#motoring offences

[drivingsolicitors]

A Driving Solicitor is a lawyer who specializes in handling legal matters related to driving offences and motor vehicle laws.

Here are 20 things a Driving Solicitor might do:

Provide legal advice and guidance to clients facing driving-related charges or offences.

Represent clients in court hearings for traffic violations and driving offences.

Prepare and file legal documents and motions on behalf of clients.

Negotiate with prosecutors for plea bargains or reduced charges.

Gather evidence and interview witnesses to build a strong defence case.

Challenge the validity of traffic stops and arrests if constitutional or procedural issues exist.

Handle cases related to DUI/DWI (driving under the influence/driving while intoxicated) charges.

Defend clients accused of reckless driving or dangerous driving.

Assist clients in appealing traffic convictions or license suspensions.

Advise clients on the potential consequences of pleading guilty or contesting charges.

Advocate for clients in license revocation or restoration hearings.

Help clients understand their rights and legal options in driving-related matters.

Represent clients involved in hit-and-run accidents or leaving the scene of an accident.

Defend clients accused of driving with a suspended or revoked license.

Handle cases related to driving without insurance or other registration violations.

Provide legal representation to clients involved in road rage incidents.

Assist commercial drivers facing charges that could affect their professional licenses.

Help clients resolve outstanding fines, tickets, or warrants related to driving offences.

Offer advice on the potential impact of driving offences on car insurance rates.

Keep up-to-date with traffic laws and regulations changes to provide the best possible defence for clients.

Note: A Driving Solicitor's specific tasks and responsibilities may vary depending on the jurisdiction and local laws.

[gaadikey]

Settlement of motor vehicle offences via compounding/composition

Settlement of motor vehicle related offences  “Compounding” under the Code of Criminal Procedure, 1973 (“the Code”) or “composition” under the Motor Vehicles Act, 1988 (“the MV Act”) allows the accused or (alleged) offender to legally settle the outstanding offence(s) under these laws (subject to prescribed conditions), generally by paying a penalty or fine amount.    Compounding under the…

[alpha-mag-media]

Irish haulier linked to people smuggling racket in which 39 died found guilty of immigration offences | In Trend Today

Irish haulier linked to people smuggling racket in which 39 died found guilty of immigration offences Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

[ur-mag]

Fraudster Catriona Carey banned from driving for FOUR years after pleading guilty to road traffic offences | In Trend Today

Fraudster Catriona Carey banned from driving for FOUR years after pleading guilty to road traffic offences Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

[myownwholewildworld]

uniformed!joel one shot - the police officer

series masterlist | main masterlist | part ii

pairing: police officer!joel x f!reader.

summary: you're driving back home and, unbeknownst to you, you've committed quite a few traffic offences, noticed by the one and only police officer, joel miller. he's not gonna let you get your way that easily.

a/n: umm hello?? idk what happened, but here we are. i threw this idea to the wind, people seemed to like it, so i started typing and this is what came out. read the warnings and do not judge me please lol this is inspired by this and this ask, so kudos to them! so basically i have decided to start a series of one shots where joel miller wears different uniforms. YEAH, i know, i'm not okay but that's okay. if you guys have any suggestions for this series, my askbox is open! also, i've decided that if i/you guys want, i can write the same uniformed!joel more than once (e.g. two fics of police officer!joel). if someone is interested in being in the taglist for this series, please do let me know. anyways, i do appreciate all comments, reblogs, likes and asks. as always thank you for reading! <3

warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. dark theme. filthy smut. dub-con. age gap, no age gap, you choose (joel is mid-late 40s, reader is at least of legal drinking age). power imbalance (joel is a cop). alcohol consumption (reader is sober by the time it happens). fingering. squirting. oral (m and f receiving). mouth fucking. slut shaming. cheating. rough, public sex. unprotected piv. creampie. joel is a bully and a dick, basically, so be warned. alternating pov. no description of reader apart from having hair that can be pulled. not proofread so i'm sorry.

w/c: ~4.6k.

tagging some people who seemed to be v interested (please let me know if you want to be removed, no pressure!):

@fartcloudfartcloud @liciafonseca @fan-fiction-floozy @sweetlummie

“Shit”, you mumbled as the car keys slipped off your fingers.

You crouched down and blindly dabbed the asphalt, your phone falling off your hand too. You grunted in frustration ― maybe you did drink a bit more than what you had intended. Not to the point where you thought it would be dangerous, otherwise you wouldn’t be driving home. You were already clumsy when sober, so this was no sign of anything, really.

The keys had tumbled under your car, so you got on all fours and bent over to reach. After a few trials, you finally got hold of them. Steadying yourself on the handle of the driver’s side of your car, you got up. Your tiny, fitted skirt had scrunched up at your waist, so you pulled from the hem to bring it back down. Looking around, you hoped you hadn’t flashed anyone.

You had dressed up for the occasion. As you grew older, your group of friends slowly drifted apart, so agreeing on a date and time to meet up had been a fucking miracle. You had been out since midday and sipped on many margaritas to quench your thirst. But knowing you would need to drive back home, you had stopped drinking a couple of hours ago. If you could, you would have gotten hammered. Living in the outskirts of Austin sucked.

You managed to finally open your vehicle and sat down. You hunched down, avoiding the steering wheel, to undo your heels. A satisfied sigh escaped your lips when you took them off ― your feet were hurting so bad, you questioned all of your life choices. A minute later the motor roared awake, and you were on your merry way without a hitch.

That was until you drove out of the city center onto not very well-lit roads. You were driving through an industrial estate when sirens went off behind you. Clicking your tongue, you looked through the rearview mirror, thinking it may be an ambulance asking you to give way.

Ah, no, you were very mistaken. It was a freaking police car, and it seemed like it was asking you to pull over. Great, just fucking great, you thought.

The headlights blinded you, so you couldn’t see the man approaching your car. Then you heard a tap, tap, tap on your window, the officer dazing you with the torchlight. You inhaled deeply, putting on your best smile, and rolled down the window.

