#Misuse of public office

[simply-ivanka]

Tony Bobulinski:

Joe Biden Was ‘the Brand’

Excerpts from the written testimony of Hunter Biden’s business partner.

These are excerpts from the written testimony of Tony Bobulinski, a former business partner of Hunter Biden, submitted to the House Oversight and Accountability Committee Tuesday. Mr. Bobulinski is scheduled to testify before the committee Wednesday. Joe, Hunter and Jim Biden have disputed some of Mr. Bobulinski’s allegations.

I want to be crystal clear: From my direct personal experience and what I have subsequently come to learn, it is clear to me that Joe Biden was “the Brand” being sold by the Biden family. His family’s foreign influence peddling operation—from China to Ukraine and elsewhere—sold out to foreign actors who were seeking to gain influence and access to Joe Biden and the United States government.

Joe Biden was more than a participant in and beneficiary of his family’s business; he was an active, aware enabler who met with business associates such as myself to further the business, despite being buffered by a complex scheme to maintain plausible deniability.

If there is no evidence of corruption—if Joe’s conduct and the conduct of his family were fully legal and proper—then why are they so dishonest about it? Not just slight misrepresentations of fact but deep untruths about the entire corrupt enterprise.

Hunter Biden gave his transcribed interview to the House Oversight Committee on February 28 and lied throughout his testimony. Here are just three key examples of his perjury:

1. In Hunter’s transcript (Page 42), he states, “I officially began to do work for CEFC when the—when I received a retainer from CEFC in early—or spring of 2017.”

Why, then, did Hunter yell at CEFC Executive Director Zang in front of his entourage as I sat right next to him in New York City on Sunday May 7th, 2017? Hunter was adamant that he was owed the rest of the $20 Million CEFC had committed to paying for the work he had claimed he had done in prior years.

2. On Page 48 of his transcript, Hunter is asked, “He’s never interacted with any of your business associates. Is that correct?” The “He’s” is a reference to Joe Biden.

Hunter responds, “Yes.”

Hunter arranged the meeting between his father and me at the Beverly Hilton in Los Angeles on May 2, 2017. The sole reason Hunter wanted me to meet his father was because I was the CEO of Sinohawk, the Bidens’ partnership with CEFC. I was a business associate. In his transcript, Hunter confirms that that meeting with Joe took place and incriminates his Uncle Jim for perjury by confirming it.

3. Hunter also lied to the Committee about important details concerning his money demands and threats to CEFC on July 30 and July 31, 2017. He leveraged his father’s presence next to him in that infamous text in order to strong-arm CEFC into paying Hunter immediately, and in the process defrauded the partners of Sinohawk Holdings LLC and Oneida Holdings LLC. The threat worked, as a few days later the Chinese wired $5 million dollars into a company of which Hunter owned 50%. It’s important to remember that the CEFC considered this money an interest-free loan to the “Biden family,” and planned to send more. I have the email from CEFC to prove it.

Jim Biden also lied extensively throughout his transcribed interview before the Oversight Committee on February 21, and ironically, Hunter Biden—in his own testimony as outlined above—confirmed that Jim Biden perjured himself:

1. Jim has been selling “plausible deniability” for so many years he can’t tell truth from the lies. On Page 100 of his transcript, he is asked: “Do you recall having a meeting with Hunter Biden, and Tony Bobulinski and Joe Biden?”

Jim’s response: “Absolutely not.”

The Committee was so shocked by his perjury they tried to ask the question again in a slightly different way:

“It’s your testimony here today that meeting never took place?”

Jim responds, “Yes sir,” “that I was present for.”

The Committee tried again: “Do you recall whether you were at the bar with Hunter Biden, Tony Bobulinski and Joe Biden?”

Jim responds: “That I know did not happen.”

Jim adds further, “But my brother was never there.”

On Page 134, delusional Jim Biden reiterates his untruthful answer again after the Committee showed him messages confirming I met with Joe Biden.

Jim Biden states, “Joe Biden never met with Tony Bobulinski.”

That is just a flat-out lie.

2. On Page 124 of his transcript, Jim Biden states, “It was Hunter Biden, myself, Gilliar. I don’t know. It was the five. Okay? And everybody was 20 percent. Okay? You know what was never executed. It was never signed.”

Jim was then presented with a fully executed copy of the Oneida Holdings operating agreement that he and I had both signed along with Hunter Biden, Mr. James Gilliar and Mr. Robert Walker. On Page 132, Jim tries to claim he was not a member of Oneida Holdings.

Jim is so dedicated to his lies that he describes the Oneida document, a large legal document signed by the Biden business partners, as something that I might have come up with after drinking a “quart of gin” (Page 124). It’s absurd.

3. Jim Biden further lies by claiming “Bobulinski was trying to usurp and replace Hunter Biden.” (Page 123)

Hunter Biden, Robert Walker, James Gilliar and Jim Biden asked me to step in as CEO of the business. I did not ask them. I tried to walk away from Sinohawk multiple times only to be convinced to stay on, including on one occasion by Jim Biden himself. The company was controlled by a Board of which the 4 of them could out-vote me on anything. They had control of the company. . . .

Why is Joe Biden blatantly lying to the American people? . . . If he were doing nothing wrong, why go through this insane exercise of obstructing and denying obvious facts? . . .

The reason is because the Biden family’s profiting of tens of millions of dollars from our strategic opponents and corrupt individuals and entities around the world—without delivering any goods or services and while putting in minimal effort and work—causes Americans to rightly question any policies from this administration that apparently benefit those same strategic opponents and corrupt individuals and entities. Just read the latest motion by the Department of Justice related to Hunter Biden’s criminal indictments in California; the DOJ states that he made large sums of money for very little work.

#Joe Biden #Hunter Biden #James Biden #Corruption #Misuse of public office #Federal Crime #State Crime #investigate. indict. prosecute. incarcerate. #trump #trump 2024 #ivanka #president trump #repost #democrats #donald trump #america #invertebrates #americans first #america first #art #nature #landscape #fashion #lol #gif #diy #love #travel #food #white house

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

hello and welcome to the uk is a fucking hell country, part 284829494

[alt text:]

Anti-monarchists receive ‘intimidatory’ Home Office letter on new protest laws

Home Office claims timing of new powers, taking effect days before king’s coronation, is coincidental

Ben Quinn, Rajeev Syal and Vikram Dodd

Official warning letters have been sent to anti-monarchists planning peaceful protests at King Charles III’s coronation saying that new criminal offences to prevent disruption have been rushed into law.

Using tactics described by lawyers as “intimidatory”, the Home Office’s Police Powers Unit wrote to the campaign group Republic saying new powers had been brought forward to prevent “disruption at major sporting and cultural events”.

The new law, given royal assent by Charles on Tuesday, means that from Wednesday:

Protesters who block roads, airports and railways could face 12 months behind bars.

Anyone locking on to others, objects or buildings could go to prison for six months and face an unlimited fine.

Police will be able to head off disruption by stopping and searching protesters if they suspect they are setting out to cause chaos.

Jun Pang, a policy and campaigns officer at Liberty, said: “Key measures in the bill will come into force just days before the coronation of King Charles – a significant event in our country’s history that is bound to inspire a wider national conversation and public protests. At the same time, the government are using a statutory instrument to bring draconian measures that the House of Lords threw out of the bill back from the dead, once again evading scrutiny and accountability.

“It’s worrying to see the police handed so many new powers to restrict protest, especially before a major national event. When the Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Act came into force, the police repeatedly misused them – in part because they simply did not understand them. Similarly, when Queen Elizabeth died, we saw police acting in inappropriate and heavy-handed ways towards protesters that violated their rights.”

Shami Chakrabarti, the former shadow attorney general, said: “During the passage of this illiberal and headline-grabbing legislation, ministers admitted that the new offence of ‘locking on’ is so broad as to catch peaceful protesters who link arms in public.

“Suspicionless stop and search is notorious for racial disparity and it is staggering that more of these provisions have brought into force so soon after Louise Casey’s devastating report [on the Met police]. The home secretary can blast ‘ecowarriors’ but this legislation may be used against anti-poverty and Ukraine solidarity protesters too.”

A statement from the home secretary, Suella Braverman, said: “This legislation is the latest step the government has taken against protesters who use highly disruptive tactics to deliberately delay members of the public, often preventing them from getting to work and hospital, as well as missing loved ones’ funerals.

“The range of new offences and penalties match the seriousness of the threat guerrilla tactics pose to our infrastructure, taxpayers’ money and police time.”

full article here

so just to sum this up, peaceful protesting can now land you in prison for a year and you might face an unlimited fine which i believe is up to £5000, and police can now stop and search you if they believe youre "setting out to cause chaos"

its specifically being put in place right before charles' coronation, but these are now considered criminal offenses so theyre not exclusive to it.

you know, a country where you can be put in prison for a year for peaceful protesting really doesnt sound like a fucking democracy to me.

