open it. Your hope for an impressive black suit is not fulfilled. But the leather jacket is also impressive. Unfortunately, you have no chance to close the zipper over your paunch. Therefore, you don't even need to try the jeans. But the undershirt should fit somehow. Sure, you can see every roll of flab. But they are always better than the gray, worn-out ones you have.

You go out into the hallway and get a cold beer from the vending machine. Your reflection in the mirror reminds you a bit of Marlon Brando in The Godfather. Unfortunately, the older Marlon Brando… With the beer on the nightstand, you fall asleep. And you have a wet dream about Marlon Brando.

At 07:00 o'clock there is a discreet knock on the door of your room. A bellboy pushes the breakfast cart into the dining room of your suite at the Four Seasons in Down Town. You open the curtains with the iPad on your nightstand, stand up, and hand the bellman a $100 bill. You don't care if he's more excited about it than about seeing the promising new star criminal defense attorney naked. Not before the cappucino and the freshly squeezed orange juice. For the press and also for all the other participants, you are doing the job here pro bono. Because you are shocked at how the American legal system sends people to jail just because of prejudice against disadvantaged immigrants. No one really needs to know that it's not just your lavish expenses that are being paid by the Kazakh oligarch whose two doltish nephews were somewhat unfortunate enough to have shot their way out of a failed business deal. If the nephews' buddies, who are now sitting in the dock for the two idiots, are not acquitted, your client won't care either. You would regret that for a few minutes because of your ego. And then console yourself with two or three weeks on the Cote d'Azur. You may use the house of your client in Antibes. He is never there anyway.

While you congratulate yourself once again on having studied Russian and Kazakh as well as law, you stand in front of the closet and think about what to wear to your get-to-know-your-client visit. Yes, you look great in Brioni. But you feel more comfortable in other clothes. In the ensemble you choose, you look a bit like the young Marlon Brando in "The Wild One," you think.

Maybe your clients will be more open-minded if you look like one of them. But who are you kidding. You look better than anyone!

[gyllenhaalstories]

PRESUMED INNOCENT CONTENT MASTERLIST

last updated: august 20 🖤

below the read more, you will find a list of all of the content i created for presumed innocent. i used my best research skills to find all of the traces of the rusty brainrot and archive them here!!! the fics and the gifs were made by me. DO NOT STEAL. DO NOT REPOST.

dividers credits: @sizzlingcloudmentality (thank you for all of these beautiful dividers and for the idea to do this post!!!)

general presumed innocent tag that includes reblogged content

Alibi

What Goes Around Comes Around part 1 (Barbara)

What Goes Around Comes Around part 2 (threesome with Barbara)

Fetish

please remember you must be 18 OR OLDER to read my fics.

Trailers: x & x & x

Episode 1: Bases Loaded

shower at carolyn's

the flashbacks

the crime scene

the morning after at the office

waking up with barbara

getting ready to get fired

on his way to get fired

getting fired

depressing pep talk with raymond at the bar

visiting his mistress' ex husband

rusty the baseball coach

Episode 2: People vs. Rozat Sabich

the breakup

telling his wife that he is a suspect in his mistress' murder (and he impregnated her)

unpleasant family dinner part 1 & part 2 & part 3

rusty is pretty when he cries

attacking the district attorney is not a good look 1 & 2

pov your best friend's wife hates you (valid)

damsel in distress part 1 & part 2

angry in the car

rusty visits his new home (jail) & more jail & shower in jail for emphasis

ray the slay saves the day

Episode 3: Discovery

barbara at the bar

Episode 4: The Burden

barbara and rusty reunite

rusty calls barbara

Episode 5: Pregame

rusty in the shower

barbara is a work of art

Episode 6: The Elements

rusty shaves

raymond horgan appreciation post

bedroom talk 1 & 2

kitchen talk 1

kitchen talk with jaden 2

Episode 7: The Witness

rusty sabich's fairy dust

bathroom breakdown at carolyn's

ipad dad

the people call rusty sabich

get out of my car

Episode 8: The Verdict

dinner with the sabich

phone call in the morning

DO NOT STEAL. DO NOT REPOST. I DO NOT ALLOW MY GIFS TO BE REPOSTED ON OTHER PLATFORMS.