“Good evening, officer. What can I do for ya?”, you battered your eyelashes at him, still dazzled by the torchlight.

Maybe if you played all sweet and innocent, he would take pity on you and let you go.

However, you were met with a deep, husky voice.

“License and proof of insurance”, he barked, no good evening miss, no please, nothing. So rude.

When he put down the torch, you caught a glimpse of the guy’s face. Bearded jaw with a prominent moustache, brown curly hair with slivers of silver, an attractive hooked nose, and some devilish hazel eyes. He was in his mid or late forties and was so fucking handsome you almost drooled at the sight.

You bit your bottom lip, a lopsided smile curling at the corners.

“Yes, of course, officer”, your voice was sweet and smooth as you bowed over the passenger’s seat, your boobs casually resting on the steering wheel.

You opened the glove box and handed him the papers, faking the most innocent, girly look you could muster.

“Is there something wrong, officer?”, you asked, leaning on the door frame, gifting him with the tentative sight of your deep cleavage.

His eyes wandered off the papers he was holding and lingered where you intended. You read the tag on his shirt: Officer Miller. Well, Officer Miller looked damn good in that tight uniform. The black shirt clung to his flexed biceps, the buttons slightly giving way to the bulge of his chest, the belt hugging his waist and… good fucking lord, those thighs, the size of a rugby player’s.

Your mouth watered.

You would lie to yourself if you said you were not affected by his presence. In fact, your damp cunt might as well fucking disagree with you. You pressed your knees together, unconsciously looking for some relief to the sudden wet heat gathering in between your legs.

His eyes drifted up lazily, locking on to yours. You swore a muscle on his jaw twitched.

“You were speeding, doing 40 on a 30-mph road. And your headlights are off”, he replied, his tone raspy.

Fuuuuuuuck, that’s why I couldn’t see shit. Were you that drunk? You didn’t feel like it.

Your face expression didn’t flinch, playing dumb might just do the trick. So you giggled, smacking your forehead with the palm of your hand.

“Ah, silly me. But it was well lit up until now, sir, so no harm done, right?”, your honeyed voice pleaded. “I swear this was a 40-mph road a couple of months ago?”

“It was but got changed. Did you not see the road sign?”, he seemed to be very annoyed.

You had no time to answer, because Officer Miller pointed to your lap. For a second you panicked ― surely your arousal had not drenched your clothes, right? You were aware of how wet your pussy was, but not to that extreme. Right? You looked down ― your phone was resting on your lap, but nothing else. A wave of relief overcame you and then you glanced up at him, confused.

“You were talking on the phone while driving, I presume.”

You gasped and promptly shook no with your head.

“No, no, officer. You see, I left it there when I got in the car, I forgot it was on my lap. I promise I wasn’t texting or anything like that.” Your explanation was genuine, but he cocked a brow. “I wouldn’t lie to you, sir.”

“Why? Because you’re a good girl?”. That question caught you off guard and turned you on at the same time, sending shivers down your spine. Your clit twitched. You gaped and nodded unwittingly. “I see. Step out of the car.”

Your heart was racing, attempting to jump out of your chest. Maybe you had been too suggestive. But he was the embodiment of the law, surely the officer had had his good share of temptation and would not yield so easily.

You got out of your sedan, slightly dishevelled, and tugged at your skirt so it would stop riding up your thighs. Officer Miller had taken one step back, his eyes measuring you from top to bottom, loitering on your breasts. His tongue quickly darted out to wet his bottom lip ― you were mesmerised by the simple gesture and pondered how it would feel if you choked on his tongue.

That thought made your cunt gush some more. You pursed your lips ― eyes on him, trying to convey normalcy.

“You’ve been drinking and have also been driving barefoot. That’s a total of, what, five offences?”. Miller clicked his tongue in disapproval. “It’s like you’re begging to spend the night in a cell.” His eyes flickered with malice ― and something else. Lust?

You really did not want to sleep in a cell tonight. You just wanted to get home, that was all. Also, most of your “offences” were bullshit. You were certain he couldn’t charge you with half of it, but his wickedness made you wary.

“I’m not drunk,” you said with a languid smile, touching his forearm, his arms crossed at his chest. “I stopped drinking two hours ago, officer.”

He raised an eyebrow ― Officer Miller didn’t believe a word you said.

“I can smell it.” You didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but his eyes drifted down to your pussy.

“I-It?”, you repeated, lips parted.

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you for a long minute. Your bravery had flaked a bit, although your cunt was begging for him to do something about it.

Joel was having a hard time curbing his horniness. You were so inviting, so insinuating, it was like you were asking to be fucked there and then. Oh, yes, you were, he knew you were. Showing off your boobs, wetting your lips, rubbing your knees together, playing with the edge of your tiny skirt. He had noticed every single one of your seductive attempts.

His cock was hard, so much so that it was stretching against the zipper of his work trousers. He kept his arms crossed, but what he really wanted to do was to readjust his erection so it wouldn’t be so damn uncomfortable.

“Turn around, hands on the car”, he ordered with a steely voice.

You first looked muddled, but finally obliged, giving him your back ― your palms resting on the roof of your car, your knees pressed together. He was sure your cunt was pulsing, and you were just trying to calm yourself down.

The thought made him mad with lechery. His dick was throbbing already.

“I’m going to pat you down, and then I’m gonna cuff you. Understood?”, he warned you, getting close to you.

You suddenly looked over your shoulder, your smile unwavering. You tilted your pelvis back, your ass against his bulge. You glanced down and then back up at him decisively.

“I’m sure we can work something out, officer?”, you whispered, your butt pressing on his swollen lump.

No, Joel was not imagining things. You were definitely asking to be fucked senseless in exchange for just a warning. He was still contemplating whether to entertain the idea or not. You were tempting, he would give you that. Your body was built to satisfy a man’s pleasure ― he could see that even when you were clothed. Barely clothed. Your top was too small, your boobs almost spilling over the neckline; your skirt was too short, your ass cheeks almost visible ― and he was sure you had some slutty heels on before you jumped into the car.