#hell country #britpol #british politics #britain #king charles #coronation #uk politics #uk #uk police #suella braverman #charles windsor #the guardian #tories #tory government #conservatives #idk what to tag here #but fucking hell

[runa-falls]

flashing lights

summary: Officer Rogers pulls you over for speeding

pairing: police officer!steve rogers x reader

(side ransom drysdale x reader)

rating: explicit 18+ (broh i stg if you’re under 18 imma block u -.-)

warnings: SMUT, PIV sex with clothes on, public sex, misuse of power? (idk wtf), creampie (big emphasis on this), dirty talk, poly relatioship lowkey, second degree cuckhold lmao

word count: 2.3k

A/N: had this idea when I was going to meet a fwb only to be outrageously disappointed by the outcome (the fwb meet up not the fic lmaoo). needless to say, I needed this fic. also i absolutely did not read what I wrote cuz im crazy like that. thank you. amen.

masterlist

-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-

Wind rushes in from either side of your car, the sound almost deafening against the pounding music booming through your speakers. Your foot pushes down on the gas, unaware–and frankly, uncaring–of the speed you’re driving, just wanting to get to your destination as soon as possible.

You got a text that your best friend-with-benefits just got home from a business trip and wants a welcome home gift. You hadn’t seen him for a couple of weeks, so you were understandably excited to oblige to his requests.

It’s an unusually cool night, so the dark streets, lit only by sparsely placed overhead lights, are graced with thick clouds of fog making it hard to see far ahead of yourself.

As you zoomed past an empty intersection, you hear the heart-stopping noise of a siren followed by the dull bloom of flashing blue and red lighting up the interior of your car through the back window. Fuck, you look down at your speedometer, wait, you’re only sixty-five in a fifty-five zone. Why are they stopping you?

You carefully veer off the road and stop in front of a forest of trees, making haste to yank out your license from your wallet. This certainly isn’t how you expected tonight to go.

If there’s one thing you hate, it’s confrontations with police. Even when you haven’t done anything wrong, they scare the fuck out of you.

The officer slowly parked behind you and took his sweet time pulling himself out of his car. Based on the way he swaggered over to your window, thumb hanging from his equipment buckle, he was cocky and knew who held the power in their situation.

You wait in your seat patiently, trying to keep your body from shaking in anticipation. The tiny pink skirt you’re wearing rides up your thighs, making your nervous hands pinch and pull them down, stretching out the fabric. You weren’t expecting to have to interact with anyone except Ransom tonight, least of all a police officer.

Your knee bounces when he knocks on the side of the door, announcing his arrival. You look up and have to crane your neck to meet the officer’s deep steel eyes. He gazed back down at your trembling figure, tongue sticking out to wet his lips.

“Good evening, ma’am, license and registration, please.”

“Here, sir.” You keep your voice short and sweet, hoping to get through this without a scratch. You hand him your card and paper, watching as he takes a good while looking over them. You see the name ‘Rogers’ etched onto a metal button placed on top of a navy blue pocket. He stops his scanning and looks up at you with an unsatisfied look on his face.

“Do you realize how fast you were driving tonight?” His head is tilted to the side as he asks the question. He looks down at you with an air of condescension, eyes taking note of your outfit. “Have something important to get to?”

“Just visiting a friend, sir.” You squeak out a response, feeling the weight of his stare. His eyebrow raises at your answer.

“Hm…I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle.” Your eyes widen, hands shaking as you unbuckle yourself from the seat. Your heart is beating out of your chest as you slowly step out of the car. Officer Rogers casually holds the door open with an arm, barely giving you any room to stand up in front of him.

“Um…what seems to be the pr-” Before you knew what was happening, he forcibly turns you around and pushes the front of your body to the dewy coolness of your car. A gasp is pushed out of you from the aggression of his actions.

You squeak out a whine as your arms are pulled behind you and held by his hand wrapped around both wrists. He tsks at your pathetic sounds of pain.

“You don’t ask the questions here, sweetheart.” You can feel his warm breath against your neck as he speaks roughly into your skin. “Had a rough day and you’re gonna help me feel better. How does that sound, princess?” You give him a stuttered nod, barely able to move your body from the way he pushes into you.

His rough hand glides down your back, tracing each ridge of your spine before squeezing your ass through the thin cloth of your skirts. His close proximity against you fills your mind with his cologne and a faint taste of cigarettes. “You going to see your little boyfriend in this get-up?”

“He’s not my boyfriend-”

“Ah…so you spread your legs for all your friends?” Your eyebrows furrow at his degrading words. You push back against his body, trying to escape his hold but he doesn’t even flinch at your actions. He teases the end of your skirt then changes his mind and pushes both of your wrists to either side of your head against the window. Your breath fogs up the glass, blurring the only reflection of him you could see.

“I mean, you’re letting me do all this to you. Must really be a cock hungry slut, huh?” He leans his hips against you and pushes your legs apart using a booted foot, letting you feel his hardness against your soft body. You melt against him and he becomes the only thing holding you up.

“What would he think if you showed up with a full pussy, limping all the way to his doorstep?” He cooed into your sweat-stuck neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin until he sees purple.

Your back is forced to arch away from him, shoving your hips into his. He flips over the back of your skirt and admires the ruined white panties that barely cover your skin. You’d look so innocent if you weren’t panting for him. He gives you a small pinch, watching as your body jumps at the feeling.

You feel two warm fingers press against your cunt and slide up to your clit. The cloth moistens from your leaking slick and you feel Officer Roger’s hum vibrate against you at the feeling. “I’d love to continue this but I need your hot cunt around me.” You hear the sound of ruffling fabric and the jingling of metal cuffs behind you.

Hot skin presses against your thighs and he prods at your clothes center insistently. Your hair is swept to your shoulder to expose your neck more openly for him. You feel him tug your panties down and let them hang right over your knees, just enough to situate himself at your entrance.

“Baby is so creamy for me…” You let out wordless sounds, desperate to get filled as he uses his head to spread your essence and watches it drip down your leg.

You feel the indescribable pressure of him stretching you open. He pushes in slowly, forcing you to feel every ridge and vein as he goes. Your chest breathes out a moan as you push back against him, frustrated by the slowness of his pace, just wanting him deeper inside of you.

He snaps his hips in quick spurts in response to your greedy behavior, not stopping even as your breaths turn into sharp gasps. “Not very patient are we?” He pushes your face into the window, smashing your flushed cheek against the cooled glass. You hear the squelching of your wetness magnified with the sound of bare skin slapping against each other. It makes you delirious.

Your grip on the car starts to slip as your palms sweat from the intensity of his ministrations. The ghostly streaks run down the glass and disappear as quickly as they arrive

He spots your falling form and lets your wrists go to turn you around to face him. His hands raise to the sides of your face and he pulls you in for a kiss and you almost fall from the intensity of it. His tongue caresses yours, drinking you in as your body squirms against his. You promptly kick off your panties before you’re picked up by the hips and forced to wrap your legs around him for support.

Your back is slammed back onto the metal behind you, and a population of goosebumps explodes from the sudden temperature change against your bare skin. He quickly returns himself into your warmth, holding you up like you weigh nothing.

His rhythmic grunts catch every time he bottoms out into you, stabbing your spot over and over again. His ruthless focus on hitting the bundle of nerves inside of you provokes hot tears down your face.

Rogers watches the stream of dark mascara travel down your chin and into the deep cleavage of your hidden black lace push-up. He loves it when you cry. You lean your head back, taking in the dark starry sky and letting out broken moans.

“You gonna let me fill you up, honey?” You look up at him with glassy eyes, nodding frantically. Your arms hold on to him tighter as his pace speeds up, grabbing you to trust yourself back onto him. As your bodies are pushed closer together, your clit slides against him and you see white at the combined pleasure. You clench around him, so close to your release that you can barely decipher where you are.

He grunts against the feeling of your tightness, struggling to continue his actions. You feel him stutter and throb inside of you. “Fuck princess, you’re so tight for me.” Your chest rises rapidly as white pleasure takes over each of your limbs and blanks out your mind. Your warmth flutters around him and he lurches forward at the feeling, strokes becoming slow yet firm.

You feel his hot cum gush inside of you before you heard his strangled groan. He fills you to the brim, producing a handful of small thrusts until he’s forced to lean his weight against you.

You hear his hum as he pulls out of you, setting you down to stand with your back to the car. Your legs are shaky as they recalibrate to support your weight again. You watch as he swiftly pulls up his pants and relatches his belt of assorted tools onto his figure. He spots your white underwear on the floor and crouches down to scoop them up.

“You won’t need these tonight.” He shoves them in his front right pocket and gives you a smug look, admiring your disheveled form. Your cheeks are flushed and stained from your pleasure-filled tears. You bite your lip waiting for his next move.