Commentary

Episode 1 & 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

Episode 6

Episode 7

Episode 8

dividers credits: @/sizzlingcloudmentality

[allegedlyaugust]

ok but would y'all read a sskk legal au fic??

i'm talking accused murderer!akuatgawa and reluctant defense attorney!atsushi. the forbidden lawyer x client relationship. a nsfw court case drama. i'll deliver jail and office visits, hearings, case prep, a murder trial, exciting violations of professional legal ethics

i'll even throw in prosecutor!teruko

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Tessa Stuart at Rolling Stone:

KRISTA HARDING’S DAUGHTER was eight weeks old when that police cruiser pulled behind her on the interstate and hit the lights in September 2019. She called her boss at the Little Caesars in Pinson, Alabama, where she’d just been promoted to manager: I’m going to be a little late, but I’m coming in! Don’t panic. Harding’s registration tag was expired. She figured the officer would write her a ticket and she’d be on her way, but when he came back after running her driver’s license, he had handcuffs out. There was a felony warrant out for her arrest, he said: “Chemical endangerment of a child.” Harding used her most patient customer-service tone to ask the officer if he’d please check again. But there was no mistake, the cop confirmed: He was taking her to the Etowah County Detention Center, almost an hour’s drive away. “I’m in the back of the cop car just bawling my eyes out, like, ugly-face-snot-bubbles crying,” Harding remembers. She was worried about being away from her newborn, and she was confused: Chemical endangerment of a child? “I think of somebody cooking meth with a baby on their hip,” she says. 

She’s right to think that: The Alabama law, passed in 2006, was intended to target those who expose children to toxic chemicals, or worse, explosions, while manufacturing methamphetamine in ad-hoc home labs.  Harding says it took at least eight hours to be booked into a cell that night, and it was more than a week before she was finally allowed to see a judge. She was still leaking breast milk, and desperately missing her two daughters. Her family wasn’t allowed to bring her clean underwear, so every day she washed her one pair, saturated with menstrual blood, in the cell sink, then hung them to dry.

Harding says she eventually learned the warrant for her arrest had been issued because of a urine test taken at a doctor’s visit early in her pregnancy. Sitting alone in her cell, she conjured a vague memory of her OB-GYN warning her local authorities had begun to crack down on weed. The comment had struck her as odd at the time: Nine years earlier, when she was pregnant with her first child, the same doctor at the same hospital had told Harding, who’d smoked both pot and cigarettes before she was pregnant, that she’d rather Harding kick the nicotine than the weed. (Studies are unequivocal about the fact that cigarettes contribute to adverse pregnancy outcomes, but the research on weed is less conclusive, with some doctors arguing it at least has therapeutic benefits, like helping with morning sickness.)

But in the years between her first child and her second, something had changed in certain parts of Alabama. In Etowah County, in 2013, the sheriff, the district attorney, and the head of the local child-welfare agency held a press conference to announce they intended to aggressively enforce that 2006 law. Instead of going after the manufacturers of meth, though, they planned to target pregnant women who used virtually any substance they deemed harmful to a developing fetus.

“If a baby is born with a controlled-substance dependency, the mother is going to jail,” then-Sheriff Todd Entrekin said at the time. Police weren’t required to establish that a child was born with a chemical dependency, though — or even that a fetus experienced any harm — a drug test, a confession, or just an accusation of substance use during pregnancy was enough to arrest women for a first offense that carries a maximum sentence of 10 years. One public defender would later call these “unwinnable cases.” Over the following decade, Etowah County imprisoned hundreds of mothers — some of whom were detained, before trial, for the rest of their pregnancies, inside one of the most brutal and inhumane prisons in the country, denied access to prenatal care and adequate nutrition, they say — in the name of protecting their children from harm. 

[...]