His cock jerked at the thought of rearranging your guts. Because that was what Joel would do to you if he had the chance. He cupped his groin for a second now that you were not looking, pressing it slightly to relieve some of the tension.

It didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse. He suppressed a frustrated groan.

Joel slotted his right knee in between your legs and forced you to separate them, his heavy boot grounding him. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, you’re under arrest for at least reckless driving. Now stay still.” He was fully aware of how the top of his thigh brushed your crotch, but made a titanic effort to ignore it, for his own sanity.

Your panties were so fucking drenched, you feared your discharge might start dripping down your inner thighs. In fact, you let your head down to check discreetly and sighed with relief ― nothing to worry about, he wouldn’t notice how fucking horny you were.

Then he forcefully parted your legs, and you felt the fabric of his trousers sliding against your wet panties. The subtle touch made you jerked your hips up and then back down in surprise, your clothed cunt flushed against his thigh ― you had to swallow the sluttiest moan of your entire life, it felt damn good.

“I’m― I’m sorry”, you mumbled, lifting your body up to break the contact.

You didn’t need to look down to know that there would be a wet patch on his black trousers.

“You should be, making a mess of my uniform like that”, he grunted, exasperated.

Pressing your lips, you inspected every inch of the roof of your car while he patted you down. His big, calloused hands lingered on your underboob longer than necessary, almost cupping them. Both hands travelled down to your waist, his fingertips slightly under the waistband of your skirt.

Your heart was pounding, suddenly unsure of the whole thing. What were you really doing? Were you so desperate that you would let him use you in exchange for letting you go? Were you getting more than what you had bargained for?

It was like the excitement had burnt the last drop of alcohol in your blood and now you were fully aware of what you had unleashed.

But you had no more time to question your attitude, because Officer Miller completely slipped one of his hands under your underwear and buried all of his fingers in your soaked folds, except for his thumb which quickly found your clit. You shut your eyes and moaned audibly, your knees giving way.

His free hand wrapped around your waist to help you stand up, while his fingers traversed your whole slit, from your perineum to your clit, buttering your cunt with your own fluids.

“You are so fucking wet already, you should be ashamed of yourself”, he whispered in your ear while he pushed your ass back into his bulge.

Your treacherous body had awakened at his touch, your clit felt like it was on fire and your cunt was pulsating so hard it was uncomfortable. You rubbed his dick with your buttocks, unconsciously looking for some more friction. Miller groaned behind you, jerking you closer, his cock hard pressed against your ass.

Two of his fingers dipped further down and found your leaking hole, his thumb still rubbing your clit languidly. You whimpered and stirred your hips when one fingertip circled your entrance tentatively. Your back arched, pushing your butt further into his erection.

“Aren’t you a slut?”, he hissed as both fingers slid inside you, your brain not registering his words.

Your moist pussy clenched around his fingers, squeezing them hard. Every time your heart beat, so did your cunt. Officer Miller started fingering you, first slowly, and then picking up a relentless pace. Unable to control yourself, you mewled like a kitten in heat, your forehead now resting against the cold metal of your car and a thread of spit hanging from your mouth. Your needy cunt was so stimulated, so hot, so slippery, you couldn’t stop yourself from coming, even if you wanted to.

So you let go. You orgasmed so hard, you squirted with his fingers still dug in your creamy pussy. But you coming didn’t stop Officer Miller from driving his digits inside of you over and over again, forcing another climax on you a minute later. Your inner walls palpitated so violently, you felt the emptiness of your womb. Then you noticed it: the trickle of your own cum streaming down your inner thighs.

Officer Miller forced his fingers out of you, a pop sound making it obvious that your pussy was drown in your own fluids. The cop tapped your pussy a few times, almost gently, as the last wave washed off your nerve endings. You had never come so hard in your life before. Not even your boyfriend of five years had been able to turn you on this bad.

When your limbs regained some strength, Miller let go of your waist and stepped back. You slowly turned around to face him, but as your eyes drifted down his uniform, you realised that there was a new wet patch on his trousers, this time on his bulge. You had leaked so much, you had drenched his own pants.

You tried to find the words to explain to him that this was not what you had intended. Or was it?

“You’re still under arrest”, his voice was resolute, as if nothing of what just happened had affected him.

Before your neurons could make contact with each other, he handcuffed you, your laced hands resting in front of you, conveniently covering your spent pussy.

“But―”.

“No but’s, blackmailing a cop is an offence too. So that makes it six now, right?”, he cut you off.

You huffed, not believing what he was saying. You had not blackmailed him, not even close, he was just making it up now. Before you could argue, Officer Miller removed the keys from the ignition, shut the driver’s door and locked your car. He then grabbed you by your elbow, forcing you to walk in front of him towards his cruiser.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re now just bullying me”, you complained, your sweet façade quickly toppling.

Miller didn’t reply to your taunting. He simply opened the back door of his Crown Vic and threw you in. You almost tripped but manage to stop the falling. You sat down on the seat, your legs still out of the car, bare soles against the asphalt.

You didn’t know what possessed you, but your cuffed hands darted up and played with the buckle of his belt. Maybe if you gave him some head, he would relax and let you go. You were already in too deep anyway, your whipped pussy living proof of your desire.

“Officer, please, I can make it worth your while if you let me go”, you muttered, your fingers unclasping his belt.

Miller did not say one word, he just stared you down while you held his gaze. His waist slanted forward in an unspoken invitation, his eyes swirling with lust and wickedness.

You were not sure why you were doing this, or if you wanted to do this. But you were a horny mess, your pulsing cunt urging you to keep going, saturating your panties even more. Sure, you could drive home and ask your boyfriend to take care of you, but by the looks of it, you were going to spend the night in a station cell if you didn't do something about it. About him.

With firm hands, you undid the buckle and unzipped his trousers. His big, meaty cock sprung out with no warning, swaying in front of you. He was wearing no underwear. You marvelled at the sight ― his dick was the longest you had ever seen with a considerable girth, veiny and hairy at the base. It looked scary, but also fucking tempting.