“Thanks for the help, baby. You just made my day a whole lot better…You can get back into the car now” He didn’t make a motion to move out of the way, so you scooted yourself around him, and got back in, still in a daze from what just happened.

You squeeze your knees closed, hoping you wouldn’t leave a stain on the car seat. Officer Rogers closes the door for you and uses his arm to lean against it.

“Be a good girl and don’t speed on the way, okay, honey?”

“Yes, sir.” You beam a smile at him and start your car. He pats the car before turning to walk back to his, still sporting the arrogant walk he came up to you with.

—

You pull up to Ransom’s ridiculously windowed house, quickly taking a look at your appearance in the car mirror. You were taken aback at the makeup running down your face and the fluffy state of your hair. Your fingers run through your hair and wipe under your eyes. That would have to do for now, you’re already late.

You see him as soon as you open the car door, waiting in front of the house. A lit cigarette burns in his sweater-clad hand as he sends you an irritated look, obviously waiting for your arrival longer than he’d like to. You send him a sheepish smile, walking with your legs slightly closer together than usual to keep everything inside of you.

“And where have you been?” He takes a puff from the cigarette and lets it blow out of his nose as his eyebrow raises in question.

“I got pulled over on the way here…” You mumble out, knowing he doesn’t really care for the answer.

“Oh yeah?” He flicks the cigarette to the ground and it lands right next to your shoe. You put it out for him as he wanders closer to you, taking in your puffy pink lips. “He punish you again?” You give him a small guilty nod.

He walks inside the house, expecting you to follow him. You see him settled on one of his crazy expensive armchairs. He beckons you closer with a finger and pats his lap. He always knows how to make you feel like one of his little pets. Small and insignificant.

You follow his wordless instructions, draping your body over his legs to let him have a good view up your skirt. He sighs as he places his hands on you, missing the softness of your body.

“Let’s see the damage he left this time…” He drags a warm hand up your thigh and reveals the present that Steve left for him. You were a mess down there, your reddened cheeks contrast nicely with the splattered white cum in and around your cunt. “What was it this time? A broken tail light, loud music?” You softly shake your head.

“Speeding.” He hums in acknowledgment, spreading your combined slick around and pushing back inside of you. You can’t help but moan at the rough way he handles you.

“He always pulls this shit when he knows I’m back. Can’t let me have you to myself.” Ransom grumbles in frustration, eyes not leaving your weeping pussy. “Think you can go again anyway, baby?” A grin pulls at your lips and you nod with newfound energy.

“Yes sir, anything for you.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #officer!steve rogers #police!steve rogers #captain america x reader #captain america #captain america x you #captain america smut #chris evans smut

[sayitdido]

Hii this is oddly specific but can i request a perv! aged up professor beomgyu x innocent good student/teachers pet reader. Like y/n wears pastel colour short skirts and dangerously low tops (AND THIGH HIGHS AHHH). So Beomgyu can’t help but get distracted taking a peek down your chest and taking a whiff of your perfume when he leans in a lil too close to help you with a question, leaving him painfully hard after each lesson. One day, man’s just loses it and rails you in the lecture hall. When you’re done, he takes your panties as a souvenir and watches his cum drips down your shaky legs as you head back to your dorm. Anyway so like this becomes routine after class ends… but gyu gets bolder and slips a remote control vibrator into you before class to watch you squirm and try to stay quiet during the lecture, even asking you to answer questions in front of the whole class hehehe

You can ignore this if you find it uncomfortable. The idea has just been living in my mind for the longest time.

nsfw content, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

warnings: corruption, misusage of power, dom!gyu, sub!reader, worshiping, public play, unprotected sex, objectification, degradation

sweet girl wears these cutesy yet revealing outfits and expects her professor to not look at her that way, what a naivety~ yet you are so sweet to his eyes. how can he complain? his eyes exult with the sight every time. your temptress perfume filling his nasals everytime he sneaks to have sniff. he loses it one day after getting a bonner from your smell.

what started as quick glimpses has turned into more woth time. you being teacher's pet, eager to please your professor at all cost has turned you into his plaything. obedient little slut to his desires.

bending over his desk every single time he calls you in his office. disguising his real intentions with assigning you as his little paid intern/helper. dean can't say anything to that, can she?

he pounds you good and fills you with him seed and taking your cute panties as souvenir. what a gift for himself. as cum drips from your cute cunt you only hope no one notices till you go to your dorm.

he gets bolder and bolder with time. testing you with vibrating panties right in the class. trying so hard to keep yourself from moaning, you just look at him with puppy eyes. remembering his words. if you be good for him, you will get an award after this. so you endure it like the good girl you are.

yet he is wicked asking you questions to test if you pay attention to his class. you make a fool of yourself when answeing him wrong every single time.

what a dumb yet obedient slut. mind filled with not so innocent desires. as the class finishes you beg him to take you his place. as he brings you to his humble yet chic place. the amount of lust increases throughout your body. you don't just want him, you need him.

his mordant cock becomes your god. his cum painting your walls becomes your prays getting replied. beautiful voice ruined screams for him like hymn.

how can he feel ashamed when misusing his power got him the best fucktoy there is.

"pathetic little slut can't even shallow it all. you better clean it all. otherwise you are not getting my cum ever again."

a/n: anon i am speechless and sorry for the very late answer, i hope you like it~ i wanted to come back with this instead of turning this into a whole fic cuz it(full fic version) was bad. i liked this version so imma stick with this. i hope you don't mind header credit: @/cafekitsune

#txt smut #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #beomgyu smut #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu hard hours #txt imagines #beomgyu imagines

[mariacallous]

On Tuesday, New Hampshire attorney general John Formella said that a Texas-based telecom company was behind the reportedly AI-generated robocalls impersonating President Joe Biden that went out ahead of the state’s presidential primary last month.

At a press conference on Tuesday, Formella announced that he had identified Life Corporation and its owner, Walter Monk, as the source behind the thousands of calls and that his office issued a cease-and-desist letter to the company and had opened a criminal investigation into the matter. The Federal Communications Commission sent its own cease-and-desist letters to Life Corporation, as well as another Texas company, Lingo Telecom, the alleged voice service provider of the calls.

“Ensuring public confidence in the electoral process is vital,” Formella said at the Tuesday press conference. “We're providing this update and information today to assure the public that we take this seriously and that this is one of our most important priorities. We are also providing this update and information to send a strong message of deterrence to any person or entity who would attempt to undermine our elections through AI or other means.”

Formella said that anywhere from 5,000 to 25,000 of these robocalls were placed ahead of the New Hampshire primary that mimicked Biden and discouraged voters from voting. “Your vote makes a difference in November, not this Tuesday,” the robocall said.

In January, WIRED reported that two teams of researchers had determined that the call was created with voice-cloning software from the AI startup Eleven Labs. The company declined to take responsibility for the Biden clone, telling WIRED that it was “dedicated to preventing the misuse of audio AI tools.”

Last week, the FCC put out a new proposal to ban robocalls that use AI-generated voices by updating the Telephone Consumer Protection Act, a 1991 law that regulates telemarketers. The FCC has used the TCPA in the past to go after junk callers, including conservative activists Jacob Wohl and Jack Burkman. In 2021, the FCC fined the pair more than $5 million for violating the law after they placed calls threatening to release the personal information of voters if they voted by mail in the 2020 election.

“Consumers deserve to know that the person on the other end of the line is exactly who they claim to be,” FCC chairwoman Jessica Rosenworcel said in a statement on Tuesday.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Halloween!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Can you please do slytherin harry or gryffindor draco!!!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Sometimes Percy wishes the public feud he has with Agnesa was a little more real than it actually is, if only so he wouldn't feel obligated to let her pull him into things. "I'm not sneaking into Madame Pomfrey's office and stealing her logs from twenty years ago."

"I'm not asking you to," Agnesa protests, "I'm asking you to ask your brothers to. They like a challenge."

The worst part is that he knows George and Fred would do it gladly.

Penelope looks up from their potions homework. "I'll do it."

Agnesa's eyes narrow and Percy feels his eyebrows rising. "What do you want in return?"

"You'll find out when I ask for it," she says.

Agnesa scowls, but she must be really serious about this, because she says, "Fine. Nothing that will affect my class standing, though."

"Why are you going through this much effort to find out information about Remus Lupin?" he asks. "I already got you his last known address."

And hadn't that been a fun conversation to have with his father. He's pretty sure his dad had to ask one of his friends in another department to look it up for him, and Percy's not totally comfortable with his part in a misuse of government resources.

"I can't just show up at someone's house and harass them about their dead friends without ammunition," she says hotly. Percy would really prefer if she didn't do that at all. "Pulling his grades and school records are easy enough, but I can't get into the medical records myself."

