#proceedings and sentencing. Evidence

[sakebytheriver]

We really lost the battle when we let those paranormal/mysticism types frame the fact that nonbelievers never encounter that shit because the ghosts know you don't believe in them so they avoid you rather than the actual fact of the matter being that the human brain is a complicated mess of squishy organic material and neurons that will reinforce your already held beliefs by inventing evidence that wasn't there in reality

Like we really just lost the whole battle right then and there, probably one of the most culty things people who believe in the paranormal and mysticism say

[carriesthewind]

WOW.

Okay, after a night's sleep, I have decided that yeah, there is value in responding to this absolutely steaming pile of ignorant, self-centered, self-important, anti-intellectual, b.s.

It looks like a number of people in the notes were swayed, at least to some degree, by this garbage, so I think it is worth trying to show why it is nonsense.

(Also it's possible I'm still spoiling for a fight after being denied an evidentiary hearing on Friday.)

I'm not reblogging the post because folks don't need a self-aggrandizing tantrum on their dash, but I do think it is worth taking a look for yourself, in order to practice your analytical skills. Some questions to consider as you read:

(1) What is OP saying in her original post? What claims is she making?

(2) How, if at all, does the poster respond to claims OP made? What claims is the poster saying that OP made? Do these match what OP actually said? If not, (a) what techniques does the poster use to transform what OP said into the claims the poster is claiming OP made? (b) What rhetorical purpose does it serve for the poster to warp OP's claims?

(3) What affirmative claims is the poster making? What evidence or arguments do they provide to support their claims? Do they explore any of the specifics or real world implications of their claims? If not, what real world implications of their claims can you think of?

(3) What other rhetorical techniques does the poster use to bolster their argument? Do these techniques actually enhance and support the substance of their argument?

(4) Relatedly, how does the poster play into the biases of their assumed audience (tumblr users with generally progressive policies). What claims do they make to play into those biases? What evidence or argument, if any, do they make to support those claims? Are these claims by the poster reasonably related to the claims made by OP?

Now, let's explore their response in detail!

(Also obviously don't harass the poster, and I would recommend not directly engaging with them at all. Harassment is vile and makes you far worse than them. And earnest engagement is unlikely to be productive - the OP tried to engage with them politely (and even offered to help) in the notes of poster's original post. In response, the poster (1) implied that OP is an obsessive rude busybody. (2) Told OP to "Shhhhh. Chill." (in response to (paraphrased), 'hey, the advice someone else gave you is probably a waste of time and effort'). (3) And finally, after condescendingly telling OP, "Breathe. Practice radical acceptance. Know that I am here on the other side of the internet, flagrantly wasting my effort and thinking of you every second of that time," proceeded to prove that they were, in fact, "thinking of [OP] every second of that time" by searching OP's blog to find this post by OP and dumping this Arrested-Development-level demand to be taken seriously in the reblogs.)

(All of which is to say: hi, poster who was "being vagueposted about." I assume you are reading this, because you demonstrably don't have the good sense to block and move on. I'm not going to block you in advance, because I think you have the right to make your own terrible decisions, and I suspect any response you make is going to be *very* funny. See you in the notes!)

So, let's go through the poster's response, paragraph by paragraph.

They begin by doubling down on the stance that, "any sufficiently deep enthusiasm is indistinguishable from academic rigor." This, they say, is their defense of that stance. Let's see how it goes - but first, I think it's worth remembering, OP's original post is literally a single sentence long.

OP's claim, paraphrased, that the claim that "any sufficiently deep enthusiasm is indistinguishable from academic rigor" is incorrect and anti-intellectual. If we read the OP's tags, she clarifies that enthusiasm is valuable, but different from expertise.

The poster starts their defense with a long...explanation that the structure of their claim was a reference to the Arthur C Clarke's third "law" (read: sci-fi fiction adage).

*deep breath*

Ok. I'm a big a fan of wordplay as the next person. And I know from personal experience that it can be really frustrating to do some fun wordplay to make a point, and then get misinterpreted here on tumblr.com.

But. The wordplay has to make a point for it to be relevant to your defense. OP's claim wasn't "this poster did a bad job with the linguistic structure of this sentence and is not familiar with classic sci-fi." How does the "rhetorical structure" of the poster's claim support the substance of their claim???

It doesn't, is the answer. The poster explicitly asks this question later down, but then they never actually answer it. Instead, the rhetorical effect of this whole digression is just to throw out surface level references to things (Arthur C Clarke! "AI"!) that might make the poster sound more thoughtful and knowledgeable. It also creates distance from OP's actual point - as the post continues, the poster has to remind us what they're talking about. This gives the poster more control over the narrative, over what claims are under discussion.

Which leads to the poster's next paragraph: the unanswered question of why the poster structured their claim to resemble a sci-fi author's famous quote, and a baseless attack on OP.

And I think it is worth really lingering on this attack on OP. The poster claims, OP perhaps is "misreading or misinterpreting" the poster's point. But what on earth is the poster talking about? OP literally just quoted the poster's exact words and then said that they think this is anti-intellectual. What "misreading or misinterpreting" is being done?

No. Instead, this attack rhetorically sets up the poster's next couple paragraphs: not actually defending their claim as OP originally quoted, but reinterpreting their own words, providing their own special unique meaning that they will then proceed to use for the rest of the post. They are redrawing the rhetorical bounds of the conversation. Rather than defending their stance, they are redefining their stance so that it matches the defense they now want to make.

(Which is still bad. It's a bad defense and it makes me very angry.)

The poster proceeds to define "academic rigor" in a way that just means, "enthusiasm." Notice how no part of their definition includes things like critical thinking skills, building up a knowledge base, testing ideas, receiving criticism (wow I wonder why), or any expertise or action to build up and test that expertise. It's just what a person "cares very much about," how much "curiosity" they have; some inherent quality someone who "NEEDS to know." (Also hit the bell for another surface level reference - this time to Herodotus - to make the poster sound more knowledgeable.) If you actually read the poster's definition, it is entirely "idk vibes i guess."

Now, having defined "academic rigor" as enthusiasm, they successfully declare that enthusiasm is a necessary precondition of enthusiasm.

And then, we get the best paragraph of this entire tantrum of a post: "Any sufficiently deep enthusiasm is indistinguishable from academic rigor. It's like a fractal -- the closer you look, the more complicated it gets." No only is this another attempted surface level reference, this time to fractals, but just. What is this supposed to mean. At a glance, it seems like it kind of follows from the last paragraph - maybe, the more an enthusiast looks at something, the more there is to know? But the closer you look at this sentence, the more nonsensical it gets. What does things getting more complicated the more you look at them have to do with academic rigor (either a real definition or the poster's enthusiasm-based definition)? More importantly, what does it have to do with proving the point - that enthusiasm is indistinguishable from academic rigor? (You might as well say, "the further you fall down the rabbit hole, the deeper you realize it goes," except then more people would realize you are expressing straight conspiracist reasoning oops.)

Now, several paragraphs in and having firmly taken control of the rhetorical boundaries of the argument, the poster finally decides to provide some context to the original statement (and needlessly insult OP for trying to be helpful again).

The poster correctly quotes relevant parts of the discussion (although mischaracterizes their own responses as "polite" instead of "incredibly condescending and rude"). However, the poster then immediately characterizes OP's response as "muddied." Because words have objective meanings, however, we do not need to accept this characterization. OP expressed her argument very clearly. Rather, it is the the poster who claimed that OP was making an argument that she was not, which we can paraphrase as, 'passion and capacity for learning are limited to formal education at academic institutions.' It would be convenient for the poster if OP was making this argument, because it could be easy to argue against. But since OP clearly stated that she does not believe this clearly incorrect thing that the poster made up in her head, the poster claims that her response was "muddied."

The poster emphasizes this false claim in the next few paragraphs. They say, "to me she seems to be arguing that one MUST (?) receive formal training at an academic institution ("academic training" "trained expertise") in order to achieve that level of rigor." But OP simply doesn't say that. You can look at the reply the poster quoted, it doesn't say what the poster says it does.

Now, this is speculation on my part, but I think the poster really believes that OP is saying 'passion and capacity for learning are limited to formal education at academic institutions.' I think they believe this because its how they feel when they hear the (correct) statement that enthusiasm does not equal expertise. The poster repeatedly says that they think that enthusiasm for learning is the same as expertise. They throw a tantrum after receiving the slightest, politest, disagreement. They think someone giving them advice that hey, maybe its a good idea to get a basic foundation of knowledge before cold-emailing experts is a busybody who is obsessed with lecturing them. The poster simply, demonstrably, doesn't believe expertise is real, and refuses to admit that someone else might know more or better than them. If they "care very much about getting it right," how dare you say they aren't as good as anyone with "academic training," fuck you very much you elitist jerk.

This sense is emphasized by their next paragraph. First, they shift the rhetoric framework of the conversation again. The actual claim the poster says they are defending is that "any sufficiently Deep Enthusiasm is indistinguishable from Academic Rigor" (emphasis added). Now, they are claiming that OP means that no one outside of an academic context "has the capacity to learn what rigor means in their field." These are very different claims, but the poster shits between them seamlessly.

Second, they just completely misunderstand what academic rigor is. I'm sorry, you can read every book and article and (*sigh* dear god) TED talk in the world, that doesn't make you an expert, and that's not academic rigor. A large part of academic rigor is in how you critically engage with what you read. Otherwise you just end up, at best, with a bunch of shallow facts that you can "whip out at dinner parties to impress [your] acquaintances" or sprinkle as references in arguments on tumblr to make you sound smarter.