“Don’t just stare, do something”, he commanded, grabbing your cuffed hands to bring them closer to his erection.

Ah, someone is impatient, you thought with a smirk before wrapping both of your hands around his circumference. With your mouth agape, close to his leaking tip, you rubbed the precum against his slit with your thumb and then started pumping him. His cock was palpitating, hard and velvety under your clasp ― and warm, so fucking warm you could feel his blood rushing underneath.

His jaw clenched, his eyes transfixed on your moving hands as you upped the rhythm. And then, without prior notice, he fisted your hair in a ponytail and drove his whole dick down your parted lips. You retched when his glans surpassed your uvula and coughed with his cock still in your mouth.

You were suffocating, but he didn’t give a fuck. In any case, he pushed his cock further down, but it had nowhere to go. His pubic hairs tingled the tip of your nose as you looked up, silently asking for mercy with teary eyes.

Miller glanced down at you and the motherfucker just smiled as you were still gagging.

“Look at you. What a whore, you’re taking it so well”, he mumbled under his breath before pushing your head back.

His cock slid out and you coughed to clear your throat of precum, swallowing it. His brutish attitude, although unwelcome, made your traitor of a cunt gush.

“I’m gonna fuck your throat to teach you a lesson. Open up for me, darlin’.”

You didn’t know why, but you just obeyed. Without breaking visual contact, the cop slotted his cock back in between your lips. With his hands on your temples, he tilted his hips forward until his tip stroked the end of your throat. Then he pulled out harshly and started jackhammering your mouth relentlessly, driving his cock in as far as he could every single time, his hairy balls hitting your chin. With Miller taking the lead, your cuffed hands were free. They were lazily resting on your lap until you dipped them down, your index caressing your deprived clit.

You just took it like a champ. After a while, your gag reflex relaxed and you dared to press your lips around his girth, so it would be more pleasurable for him. His slick cock was drumming in your mouth, filling it up entirely, choking you.

Miller pulled your head back sternly ― you were panting like a puppy by the time he was done with your throat. Your eyelashes were damp with unspent tears. You were sure that tomorrow it was going to hurt like if you had caught the worst cold of your life. Your mouth was filled with his sticky precum, a bridge of it connecting your mouth to his cock.

“You’ve not thrown up, well done”, he chuckled darkly. “Clean this mess for me.”

Again, as if you were not in control of yourself, you did as you were told. You licked his throbbing cock, swallowing all the fluids you had swept off his groin.

He lightly patted your cheek. “Good girl, now get up and take that finger out of your pussy.”

You had not realised you had been fingering yourself all along and your clit was begging for some relief. With a trembling sigh, you removed your hand from in between your legs and stood up.

Only then you caught on: he had not come yet. Fuck, you thought.

Did you want this? You were not sure. Letting him finger you and giving him head was one thing, but letting him fuck you was a completely different story. You were not a slut nor a cheater, but he made you feel like one. Your dribbling pussy made you feel like one.

Joel snatched his fingers around your elbow once again and made you walk to the front of his cruiser. He was in extreme need of relief ― his cock was pulsing so hard it was driving him mad with lust. He was gonna fuck that cunt of yours till you begged him to stop.

Unceremoniously, he splayed you down across the hood of his car ― your chest against the metal surface, your ass up in the air and your legs spread wide. If he could take a picture to jerk himself off to, he would.

He needed to see for himself, taste for himself. He was sure as hell that your pussy was drooling, beseeching to be filled to the brim. So he knelt behind you and parted your ass cheeks to have a better look. You whimpered, tiptoeing to give him better access to your soaked flaps.

“You’re such a slut. I could scrunch your panties to fill up an entire glass with your cum. Your thighs are all wet and tacky too”, he couldn’t stop himself from pointing it out, driving his hands up from the back of your knees, up your inner thighs, until they reached your crotch, framing your pussy.

He leaned forward and sipped from the fountain of your underwear, his fingers digging in the flesh of your ass, smelling your sweet sex. You wept, moving your hips against his mouth. Ah, yes, he knew you wanted him to fuck you hard. Very hard.

Joel rode up your tight skirt, exposing your ass to the elements. And then he pulled down your panties and put them in the pocket of his vest, as if they were a trophy. Because they were.

He now could have a better look at your creamy cunt, all smeared with your wanton fluids. Spreading your pussy open with his hands, he lapped you entirely a few times, even your butthole. Joel heard your moans loud and clear, knowing that you had never had your pussy eaten this good before. So he kept on going ― lapping, licking, sucking, biting until you squirted in his mouth, leaking like a broken tap and whining like a bitch in heat.

Joel drank it all and when you were finished, he stood up. He spanked your ass and with a swift movement, impaled you until his balls were flat against your thighs.

You screamed, literally screamed at the top of your lungs, when he stabbed you with his cock. You tried to hold onto something, but there was nothing you could grab. This was exactly what your cunt needed, being stuffed like a goddamn turkey in thanksgiving. Officer Miller drove his cock in and out of you lazily at first, and then he started fucking you stupid with such vigour that your body was being rocked back and forth, the handcuffs sliding against the hood, scratching the metal underneath.

You just moaned uncontrollably throughout the whole thing, unable to quieten yourself. Your cunt clutched around his throbbing dick, squeezing it hard, so hard you felt your muscles strain. Your clit spasmed severely, another fucking climax creeping up on you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK”, you implored to the sky, to him, to whoever was listening.

The cop then fisted your hair in a ponytail and pulled backwards, forcing you up off the hood, your back arching against his chest while he drilled you mercilessly. You were sure the squelching sounds your pussy was making could be heard from a mile away.

Then you finally came again, shrieking ― your treacherous pussy clamping down on his dick, leaking absolutely everywhere, trying to desperately milk him dry. Your eyes welled up, your black eyeliner running down your cheeks.