Technically, she can't get his school records on her own, but the head boy is Troy Thompson, who is also captain of the Slytherin quidditch team and beholden to Agnesa because her tutoring is all that's keeping several members of his team from being forced off.

Marcus Flint probably owes Agnesa his first born or something for helping him pass transfiguration last year.

The Head Girl and Head Boy have access to student records and Troy won't blink an eye at abusing his power to stay on Agnesa's good side.

It's too bad that Agnesa won't let him forget about her being a Slytherin for a single moment. She's pretty cool otherwise.

Later, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, he asks, "Do you think I bring these sort of things things onto myself?" without giving any sort of context.

"Yeah," Oliver says, voice muffled because of his glowing wand he that has clenched between his teeth. He's still going over quidditch plays even though they have an early class tomorrow.

Sometimes he thinks the people that accuse him of being high strung have just never spent an afternoon with Oliver Wood.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #harry potter

[strwbmei]

╰┈➤ Masterlist ;

🌂 : dom!reader

☂️ : sub!reader

🫐 : fluff

highlighted in purple = fic

not highlighted = thirst/drabble

Honkai Impact 3rd ¡! ❞

Riding Fu Hua (Thirst)

Kiamei and Herrscher!Reader (Thirst)

Service top Kiana (Thirst)

Service top Kiana (2) (Thirst)

Pillow princess HoFi Kiana (Thirst)

Elysia overstimulating you before work (Thirst)

Edging Kiana (Thirst)

Bondage with Fu Hua (Thirst)

Honkai Characters reacting to a fatally injured Reader (Fluff, SFW)

Cockwarming Mei and Eden (Thirst)

Threesome with Kiamei (Thirst)

Loving sex with Mei (Thirst)

Bullying Mobius in bed (Thirst)

Mobius bending you over her desk

Fu Hua headcanons (SFW and NSFW)

Elysia headcanons (SFW and NSFW)

Mei with a pillow princess!reader (Thirst)

Soft dom Fu Hua (Thirst)

Mei with a camgirl!reader (Thirst)

Mei with a camgirl!reader (2) (Thirst)

Jealous sex with Mei (Thirst)

Elysia eating you out (Thirst)

Fu Hua (Azure Empyrea) fingering you (Thirst)

Mommy kink with Elysia (Thirst)

Fu Hua and Fu Xuan riding you (Thirst)

Honkai : Star Rail ¡! ❞

◘ Herta Space Station

Manhandling Herta and her puppets (Thirst)

Overstimulating/edging Herta at the same time (Thirst)

Fucking both Silverwolf and Herta (Thirst)

Silverwolf and Herta womb tattoo (Thirst)

Herta headcanons

Eating Asta out (Thirst)

◘ Astral Express

Corrupting Stelle (Thirst)

Corrupting March 7th

Soft dom Himeko (Thirst)

Making March 7th beg (Thirst)

◘ Stellaron Hunters

Sending a video of you fucking Kafka to the Stellaron hunters gc (Thirst)

Kafka womb tattoo (Thirst)

Silverwolf cockwarming your strap (Thirst)

Fucking both Silverwolf and Herta (Thirst)

Silverwolf recording your sessions (Thirst)

Poly with Kafka and Silverwolf (Thirst)

Silverwolf and Herta womb tattoo (Thirst)

Mommy kink with Kafka

Silverwolf headcanons (SFW and NSFW)

Sleepy sex with Silverwolf (Thirst)

Silverwolf with an innocent(?) Reader (Thirst)

Catching Silverwolf in the act (Thirst)

Silverwolf with a collar (Thirst)

Cockwarming Silverwolf (Thirst)

Getting pussydrunk off of Silverwolf (Thirst)

Silverwolf with a housepartner!reader (Thirst)

Priest!reader and succubus!Kafka (Thirst)

Semi-public sex with Silverwolf (Thirst)

Silverwolf fingering you (Thirst)

Cockwarming Kafka (Thirst)

Hypnotizing Kafka

◘ Jarilo VI

Natasha overstimulating/edging you in her office (Thirst)

Jealous dom!reader with Bronya (Thirst)

Poly with Bronya and Seele (Thirst)

Office sex with Bronya (Thirst)

Deepthroating Bronya's strap (Thirst)

Natasha catching reader in the act (Thirst)

◘ Xianzhou Luofu

Brat taming with Fu Xuan

Fu Xuan misusing her divination (Thirst)

Fu Hua and Fu Xuan riding you (Thirst)

Helping Yukong with her heat (Thirst)

◘ Others

TBA...

Genshin Impact ¡! ❞

◘ Mondstadt

Succubus!Rosaria corrupting reader (Thirst)

◘ Liyue

Overstimulating Ganyu (Thirst)

◘ Inazuma

Helping Yae Miko with her heat

Ei watching as you rail Yae Miko (Thirst)

Mirror sex with Yae Miko/Possessive sex with Ei (Thirst)

◘ Sumeru

TBA...

◘ Fontaine

Fucking Furina dumb (Thirst)

Furina fingering you during a trial (Thirst)

Fucking Furina at the Opera House (Thirst)

Threesome with Arlecchino and Furina (Thirst)

◘ Snezhnaya

Threesome with Arlecchino and Furina (Thirst)

#・❥・strwb navigation

[davidfarland]

How to Write Bad Dialog

Writing bad dialog is almost an art form unto itself.

Recently I read a couple of stories where it felt as if the author was struggling to come up with bad dialog. So I thought I should give a few tips on how to do it properly.

The easiest way to write wretched dialog is to use dialog for the wrong things. In other words, when a scene calls for description, narration, transitions, introspection, characterization, or other things—simply do it all with dialog.

Bad Dialog in Place of Description

Let me give you an example. Our character, Joe, has just reached into the pocket of a dead man that he found washed up on a Florida beach. Now, the natural way to handle the scene would be to show the readers what Joe pulls from the dead man’s pocket. But instead you can do it in dialog, in this case, with another character, Ron:

Ron: Hey, what did you just find in that dead man’s pocket? Joe: Why, it looks like . . . gold pieces of eight, dated 1702!

Can you see how well that works? I mean, if you pulled a piece of ancient gold from a dead man’s pocket, you’d probably take a bit of time wondering what it was, studying it, and turning it over in your hand. But you can handle it faster if you simply have a character blurt a perfectly accurate description. So if you want to win awards for bad dialog, keep putting your descriptions into dialog!

Bad Dialog in Place of Transitions

Here’s how to write a terrible transition. We have just had two men meet, and one asked to meet in private. Let’s have Joe and Ron again.

Joe: Well, here we are in the Redwood National Forest. Sure is a foggy day, what with the wind coming in off the Pacific. What did you want to talk about, Ron, that made you drag me all the way out here, three miles into the trees? You afraid that our offices are being bugged or something?

In this case, the average author might start the scene with the two walking deep into a forest in the early dawn, smelling the fog off the sea, freezing from the cold. Personally, if I were Joe, I’d be a bit nervous, and I’d be wondering if Ron planned to murder me, but maybe that’s just me.

Bad Dialog in Place of Introspection

One of my favorite misuses of dialog is the spoken dialog that should be internal. For example, let’s say that Joe goes to the funeral of Ron’s mother. He walks into the foyer and is approaching the deceased, with people both ahead and behind him. He sees the old crone in her casket, dressed nicely, and then whispers to himself, “I never did like the old bag, but she looks pretty hot today. . . .”

Now, most folks would think that Joe would have to be literally insane to say something like that in public. But as a master of bad dialog, you just might get away with it. After all, I think that by now you’ve established that Joe has diarrhea of the mouth and never can shut up, so maybe readers won’t notice that you’re trying to tell your story through dialog alone.

Bad Dialog in Place of Characterization

Then of course, you can always characterize people by having one character talk about another. For example, Joe might tell Ron, “You know, my daughter Kary is so introverted, I can’t understand why she would want to become President of the United States.”

“She is introverted,” Ron says, “but you know, she also wants to save the country from fracking, and I don’t think that she can come up with any other way to do it.”

That one always works.

Just remember, if you want to become a master of ridiculously bad dialog, the first rule is to use dialog for everything—for descriptions, for internal thoughts, for narrating your scenes, for transitions and deep characterization. Wretched dialog has a million uses!

Learn more at https://mystorydoctor.com/

#writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writeblr #writing reference #dialog #fanfic

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

The Life You Build

Peter Parker x gn!reader

Masterlist

Summary: You first met Spider-Man, then you met Peter. OR Peter looks back on the photos that built your lives, the good and bad.

Word Count: ~5.1k

Warnings: Fluff. Awkwardness. Angst & Peter's anger (not at reader). Description of injuries.

A/n: I did a version of this for Eddie, so of course I had to do it for Peter :) He's a lovestruck idiot, and I love him. Thank you for reading <3 let me know your thoughts!