But no, the poster confirms in the next paragraph, you don't need critical thinking or training or people who will tell you that you are wrong. All you need is the information. And if you disagree, you are arguing in favor of "the ivory tower." (Take a drink.)

In the next two paragraphs, the poster pays lip service to the idea that sure, it's easier to learn in academia. But even then, they imply that somehow that's the easy route, that good learning environments create weak men, that people who are self-taught are the ones who are actually building up the critical thinking skills because someone doesn't just "tell them the answer."

Then, before the readers have a chance to absorb, wait, did you really just say that academia is really just having someone either tell you the answer or where to look for the answer and therefore unsuitable for "sincerely love to learn," (because you are, in fact, anti-intellectual), the poster then throws in a bunch of shallow buzz phrases about how higher education isn't available to a lot of people.

And I say these are just shallow buzz phrases for two reasons. First, the poster never actually engages with this lack of access. It's just sprinkled in, like the references to Arthur C Clarke and Herodotus. (For example, no, actually, "any sufficiently MOTIVATED person" can't actually access all this information that is online. You need a stable internet connection, devices to allow you to make use of that connection, to speak or read the language those materials are published in, enough time and sleep and food and goddam shelter.)

Second, this doesn't actually have anything to do with the actual claim that the poster is supposedly defending. Remember that? Remember the position the poster is arguing for? "Any sufficiently deep enthusiasm is indistinguishable from academic rigor." How does, "some people can't go to college" support that claim, specifically?

It doesn't, which is why the poster's next paragraph instead claims that OP is arguing that "those people do not have the ability to hold themselves to a rigorous standard of learning."

Which just.

Fuck you?

Because yeah, that would be a shitty opinion to hold! And you are the only person raising it! You are explicitly making the claim - fuck, perpetrating the anti-intellectual worldview - that anyone who suggests "caring about something does not inherently equal subject matter expertise" is an elitist who thinks that everyone else, ordinary people, real Americans, are stupid.

I'm gong to be honest, this is the part of the poster's claims that made me mad enough to respond.The notes include people agreeing that academics and "experts" are actually pretty elitist, aren't they, and they deserve to be "taken down a few pegs," that suggesting that you need a baseline level of knowledge or vocabulary before you can engage deeply with a subject is "gatekeeping."

The U.S.'s institutions are crumbling as they are dismantled by people that are making these exact same arguments. There is no meaningful difference in the reasoning of the poster's argument here, and the argument that "alternative medicine" hacks who never completed their medical training have sufficient credentials to run goverment agencies, and that if you bring up their lack of credentials, well, that just proves what an elitist you are.

The "worldview" the poster does not accept - is telling you not to accept - is the idea that expertise exists at all.

And because that is an incorrect and harmful worldview, the poster has to use a bunch of rhetorical tricks to hide what they are doing. And then to sell it, they throw in a bunch of words to stir up the audience's preconceptions and biases. OP's claim (again, that enthusiasm and academic rigor are not equivalent) is "racist and imperialist." Why? Don't worry about it. Something something college is expensive and inaccessible to a lot of people. All you need to remember is that these ivory-tower academics are The Bad Thing.

*deep breath*

Anyway, knowing we need a laugh to bring the mood back up, the poster then says someone on reddit criticizing your argument is an "informal version[] of the peer-review process." Besides betraying a deep ignorance of the nature of peer-review (I guess even knowing how academic processes work is also elitist?), I think this means that the poster has to be cool with my post here, right? Because I'm just doing peer review? (Because also, just to be clear: "the academic structure of the peer review is a formalized process of the very human impulse to gleefully tell other humans when they’ve stuck their foot in their mouth." No. This is just. No.)

Next, more misstating OP's original claim. The poster says, "An institution of formal learning is not a prerequisite to pursue and absorb information," which OP already agreed with in the comments of the poster's original post.

In support of this claim that no one is arguing with, the poster than makes up a "guy at the model airplane shop who seems to know absolutely everything that has ever been known about WWII planes," and asks, "why don’t we acknowledge him as a legitimate expert?" The poster implies that this is because this guy is autistic and OP is a bigot.

But the real answer is simpler:

Unless you are referring to something you chose not to link for some reason, he's made up. He's a made up guy in your brain. And OP never said anything about him, so it's really weird for you to criticize OP for not sufficiently praising him as an expert. Fanfic isn't reality.

To the extent we are talking about real phenomenons - who do you mean by "we" and what do you mean by "acknowledge him as a legitimate expert"? There are lots of people with legitimate expertise, and in my experience, they often are recognized as such. And I don't know where you live, but outside of revenge-fantasies of conservative pundits and the people who are mislead by them, most academic experts aren't exactly exhausted and prestige and praise.

'Knowing a lot about a subject' is not the same as academic rigor. This isn't a criticism or insult to people who know a lot of things, despite your weird, self-centered hang-ups. Let me be clear here, actually: I am not an academic. I am a lawyer. I know a lot about the law in the areas I practice in. I do not practice the law "with academic rigor" because that's not really meaningful. I also like to constantly learn more about the law, including in many areas I don't practice in. I am not an expert in those areas. Just as an academic who studies the law and legal practice would not necessarily be good at actually practicing the law, my enthusiasm does not mean I have academic expertise (and my academic training is rather rusty, this many years out). This is normal? My ego is not threatened by acknowledging different kinds of expertise and knowledge exist?

And perhaps most to the point - "seems to know absolutely everything that has ever been known about WWII planes." "Seems to." An important part of academia - part of what makes it rigorous, if you will - is that you actually have to prove your expertise to other experts. They are then "recognized" as experts because there is a process the public can usually trust that they don't just "seem to" know what they are talking about. If you are talking to an amateur enthusiast - how do you know you they actually have the expertise they claim to have? Because I know of some guys who are really enthusiastic about the, claim to be experts, and have a lot of strong opinions about how they have reclaimed their Sovereign Identity by not capitalizing the letters in their name.

I agree with the poster's final paragraph. I love learning. But I can't see this as anything other than a manipulative postscript, a rhetorical trick of ending on a point of agreement and mutual enthusiasm. By a person - and I can't emphasize this enough - who refused assistance in learning and threw an enormous tantrum because someone suggested hey, maybe its a good idea to get a basic foundation of knowledge before cold-emailing experts.

[kyleknight]

hermitcraft court: witness testimony and evidence is taken seriously, defendant is presumed innocent until proven guilty, the proceedings are organized, sentencing is delivered by the order of the judge

lifesteal court: witness testimony is completely dismissed when it doesn't align with the prosecution, the defendant is put in an actual cage in the courtroom, the proceedings end in a full on murderfest, sentencing is decided by the jury but the real justice is actually determined by whoever is still alive at the end of the murderfest

both: the judge is probably only doing this for the television/viewer ratings

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Owned By The Demon Admiral (AFAB Reader Version)

Male Demon Yandere x AFAB Demon Reader CW: Noncon/dubcon, terms like pussy used for reader's genitals, yandere DILF, general yandere behavior, groping, biting, captive reader, reader is setup, an overly cute semi-aquatic demon cat named Mr. Sir Buttons Word Count: 2k (I am saying this fic is AFAB versus female because no gendered pronouns are ever used at all for the reader in anyway, rather their genitals are biologically female. Terms like pussy/cunt are used so if that is triggering for you please avoid this fic. This was a birthday gift for a friend normally I don't do AFAB reader so this may be a bit sloppy. I hope you enjoy it.)

The battleship you were on drifted through the calm blood red waters of one of Hell’s oceans. The light of the two suns scintillated beautifully off the serene waves. No evidence at all that your ship had just sunk an enemy vessel, condemning the unlucky demons manning it to death.

In the ensuing ebullience at having survived with no damage the leader of the ship, Admiral Oraan, put one hand behind on your ass and one behind your head and pulled you into a passionate kiss as his tail began to wrap around your leg.

You struggled to push off the larger demon but finally he released you. You steadied yourself and gasped for breath.

“I said no!”

Then you stormed off to your quarters.

This wasn’t the first time your commanding officer had done something like this. This was at least the fourth time you had rebuffed his advances. He just wouldn’t get it through his thick skull. You were focused strictly on your military career. The war against Pride, one of the Princes of Hell, was far too important for romance and sex to get in the way.

But you underestimated his desire for you. And his rage. You should have assumed that the highest ranking admiral in Wrath’s fleet would have some severe anger issues. But you naively thought that service to his prince would take priority over his feelings for you.

The first thing he had done was to sabotage your quarters during inspection. You didn’t know it was his doing and were angered and paranoid that someone would thrash your space in such a way, causing you to get written up.

In reality it was all Oraan. A rising action in the story of your downfall.

The next thing that was done to ruin your uniforms. He told you it was disrespectful to the prince you all served, to the branch you served, and to him to have your uniforms in such a state.

After that it was a more serious infraction. Reported for contraband that was then found in your locker.

The final, and most infuriating, nail in the coffin happened in the next skirmish. A small opponent, easy to sink and posing only a slight threat to the hellish dreadnought on which you served. But Oraan had forced multiple witnesses to claim you were a coward. That you had abandoned your station and hid in your quarters while the rest of the crew gallantly manned their posts.

This led to you having to be court-martialed. No time to dock and have more formal proceedings. You had to be court-martialed right on the ship. Despite the evidence against you, you thought that once you were given your chance to make your arguments and have your comrades vouch for your behavior and character then this would all disappear.

That isn’t quite how things played out for you. You started the court-martial optimistic but with each passing moment a sense of dread became stronger and stronger. Each witness, people you had respected and thought of as your friends, gave damning testimony. They painted you as a belligerent, lazy, neglectful oaf. Someone who cared nothing for duty, rules, or honor.