“You’re gonna take it inside and you’re not gonna complain”, he moaned in your ear and even in your blissful daze, you panicked.

“I’ve got a boyfriend,” you mentioned, but you knew it wasn’t going to stop him.

“Ah, do you? Doesn’t seem like it right now”, and then he huffed heavily, letting go, driving his cock as far inside of you as he physically could.

His warm cum filled you to the brim, painting your walls of sticky white. Irremediably, you sighed, heaving, and closed your eyes, letting yourself rejoice in how full you were of his spent, of his cock.

And as soon as it started, it ended. His dick slid out of your crying, sensitive pussy, leaving your damp skin exposed to the cold air.

You took a minute to compose yourself and pushing down your skirt. When you looked at him, he had already tucked away his cock back in his work trousers, his cop uniform slightly in disarray. Now there were more wet, sticky patches adorning his groin area, a mixture of your shared pleasure.

“Can I have my panties back, please?”, you requested, extending your hand to him, with a sunny, albeit quivering, smile.

“No, I’m keeping them.” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Can I at least have a tissue to clean myself up?”, your voice grew smaller as you lost confidence.

“No. I want you to go home with your pussy bursting with my cum, so that boyfriend of yours knows you’ve been fucked stupid by someone else”, he explained, full of himself.

At least you were going home. Or so you thought until you saw him walk to the back door of his Crown Vic, holding it open for you to jump in.

“This means nothing, you’re still spending the night in the cell”, he said, matter-of-factly.

You scoffed, angry. “Are you fucking serious?”, you asked, although what you really wanted to do was cry.

But you swallowed your tears, contrite ― your pride was bigger than your shame. And right now, you felt mortified.

What had you done?

Well, you had gambled, and you lost.

But, on the other hand, he had fucked you so good, so filthy, you were not sure any other cock would measure up to his.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“Steal Heavy Timber On Small Hand-Cart,” Toronto Star. October 18, 1932. Page 21. ---- Kelly and Shea Plead Guilty to Theft of Lumber from Brick Yard --- Fred Kelly and Clinton Shea pleaded guilty in county police court to-day to stealing lumber fro a brick company, Deputy Chief Wilkins said he found a valuable timber 43 feet long cut into seven pieces, which had been loaded on to a hand-cart. Both men, he said, at first gave wrong names and addresses.

Both were warned and remanded for sentence.

John Percy Black, charged with a serious offence, was remanded in custody until Monday. ‘I want bail for my man,’ said Black’s counsel, Lewis Raxlen. Magistrate Keith refused.

James Fleck admitted that ‘it might have been so’ when he was charged with speeding 42 miles an hour on Dundas St. E.

‘It’s quite a relief to get a person to come in and be honest about it,’ remarked Magistrate Keith, imposing the minimum fine of $6 and costs.

When Emma Dodds was charged with parking within six feet of a fire hydrant, her husband explained. ‘The hydrant was green and the grass was green, and if Mrs. Dodds and I had seen it, we would not have parked there.’ ‘We ought to get red lights put on the hydrants,’ said the bench. Mrs. Dodds was remanded.

S. Hands, clad in leather coat and trousers, admitted driving a motor-cycle east on Rogers Rd. recklessly. Constable Hall testified that three men were riding on the small solo machine. One of these jumped off and disappeared when the officer approached, and Hands told him (the constable) he didn’t know the man’s name. The court decided there was more ‘foolishness’ than reckless driving in the case, took a plea of guilty and dismissed the charge.

[darkmaga-retard]

eugyppius

Sep 18, 2024

Last Sunday, a totally crazy man named Ryan Wesley Routh hid in the bushes outside the fence of the Trump International Golf Club in West Palm Beach with a rifle, apparently waiting to ambush Donald Trump while he played a game of golf. Secret Service agents, who had failed to secure the perimeter of the golf course, noticed Routh’s rifle protruding from the shrubbery and shot at him. Routh fled, but was later arrested. Here is looking like a lunatic in the back of a police car:

Routh has been a convicted felon since 2002, after he barricaded himself in a building with an automatic weapon. He’s also collected criminal charges for possession of stolen goods, possession of a stolen motor vehicle and various driving offences – all while working as a builder and alienating a wide variety of people along the way:

Saili Levi, the owner of a vanilla farm [in Hawaii], hired Mr. Routh to build what Mr. Levi called a small “shop on wheels” so he could more easily haul his products to farmer’s markets. Mr. Levi found Mr. Routh to be a “scattered” man who seemed unable to accept responsibility. Mr. Levi said that Mr. Routh’s work was shoddy, and that after the two had verbally sparred about it Mr. Levi received an email full of cutting insults and references to Mr. Routh’s involvement in international conflicts. “I spent 5 months in Ukraine last year,” Mr. Routh wrote, “and 3 months there this year, and 2 weeks in DC and 2 weeks in Taiwan this year volunteering and trying to supply thousands of Afghan soldiers to help win the war.” “Perhaps I would be happier dead on the front lines than dealing with rich people in fancy cars as I drive old broken down vehicles and hoping to keep my account out of the negative and hoping for food to eat,” he added. “China and Russia will certainly win at this rate.”

As we would expect from a crazy person, Routh’s political allegiances show no clear pattern. He claims to have supported Trump in 2016, but he didn’t vote in that election. Later he turned on Trump and used his Twitter account to express support for Bernie Sanders and Tulsi Gabbard, to deride Biden as“sleepy Joe,” and to advocate for Nikki Haley and Vivek Ramaswamy in the 2024 Republican primary. All the while he appears to have made various small donations to Democratic organisations.

[sillystringsimpsons]

@legstheoctomobster asked some questions about Johnny's age regression and my headcanons around it. I drafted a respose and for some fucking reason tumblr posted my draft. I panicked and deleted it (STUPID!) but that meant I lost the ask so I'm just taggin him here

HEY...! There's a really cute little frankie/johnny quickfic at the end of this post that you should skip to and read even if you're not interested in the detailed response :3

ANYWAY… THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING… Your questions mean the world to me lil bro 👽

So basically, Johnny’s experience with age regression is very much based off my own, not only because writing from experience allows me to make it better, but also because I don’t really hear much from involuntary/older little age regressors like me and like be the representation you want to see I guess.