In the past two decades, Alabama has become the undisputed champion of arresting pregnant women for actions that wouldn’t be considered crimes if they weren’t pregnant: 649 arrests between 2006 and 2022, almost as many arrests as documented in all other states combined, according to advocacy group Pregnancy Justice, which collected the statistics. Across the U.S., the vast majority of women arrested on these charges were too poor to afford a lawyer, and a quarter of cases were based on the use of a legal substance, like prescription medication.

Today, Marshall is the attorney general of Alabama, and just a few months ago, the state’s Supreme Court used the same logic — that life begins at conception, therefore an embryo is legally indistinguishable from a living child — in a decision that was responsible for shutting down IVF clinics across the state. The ruling was a triumph for the fetal-personhood movement, a nationwide crusade to endow fertilized eggs, embryos, and fetuses with constitutional rights. Personhood has been the Holy Grail for the anti-abortion movement since Roe v. Wade was decided in 1973, but outlawing abortion — at any stage of pregnancy, for any reason — is just the start of what legal recognition of embryos’ rights could mean for anyone who can get pregnant. Experts have long warned that elevating an embryo’s legal status effectively strips the person whose body that embryo occupies of her own rights the moment she becomes pregnant.

Across the country, this theory has led to situations like in Texas, where a hospital kept a brain-dead woman alive for almost two months — against her own advanced directive and the wishes of her family — in deference to a state law that prevents doctors from removing a pregnant person from life support. (The hospital only relented after the woman’s husband sued for “cruel and obscene mutilation of a corpse.”) Or in New Hampshire, where a court allowed a woman who was hit by a car while seven months pregnant to be sued by her future child for negligence because she failed to use “a designated crosswalk.” Or in Washington, D.C., where a terminally ill cancer patient, 26 weeks pregnant, requested palliative care, but was instead subjected to court-ordered cesarean section. Her baby survived for just two hours; she died two days later.

Or in Alabama, where, in 2019, Marshae Jones walked into the Pleasant Grove Police Department with her six-year-old daughter expecting to be interviewed for a police investigation. Months earlier, Jones, four and a half months pregnant at the time, had been shot by her co-worker during a dispute. In the hospital after the shooting, Jones underwent an emergency C-section; her baby, whom she’d named Malaysia, did not survive. Rather than indicting the shooter, though, a grand jury indicted Jones, who they decided “intentionally” caused the death of her “unborn baby” because she allegedly picked a fight “knowing she was five months pregnant.” The charges were ultimately dismissed, but Jones’ lawyer says her record still shows the arrest, and Jones, who lost her job after the incident, struggled to find work after her case attracted national attention.

The threat this ideology poses to American women is not contained to Alabama: Recognition of fetal personhood is an explicit policy goal of the national Republican Party, and it has been since the 1980s. The GOP platform calls for amending the U.S. Constitution to recognize the rights of embryos, and representatives in Congress have introduced legislation that would recognize life begins at conception hundreds of times — as recently as this current session, when the Life at Conception Act attracted the co-sponsorship of 127 sitting Republican members of Congress.

[...]

Taking inspiration from Black Americans’ fight for equal rights, the anti-abortion movement began thinking of its own crusade as a fight for equality. “The argument that the unborn was the ultimate victim of discrimination in America was really resonant with a lot of white Americans, a lot of socially conservative Americans — and it was vague enough that people who disagreed about stuff like feminism, the welfare state, children born outside of marriage, the Civil Rights Movement” could find common ground, Ziegler says.  By the time the Supreme Court ruled on Roe v. Wade in 1973, the idea that a fetus was entitled to constitutional protections was mainstream enough to be a central piece of Texas’ argument that “Jane Roe” did not have a right to get an abortion.  