--

The first picture Peter had taken of you was by accident. He’d been trying to capture the opening of a newly renovated wing of the library near his apartment. Since crime had been a bit quieter lately, making Spider-Man’s activities quieter as well, Jameson had sent him on more menial jobs for The Daily Bugle. 

He’d only seen you in the photos after the fact when editing them, finding you amongst the crowd with sunglasses resting on your head and a book in your hands, your smile wide with a happiness that permeated throughout the air.

The photos only caught part of your face, but he could see the excitement and wonder in your eyes, embarrassingly finding himself returning to them more than necessary. When documenting events for the paper, they often didn’t have such a happy ending — misused public resources, corrupt members in power, or something much more sinister and violent. Between that and his job of saving this city, he didn’t find as many calm or nice moments anymore, even forgetting about them altogether.

But here you were, unequivocally full of joy at something that should’ve had him smiling as well, if he weren’t so focused on taking pictures Jameson wouldn’t yell at him for. And so, he picked one of the photos in which you were off to the side alongside other joyful people and families looking at the ribbon cutting, and he put it right at the top of the story.

The next day at work, he found himself going to get coffee as usual, but maybe he’d had a lighter step to walk. A more relaxed way of drifting through the world as he entered The Daily Bugle’s office. If you could find happiness in the small things, maybe he could too. 

–

The next time Peter got a photo of you wasn’t actually one he took. You did.

He’d done something menial, saving a cat from a tree, and came back to the ground, kitty in hand, to a crowd gathering around. He didn’t mind the attention, he’d gotten used to it by now, especially when it wasn’t negative. This wasn’t a mob – rather a group of people pleased to see him, including the cat’s owner thanking him over and over again. A cat owner he definitely recognized.

You’d had a rough morning, spilling coffee on yourself and creating a mess on the floor – only for your cat to walk through and get his fur drenched. Giving him a bath did not go well either, full of his hissing and your groan when knocking came at your door. Half-soaked and tired, when you opened up the door to your neighbor, your cat took the chance to book it. Shoving your head out into the hallway, you caught a glimpse of his tail disappearing out the window at the end of the hall. 

Your neighbor handed you a package that’d accidentally been delivered to her apartment, which you threw inside your place before slipping on your nearest shoes. Grumbled “sorry’s” passed your lips as you passed others while racing to the building’s front door to chase after your horrible (and adorable) cat. Cool morning air of the late summer greeted you as your eyes flashed across every inch of the streets, buildings, even trash cans. But the pitiful cries of your cat came from above.

Straining your neck, you saw flashes of orange swishing in a tree near your building. “Oh god,” you muttered while racing to the bottom of it. Bark scratched against your palms as you leaned against the trunk, looking up at him. His claws sunk into the tree far out of reach for you to grab.

Calling the fire department certainly felt like overkill to get your now traumatized (read: overdramatic) cat out of a tree, and a bit cliche. Shaking your head, you told him, “Please just get down here. I will give you a hundred treats and unlimited attention.” A long sigh loosened from your lungs, hoping he somehow understood your pleas.

“Sure wish I got that kind of reward,” a soft voice laughed out behind you. 

Any embarrassment heating your face seemed to drain away when you turned to come face to face with Spider-Man sticking to the wall of your building, looking right at you with those big white eyes. Words escaped you for a second as you kept staring. You’d only ever watched him swing on television, barely catching him as a speck in the distant horizon of the city’s skyline if you were lucky. You couldn’t stop staring, even as he tilted his head at you.

“Guess all I need now is the hundred treats,” he said, and you could’ve sworn he smiled under that mask. You would’ve laughed along with his silent ones if he hadn’t pointed out your incessant gazing.

“Well, only if you get him down, that is.” Your nervousness bled through your words, maybe from his presence. Probably your cat. The sweat coating your palms didn’t know anymore.

Breaths floated past your lips a little easier when Spider-Man lept up into the tree and grabbed your cat, much to his dismay. More cries came from above until they sounded from directly in front of you, webbed gloves wrapped around his middle and holding tight as he wiggled. 

“Oh thank you,” you said before whispering to your cat, “And hush, you got yourself into this, Samwise.” You took him from the superhero, silently chastising him. Of course your cat would do this to you – send you out into the streets in dirty clothes and disheveled… well, everything, only to stand in front of literal Spider-Man like this. The people that had gathered only for a moment started dispersing after the excitement died down, not that there’d been much to begin with besides you talking to a cat.

“Samwise?” he questioned while brushing a finger along your cat’s forehead. Soon, soft purring began vibrating against your chest.

With a small laugh, you said, “Yeah, he’s just as sweet as Samwise Gamgee, but it seems he’s just as adventurous too. Thank you, again.”

“Of course. Just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, right?” He laughed, scratching the back of his neck, but you doubted he could actually itch anything through that suit. Was he as nervous as you?

Though it mostly went against your judgment, you knew your friends wouldn’t believe you if you didn’t have some sort of proof that this all happened. “Okay, I know you’re probably really busy and I look completely wild, but could I take a quick picture with you?”

He looked up from where he’d been staring (and cooing) at Samwise to lock eyes with you, and though you couldn’t see any part of his face, it still brought a heat to your cheeks. “If wild means pretty, then I’d love to.”

Oh. If you hadn’t been flustered before, that sure did it. Fishing your phone out of your pocket with a cat in your arms and shaking fingers proved difficult. But you finally held it up, hoping to finish with all this and let him get on with his life – only for the sun to shine right into your eyes at this angle.

“Ah, maybe I should turn the other way…” you started but were quickly cut off by the sound of Spider-Man shooting webs from his wrist.

“Does that help?” 

Looking up, you saw that he created a web in between branches of the tree – right where the sun had been shining into your vision. 

“Yeah… yeah, that’s great. Thank you,” you said in a quiet voice, suddenly unsure whether all Spider-Man fan interactions felt this intense. Was it just you? 

You brought the phone back and focused it, though selfies were never your talent. So while you balanced Samwise and struggled to get the three of you in frame, Spider-Man brought his hand up and angled it up slightly.

“There…” he mumbled, and the body heat rolling off of him had you frozen, had you in a hold until you saw that hint of his mask moving in the camera as if he were smiling for the picture. So you followed suit, capturing a picture of you, him, and your cat he just saved all bathed in the morning sunlight. 

“Hey, be sure to share that with me on Twitter, okay? If you know my page on there… it’s been a while since I’ve done the whole ‘save a cat from a tree’ thing.” He laughed again, and you weren’t sure how to feel about it quickly becoming one of your favorite sounds.

“Yeah, I know it,” you started saying, aware that everyone in New York knew about his social media presence, but… “I’m just not sure it’s the best picture of me, you know?”

That time, there was no denying the way the eyes on his mask shot up. “Well I’d be dying to know the best picture there is of you, because that must sure be something,” he told you. And you were about to respond (you absolutely were, not just stand there and stumble over your words and unable to make eye contact), but sirens began to start up in the distance. 

He yelled out, “You better share that with me!” as he shot out a web, leaving you with no argument as he swung away. Holding Samwise close to your body, you let out a breath and watched as Spider-Man floated above the skyline.

And later that night, you did end up sending it to him despite how you thought you looked in it. He had stood so close to you, and your heart melted everytime you saw the way his hand rested against Samwise’s cheek – who all but adored the attention and pressed back into him. Peter had to keep himself from opening your message immediately, especially since he was in the middle of taking down a man trying to break into a store. 

“Hey! You can’t just leave me here!” the man clothed in black said as he hung from a fire escape in the alleyway next door. Meanwhile, Peter stood there, hovering his thumb over your message after shooting a web over the man’s mouth. 

Peter internally groaned as he began pacing back and forth. Was he overthinking this? He probably was. He ran a hand over his face before deciding to wait until he got home to open it… to play it cool – he was being really cool about all this.

Until he did open it and fell in love with a different part of you each time he glanced at it.

–

The next picture Peter had of you came from someone else, a fan of his that tweeted at him a day after he’d talked with you again.

You’d been sitting out on your fire escape, sweater on and hot drink in hand as fall quickly approached, watching the dipping sunset about to kiss the tops of New York’s buildings. And you nearly spilled it all – almost dropped the mug down on top of pedestrians passing by – when Spider-Man landed on your railing and sat down on it.

The sudden gasp threatening to come out stopped in your throat, your fingers tightening against the mug’s handle as you tried to calm your breathing. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to scare you,” he rushed out, reaching his hands toward you as he apologized. All of his super strength would go into internally smacking himself in the face later.

By the time you could think clearly again, you looked up at him and his legs swinging back and forth. “Not sure how you thought landing on someone’s fire escape from the sky wouldn’t scare them, but it’s okay,” you said with a breathy laugh.