When Johnny regresses, he retreats to around eight years old, the age of the primary traumatic experience he underwent. His memories and knowledge aren’t impacted at all (though there may be a very short transitional period of dissociated between the mental ages where he more or less experiences amnesia), but his motor skills, behaviours, and cognitive processes are significantly altered; meaning he struggles to communicate, and coordinate, and make full sense of the world around him, even though he knows where he is and what he’s doing.

By virtue of the D’Amico family structure, the boys don’t interact directly with Fat Tony so much as they do the underboss, his son, Softfoot Mikey. Johnny isn’t only ashamed and confused, he’s also too scared to let anybody onto it; it’s sad, but seeing the way Louie is treated after developing a cognitive disability frightens him. He’s able to mask himself, so there have yet to be any moments where he fully shuts down and is unable to function; to the untrained eye, his regressions look more or less like simple mood swings, and they’re passed off by Mikey and his fellow capos as not being anything significant. Mikey is a little bit concerned, though; he’s not aware of what it actually is, but deep down he knows something is going on.

The only person in the family who really knows is Frankie; thankfully for Johnny, he finds out at the point in his character art where he’s learning to keep his mouth shut about certain things. It happens during one of their errrr get-togethers: Johnny is triggered without warning and naturally begins screaming and panicking at the fact that a man in his late thirties is trying to kiss him. He’s in an extremely vulnerable position, so he struggles to mask and is basically outed about his regression to Frankie: but the two share a nice little moment that I’ve actually drafted out:

“Fuck, Johnny, whats the matter with you?”

“What…? F-franky,” Johnny uttered in a high-pitched groan, seemingly prompted by Frankie’s casual swearing. “Franky, you’re not a’sposed to say that word. S’… S’isn’t a good word, yous going to have your t-tongue eatin’ by coff’roaches.”

The last statement was spat with such vindication and offence that it became immediately apparent that Johnny was genuinely in the belief that his soldier was going to have his tongue eaten by cockroaches for using profane language. The taller's strange behaviours didn't stop there, however; he removed himself from Francesco's hold with strangely small movements- a frantic little shuffle that wound him up on the other side of his mattress, huddled up against the headboard in a crouched position that seemed to be intended to shut himself from the other man.

"What… What the shit-"

"Franky," whined Johnny without hesitation, voice frantic: like he was going to break out in tears of distress at any second. "I say- Said you ain't a'sposed ta' dire parolacce!"

Before the other could even begin to process Johnny's continued odd behaviour, he was hit in the head with one of his caporegime's hard, yellowing pillows. With the deliverer seemingly forgetting his own strength, the bedding was thrown with such force that Frankie has the wind pushed from his lungs, and nearly fell off the corner of the bed that he was seated on. Evidently, that was far from his intention: Giovanni immediately gave a small 'eep', paired with a puppy-eyed look of guilt.

"Okay, okay, jeez- Sorry, Gio," muttered the soldato, completely bemused in the sudden change in his normally stoic bosses demeanour. "I won't say no swears."

"…Do ya' mean it?"

"Yeah. On my ma, honest."

"O-okay, I believe you… Franky? Why's we in our underpants?"

"Why's we in our...? W-wha- I don't- Is this, like, what? A joke? ...Oh, Jesus, are you tryna' tell me you don't wanna' let me bang you no more?" Habit kicked in, and Frankie immediately launched into one of his characteristic bouts of frantic oversharing. "Gio- Johnny, is it because I'm real loud? I know it's a lot, but time before last, you said you liked the way I, u-um, 'whimpered': and, and I'd still been nervous, thinkin' maybe you was just fibbing to make me feel better about myself- and that- that maybe you was only lettin' me hit because I'm the only other guy outside the Dingo who's swinging like this - I think: so I asked Connie, and she's been tellin' me that girls actually like guys who make some noise- Course', yous not a girl, I just-"

"What? No-! Ew! Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, that is the most grossest thing I have ever heard, infinity times a billion!"

Giovanni threw his legs out from beneath him, kicking them around like a petulant child as he groaned quietly and covered both ears with cupped hands. His fingernails gripped so tightly into scalp, and he balled up his face so tightly at the Squealer's words that his face went a worryingly dark red. His partner immediately fell quiet at his borderline tantrum, eyes softening as he looked the panicking man over. Francesco wasn't quite sure exactly what was going on, but an unnamed realisation had clicked in his brain, and more or less. he understood that something beyond a normal breakdown was going on. With uncharacteristic quietude and hesitance, he shuffled a little closer to Tightlips, body language now geared inwards: as if he was trying to make himself less intimidating - and admittedly, less painfully half-naked.

"You ain't yourself right now, are you?"

"I don't know, Franky! Really, truly, honest to jeepers…"

"…T-that's okay, it's okay, you, um… You don't need to know." his words were inflicted upwards at their ends, as if they were questions, and he stuttered quietly as he spoke: all of it doing very little to hide the painful uncertainty in held his own actions. Frankie soldiered on, however, trying to work past his unsureness and get through to the frightened-looking Italian. "I, um, I reckon' you wanna' get dressed, don't you?"

"Uhhh… Yeah, yeh. Will you button my shirt for me, though, Franky? I'm not very much good with little buttons."

"What the- Nope, okay, it's okay; alright, uh- Y-yeah. Alright. I can help ya, Gio. Whatever ya' need right now."

they are... my life at this moment..

[beardedmrbean]

Hong Kong authorities have made the city's largest ever gold smuggling bust, seizing 146kg of the precious metal disguised as machine parts.

The haul is estimated to be worth more than $10m (£8m) and was intercepted last month on route to Japan.

A 31-year-old man has been arrested and released on bail pending further investigations.

Smuggling is a serious offence and carries up to seven years in jail under Hong Kong law.