The justices rejected that idea. “The word ‘person,’ as used in the Fourteenth Amendment, does not include the unborn,” Justice Harry Blackmun wrote. But he gave the movement a cause to rally behind for the next half-century by adding: “If this suggestion of personhood is established, [Roe’s] case, of course, collapses, for the fetus’ right to life would then be guaranteed specifically by the Amendment.”  Making that happen became the anti-abortion movement’s primary focus from that moment on. One week after Roe was decided, a U.S. congressman first proposed amending the Constitution to guarantee “the right to life to the unborn, the ill, the aged, or the incapacitated.” It was called the Human Life Amendment, and though it failed to make it to a floor vote that session, it would be reproposed more than 300 times in the following decades.  By 1980, the idea had been fully embraced by the Republican Party: Ronald Reagan’s GOP adopted it into the party platform — where it remains to this day — and in 1983, the Republican-majority Congress voted, for the first and only time, on the idea of adding a personhood amendment to the U.S. Constitution. That vote failed. 

After their 1983 defeat, activists turned their attention away from the U.S. Capitol and toward the states, where they sought to insert the idea of fetal personhood into as many state laws as possible: everything from legislation creating tax deductions for fetuses or declaring them people for census-taking purposes, to expanding child-endangerment and -neglect laws.  Activists pursued this agenda everywhere, but they were most successful at advancing it in states that share certain qualities. “You could draw a Venn diagram of American slavery and see that what’s happening today is in common in those states,” says Michele Goodwin, a Georgetown University law professor and author of the book Policing the Womb. “Some would say, ‘Well, OK, how is that relevant?’ Slavery itself was explicitly about denying personal autonomy, denying the humanity of Black people. Now, clearly, these laws affect women of all ethnicities. But the point is: If you’re in a constitutional democracy and you found a way to avoid recognizing the constitutional humanity of a particular group of people, it’s something that’s not lost in the muscle memory of those who legislate and of the courts in that state.”

Rolling Stone has a solid in-depth report on the war on women and reproductive health in Alabama, going into detail the fetal personhood movement.

[remembertheplunge]

Soup packet integration

“Still he lifts the mallet, still he may draw the sword, still he might speak out for a cause he knows is right”

July 19.     From: A Year With Hadiz: by Daniel Ladinsky

(My margin note to the above: July 19, 2017)

Zoe wrote that I have abandoned the people of my class for the people of the street and of the jail. This is wrong for her. I lift the mallet of a touch of the soul. It’s soup packet integration. 

I had an  E unit meeting with Charles last night in the Stanislaus County Detention Center (jail) .

Charles told me during my visit with him in the jail that he had offered a new E unit inmate soup packets. The new guy was untrusting and turned Charles down. The next day, the new guy asked Charles “Do you still have those soup packets?”Charles still had them and gave them to his new friend.

After being released, his new friend wrote to Charles and put money on Charle’s books.

End of entry

Notes: 7/19/2024

From March of 2017 until late October of that year,  I became pretty heavily involved with having encounters with the homeless. The encounter could involve giving them a bag containing food, socks and toiletries. On some occasions, I let the homeless man stay in my house with me for days or for  a few weeks. I also was continuing to see my clients in the local jail. I’m a criminal defense attorney. I had told my sister Zoe about my homeless encounter  and jail adventures. She wrote me a letter expressing her disapproval. 

Something as ordinary as soup packets can be valuable when you are in jail. They come from the commissary. You have to have money on your account , or, on your books as it is referred to by those in jail, in order to obtain the packets from the commissary.. When Charles (not his real name) offered his soup packets to the new inmate, that was actually a significant gesture of friendship. Which, his new friend acknowledged when he was released by writing to Charles and putting money on his books. The men had an encounter. Both were healed by the gesture of the other.

And, so was I when I had the above mentioned encounters with the homeless and the jailed the experiences healed me from the damage done by the culture of comfort.

[mus1g4]

Does Hampton Jail offer interrogation scenarios? Or attorney visit before court?

Yes! We offer both!

Out team can often provide interrogation through our Guard staff.

As for a lawyer visit, we can provide you with an attorney, or you can set up a phone visit using a friend.

[reasoningdaily]

https://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2021/09/03/beverly-hills-police-lawsuit/

A Beverly Hills police task force arrested 106 people. All but one were Black, lawsuit claims.

Beverly Hills Police targeted Black people with harassment and arrest for low-level or nonexistent violations in an effort to keep them away from Rodeo Drive, according to a class-action racial discrimination lawsuit filed in California Superior Court Monday by civil rights attorneys Ben Crump and Bradley Gage.