“Fair. You’ve got me there,” he admitted. And before the following silence became too overbearing and overwhelmed by the traffic below, he asked, “How’s Samwise doing?”

You blinked at him, eyes wide as you thought about it. “He’s…” you paused, “He’s well. No more climbing trees for him, unless I get you on speed dial.”

The eyes on his suit narrowed for a moment before he hopped off the railing, coming to stand just a little closer to you. “Is this your way of asking for my number?”

He couldn’t help but laugh – at your own surprised giggle, at the way you hid your burning face behind your cup, and at how the skin of your face crinkled with each laugh. “So Spider-Man– Can I call you that?”

“Mr. Spider-Man, The Spidester. Any of the following adjectives between ‘The’ and ‘Spider-Man’: Amazing, Spectacular, Friendly Neighborhood, Handsome… the list goes on,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Through a smile you desperately tried to hide, you said, “Okay, Spidey, I was going to ask whether you’re this flirty with all of the citizens you help.”

God was he glad you couldn’t see the red painting his cheeks or somehow sense the warmth in his chest from your words. “Maybe it’s just the lucky ones that I help save their cats.”

“Ah, so it’s luck then?” you asked, and there was no missing the teasing look you gave him or the way your body subconsciously leaned toward his.

He felt the suit pull taut as he nodded. “Yeah, luckier than winning the lottery, I’d say.”

Pursing your lips, you considered him for a moment. And Peter had never felt so seen by someone who couldn’t actually see him. It made him want to know what went on in that pretty head of yours. Really pretty.

Your hands rose up to gesture at him, breaking him from his staring as a chilled breeze went by. “Okay, next question. Do you ever get cold in that thing? Snow’s not far off here, and your suit doesn’t look very… winterized.” 

For a moment, he thought about teasing you, saying something about how you were checking him out enough to notice that about his suit, but he wouldn’t deny an audience to talk about his technology with. “For a while, it wasn’t. I wore a hat sometimes, a scarf made by my… relative – but that didn’t exactly scream ‘intimidating’ to people, so I had to make adjustments to the suit. It’s now a bit more insulated, but moving around and beating ass usually warm me up too.”

The sudden laugh you let out at brought an unmissable smile to his lips. Oh, how he wanted to make you do that again and again. “I suppose it would,” you said in between breaths. And maybe you thought better of it, but you followed up with, “Is there anything I can get you? Coffee or something? As a thanks for Samwise.”

Peter almost said yes in an instant, anything to keep you talking to him for just a little longer. But angry yelling erupted a block over, some argument he picked up with his hearing. The screaming in his head telling him to ignore it and choose you instead nearly drowned it out, but he couldn’t.

With a weight in his stomach, he said, “Raincheck? Duty calls.” You only nodded, eyebrows all scrunched up before he lept from the fire escape and off to the fight starting to break out. It was that moment right before he left that a fan caught with their phone.

It looked a little fuzzy from how far away it was taken, but it was unmistakably Spider-Man standing across from you. It’d be difficult to make out your face, but he knew it was you. The two of you almost looked domestic there, having a sweet conversation about your lives before the day ended.

The tweet came with speculations as to who you were and what he was doing with you. All of that ate away at the lump in his throat, so he found a way to get it deleted in case anyone tried finding you – but not before saving the photo himself to dream about a simpler life where you knew who he was.

–

Peter shouldn’t have done it. He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but he did it anyway. Why? It seemed he never could think straight when looking at you, or being near you. Or even thinking about you for that matter. Sometimes, he wondered whether you had powers too, but just for making his mind all fuzzy and dull when it came to you. So against better judgment, he took the assignment The Daily Bugle had given him to interview workers about a series of recent break-ins – like the flower shop you worked at.

He’d found himself catching glimpses of you here and there while on patrol, not that he was looking for you, of course. But he just so happened to see you walk into the same shop almost every day, so he kept an eye on it to make sure you were safe as you trudged home after too-long shifts in your work clothes and uncomfortable but “work-appropriate” shoes. Not that him doing so meant anything. Right?

And he rationalized to himself that it was all worth it when he saw someone trying to force inside the building after hours while you and a coworker cleaned up and readied it for the next day. The man made his way in, shouting something to you two, a gleaming knife extending past his fingertips. 

But Peter had been there, moving faster than he had in months. His vision nearly blacked out as his webs pulled the man back out onto the street, and he had no control over the hands that pressed this worthless man into the tar – wanting to push him into it. The knife had been thrown when he’d been pulled, landing somewhere too far to save this man, not from Peter. He could barely feel the writhing below him, the angry shouts of this person barely reaching his ears.

Then, he heard your voice. Something about calling 911, something about checking whether Spider-Man was okay. They should’ve asked about the other guy. But Peter loosened a breath, dropping his head for a moment before picking the man up and webbing him to the nearest street lamp. You were okay.

Still, when he turned to you, your coworker on the phone in the shop, he had to ask. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You blinked a few times, your arms wrapped around your middle. “Uh, yeah we’re okay. I’m okay, just a bit shaken up. Thank you… again.” Despite what had happened, you let out a small laugh. “We should really stop meeting like this.”

And in seeing that soft smile of yours, he was Peter again to himself. Not Spider-Man. He wished you could do that for him every day.

“How would you rather meet, then?” he asked, and if he didn’t love the flustered look you got, he would’ve been sadder about you turning away from him from embarrassment.

“Any other time than my or my cat’s life in danger. I think that’d be a good start.” You clasped one hand over the other as you rocked from one foot to the other. Only did his grin drop when you said, “We’ve, um, called the police. So you should probably head out before they get here.”

He took a bit of solace in how sad you sounded about him having to leave, so he swung away with a little hope in his heart. And really, it should’ve ended there. But he accepted the assignment to show up at the flower shop to interview people about it. Who knows? Maybe you wouldn’t work that day.

“Hi! Are you from The Daily Bugle? My boss said you’d be coming in.” You’d opened the door when he knocked on it, that brightness you always brought took his breath away in the best way.

Appropriate answers to your question would have been “Yes, I am” or “Yeah, my name’s Peter. Nice to meet you.” But he stared at you for a few seconds trying to come up with anything – the way your eyes lit up keeping him off balance and constantly teetering on some unknown cliff. He held up his camera as some sort of answer before finally breathing out, “Yes, sorry. It’s just a bit early for me.”

Laughing, you waved him off. “I get that. Come on in.” You told him your name and a bit about the place while showing him the few things inside the shop – most of it just being wall-to-wall flowers.

He followed you in, shaking his head and letting his hair flop against his face. Peter swore he tried his hardest not to stare like some love-sick fool, but he watched you lean against the counter like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. You asked, “What can I answer for you, uh…”

“Peter,” he offered as he scribbled down notes of what you’d said in between glances at you, as he didn’t trust himself to remember anything but your name that repeated over and over again in his head like a mantra. “Could you tell me a bit about what happened last night, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Subtlety, less violent this time, you wrapped an arm around your middle again as you nodded. You gave a smile, but it looked like a performance. He could feel your heartbeat.

“Of course. I and another coworker had locked the doors and began shutting the shop down when the man forced himself inside. He… he threatened us with a knife to unload the cash register,” you said, your eyes flicking between Peter’s face and the floor. “Not that we had much to hand over. But luckily we didn’t have to. Spider-Man showed up and stopped him.”

Peter felt some strange sort of pride at how relieved you looked as you continued describing the events once he had gotten there. The tension in your shoulders relaxed, your breathing evened out. Even your smile looked more real, authentic. He’d done that. Not that you knew it. 

You let him take a picture of you for the story he’d write up, not that Jameson would be too pleased about anything in support of Spider-Man. But Peter wasn’t going to pass up on an opportunity to get another picture of you.

Even in black and white, the photo laid out in next week’s newspaper did your kindness justice. It somehow looked imbued within every expression you gave. You were surrounded by flowers and bouquets you had put together yourself. You belonged there, and Peter couldn’t help but feel that he belonged there behind the camera trying to capture you in as many photos as possible – keep you close to him as a picture if he couldn’t have you next to him living, breathing, being you.

And maybe he shouldn’t have, but Peter came back to the shop again and again, quickly becoming your favorite customer. Almost every time, he wanted to buy the flowers just to pass them right back across the counter and give them to you. Instead, Aunt May looked pleasantly surprised every time he came home with them, accompanied by red cheeks and an exasperated look on his face.

–

That photo of you in the flower shop, of your grinning face immortalized as the most beautiful person Peter had met – it was the same photo news outlets and newspapers used for you a few weeks later when you’d been attacked, targeted. He couldn’t bring himself to keep it anymore, not when it sat below headlines that made him sick and hateful.

His inner voice was right, the one that told him to stay away from you. That shouted at him to remember all the other people that’d gotten hurt because they knew him, because someone had found out you were important to Peter. And he didn’t really know you – had no reason to care about you as much as he did. But you’d crashed into his life at a time when he didn’t have many people to care about, especially now that he lived alone.