You had to hold back tears as your body shook with rage and sorrow. Why were they saying such things? Why were they lying about you and your actions and character?

It finally became obvious when the sentence was passed. Not death, as might befit someone who fled from combat. Not dishonorable discharge. No, you were being reassigned. As Oraan’s personal attendant. “A non-combat role where no one would be harmed by your cowardly behavior.”

It was all him. He had pressured or otherwise bribed everyone to turn against you. To lie about you. All to get you in his clutches and punish you for rejecting him. And there was nothing you could do about it. He was an older and stronger demon, you’d have no hope to beat him in a fight. And even if you somehow managed it, how would you escape on a ship? And if by some miracle you either made it to land or just waited until the ship was docked you would be chased for all eternity.

No, he had you in your clutches. Your only hope was that your contract with the navy was almost up. You were only to be enlisted for five years at a time before you had to renew. The only exception for that being prolonged was if a hot war was going on, but this one was nearing its end. Since all that happened was the court-martial was just technically a reassignment you were only bound by the terms of your enlistment.

All you had to do was endure for ten months.

It was humiliating. Oraan really wanted to keep you reminded of your new position. You had to be at his side constantly. Obeying all his orders and whims. You had to press his uniforms and get his meals. And in private the tasks got much worse.

Sucking his girthy cock was a common “request” of his. Almost daily. You also had to bathe with him most nights. This required you to wash his entire well-muscled form. If you were a willing participant you would have enjoyed it, he was very attractive, the tattoo of an anchor on his left shoulder and the three large scars on his ribs adding to his rugged allure.

But you weren’t a willing participant. And bathing him usually led to him giving you an “inspection.” That was where he touched, kissed, groped every inch of you before sliding his cock into your hot pussy, slowly fucking into you until he came hard. His tongue, of course, had to probe your mouth during these inspections, “just to be thorough.”

It was good that he had you eat meals with him in his private quarters, because you didn’t think you’d be able to look any of the other crew members in the eye ever again. The ones that hadn’t been involved in fucking over your entire life were the ones that believed the lies about you. On the entire ship you had not a single ally. The only one you could confide in was Mr. Sir Buttons, the semi-aquatic demonic cat that served as the mascot and unofficial morale officer on the ship.

You were on your way back from taking your food trays back to the galley when you felt something soft rub against your leg. Mr. Sir Buttons! You had a few minutes before you had to be back with Oraan so you stooped down and picked him up. He purred loudly.

“At least I never have to worry about you betraying me.”

He meowed as if in affirmation. You nuzzled his thick, red, waterproof fur before placing him back down to go about his very important demonic cat business.

When you got back to Oraan’s quarters he was naked on the bed. His large prick standing erect and ready for the attention you would surely have to give it, a bead of precum running down the length evidently in anticipation.

You sighed in resignation and began to strip your clothing. You had been doing this for over a month now. Only less than nine more to go. You could do it, just one moment at a time.

Too excited after leering at your naked form, he couldn’t wait for you to come to him anymore. Instead he got up and used his strong arms to pick you up and pin you to the bed. He stole your lips with his, kissing you in a greedy frenzy, his large cock swung below as he groped your chest.

“Mine! I can’t believe after all these years you’re finally all mine!”

He bit your neck, causing you to moan involuntarily. But maybe you should just give into the pleasure of the situation. It was going to happen either way and you’d be able to move on with your life once this was all over anyway. Besides, getting into it a bit might just help him finish faster so you’d have less time stuck in this position.

Oraan massaged the outside of your cunt before sliding a couple of fingers into you to get you wet and ready for his large prick.

When he lined his cock up with your drooling entrance, rough hands on your hips, you didn’t look away or flinch as you would normally. You wrapped your arms and legs around him instead, allowing him the perfect angle to slam deeply into your pussy. He grinned, ecstatic that you finally seemed to have not only learned your place but were actively embracing it. He slammed down with hard but slow thrusts. Each one making you gasp and each one punctuated with another kiss or nip up your neck.

Lewd squelching noises emanated from your sex as he increased the tempo of your lovemaking.

Had any of the crew passed the admiral’s quarters on their way through the halls all they would have heard was the rhythmic slap of Oraan’s nuts against your skin as he bred you along with the occasional grunt or swear from him or moan from you.

“Fuck! I love you so much!”

You only drooled a bit while looking up at him dumbly with lustful eyes, having been fucked nearly senseless. You scratched his shoulders with your sharp demonic nails as you pulled him closer to you in an attempt to somehow get him deeper. You were near your climax, desperate for it.

The pain from your nails spurred him on, causing him to fuck you at a new pace that straddle the line between pain and pleasure. You winced as he came hard, your tight clenching walls milking his cock and sending him over the edge soon after.

He gave a few final thrusts into you to empty his balls good and deep before pulling out and holding you tight, caging you in with his sweat-slicked body. You went limp from exhaustion, practically basking in the afterglow that always followed such intense, passionate sex. If you didn’t know any better you could have mistaken Oraan for a lust demon. Though you imagined saying such a thing to his face would have him prove instantly that he was, in fact, a being of wrath.

When the two of you had recovered he took you into the small shower with him. This time around, he cleaned you. Gently washing your body of cum and sweat before rinsing your hair. Far more tender behavior than you would have thought possible from the stern leader. Maybe there was more wisdom to just being more open to your predicament than you had initially thought.

It was a change in your behavior that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the man who had orchestrated the vast shift in your life circumstances.

“Finally decided to give in, huh?” Came his gruff voice from behind you.

You had no reason to be dishonest or hide your thoughts from him.

“Well, my contract is up in just a few months. I am not going to renew so this assignment is only temporary. I figured it’ll go by faster if I just accept it.”

He laughed and pulled you close to him, you could feel his stubble on your neck as he whispered words that made your fiery demon blood run cold.

“With my power, influence, and wealth I can assure you that your signature will keep renewing that contract for eternity, sweetheart. Whether you sign it yourself or not. Even if we aren’t deployed I will find a way to keep you with me.”

You went limp and would have fallen to the floor had he not had his arms wrapped tightly around you. The room felt like it was spinning. You barely took note of the water trailing down your skin or the chaste kiss he pressed to your cheek.

It was over for you, now that Oraan finally had you there was absolutely nothing that would make the older demon give you up.

[thesecondhandwoman]

ANOTHER REPAIR

Sevika x f!reader

Synopsis: It was a normal day at the workshop all up until Sevika came in, battered and bruised, and her mechanical arm was much worse. The perfect job for a mechanic with a heart.

You were working on a new piece you recently designed for a customer, magnifying glass dangling infront of your eyes, a pair of tweezers in your hand as the thin, gripping metal clung to a miniature yet necessary trinket for the object. You had finally aligned it perfectly before the workshop door swung open, the flimsy wood slamming into the wall, causing a few things to shake, including the table. You let out a startled cuss as your hand jerked forward, causing the miniature piece to go flying out from the tweezers and somewhere on the floor, again.

How fun that was going to be looking for later, or it will be even funner dealing with an angry customer and whatever weapon that one carried this time, you thought with a groan.

You turned on your chair, already fuming, ready to yell at whoever was retarted enough to swing the pieces of wood that was considered a “door” that hard despite the constant warnings. However, the words were unable to leave your lips when you were met with a familiar tall, muscular figure: Sevika.

She was leaning against the wall in a drowsy manner, her body battered to the extent where she was covered in cuts and bruises. Her hand, too, was in the same condition, shattered and wrecked. She looked exhausted but angry, which wasnt a surprise for you, a person who saw both the “Lioness of Zaun” and the actual Sevika.

“Just tell me you can fix this shit.” She said between a grunt, pushing herself off the wall and towards you, a slight limp in her step. “Some jackasses jumped me at the last minute and wrecked the piece of junk to scrap.”

“I,” you were barely able to finish your sentence as Sevika dropped the heavy mechanical arm on your desk, causing you to not only lose the small trinket to the floor today, but the entire piece. “Sevika!” you choked out as you watched the trinket shatter before quickly looking back up at her.

Sevika only gave a small glare before scoffing like she did nothing or what she did didn’t matter, maybe both. She then proceeded to crash onto your couch, letting out a pained groan as her battered body sunk into the slightly uncomfortable cushions. But that was obviously the last thing on her mind at the moment as she ached when cuts and bruises, able to feel each and every ghost of the beating she received from some other scumbags.

You glanced back at her before sighing, pushing your chair back with your feet until it rolled over to the couch, slowing down right infront of her. You lowered the seat and glanced up at her before grabbing the little medical pouch (mainly for you and your repetive, clumsy accidents) from your belt pouch. You were opening an alcohol wipe pack, ready to apply it to a cut when Sevika stopped you. Her hand clutched your wrist, making your breath hitch as your eyes quickly darted to her in slight surprise.

“What the hell are you doing?’ She asked, using that dangerously ticked off and defensive tone she used on other Zaunites or henchmen of Silco. Her grip grew tighter, eyeing the wipe suspiciously like you drenched it in acid or some fatal drug.

“It’s called patching you up. Now hold still, I dont want to hurt you.” You said softly, trying to coax her into letting you help her and the various damage that was evident on her body. Your heart ached a little everytime you saw the effects of being a Zaunite, even by other Zaunites, all because this is the undercity, a place where scumbags and scraps were tossed to make the city above clean and cleansed.