Customs officials say they made the discovery while examining two air compressors - departing in a cargo shipment to Japan on 27 March - which drew suspicions due to their unusual texture and weight.

An examination ultimately found both were riddled with gold that had been "moulded and camouflaged" into parts such as gears, screws, and motor cores, according to a government statement on Monday.

Authorities have suggested a crime syndicate looking to evade taxes in Japan may have been behind the operation.

Hong Kong is one of the world's largest gold trading hubs and prices of the commodity have been rising amid geopolitical uncertainty.

[annieqattheperipheral]

Why the Maple Leafs went off the board to select "Cowboy" Easton Cowan

Treliving was working the phones & did try to trade down bc they knew they were picking this projected 2nd-rounder high but no bites. But i suppose in turn it puts a nice spotlight on a swell fella we should get to know

the cowboys've got The Passion™️

farmboy, loves naz, AND ✨stylin✨ has more than got the goods to fit right in w mitchy & auston

full article about cowboy:

___

Moments after he first met Dale Hunter, the longtime Knights head coach gave Easton Cowan a nickname that stuck.

“Cowboy.”

Born in Strathroy, Ont., Cowan comes from a farm in nearby Mount Brydges where his family farms cash crops like wheat, corn and soybeans. When the pandemic hit in 2020 and Cowan’s time in high school classes became limited, he began working on the farm from 6:30 in the morning till 9 at night during the busy farming seasons of spring and fall, driving a tractor beside the massive combine his father Chris uses to transfer crops.

“It’s the time you have to put in to succeed in the cash crop business of farming,” Chris told The Athletic.

That time on the farm helped instill a work ethic, as well as good ol’ farm strength, that Cowan has made his hallmark as a Knight. Ahead of the draft, Clark was clear: The Leafs wanted players who had intelligence, competitiveness and who could “influence winning hockey.”

Clark and the team’s scouting staff appear to have found a player who ticks those boxes.

“It’s a great picture of what (Cowan) could be in the NHL,” Knights associate general manager Rob Simpson said. “His motor and his engine on the ice, he is relentless and never stops working. And he’s the type of player that if you want him to play higher in your lineup with skilled guys and bring competitiveness and forechecking and skill, he can do that. If you want him to play a defensive game and play the penalty kill, he can do those things.”

That versatility was evident as the Knights went to the OHL final this season. During that playoff run that Simpson called “impactful,” Cowan’s game shone. The Leafs valued how he played in the playoffs, lapping up the spotlight and the pressure while leading all OHL rookies in playoff scoring with 21 points in 20 games.

It was his hockey sense, which shined with quick passing in the offensive zone, that popped in the playoffs. That hints at his potential for producing offence as he continues to develop.

Even though his smallish frame may remind some of past Leafs picks, it’s the fact that he’s become known as a “puck hound” according to Simpson that might well separate him from those picks. His competitiveness is well-established.

Cowan grew up a Leafs fan and said he models his game after Nazem Kadri.

Simpsons remembers games this year where Cowan would pinball from one defenceman to the other on the forecheck. He wouldn’t stop there. He chased after the puck wherever it went.

“He’s just relentless all over the ice at trying to get the puck and when he has it, he doesn’t want to give it up,” Simpson said.

He also appears pretty comfortable in his own skin.

“How’s it goin’?” Cowan, wearing black suede shoes with no socks, said as he took a seat in front of more cameras and reporters he’s likely ever faced.

Cowan beamed when he described FaceTiming with Mitch Marner.

“Happy you’re part of the Buds,” was what Cowan remembered hearing from Marner.

“That was pretty cool,” Cowan said. “(Marner) competes all over the ice. He’s a great player and a great guy. You look up to that.”

Cowan listed Knights equipment managers and trainers as people who helped propel him being an unlikely first-round pick.

Before leaving a table at the end of his media availability, he asked politely if he could take a box of Biosteel sitting in front of him.

“He’s so kind to everyone around him,” Cowan’s father said. “Not a lot of people know that about him.”

The long-term projection:

Cowan can play both centre and the wing but the Leafs likely see him more as a wing in the pros. While it’s remarkably early to start forecasting where Cowan might fit in an NHL lineup, it is fair to say the Leafs valued his sharp progression this past season and believe that he may just be scratching the surface of what type of player he can be.

His standout playoff performance especially, fueled by that tenacity, may have really struck a chord.

“The biggest thing that’s going to translate the best is his motor, his engine and competitiveness,” Simpson said. “You look at the NHL playoffs, you have to have players like that to be able to win these days.”

Cowan, who just turned 18 in May, will likely begin his time in the Leafs organization at the team’s development camp, set to begin July 3. It feels likely that Cowan will return to the Knights, not just next season, but for multiple seasons. He’s already intent on adding the kind of strength to his frame that will be necessary for him to one day join the Leafs in the NHL. That and improving his shot.

The Leafs appear comfortable making Cowan a long-term play for the organization.

“We’re trying to take the best player available, not today or tomorrow, we’re looking at the long run,” Clark said ahead of the draft.

But what Cowan could become in the long run is intriguing enough for the Leafs to have made perhaps the most surprising pick on day one of the draft.

[scotianostra]

On 26th March 2006 a ban came into place and Smoking was prohibited in all enclosed public spaces in Scotland.

Still controversial, I being a non smoker am in favour of the ban, not that it bothered me as such having people smoke around me, but it got into your clothing, your hair and skin and you could stench of nicotine yourself.

The ban was a watershed moment for anti-tobacco campaigners, many will still be happy with the ban, a certain element amongst the smokers will still curse the day they were banished to light up outside, mainly licensed premises.

The law means that it is an offence to smoke, or to permit smoking, in a place that is wholly or substantially enclosed, and which is either used as a workplace or is somewhere that the public or a section of the public has access to. No more smoking at work, even in a smoking room, not even out and about in the company van. Above all, no smoking in pubs – not even in private clubs where members could have been given a vote on whether to allow it, perhaps in separate smoking rooms, which I do think could have been a bit of a compromise.