And he’d gotten to know what book you were reading at the moment, your favorite flower combinations to say just the right thing, the subtle way you quirked your mouth when trying to hide a smile. It’d overridden any self-preservation or reminder of what could happen to you.

Every night on patrol, he watched over your hospital room to make sure no one came near to hurt you. After, he’d spend hours tracking down the crime group that did it. That wanted to rid Spider-Man of the city. He’d almost kept the mug shots of each bloodied scum criminal he took down, who dared put a finger on you.

As Peter, he swallowed down his shame and self-hatred to visit you in the hospital – a bouquet in hand. Opening up your room door, he slipped in, letting out a sharp breath before facing you. The parts inside his chest that had hardened over these past days softened, nearly crumbled, at the way your eyes lit up at seeing him.

“Peter, you came,” you sighed out. You couldn’t move all that well, not with the bruising and the few fractures you sustained, but he could see the energy fighting in your body. Could feel it.

Holding out the flowers toward you, he said, “Yeah, of course I did.” He found himself unable to look at you long, each discolored part of your skin and wince at your body’s pain unbearable to witness.

Your hand brushed his, caressing his fingers as if to tell him it’d be okay, as you took the bouquet. “They’re beautiful, thank you.” Your voice barely broke the humming of the machines hooked up throughout the room, but the smile you hid behind the petals explained your feelings well enough.

He took a seat next to you, his body aching to touch yours in some way. To rest a hand on yours or kiss each bruise you had. But he didn’t, not after what he’d done. “How are you feeling?”

You gave a sad sort of laugh, one that wasn’t funny but at least didn’t bring tears with it. “Let’s just say I’m better now that you’re here.”

He knew you meant it, but it couldn’t be true, not when him being there had led to all of this. Biting back a groan, he said, “I… I wanted to see how you were doing, but I also wanted to say goodbye.” His eyes stayed glued to the tiled floor, speckled in beige and too shiny. “I just–”

“I know it was you.”

Peter Parker always had a smart remark, a witty comeback. Especially when it came to you and the joy he could pull from you. But not now. Your words froze him, sending ice through his skin and shredding down into his nervous system.

You made the first move, reaching out a hand to his knee to stop its shaking. He hadn’t even known he had been shaking his leg. But it made him shut his eyes, force even breaths through his nose.

“There was no way I could forget your voice, or how you tilt your head when you’re confused,” you told him, and his throat felt tight at the slight crack in your voice. “I forgive you, Peter. As long as you don’t say goodbye.”

You made him so careless… carefree, for once in his life. His calloused palms scratched against his face, the pressure of his fingers against his scalp like iron weights – weight as heavy as his mistakes that he paid witness to right in front of him. “I can’t.”

“At least stay with me for a little longer,” you pleaded. Your hand reached up to wrap around his wrist and pull them away, forcing him to look at you. And you smiled, the only smile that he couldn’t resist. So he stayed, holding you until he embedded his fingerprints into your skin.

–

For a long time, Peter had forgotten all about those photos – they were just wishes thrown into the wind for some future he hoped to have with you. So when you took that first picture of you as a couple, a picture of him kissing you on the cheek in Central Park, arms wrapped around one another and no world outside the two of you, how could he think about any other photo?

He’d brought you there after you’d healed, the painful memories faded from your skin. You fell asleep in that hospital bed with your hand entwined in his to find him still there when you awoke. He hadn’t said goodbye.

Peter had asked you out with another bouquet, one that you’d told him meant eternal gratitude and affection. If you hadn’t had gone through everything, maybe you would have been embarrassed at how fast you told him yes. But with the way his honey eyes melted at your answer, you couldn’t regret something like that.

That photo of that first date stayed with him all the time, printed out and everything. Peter did the same for the next one – of you both lounging lazily in his bed and morning sun streaming in through the blinds. Then the same for the one from the photo booth at the mall. His wallet soon stretched against its seams before you made him choose one to keep in there or he’d end up losing all of them somehow. The rest decorated the walls and shelves while others found their way into a shoebox he hid so it’d never be damaged. 

But he never stop taking photos of you to remind himself of what he had. In the middle of cooking dinner, sauce and measuring cups everywhere, he took a picture of you, hands of your hips and trying to not look amused. But he saw you in a way his camera could never capture, so you smiled against your will. Peter even took one while swinging through the air with you, your body clung to his as you tucked your face against his neck. You’d smacked him for that one, but there was no helping him when it came to you.

The one photo he chose to keep tucked against his body, to remind him to make it home, was the one from a family dinner. It looked simple, cute with friends and family surrounding you two with wide smiles, but it’d always been more to him. There was his family, his life far away from his hidden one. The life you had given him.

--

@reidslovely

A/n: Thank you for reading, it means the world.

#peter parker #tasm peter parker #tasm andrew garfield #tasm spiderman #spiderman #spiderman x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x gn!reader

[drdemonprince]

Regarding your “informed consent for all drugs” essay, I have a burning question I haven’t seen you address (if you have and I missed it, sorry!) What about things like antibiotics? IMO if you’re taking drugs that only affect you that’s one thing. I’m willing to give it consideration. But I honestly do think there should be some gatekeeping of community resources like abx, where use where it’s not warranted decreases the efficacy for the entire community. And I’ve heard way too many stories of people demanding abx for viral illnesses to expect that the general public will be informed enough to steward those resources wisely—a small number of people can genuinely ruin it for everybody, including very vulnerable people.

True

Informed

Consent !!!

Guided

Decision-Making

With the Help of a Doctor!

The leading cause of antibiotic overprescription is sloppy, overly 'efficient' work on the part of prescribers. I once went to an urgicare clinic with a months-long bout of laryngitis that I knew for a fact was caused by teaching 8 hours per day, not by a bacterial infection, yet the nurse practicioner prescribed me antibiotics anyway.

Because the clinic was trying to maximize profits and it was understaffed and each provider only had about fifteen minutes with each patient, if that. The provider didn't listen to me when I told him there was no way I had a bacterial infection, and he took absolutely no time to inform me about the effects of antibiotics and the massive risks of taking them when you don't need them.

Today, the average patient seeking healthcare is sorely ill informed about just about everything. Doctors disdain them for being self diagnosed on web MD and for seeking out information about their desired medications online, but what other options do they have? It takes weeks if not months to see a doctor sometimes, and they barely stop moving and interrogating you for one second to answer your questions or explain complex concepts to you once you get in their office.

Within this environment, is it any surprise that patients don't stick to their course of antibiotic treatments all the way through, hoard pills, take them for the wrong conditions, and request antibiotics when they don't need them? And considering that antibiotics are among the cheapest medications available, and most patients can't afford alternate treatments for other conditions on their own, is it any surprise they keep requesting these meds?

In order to move forward, we need a true informed consent model of accessing all drugs. Exactly like a dispensary for weed or Mexican-model pharmacy. You report to the pharmacist, explain your condition and what kind of help you are seeking, and an educated, patient, compassionate provider explains to you exactly the effects you can anticipate from the substances you are seeking -- as well as the risks and use cases.

If it were possible for people to access not only antibiotics in this fashion, but also weed, painkillers, tamiflu, and paxlovid, we would not have the scale of antibiotic overprescription and misuse that we see today.

People tend to glance over the "informed" part of the "informed consent" model that I am advancing, and that's really unfortunate. But I think it's understandable, because many of us have never experience actual informed consent basically any time in our lives. Imagine what it would be like to actually have the authority to make good decisions about what goes into your body, with a doctor seeing themselves as a support person for you, rather than an authority over you.

Imagine what it would be like to have a doctor who listens to you, who has time for you, who sits down with you and breaks down complicated topics and trusts you to make your own decisions once you've been educated and given their support.