Sevika paused momentarily, eyeing the wipe a little longer before her eyes met yours. She let out a sigh and slowly released your wrist, allowing you to push it forward once more and wipe at the cut beneath her eye. She winced a little at the small sting, trying to cover up the sound of weakness with a casual grunt. But based on the way her brows furrowed and her jaw clenched, it was obvious that it did hurt a bit, and would get worse as you got to the wounds that were much worse.

As you were wiping a wound on her chin, she jerked back a bit a little when it hurt again, letting out a frustrated grunt before cussing. “God fucking dammit–”

“Shh,” you interupted as you cupped her cheek, leaning forward again, your chest against hers. You looked up at her eyes again before your eyes trailed back down to her cut, staring at her lips for a few seconds before focususing again. “I’m almost done, just try and relax.”

Her eyes wided a bit when your soft skin wrapped around her cheek, her lips becoming a thin line as she glanced at you. She stared at you in temporary shock before she forced herself to relax again at the cold touch of the wipe, sinking into the touch of your palm a bit to try and anchor herself. Her greys softened, her eyes trained on you and you only now, watching each and every expression you had as you eyed her cuut. Her hand slowly met your thigh to make sure you werent gonna accidentally slip on the moveable chair, a common action that she did when you had softened her down a bit, showing the difference between the “Lioness of Zaun” and the real Sevika.

A smile crept onto your face when you felt her calloused fingers on your skin, gripping the muscle of your thigh in a protective hold. You found it slightly cute, knowing that you had successfully coaxed her again. But you tried to ignore it as you continued down her body, patching up the other cuts and bruises that you found. You only stopped when you came around her hips and lower, glancing up at her. “You arent hurt down here right?”

Those grays met yours as you asked the simple question, a glint slightly in them when she realized what you were talking about. She cleared her throat when she saw your eyes trained on her, those eyes so innocent and puppy-like despite the second, more dirty meaning of the question you had just asked out of concern. It made her clear her throat before she nodded.

“I’m fine down there, doll.” she huffed, glancing away and leaning into the couch more. “Now can you get back to my damn arm so I have something to punch those scumbags with later?”

You were a bit surprised at the sudden change in topics, but didnt question further as you chuckled. “Okay, okay, I’m getting to it, Vika, baby.” you teased before getting back up, pushing your chair back towards your desk, spinning back infront of it.

Sevika scoffed a little as she watched you twirl in your obnoxious, spinny chair before glancing back down at her patched up bandages. She growled a little at the way she felt her cheeks flush, especially when she realized all of the colorful bandages you put on her, rolling her eyes despite how cute she found it.

[moonlit-imagines]

warnings:

a/n: no ddba spoilerz

inspired by @frostbyte13

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” Matt asked as you sat in an empty courtroom with no one in present company except you, him, and Foggy. You rolled your eyes as Foggy held Matt’s old braille bible in front of you.

“They’re rolling their eyes, Counselor.” Foggy informed.

“I thought as much.” He nodded. “Y/N, please cooperate.” You sighed and slapped your hand on the bible, which the cover was peeling and the pages were quite bent.

“I do.” You reluctantly said, leaning back with your arms crossed.

“Wonderful. Now, where were you April ninth at eleven o’clock PM?” Matt questioned, pacing back and forth in front of the bench.

“Home.” You answered bluntly.

“Really? Because the evidence presented suggests you were not, in fact, at home at this moment in time. Care to explain?” Matt argued and Foggy looked quite displeased.

“You’re blind.” You once again bluntly replied.

“Now, now, blind does not equal stupid, y/n. Please enlighten me on your whereabouts.” Matt calmly proceeded and Foggy shook his head, making a tsk tsk sound with his teeth.

“You probably just didn’t notice that I was sleeping on the couch that night.” You lied once more and Foggy banged his fist on the table nearby.

“You swore an oath!” Foggy yelled, a bit overseriously.

“Order in the courtroom, Counselor.” Matt chuckled and faced you again as Foggy readjusted his jacket and fixed his hair, regaining his composure. “You have one more chance, y/n. Make it count.”

“Fine! I snuck out to go to the movies with my friends. Are you happy? We saw an R-rated movie and it was lame as hell!” You raised your voice as you finally admitted your crime.

“Aha!” Foggy yelled, banging the gavel beside you. “Always wanted to do that.”

“A little early on that, Foggy.” Matt said aside. “Thank you for your honesty, your sentence is…grounded for two weeks. This court is now adjourned.” Matt paused for a few brief moments. “Foggy, gavel.”

“Oh, right. Almost forgot.” Foggy banged the gavel and you sunk into your seat with your hands covering your face. “If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime, kid.”

“You guys are so corny.”

taglist: @summersimmerus // @simp-legend // @locke-writes // @you-bloody-shank // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[lvndosnorris]

the winner takes it all • l. norris smut

paring: female reader x lando norris

authors note: my first ever piece?! i mean, the special occasion definitely helped kickstart my little writing era so hopefully this is somewhat enjoyable? i loved writing it so who knows, maybe they'll be more!

warnings: entirely fictional, f! oral receiving, fingering, edging if you squint, f! forced orgasm

lando was certainly giddy off the champagne; the bubbles making every odd sentence fall out his mouth with a hiccup, lips parted and speckled with fizz as he dwelled in the celebrations. if it wasn't for everyone's attention being on him he wouldn't have thought twice about whisking you away, desperate to be close to the only person he wanted to thank in this moment — but how would he explain his sudden disappearance?

you'd made the effort to giggle with everyone, stealing partial glances of your boyfriend every now and then. there was a part of you that was adamant you were being subtle: yet the knowing elbow to your ribs as you lost where you were in your ramblings, eyelids heavy as you peered intently at lando as he tilted his head back, tongue protruding as he lapped at the champagne that was being poured from above his head.

it was the same image that was replaying in your mind as you clambered into the back of the taxi, your palms splayed on his upper thigh as you adjusted yourself beneath the seatbelt. the air was thick, stuffy even, as you felt your chest tighten under the thin material of your dress — there was a tension that was evident, lando's thumb curling around your pinky finger as he tugged your hand towards his mouth, lips ghosting a soft kiss to your knuckles.

"you look so good tonight... that little skimpy number doing a thing or two to me..." you weren't sure if it was the bubbles taking over or if he was speaking his mind. eyes afire, blazed, as you unintentionally clamped your thighs just that little tighter together. the fact that the taxi driver could probably hear lando's confessions, crude and direct as he mumbled how all he could think about was you — even during his winner's speech that he was egged on to do, a mic thrust in his hand as he caught your eye from across the packed room.

his lips were on your neck the minute your apartment door was closed and the taxi was merrily on his way to the next customer: teeth nipping at your throat as you struggled to push him away from you, dizzy from the way your stomach lurched with desire. it was stupid really ��� you'd seen each other the morning of, hungrily wishing him all the luck in the world and proceeding to roll your eyes dramatically when he reminded you that he was already the luckiest.

"you've been teasing me all night," you tried to be stern, your scold coming across more as a whimper though as his fingers trailed down over your hips. the crown of your head settled on your front door as you tilted yourself backwards, trusting your boyfriend completely as your urges finally took over, "you'll be the one apologising this time if the neighbours come knocking."

your joke fell on deaf ears as lando's nails scratched gently over your exposed thighs, hiking the material of your dress further up until he got complete access to you. every time he saw you like this, all flustered and relentless, silence would fall upon him as he drank in his sight. the floor was harsh against his knees as he settled before you, slightly hazed pupils meeting yours as he flashed you that shit-eating grin that had gotten you wrapped around his little finger all those months ago.

should it have been you treating him? considering he was the winner, surely he deserved to be on the receiving end of pleasure tonight? the questions failed to come to fruition though, all thoughts incoherent as he parted your legs in a way that could only be described as hungrily.

it was your noises that made him edge closer to you, not even bothering to discard of your underwear as he nudged it to the side with the tip of his nose. there was a pause in his movements, your chest rising and falling erratically as you waited for him to do something, anything.

you had always been somewhat impatient when it came to lando — maybe it was the fact you knew how good it was going to be, or perhaps it was the burning ache that sat heavy in the pit of your stomach whenever he had worked you up to this certain point between normality and pure ecstasy. your fist knotted between his hair, tugging it a little harsher than usual as you gritted your teeth and inaudibly begged for him to give you something.

as a way to tell you he was listening he obliged; his pointer and middle finger scissored against you as he parted your cunt, tongue between his lips as he finally dragged a taste from you. lando had always been an eater, evident in the way his tongue moved against you now — circling your clit before stroking down to your hole. your wetness decorated his chin and around his mouth, glistening skin being all you could focus on as he pulled away for a few seconds to marvel at how your face was contorted in pleasure.

the intrusion of one of his fingers caught you off guard, one hand clutching his head as the other held onto the wall in a pathetic attempt to stay upright. the few chutes of champagne that you'd been sipping on all night accompanied the glee that surged through your veins, tingling every limb as you rolled your hips in a rhythm that oozed of desperation.

his name felt familiar and warm as it fell from your mouth, subconsciously ending it with mewls of fuck and right there as he dipped his finger in and out of your sopping cunt. each thrust was met with his lips wrapped delicately around your clit, starkly different to the way his finger curled inside of you, trying to rub against that sweet spot inside of you and send you into a downward spiral of pleasure.

as soon as his second finger found itself between your slick walls you felt the ball in your gut grow bigger, heavier as you could barely keep your eyes open. lando's tongue was messy against you, devouring you between muffled moans and whines. just as his fingers got harder and his tongue became wetter he stopped — everything still in the doorway to your apartment as you let out a half-strangled cry. there was no way that he could let you linger there, teetering on the edge of an orgasm as you curled your toes that still sat uncomfortably in your heels and knitted your eyebrows together in annoyance.

in that moment you felt the warmth fizzle from your body; your mind falling back into reality as you became conscious to the room around you once more. lando's grin was smug, cocky even, as he kissed your inner thigh. it was soft, a complete juxtaposition to the way he was eating you only seconds before.