The complaint centers on the Beverly Hills Police Department’s “Operation Safe Streets,” a campaign to address safety on the city’s famed luxury shopping destination of Rodeo Drive.

The suit claims that between March 2020 and July 2021, the task force made 106 arrests — 105 of whom were of Black people.

“If 2 percent of the residents of Beverly Hills are Black but almost 100 percent of the arrests are Black [people,] that’s a pretty clear indication something’s wrong,” Gage told The Washington Post Thursday.

“The women and men of BHPD take an oath to protect human life and enforce the law — regardless of race,” Beverly Hills Police Chief Dominick Rivetti said in a statement Wednesday. “Any violation of this pledge is contrary to the values of this department. We take all concerns regarding the conduct of our officers very seriously.“

During a Wednesday news conference announcing the lawsuit, Crump — the attorney best-known for representing the family of George Floyd — framed the alleged racial bias in Beverly Hills as a national scourge that has led to the death or injury of people whose names are now synonymous with racially biased and violent policing.

“If implicit bias goes unchecked and discrimination goes unchecked, it leads to what happened to George Floyd in Minneapolis; what happened to Breonna Taylor in Louisville; what happened to Jacob Blake Jr. in Kenosha, Wis.,” he said. “That’s what happens if the actions of the Beverly Hills Police Department goes unchecked.”

Rivetti in his Wednesday statement said he formed the “Rodeo Drive Team” to address complaints from businesses about a rise in burglary, shoplifting and nuisances such as public intoxication. Rivetti touted the success of the task force, noting that officers arrested individuals with “fraudulently obtained state unemployment benefits” and seizing $250,000 in cash and “ill-gotten debit cards.”

The police did not respond to The Post’s request for the number of arrests or their racial breakdown.

Gage said his team corroborated the figure through a variety of sources, including Beverly Hills police officers who were troubled by the trend that resulted from the 16-month safety operation.

The more than 100 arrestees were cited for a range of noncriminal behaviors such as roller skating or riding a scooter on the sidewalk to low-level infractions such as jaywalking. None of the same behaviors and infractions were enforced against White people, the lawsuit claims.

“The way [police] stop them for trivial things is troubling as well,” Gage said, alleging that Black people questioned by police would face four or five officers or have guns drawn on them. “White people don’t have that.”

The two named plaintiffs in the suit were not California residents but visiting from Philadelphia. During a visit to Beverly Hills last September, Khalil White and Jasmine Williams were arrested while riding scooters on the sidewalk and jailed for resisting arrest. The charges, like most of those that stemmed from the operation, were dropped.

The lawsuit claims that other incidents with police did not end in arrest but indicate a pattern of harassment and over-policing of Black people. Salehe Bembury, then the vice president of men’s footwear at Versace, was allegedly jaywalking and holding two shopping bags from his store last October when police stopped him, asked for his ID and ran his name for warrants.

Bembury filmed the encounter, which went viral.

“So I’m in Beverly Hills and I’m getting … searched for shopping at the store I work for and just being Black,” he said in an Instagram video.

“You’re making a completely different narrative,” a BHPD officer said in response.

The current iteration of the lawsuit focuses on the outcome of Operation Safe Streets, but Gage expects it will broaden to encompass a wider review of discriminatory policing by BHPD and expects the class of complainants to grow tenfold.

“I don’t think Ben or I have had five minutes since the press conference that we haven’t received phone calls. I’ve been getting them since midnight,” Gage said. Since Wednesday, he estimates the legal team has received at least 100 new complaints of racial profiling in traffic stops and other claims of discrimination from around the same period as Operation Safe Streets.

[alynnl]

A line I read in one of the Sherlock short stories ("My friend never stood on the dock") and my recent fixation on the Ace Attorney series led to me asking one question.

"What if Sherlock Holmes did go on trial, being accused of murder?"

The short story title would refer to the courthouse (maybe The Old Bailey, referenced in The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles.)