The problem for anti-smoking campaigners had always been the harm principle – the idea that the state shouldn’t interfere if someone chooses to engage in an activity that is harmful only to themselves. By the turn of the century, there had been numerous measures to restrict cigarettes, particularly advertising bans, but actually banning smoking was still regarded as a big step. The main science behind the ban, passive smoking, is still argued about amongst smokers, but surely inhaling smoke, albeit as a by product is still risking someone’s health.

A recent poll commissioned for Forest, the smokers’ rights group, found that, even 16 years after the ban, a majority of Scots would still be willing to accept separate smoking rooms in pubs, this is okay if it’s a decent sized premises, but many of the bars I drink in only have the one room, the days of separate Lounge and Saloon Bar are long gone. So love it or hate it the smoking ban is here to stay. A YouGov poll for ASH shows that public support for the smoking ban continues to grow and that support among smokers has doubled since the ban came in.

The latest extension of anti smoking laws came in December 2015, when it became illegal to light up in a motor vehicle with children aboard.

The NHS say that smoking causes around 7 out of every 10 cases of lung cancer the World Health Organization say that in 2020, 22.3% of the global population used tobacco, 36.7% of all men and 7.8% of the world’s women, killing more than 8 million people a year, including around 1.2 million deaths from exposure to second-hand smoke

[drivingsolicitors]

20 Reasons Why You Should Use a Driving Solicitor

Using a driving solicitor (a traffic lawyer or driving defence attorney) can be highly beneficial in various situations. Here are 20 reasons why you should consider using a driving solicitor:

Expert legal knowledge: Driving solicitors specialize in traffic laws and regulations, allowing them to provide accurate and up-to-date advice.

Understanding of local laws: They are familiar with specific traffic laws and regulations in your jurisdiction, which can vary significantly from one place to another.

Strong defence strategies: Driving solicitors can build effective defence strategies to fight traffic violations or driving-related charges.

Reduced penalties: They may negotiate with prosecutors to minimize fines, points on your license, or other penalties.

Avoiding a criminal record: A driving solicitor can help you avoid a criminal record for certain driving offences, such as DUI/DWI.

Protection of your rights: They ensure your constitutional rights are upheld throughout the legal process.

Represent you in court: A driving solicitor can save you time and stress.

Experience with DMV proceedings: They can handle administrative hearings related to license suspensions or revocations with the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV).

Knowledge of plea options: A solicitor can advise you on the best plea options based on the specifics of your case.

Handling complex legal procedures: They navigate the legal system efficiently, ensuring all necessary paperwork is completed accurately and on time.

Preserve your driving privileges: A driving solicitor may help you retain your driving privileges and avoid suspension.

Negotiate for alternative penalties: Instead of traditional fines or jail time, they can seek alternative penalties, such as traffic school or community service.

Reduce insurance premium hikes: Minimizing or dismissing charges can prevent your car insurance premiums from increasing.

Investigate your case thoroughly: Driving solicitors can gather evidence and interview witnesses to build a strong defence.

Represent you in serious cases: For more severe charges like vehicular manslaughter, having legal representation is crucial.

Handle communication with prosecutors: They can communicate on your behalf, ensuring your rights and interests are protected.

Avoid unnecessary court appearances: A solicitor can attend court hearings on your behalf, sparing you from time-consuming appearances.

Provide peace of mind: Knowing that a legal professional handle your case can alleviate stress and anxiety.

Knowledge of alternative resolutions: They can explore diversion programs or deferred adjudication options to resolve your case favourably.

Increased chance of a favourable outcome: With their expertise, driving solicitors can improve your chances of obtaining a positive result in your case.

Remember that the benefits of using a driving solicitor may vary depending on the specifics of your case and the laws in your jurisdiction. It's essential to consult with a qualified attorney to assess your situation accurately.

[ishikawayukis]

i know this is poking a hornet's nest but it's just so fucking wild how arm*es are going above and beyond to defend drunk driving. "it wasn't a car it was a scooter!!" cool there's literally a case from a month ago in korea that an elderly woman was killed by one. "well he didn't hurt anyone and he apologized already!!" cool he was still drunk out of his ass and got lucky, it was a dangerous situation no matter what and apologizing simply does not cut it. "the law doesn't opperate on ifs 🙄" this is not a case of did he did he not, he did indeed got into a motorized vehicle under the influence and that's the law that he's breaking, anything else would've been the cherry on top. like hell man you can still support him if you want to no one is saying you shouldn't, but doing everything you can to defend him when there's nothing to defend??????? i know this is talking to a wall because they don't listen to reason but it's just so fucking stupid man. all 3rd idols that had dui's (with lower level of intoxication as well) were kicked out of their groups, because it's not something that you should sweep under the rug is not something that anyone should be able to get away with just because they have enough money or fame. it was a dangerous and stupid thing to do and all people are asking is for them to take this as seriously as they should, it's not a small offence man again he got very lucky but it could've been incredibly dangerous for him and others how is that so hard to understand why are their skulls so fucking thick, this is not a fucking fan war about who sold the most whatever like pleaseeeeee use your fucking head

[alpha-mag-media]

Fraudster Catriona Carey banned from driving for FOUR years after pleading guilty to road traffic offences | In Trend Today

Fraudster Catriona Carey banned from driving for FOUR years after pleading guilty to road traffic offences Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

[ur-mag]

Fraudster Catriona Carey banned from driving for FOUR years after pleading guilty to road traffic offences | In Trend Today

Fraudster Catriona Carey banned from driving for FOUR years after pleading guilty to road traffic offences Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

[danielbrownlaw]

How is dangerous driving determined?

Determining whether someone has committed the offence of dangerous driving is done by looking at the manner in which a motor vehicle was operated as opposed to the consequences of the driving. A court cannot conclude from the consequences alone, including a death or a collision, that the vehicle must have been operated in a dangerous manner. The nature of the driving must be established independently from the consequences.