"you can do it for me, can't you?" his question seemed distant from you, as if he was miles from where you were. there was an air of confusion, not able to conjure the words to ask what he meant before his hand cupped your cunt, fingers parting you. his fingertips grazed your hole once more, stroking between your clenching walls as you felt yourself turn to putty in his hands.

usually you'd need more than this; for him to strum you all over again, work you up to your orgasm once more. but this time he didn't — your boyfriends eyes trained on you, dampened lips parted as he watched the way you writhed against him. rocking your hips to meet his hand halfway, spine arched as you cursed him vehemently in between groans.

the noises that came from between your legs were nothing short of filthy; an indication that you were close to cumming whether you planned to or not. there was nothing that you could hold onto that would have kept you earthed, his scalp sore as you tugged cruelly, wrapping his locks around your fingers to try and control your orgasm. it took one, two, possibly three, more pumps of his fingers and his palm flush against your clit before you felt your body snap — heaven bubbling inside of you as you clenched. the sheer intensity of your orgasm had lando's head spinning, wrist trickling with your own juices as he studied how you shivered and sighed.

"lando, i—" your words failed. forehead slick with sweat as he skimmed his hands from your sensitive heat to the backs of your thighs, kneading your flesh in a attentive way. you wanted to thank him, to tell him that you loved him. but all that came out was a timid squeak as you tried to move, your shoulder blades sore from where they'd been pushed against your door.

he knelt back until he was sat on the floor, lets spread as he scooped up a small bead of your cum with the tip of his thumb. suckling it into his mouth he hummed, a deep, melodic noise, "seeing as i'm the winning boy do i get my reward now?"

[coochiequeens]

A TIM couldn't accept that his wife was not going to go along with his delusion and turned to the family annihilator route, a route associated with violent narcissistic men.

By Nuria Muíña García July 11, 2024

A man in Spain is alleged to have poisoned his wife and child in the midst of divorce proceedings following his declaration of a transgender identity. The court has now imposed a restraining order on the man, who has not been named, while the police investigation is ongoing.

According to Diario de Sevilla, the couple were engaged in divorce proceedings but were still sharing a home in Dos Hermanas when the suspected poisoning took place. While it has not been definitively confirmed, the motive for the divorce appears to have been the man’s decision to identify as a “woman.”

Shortly after choosing to split, the woman, whose identity has also been kept anonymous, began experiencing severe and sudden-onset stomach pain. She sought medical care and was told she was exhibiting symptoms of chemical consumption. Police quickly became involved, and an investigation was launched into what was then identified as a suspected poisoning.

Disturbingly, the couple’s 5-year-old son may have also been the victim of an attempted poisoning by his father. Medical tests are being conducted in order to verify whether he had been targeted as well.

Prosecutors speculated that the woman was poisoned by her husband using household pool care products that were mixed into her food. In response to the hypothesis, the court issued a warrant of entry to the couple’s home to gather evidence.

Yesterday, a Dos Hermanas court responsible for prosecuting violence against women heard statements from both the husband and wife, after which it decided to place a restraining order on the man. He is now required to stay 300 meters away from his wife, and has been denied contact to his son.

At the time of this writing, no arrests have been made, but police investigations are ongoing.

The case has sparked particular concern amongst Spanish women’s rights advocates, as they have noted that Spain’s exceptionally strict gender identity laws mean that, if prosecuted, the man will be treated as a “female” by the courts.

Further, crimes marked as “gender-based violence” in Spain result in female victims being provided with specific legal protections and resources to assist them in the aftermath of the crime. These resources may include assistance with divorce proceedings, child custody, and housing arrangements.

If the man’s legal gender marker change was completed before the poisoning took place, it would mean that the victim would have no access to these resources because her aggressor was a “woman.”

“Gender-based violence” is also considered an aggravating factor in violent crimes, and may result in a harsher sentencing.

The situation has lead some women’s rights advocates to speculate that the man had planned to murder his wife, but that he had changed his legal gender marker just before doing so to avoid “gender-based violence” being used as an aggravating factor in the event he was caught.

If the man is prosecuted, this would not be the first time in Spain that a male accused of domestic violence against his female partner was prosecuted as a “woman.”

As previously reported by Reduxx, a man in Catalonia who beat his female partner for opposing his transition avoided charges of gender-based violence by legally changing his identification to “female” and adopting a woman’s name just prior to being prosecuted.

The couple, who were in their 60s, had been together for 11 years, but after the man began expressing an interest in crossdressing, the woman asked to break off their intimate relationship. He became violent towards her, and began sexually and physically abusing her in retaliation for her refusal to participate in his fetish.

After seeking help with the police, the woman discovered he had already changed his legal sex marker, and thus she would not be provided any protections for female victims of male crime.

At the time, Reduxx spoke with Núria González López, the legal advisor for the victim, who explained that “the abuser’s change of his legal sex means that, in the eyes of the law, the female in the situation is not at risk. This means the victim has fewer rights.”

In February of 2023, the Spanish government enacted what is colloquially known as the “Trans Law,” which instituted a “no questions asked” policy for those who declared they were transgender. The law also made it significantly easier for individuals to change their name and legal sex, hastening the process for applicants and removing any medical requirements.

Since the institution of the law, Spain has seen concerns right about the rise in “trans fraud,” in which males change their legal sex marker simply to gain legal or professional benefits.

In Ceuta, an extremely small Spanish autonomous city located in the North African coast, 37 male civil servants are known to have changed their registered sex in order to obtain benefits assigned to women.

Most of the men are members of the Army, the National Police, the Civil Guard, or the Local Police of the city. The men all share a pattern in that they change their legal sex marker while keeping their “male” name.

What Motivates Family Annihilators?

Angry over the family breakup

A need for power

Suffering from a personality disorder

Unable to cope with personal failure

See whole article

[unsolvedjarin]

THE ENEMY OF MY ENEMY…

pairing: (fernando alonso x wolff! reader)

note: is my first ever work on this site smut? yes. do i happen to not know how to write smut? yes. is this my first time writing smut? yes. is this a bad idea? probably. but we move.

content warning: oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, verb tenses jumping like frogs in lakes

“And Fernando Alonso crosses the finish line in the Bahrain Grand Prix, ending up 4th! Not bad considering the Spaniards track record recently.” You hear the reporters comment, but it’s a distant noise. Fernando finally got out of the midfield fluke he and Aston Martin was having, and you couldn’t be more happy for your partner.

He, however, was even more enthusiastic than you. After smiling through the media pen, he rushes over to your motorhome where he knew you would be waiting for him. Meeting anywhere but your own places was too risky with the media being everywhere, and you weren’t ready to tell your dad just yet about Fernando. He completely understood of course, the age gap was something he knew your dad would take a long long while to warm up to.

He knocked 5 times on your door in a happy beat, before you answered it with a smile and letting him in wordlessly, noticing his good spirits. You were about to congratulate him on his good results, but the second you turnt around you felt his lips on yours and his hands on your body.

You indulge yourself in his taste for a second before, “Fernando we couldn’t possibly—”

He kisses your words away before you finish your sentence, one of his hands moving to your cheek and another still on your waist. Having sex in your Mercedes motorhome would not be an easy thing to achieve, but by god will Fernando achieve it.

He was kissing down your neck before you could protest again, his left hand moving from your waist down to the inside of your pants, fingers hovering just over your panties. Your back was to the wall of the motorhome, and you swear if he pushed you a little bit more the whole place would come tumbling over.

The feeling of his fingers ghosting over your pussy was enough to knock all your senses out of you, however, and you kissed him back fervently as he suddenly pushed his digits into you, making you stifle your moan into his neck.

“Nando we really shouldn’t, my dad— ah— will come in any minute now— fuck right there— shouting profanities at no one in particular because Lewis and George double dnf’ed. You know we’re— oh my fucking god— gonna get caught.”

He suddenly takes his fingers out of you and you groan in displeasure.

“If you’re so worried about getting caught, why don’t we just stop?” He whispers in your ear with a teasing tone. The bastard.

“Asshole,” You reply, kissing him again and pushing him backwards until he’s sat on your couch. Proceeding to straddle him, you take your hand to his racing suit, gliding your fingers delicately from his chest all the way down to his cock, feeling the bulge so evident in his pants. “Or maybe,” you ponder, “we do stop, and your little guy doesn’t get any attention.”

“Please don’t call my dick little guy, mi amor,” he replies jokingly before pulling your Mercedes shirt up, kissing your chest while you grind down on him. “Always so pretty for me. I need more.”

In a second, he flips you over like you weighed nothing and laid you down on the couch, tugging your pants off of you as slowly as he could.

“Nando I swear to god, you better stop fucking teasing me,” you tell him, impatient. He chuckles before leaning back up to kiss you, then slowly making his way down your chest, taking your bra off effortlessly before moving down again to actually take off your pants, leaving you with nothing but your panties on.

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair that I’m the only one naked here?” You ask him, but with no accusation— he looked sexy in his black fireproofs. He kisses your inner thigh, a sight that would’ve brought any woman to their knees, before replying, “Relax, amor. I want to take care of you first, spread your legs wider.”