Immediately following his arrest, Holmes sends a message to Watson. In the note, he tells Watson not to get sentimental and visit him in jail that night, but instead to investigate the scene of the crime, and see what he can deduce from it. Showing great trust in his friend, Watson does just that and takes very detailed notes on his findings.

"There was never a greater test of my own powers of observation."

And because of Holmes's status as a sort of celebrity, he will have a closed trial, with only members of the judiciary and key people on the case attending. This is to prevent the trial from becoming a media circus, and ensure the verdict will be reached by evidence and testimony rather than public opinion.

Godfrey Norton, who is now Irene Adler's husband, is serving as Holmes's defense counsel. Irene herself is attending the trial, watching from the gallery. (This is the final way Irene outsmarted Holmes in A Scandal in Bohemia - everyone believed Norton was a prosecutor working on her behalf, when he was actually a public defender.)

The opposing counsel is Charles Culverton-Smith, a prosecutor who is on track to become Director of Public Prosecutions. There’s a possibility that he took the case to add to his reputation (but that’s just speculation on Watson and Norton’s part.)

Watson tells Holmes of this theory when they speak in the defendant's lobby just before the trial, but Holmes is skeptical.

"If Culverton-Smith truly wanted to bolster his reputation, he would insist on a public trial where he could show his legal prowess to a larger audience. There is something else at play here, something far more sinister."

The trial begins. Both Norton and Culverton-Smith give their legal arguments, supporting their stances with evidence and witness testimony.

Watson is the final witness to speak in the trial. He describes his findings at the crime scene, and tries to use factual language (as Holmes remarked to him before, when talking about his writings.) Everyone in the courtroom (including the judge and the prosecution) believe Watson's observations to be so important, that they agree to call for a thirty minute recess. During the pause in proceedings, Lestrade and other policemen to look over the crime scene one more time alongside Watson to confirm what he said was true.

Sure enough, Watson's deductions prove that Sherlock Holmes couldn't have been the killer. When court is back in session, Lestrade gives his report. Based on the new information, the judge hands down a verdict of "not guilty" to Sherlock Holmes.

There is little time to celebrate, as Holmes immediately whisks Watson away to the streets of London. He insists they make haste the nearest carriage, because "There's still time to catch the true mastermind behind this devious plot!"

Lestrade picks up on Holmes's pursuit and decides to lead his own forces to block one of the main exits to London.

Meanwhile, Holmes and Watson enter a high speed chase against the true culprit, who's been behind at least two other incidents of framing people for murders he committed.

At the end of the chase, the criminal is surrounded by Lestrade and his police force on one side, along with Holmes and Watson (who is armed with his revolver) on the other side. He finally surrenders and gives himself up, at last being taken into custody.

Watson is astonished at this turn of events. "My dear Holmes, you've done it again! I'm speechless!"

"Indeed I have, but I insist you don't undersell your role in this, dear Watson. This case would have a much darker conclusion without your thoughtful analysis. I trust that you will reflect that in your writings, if there is ever a time you will be permitted to release the details to the public."

Charles Culverton-Smith catches up with Holmes and Watson. He didn't get a chance to speak with them after the trial, but wanted them to know that he harbored no ill will towards Holmes. He was simply doing his job as a man who practices law, and couldn't imagine leaving the trial to anyone else. Because everyone deserves a fair trial, and many other lawyers are biased either for or against Holmes, depending on how his actions affected their cases.

Holmes comments that Culverton-Smith will make a fine Director of Public Prosecutions when the time comes, since his integrity speaks for itself.

"If I am ever on the dock in the future, I would trust your judgment."

Watson insists Holmes not talk about "the next time in court" because he doesn't want there to be a "next time."

Holmes agrees to move on from the subject. He points out there is still ample time for breakfast and sets off to find the nearest place that will serve Watson's favorite dishes. "My treat, naturally."

Watson concludes the story mentioning that five years have passed since the first and only trial of his friend, Sherlock Holmes. The events in the closed courtroom have been made public, to teach students of law how to conduct a fair trial of a famous (or infamous) client.