You follow his instructions with a hazy mind, not in the mood for any foreplay. Fernando takes your panties off slowly, kissing your leg as it goes along. He’s taking his time, he knows it’s making you want him even more.

“Look how wet you are for me, corazón,” he murmurs, pressing a swift teasing kiss on your clit. The action was enough for you to buck your hips lightly onto his nose, before he takes the bait and fully puts his mouth on your pussy, and begins to eat you out.

He moves like a man starved, holding onto your waist to take you even deeper in his mouth as if he wasn’t already. You try to stifle your moans with your hand to no avail, putting the other one in Fernando’s hair and pulling on it, eliciting a deep groan from him that vibrated up your pussy.

“Just like that— god baby you’re so good— more,” you whine, grinding on his face. He moves his tongue around your folds, making sure his nose bumps your clit every so often to hear you moan even louder.

You throw more endless praises in his direction, “Oh my god, I can’t— you’re so fucking good— I’m gonna cum soon baby,” you moan out, unable to control your volume any longer. Passerbys outside be damned. You feel him speed up at your words, focusing on your clit and inserting two fingers into you to help, making you whine even more.

“I fucking love you Nando, I’m so close—” you mumble, gripping his hair even tighter.

“I love you more corazón, being so good for me,” he murmurs near your folds, the vibration making you moan again. He attaches his mouth back on your clit, and the feeling of his beard is starting to burn but you don’t care, it makes you want him even more.

He knows you’re close, he can feel your walls get tighter on his two fingers and that only makes him add another one in, making you practically mewl at the feeling.

Joined with his tongue circling your clit, the coil in your stomach uncurled and you felt your orgasm release, moaning into your hand that did nothing to hide your volume. You try to close your legs but Fernando keeps them in place, eating out your high with a satisfied look in his eyes.

He climbs up your body, kissing you on the way back like he did before, on your inner thigh, your torso, your chest, and then your mouth, tasting yourself on him.

“That was— fuck, Fernando. That was worth any trouble I’d ever get into,” you say breathlessly. He looked so pretty like this, hid away from the world, just wanting to be yours.

He gave you a light kiss on the nose before replying, “Told you so. You just need to trust me.”

“I do trust you, just not very much in the ‘sex somewhere my dad can find us’ part,” you joke, earning a chuckle from him and a long kiss. “I love you, you know that right?”

He kisses your cheek before settling his body on top of your bare one and replying, “I know. Of course I do, because I love you more.”

“Okay, competitive,” you mumble sarcastically. Before you could help him with his predicament, however, a loud knock startled the both of you.

“Y/N, are you in there?” A deep Austrian accent asks, muffled through the door.

Oh shit. It’s your dad.

You quickly attempt to put on your clothes, ushering Fernando wildly to move to the other couch. There was no other exit in the motorhome, which had you scouring your brain thinking of an explanation for this random Aston Martin driver in a Mercedes motorhome.

“Uh— just a second dad!” You shout, and Fernando could hear how frantic your tone was. Finally managing to put your pants on the right way, you open the door and lean on the doorway inconspicuously. “Hey! What's up?”

Toto Wolff, Mercedes team principal and scariest father in the world when it came to someone you were dating, took a peek over your shoulder— not so hard with his height— and saw Fernando sitting on the couch he just ate you out on, ‘reading’ a book with his legs crossed to cover his hard on.

Fernando looks up and nods at Toto, not wanting to say anything that’ll damn him. Toto nods back, but is still suspicious as to why a Formula 1 driver other than his own ones were in your motorhome.

He was used to Lewis or Mick there, sure, but this was just…odd, to him. “What’s Alonso doing in there?”

You look at Fernando then back to your dad, acting as innocent as you possibly could. “Oh him? He just wanted to escape from the press a bit. He was gonna stay in Aston Martin’s paddock but he wants to get away from them too at the moment, I’m sure you understand.”

“And he…chose your motorhome to stay in?”

“Well you know I can’t help but help people!” You replied awkwardly. The silence stretches out for so long that you just wait for the ground to swallow you up, before Toto shrugged and finally said, “Just came by to tell you that our dinner with Lewis, George, and Mick will be at 7pm instead of 6pm. Our debrief might take longer because of the double dnf.”

“Oh, okay! I’ll be there, I think Lewis is picking me up.” Toto seemed content with that answer and nodded at this, kissing your cheek and telling you to stay safe before walking away from your motorhome.

You sigh a breath of relief, glad that he didn’t ask any more questions about Fernando, although you doubt that’d be the last time they would see each other.

“So you’re going out to dinner with Hamilton tonight?” Fernando asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. His legs were still crossed one over the other to cover his hard on, and his hands were clasped together in the middle. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he looked like someone who was interviewing you.

Smirking at that thought, you reply, “Me and my dad are having dinner with the drivers, not just Lewis. You’re not jealous, are you?”

Fernando shakes his head, but you know him better than that. He uncrosses his legs before patting his thigh, “Close the door. Let me show you how much fun you can have before that dinner.”

Following his instructions once again, you close the door before straddling him with a grin, about to continue where you two had left off earlier.

Unbeknownst to both of you, however, an oblivious Toto Wolff had accidentally dropped his favorite pen from his pocket just at the door of your motorhome. And he was about to come back and retrieve it.

[kanasbinwriting]

HAIII you write for John Doe??? :3 can i request John Doe x reader where reader might have some self esteem issues and is genuinely in shock that someone actually wants them and loves them? and meanwhile Doe is just so obsessed with them and loves everything about them <3 thank youu

JOHN DOE X READER WITH LOW SELF-ESTEEM

Hello!! Thank you so much for your request <33!! I hope I did okay... sorry for the long wait

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Your body tensed up when you heard his words, completely forgetting everything else he said, the only words remaining in your memory being decorated with heavy emotions. "I love you." Your eyes widened as these words replayed in your head, your mind racing, desperate to organise the emotions inside of you. You could hear him nervously calling out for you, but you couldn't bring yourself to reply, too speechless to form a coherent sentence. Frustration boiled inside of him, spilling into his trembling hand as he clutched the fabric over his heart... or at least where it was supposed to be. There he was, spilling his love out for you, hoping that you would finally understand, that you would finally see his devotion towards you. His cheeks turned a dark shade of red when he looked at you, his lips trembled, displeasure evident in his eyes when you didn't say anything so he proceeded to confess over and over again. "Why won't you understand?! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!" His voice grew louder with every word that passed his lips, his voice cracking and his whole body trembled, but all you could do was stare right back at him in disbelief. His usual smile was now turned into a frown, making you second-guess every single thought in your mind. Sighing, you finally fumbled for words as your voice shook.

"You... love me...?" His eyes sparkled at your words, and he nodded eagerly, unable to contain his feelings as he took a cautious step towards you. "Yes! Of course, I do! I love you...!" His voice sounded meek now as if scared that you'd suddenly disappear if he said something wrong. You felt your heart skip a beat, but you couldn't help but feel as if his words were insincere. "You're lying, right...?" Doe looked at you in utter bewilderment as he began to slightly sweat. "W-What?-" He tried to defend himself, but you quickly interrupted him.

"You don't love me... You're just saying that." You felt tears well up in your eyes as you spoke, immediately regretting your words when you saw the hurt in his eyes. Before you could take a step back, he quickly launched at you, taking your hand in his. You let out a gasp in surprise when you felt his firm grip on your hand, but before you could question him, he slid down on his knees wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your stomach while looking up at you. His body felt unusually hot against yours, filling you with a strange comfort as you looked down at him. You could feel his heavy breathing against your stomach as the sound of it filled the room, an audible reminder of the frustration he was struggling to contain. "How could I not love you...?" He mumbled against your stomach, and you couldn't help the softened gaze that appeared on your features as his voice broke the silence once again. "I love everything about you... your smile, your eyes, your smell, the way you walk, your voice, you. I love you." His smile widened as he listed every detail he loved about you, his voice trembling with adoration. Any normal person would've thought that he was insane for the way he looked at you, but you couldn't help but get lost in his honey-covered voice.

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, wrapping your hands gently against his head before falling to your knees, and wrapping your arms around him. Snuggling against his neck, Doe's smile grew bigger when he felt your breath against his skin. His body now felt even hotter against yours, but you couldn't bring yourself to complain, not now, at least. You drew in a long, trembling breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out with a soft sigh, "I love you too". As his arms tightened around you, you realized that no matter how dangerous his love felt, it was yours now, entirely.

[whencyclopedia]

The Nuremberg trials (1945-6), held in Nürnberg (Nuremberg), Germany, were a series of trials involving the senior surviving Nazis to hold them accountable for waging war and committing war crimes and crimes against humanity during the Second World War (1939-45). 22 Nazis were tried, with 19 found guilty and sentenced to either death by hanging or lengthy prison terms. The first Nuremberg trials were conducted from November 1945 to October 1946, and then, a second phase, which involved a much larger number of defendants, was conducted from November 1946 to April 1949. The Nuremberg trials were the first in history where the victors in a war sought to make senior figures from the losing side accountable for their actions. The trials were filmed and contributed greatly to our understanding of how WWII was conducted and revealed both the irrefutable evidence for and enormous scale of such atrocities as the Holocaust. The first month of the trials, the initial proceedings only, were hosted in the Supreme Court Building in Berlin, but they moved on 20 November to the Palace of Justice in Nuremberg. The Palace of Justice was selected because it had been the heart of Nazi show trials against enemies of the Third Reich, the city was the home of the Nuremberg Rally, the infamous annual Nazi Party congress, and the complex had the practical advantage of an adjoining prison where the defendants were detained.

[buckydeservesthebest]

The lack of media literacy of some Sam Stans is frankly disturbing and should be made to look ridiculous.

To rely on the fanfiction in their minds to jump to the conclusion that Bucky and the others "work for Val", just because we DID NOT know how Bucky proceeded after the abrupt ending of the movie, and we STILL don't know how the New Avengers operate, because we only had a 2 minute post-credits scene whose sole purpose was to connect to the events of Avengers Doomsday, which basically gave NO information about them as a team. It's stupidly absurd.

Just because Bucky and the others decided to stay as a team (because literally the movie was about a group of people being forced to work together to confront a seemingly indefensible threat, and to connect and form a bond of mutual support in the process), and take the Avengers name is NOT proof that Val is somehow exerting her influence on them. Did these people even watch the same movie?? Do you really think that Bucky, Yelena and the others would listen to any of the lies of an evil manipulative person like Val after all that happened?? Tell me you didn't understand any of the plot without telling me...

Val does NOT own the Avengers name, so her publicly introducing them as the New Avengers does NOT mean shit. Bucky was already an Avenger since Infinity War or before. John literally said people considered him an Avengers since TFATWS.

Clint brought Wanda to the team, and Steve brought Sam to the team as well, there is no clause prohibiting members from inviting their own recruits to the team. So of course Bucky would have every right to decide to form his own team and invite his new teammates. Bucky has as much right to do this as Sam.

Literally people forget that Val has NO support, she is in the crosshairs of the authorities, she got rid of all her labs and all her research. Her only hope was to be able to control Sentry and of course it slipped through her fingers. Literally Bucky, Yelena and the others have her on a short leash, and they can literally take her down whenever they feel like it.

Also, exposing Val at the press conference wouldn't have worked as the only people who knew Bob was Sentry and The Void were Val, Mel and The Thunderbolts. If they'd presented Bob who didn't even remember what just happened people would have thought they were crazy or just lying to try and bring her down.

Even if Yelena and the others were to say publicly that Val hired them to get rid of any evidence that might convict her, it would be their word (that of former criminals) against hers. It could equally be interpreted that they are just lying because they have no evidence.

And another thing, when Bucky captured the Thunderbolts he was going to take them to testify with the impeachment committee. Their statement would only be useful against Valentina in this situation. For this information to be made public before it got to the Committee would have been counterproductive and would have most likely lost its credibility. So there is literally nothing to prevent Bucky from later arranging a deal in which Yelena, John and Ava could testify against Val in exchange for protection, a reduced sentence or even a government pardon.

People make a stupid fuss that the New Avengers might be somehow related to the government, when we don't even know if this is true or to what degree, but they conveniently forget that the OG Avengers were literally formed by SHIELD, a government organization. And their first team mission was ordered by SHIELD as well. In CA:TWS Steve and Natasha are still considered to be working for SHIELD, i.e. the Government. That only stopped because SHIELD was bought down. The Avengers only gained autonomy because the government organization controlling it ceased to exist.

The idea to form a new Avengers team in CA:BNW literally came from Ross, the same guy who wanted to have enhanced people under his control, the same guy who said Bruce's body was government property, and the same guy who ordered an extrajudicial execution order against Bucky, convicting him as guilty for the UN bombing without a fair trial which is literally a violation of his human rights. Ross is NO better a person than Val, and Sam was going to work with him just because he told him he "had changed", as if Ross wasn't known for lying, he already did it by telling the Avengers that they were "going to have a degree of freedom" if they signed the Accords, and this is NOT true.

Had the scandal of Ross transforming into the Red Hulk not happened on national TV, and thus not ended up in prison, Sam would have ended up working with him. The line between Sam "and when we disagree on how to manage a situation… what happens then?" and Ross "we figure it out together" literally already is a clear implication that they were going to work together.

I bet if BNW had ended up in a similar situation, with no word on whether Ross was arrested or not, and before that he had introduced Sam, Joaquin and maybe others as the New Avengers, people wouldn't jump to the conclusion that Sam is now working for him.

BECAUSE AGAIN, WORKING IN COOPERATION WITH THE GOVERNMENT DOES NOT MEAN BEING SUBJUGATED BY IT. AND THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE OG AVENGERS, WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN WITH SAM'S FUTURE TEAM AND WHAT MAY HAPPEN WITH THE NEW AVENGERS.

Literally the only mention of the government with the New Avengers was Yelena's "we're the Avengers, the government said so," which couldn't be more ambiguous. Bucky literally has his trusted contacts within Congress, so without any problem they could have been the ones who could have offered them backing. Bucky literally already worked within the system and that did NOT stop him from stepping in and running things his own way. Of course he is going to seek that same freedom for his team.

In the same PC scene Yelena says that "there is a possible space threat and no one is informing them". If the New Avengers were really a government sanctioned organization, why isn't the government asking them to be the ones to investigate this? See the lack of sense? Bucky told Yelena to get a satellite image and send the jets when they are being kept out of the situation. That is literally clear proof that they are handling the situation their way and NOT asking for any permission.

Valentina is NOT the entire government, and NOT all members of the government are corrupt criminals. There's Rhodes who remained a colonel in the army even after he knew the system was infiltrated by Hydra, but that doesn't make him any less of a hero or any less of one.

Sam Stans think that Sam is supposedly so worried that now "the Avengers name is linked to a corrupt politician like Val", and that's why he waited 14 months to file a copyright lawsuit, when TB* could easily use a variant like The Revengers, The Avengerz, The New Avengers, East Coast Avengers, or any other that doesn't infringe copyright. Because avoiding that "The Avengers name is linked to Val" is the problem, not that a "bunch of super people are working for her" 🤡🤡

[derangedanomaly]

Mafia boys(yes, mafia bad sans) getting a wife after crashing a rival mafia boss supposed wedding, now they are rewarded with Reader who has a elegant personality she was basically forced into the marriage and all

MASTERLIST

MAFIA BAD SANSES GETTING A WIFE AFTER CRASHING RIVAL MAFIAS WEDDING

You could only stare at the man you're supposed to marry.. the marriage in which you were so crudely forced to. "Now, Y/N L/N, do you take **** as your lawfully wedded husband?" You gulped, hesitating, of course you don't want to! But if you refuse, there'll be a death sentence ready for you.. it's like walking on a field full of mines...

"...I-" a glass breaking startled everyone at the ceremony, as all the people stared at what or who made that noise... You can't help but feel slightly relieved, as this saved you from agreeing to this marriage...

A man stepped into the room, in a dark suit...it was-

NIGHTMARE:

Nightmare slowly walked up the stairs leading to you and the man who you were supposed to marry, and now who was kidnapping you. This day can't get worse...

Just as you thought everything was lost, a black droopy tentacle curled itself around your waist, holding you tightly. Nightmare then spoke to the unnamed man; "This is the end of our deal" he proceeded to impale the man.

Nightmares gaze than settled on you, looking all over you. "Hmm.." he hummed in interest. "What a pretty jewel.." you don't know why, but you suddenly mumbled.. "Please...P-Please help me.." his eyes widened, his smirk now evident. He chuckled, and placed you on a chair nearby.

"What a sight..." He sighed, and caressed your cheek. "H-Hey!" He snapped his head towards the quivering voice, his face now wearing a frown. "...I'll come back." He whispered to you, facing the man.

You couldn't help but stare back at the disappearing figure of the goopy man. Your cheeks than gained a red color, when his previous words settled into you.. 'What a pretty jewel..'

KILLER:

A sudden blast could be heard, as fire spread out across the ceremony. You yelped, and backed up a little, when the man suddenly grabbed you by the waist. "You ain't going nowhere you bitch!" You closed your eyes, and silently prayed for this to be over.

"Now this ain't any way to speak to a lady, is it?" Your head snapped up to look at who spoke those words, while the man behind you took out his gun. "H-Hey now! Back up man!" You didn't failed to notice the aching voice in the man's throat.

A man who's eyes were pitch black appeared in front of you. You jumped a little at the contact. "...Huh." he was observing you.. you couldn't help your cheeks getting flushed, when he moved closer. "HEY!" The man in front of you tsked, but flashed you a toothy smile. "I'll help you out in a moment toots." He winked, then proceeded to tackle the man.

What a charmer...

DUST:

The man suddenly fell unconscious, and you were held up bridal style. You couldn't even process everything, when you were getting carried by someone unknown. Your gaze met his eyes, that were hidden under a hoodie.

"Hey, sorry for 'ruining' your joyous day, miss." You couldn't help but giggle at his words. "It's ok, It wasn't really a 'joyous' day for me..." He nodded, then came to a stop, and sat you on a chair. "I'll be right back, sit tight." He disappeared, and left you to your own thoughts.

What is even happening?

HORROR:

You stared in shock, at the scene in front of you. An axe came flying through the air, and cut open your 'future husbands' head... You stood there, completely shocked and frightened, while people screamed in the background.

You're met with what you could only describe as a living horror.. in front of you stands a man, with one red shining eye. He's sizing you up... You start to shake, and instinctively put your hands you, in surrender.

He didn't speak, only took your hands and threw you over his shoulder. You yelped in protest, but instantly stop, when you hear him finally speak... "I'm not.... going to hurt...you.." his voice was raspy, probably not used to talking much, but it was also deep.

You stayed quiet, while he carried you out of the venue. You didn't know, if you were saved, or doomed.. but by the look on his face, it was probably the first option.

[offender42085]

Post 1367

Ronnie Adrian “Jay” Towns, Georgia inmate 1003723497, born 1986, incarceration intake November 2024 at age 38, sentenced to life

Murder

In November 2024, a Georgia man was sentenced in connection woth the deaths of a couple that traveled hundreds of miles to buy a car and were found dead in 2015.

Ronnie "Jay " Towns pleaded guilty in connection to the deaths of Elrey "Bud" Runion and June Runion, a couple who were reported missing in 2015. The couple's remains were found in late January of that same year.

Elrey Runion, 69, and his wife, 66-year-old June were last seen driving their 2003 GMC Envoy.

They'd traveled a few hours from Marietta to the southern Georgia county of Telfair to buy a 1966 Mustang convertible from someone they'd spoken to on Craigslist. That person turned out to be Towns, who was 28 at the time.

The couple's last phone call was to a disposable cell phone Towns owned. That led authorities at the time to interview Towns in connection to their disappearance.

Their bodies were found in late January 2015, and both had been shot in the head. Their bodies had been left among trees off a county road, not far from the pond where their SUV was found.

Towns was eventually charged at the time in connection to their deaths. He also faced an armed robbery charge and was accused of giving false statements,. Towns initially pleaded not guilty.

His first indictment was thrown out because of the way the grand jury was selected. He was indicted again in 2020 but the proceedings were delayed to the COVID-19 pandemic. The court proceedings may have also been delayed due to prosecutors seeking the death penalty, which requires extra steps.

New evidence was made public in relation to the case in April 2020 according to the Georgia Bureau of Investigation, or GBI. 

Someone found a .22 caliber rifle while magnet fishing in Horse Creek, along Old Prison Camp Road in Telfair County. As the person continued fishing on April 16, they found a bag with the Runions’ drivers’ licenses and credit cards, as well as a cell phone.

GBI agents and the Telfair County Sheriff’s Office secured multiple search warrants for a home located in the area and found evidence that was submitted to the crime lab for further analysis. Once new evidence was found, his trial was set for August 2024. After some delays, Towns agreed to plead guilty in November 2024.

4d

[leohtttbriar]

i do get that part of the reason no one in this episode seems to be all that interested in voicing the obvious arguments for criminal justice is because this episode isn't really a story about how people are prosecuted and sentenced ( which seems wildly tyrannical in the mari world from our perspective, used, as we are, to things like juries and legal representation and trials. charging and sentencing seems to happen at once at the whims of single person who just has their opinion on what is most "likely", which is a qualification evidently also decided on a whim). this episode, i guess, is more about posing hypothetical questions about thought-policing in telepathic societies and the phenomenon of a "thought" if you're among people who have open access to everyone's.

but, unfortunately, this episode had the very logical character easily fall for the pretense of success for the thought-policing and thus a society free of violence and crime, forcing the viewer to consider the subject of violence and crime and its actual causes, possible considerations that the episode leaves largely ignored.

while ignoring that, the writing of this episode, maybe even accidentally, has portrayed a legal defense reality where an innocent party is utterly unprotected by the law for the thoughts they "instigated" in another--"gay panic" defense or a "stand your ground" defense, there are many iterations of some person of marginalized social position being left unprotected and unjustly treated because they ""inspired"" some feeling or thought in their attacker. which makes this whole story read as bluntly oblivious/ignorant or clumsily written/tone-deaf or malicious or some combination of all three.

i agree with the overall thesis of the episode which is basically: the state both cannot and should not control people's thoughts. they externalized the details of this civil-liberty argument by making the setting a society of telepaths. but unfortunately trying to tell a story about thought policing using crimes of actual physical violence with little attention paid to the structures of the criminal justice proceedings makes this whole episode infuriating. the mari security officer says "which he only did because he telepathically received that thought from b'elanna" and there's no interrogation really of the underlying argument of this point--that anyone can know for sure why anyone did anything. the narrative claim on how thoughts can be held as equal phenomena as actions almost necessarily invites people to wonder what any of this would look like, in someone's head, how thoughts are organized, how they actualize and to what degree they're automatically shared, where the responsibility to thoughts ends, if all emotional reactions can be categorized as burdens on the other, and, chiefly, how can you gather evidence and prove a criminal charge true when that evidence is: conscious thoughts? the fully formed feelings or the partial reactions or the analytical thought-response or the many other conscious or unconscious things happening in the brain? putting this story in direct contact with a story about criminal justice makes the telepathic question feel more high-stakes for the viewer and then makes the criminal justice element seem so out of touch it's offensive.

on a character level, making it b'elanna who is "guilty" of having a violent thought (whatever that is) and thus "instigating" actual violence is also offensive-as-fuck optics. it makes the fact of her half-klingon-ness fully allegorical where her "fiery mind" reads, to us, as a racialized biological reality instead of racist stereotyping. i've said before that i don't like when star trek or fans make the aliens fully allegorical, as representing some made-up human culture, instead of engaging with the alien as an actual idea of an alien intelligence. (like, the allegory is always there but it's also simple and limiting.) but this episode was a perfect storm of unthoughtful writing that it's hard to want to say that, in the universe of this story, b'elanna's biology is different from someone who is not half-klingon, because i want to defend the optics of b'elanna due to the messed up nature of this episode's profound ignorance.

but of course, regardless of how the question of b'elanna's biology is answered, from an ethics standpoint it doesn't matter. the truth is that no matter how violently b'elanna thought something (and again, whatever that means) thereby making someone else think something, there is no good-faith-engagement-with-the-telepathic-conceit argument that doesn't utterly show that b'elanna cannot be guilty of someone else's violence. the episode even lays it out explicitly: b'elanna had an emotional reaction and briefly wanted to retaliate but she didn't. she even said "i would never do that" because b'elanna seems to be the only character in this whole episode who knows what's just (seeing her fight so strongly against getting her memories and thoughts messed with was great) and also because: that's the point. the episode just managed to make that point in the most questionable possible fucking way.

[cerisesakurainspring]

OIKAWA x READER

~~He is someone who calls you pet names~~

"Tooru, you repulsive little male mynx!!"

The chocolatey-eyed lad came running towards the bathroom where you were screaming his name. Worry evident in his alluring features.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"You are what's wrong! I told you to put the toilet seat down." Waking up on the wrong side of the bed didn't help with the small frustration bubbling inside of you. It was a very simple house rule, and your charming husband seemed to always 'forget' about it.

The pro volleyball player relaxed his shoulder, and a sheepish smile soon replaced his concerned one.

"Sorry, gordita-chan. I'll remember that for next time." He goes closer to you for a kiss on the cheek, but you don't let him; instead, you push him into the bathroom. "I don't want you to remember. I NEED you to actually do it."

Tooru turned around and pouted at you in an attempt to be charming.

"Nope. Not gonna work on me. Clean everything here this instant. Don't forget to scrub the bathtub, too." you ordered, and when it finally registered that he called you your least favourite nickname, you crunched your nose in disgust. "And you need to stop calling me gordita!"

"Noooo," he dragged on and proceeded to squeeze your cheeks, "How can I not bring attention to your cute chubby little cheeks?? You're like a conejita, oh my cute little bunny!" Tooru started sucking at your cheeks playfully. It began to hurt, so you had to bite his wrist to stop him.

"Ouch! Okay, okay. Then, how about mi changuita?"

"What does that mean?"

He waved his pointy finger in the air with a proud expression, "It means 'my beautiful wife!"

His mischievous smile did not go unnoticed, and you lightly kicked his shin, "Liar! It's probably another stupid sweet-nothings. I don't want it."

Tooru did not want to tell you it really meant little monkey. It reminded him of how you would desperately clung onto him like a monkey whenever he leaves for his away-games, and he'll keep calling you that until you find out the true meaning. And when you do, he'll just come up with another cute pet name for you.

"Why can't you just be like a normal husband and call me something like mi amor or mi vida?"

You notice his naughty smile ease into a sincere one, "Tu eres mi precioso tesoro, y siempre estare encantado por ti, mi cielo."

"Do I even want to know what that means?"

Tooru just looks at you lovingly and smiles his signature grin.

"You think you can get away with anything as long as you smile, huh?" You placed your hands on your waist, giving off a sassy look.

Tooru revelled in your beauty, and he couldn't help the sudden flurry of butterflies in his stomach. Though you two have been married for years now, you have never failed to tickle his heart.

"You're supposed to say you love me back. Do you not love me anymore?" The setter pouted.

You rolled your eyes at his question, "You didn't say te amo, so why would I?" You sighed in slight frustration for not understanding the Spanish sentence he uttered earlier on. "I let my love for you be the one to decide to marry you. I didn't consider how much you would drive me nuts."

There was a slight arch on Tooru's brow. "Do I really drive you crazy in every aspect of your life?"

"Very much so." You looked at him accusingly, hoping your stares reached the recesses of his soul.

Tooru leaned his body forward to meet your eyes. A slight smirk danced on his lips. A look that made you shiver in delight. Not that you would ever admit it out loud.

"Then, does that include our nightly sessions?" His voice showed a hint of tease, and you turned beet red at his suggestive question.

In shock and embarrassment, you ran out of the bathroom and closed the door, leaving your husband behind.

Laughter didn't fail to escape Tooru's mouth, and it reverberated through the door.

"You're not leaving until you clean the whole bathroom!!" You screamed in shyness and frustration.

Smile slowly eased unto your lips as you held your hand on your chest, where your heart was beating too fast.

"I'm glad I married you, mi amor." You whispered to yourself.

~~~~~

Translation:

Tu eres mi precioso tesoro y siempre estare encantado por ti, mi cielo. / You are my precious treasure, and I will always be enchanted by you, my little heaven.

This is part of a one-shot series and is on AO3 and Wattpad :)