[pavo-ocxllus]

❝ ...𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭. ❞

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡… kenma, suna, daichi, and osamu accidentally propose to you, their lovely s/o, through an unlucky sequence of circumstances in public. 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠… kenma kozume x gn!reader, rintaro suna x gn!reader, daichi sawamura x gn!reader, osamu miya x gn!reader (and slight one-sided takinoue x gn!reader but shh) 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠… established relationship, fluff, timeskip characters are used ‘cause idk why would a high schooler or college student would do such a thing that requires a lot of commitment and maybe financial stability, 7.5k total words (words in their seperate sections in order of appearance; 1.3k, 2.8k, 1.9k and 1.5k) 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬… don’t actually propose in public unless you know your s/o is the type of person who’s ok with that, timeskip characters are used, cursing, probably one misused music reference bc i haven’t really played an instrument in a while, atsumu slander, accidental suna favoritism (i think i went too overboard on describing his hehe), daichi and osamu’s weren’t proofread ‘cause i’m tired. 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐭… aesthetic is back! *confetti pops out* fun fact: osamu’s was inspired by a nostalgia induced mystreet trip lmao

𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚 𝐤𝐨𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐞. ･ﾟ: *. — 孤爪研磨

KENMA tended to keep his personal life away from his audience and under wraps. 

privacy was always something the man appreciated (though it was often mercilessly ignored by his friends in high school kuroo, much to his dismay), and as much as his fans on the other side of the screen pleaded and begged for at least one vlog showcasing his lifestyle, kenma never indulged in their desires. 

however, through the small, miniscule crack of the sturdy, tough wall he built and maintained separating the two lives for as long as he began his career, you managed to seep through.

it was mostly through pure accident; you practically barged into his room to ask about what he wanted for dinner since you screaming at the top of your lungs clearly wasn’t enough to go past the wooden door for his office. 

in reality, kenma was trying desperately hard to ignore you. currently, it was quite early in his career and naturally, his mic and noise-canceling headphones were nowhere to be seen. with the recent, massive influx in viewers tuning in to his streams, he ordered some equipment so the quality of his videos would rise.

the problem? it was going to be a shipped a month from now.

your screeching being practically akin to one of a banshee’s, it just seemed more amplified to the poor headphone-wearing users; muffled and lagged, sure, but amplified. 

of course, this drew concern from the various people watching it all go down as kenma slumped into his chair in embarrassment. comments were flooding in the chat with various emojis and various different wordings of “what’s going on?” or  “what the hell?” were used, often with all caps. 

hearing a faint “oh my god kenma, how long does it take to decide on what you want for dinner when you literally eat the same flavor of ramen everyday-!!” pass through the door behind him in addition to your footsteps becoming increasingly louder like some kind of cursed crescendo, this changed the chat’s feelings to a more humorous tone, but in the streamers point of view, this situation appeared more scarier than any horror or thriller game he ever played so far.

when you finally kicked down unlocked the door, revealing yourself in all your glory to many of kenma’s fans, you were seething. okay, maybe the fans were just being dramatic, but at the very least, you were quite annoyed at what you assumed to be kenma’s indecisiveness on what to eat for dinner. 

and that was how his fans, well, now your fans too apparently, were introduced to you.

you were then turned into a familiar face in kenma’s streams, either just in the background either attending to household chores, participating in your hobbies, sitting there to munch on whatever weirdly obscure snack you got your hands on, or even playing alongside him. 

in spite of kenma’s initial reluctance, you appeared to be rather open to the idea of being in his streams. he really, really, really didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, yet seeing you with a warm smile on your face illuminated by the dancing lights of the monitor before you, sharing embarrassing anecdotes about his day to day life to his fans that he would’ve wanted to dig, crawl in, and die in a hole if he was actually paying attention, kenma started growing accustomed to slightly overlapping the circles of his life in front of his followers and away from them.

one particular night, he was live, as per usual, and you just so happened to be playing along with kenma. after a few minutes in, you came to the rather convenient revelation that it was your turn to do the laundry that day, and not wanting to wear the same crusty clothes that have been sitting in the laundry hamper for who knows how long, you rushed off, abandoning your controller.

as cat-like eyes gazing at your figure from the moment you stood up to the moment you left for the door, he quickly flipped out his phone, fingers tapping away seemingly at the speed of light. after he skimmed towards the contents, before picking up his controller again to continue the game.

“alright, five iridium bars and a prismatic shard... shouldn’t be too hard,” kenma muttered to himself as the chat’s messages started air out confusion. as he glanced over to the other screen displaying their words, he smiled and looked to the camera. “just tell y/n i’m grinding.”

kenma’s words did nothing to quell the growing confuddlement amongst the fans tuning in, especially some that just joined. what did y/n had to do with this?

“ken?” you called out from outside the room, sound eerily similar to when you first made your little “debut” back in his early streaming days.

“yeah?” he replied, eyes focused on the screen in front of him, though he was all ears nonetheless.

“...care to explain what... this... is??” before kenma could respond with a noise of puzzlement he tends to do when he needs emphasis or repetition of questions, his eyes widened to the likeness of saucers. 

velvet box in your hand with no washing machine or dryer whirling in the distance, you were greeted with nothing but unabashed shock. to a viewer who wasn’t blind watching the scene unfold, it was very clear what this meant.

“i- uh... um,” kenma tripped upon his words, coughing in an attempt to buy himself enough time to gather his words correctly. even after all this time, being a public figure and personality, his more shyer tendencies still shone through. it didn’t help that this (possibly) botched proposal was currently broadcasted by his camera for thousands, if not, tens of thousands currently watching and/or typing in the chat as we speak along the lines of “HOLY SHIT,” “ASDWQKJW,” some odd string of emojis, “he’s just grinding!”, or all at the same time. “i-it wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

despite his voice’s volume making the none-existent wind of the apartment plus noises from the forgotten game you two were playing in the background seem louder in comparison, it didn’t stop your questioning expression to slowly morph into a sly smirk.

“oh really?” you asked, grin morphing to the likeness of kuroo’s, causing kenma to subconciously cringe. “how’s it supposed to go, then?”

the reverse pudding-haired man sneaked a quick glance at his monitor, noticing a flood of even more comments coming in. if they were personified as a total, kenma would’ve imagined them to be an over enthusiastic sports fan spilling popcorn and soda everywhere while chanting wildly, except they were watching some proposal online, creepily enough.

kenma tended to keep his personal life under wraps, but with your presence on what he showed to essentially strangers, an event so intimate as this manage to barge through the cracks of the wall he upheld.

the moment was already ruined by the unintended crowd currently watching the both him and your every move, and that’s not even counting the amount of people that would watch this scene after the stream had ended.

there was no point in broadcasting this any further for the world to see, however, in a sudden burst of courage, kenma silently picked up his controller and started tapping away at the buttons and moving the mini-joystick. your somewhat pompous expression fell in favor of confusion on what your boyfriend was doing.

not too long after, your controller that was sitting on the table a few centimeters away from you vibrated. in curiosity, you picked it up, your eyes darting towards the screen in front of you.

the game had a prompt pop up on your side of the screen, giving it a quick skim before widening your eyes, despite you having the knowledge of what was going to happen a few minutes prior.

“kodzuken proposed! will you accept?”

𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐚. ･ﾟ: *. — 砂倫太郎

the stakes were high, and everybody in the audience was loudly proclaiming their excitement and for the current volleyball game, only being echoed through the spacious venue. the ejp raijin and msby black jackals were going head to head in one of the most widely anticipated matches of the season among fans and the players alike. 

the energy seemed unmatched than the middle blocker’s previous games, the bleachers above him seemed completely occupied by the boisterous cheers of fans, and he was even able to spot a handful of people cheering specifically for him. morale appeared high amongst him and his fellow teammates, but there was a sense of anxiety towards the outcome of the match.

in other words, the worst place for SUNA to propose, in his not-so humble opinion. 

he was never the kind of guy to show-off his relationship with you. although he was public with it, the two of you often spotted out and about in public and littered here and there inside both his and your social handles, many people outside family, friends, and co-workers didn’t know much of what happens behind closed doors.

besides, the last thing he would want is to humiliate himself in front of hundreds, if not, thousands of spectators’ eyes upon you guys if you reject his proposal—scratch that—the last thing suna would want to do is humiliate you in front of hundreds, if not, thousands of spectators’ eyes upon you guys if you reject his proposal.

suna was comfortable in the love the two of you shared between each other. he still gave you plenty of affection, sure, but he knew better to get jealous if someone was a little too touchy-feely for your liking or feel fall into a pit of despair if you were particularly busy when he was feeling a bit touch starved for a few days. it was the same for you—and the two of you would always make it up to one another.

however, the reassurance did nothing to quell the fear that was rather snug at the bottom of his stomach. engagement was something that required a lot of commitment—not that the two of you weren’t pretty committed to each other already. still, the thought of making you uncomfortable couldn’t help but cause fear in suna.

so, initially, he decided to postpone his proposal to a different date.

keyword: initially.

getting back to the current situation, he found himself standing at the end line of his team’s side of the court with the jackals mirroring on the other. exchanging the usual pleasantries of thanking their opponents for the game, bowing, then jogging away to commence warm-ups. 

well, not before you caught suna’s hazel-eyed attention.

look at you, with your oversized jersey (when suna pointed it out, you argued that it was necessary to “preserve the authenticity,” much to his amusement at your choice of vocabulary) clad in it’s beautiful, golden glory, a white number ‘9′ embroidered on the front, and a big, stupid grin that he was definitely going to make fun of later. though suna wasn’t the type to feel overwhelming pride and loyalty towards his team—to him it’s just kind of how sports work—but that couldn’t possibly prevent the sudden wave of dignity wash over him. 

you’ve always been his biggest fan, and this game was really just any other one, but just the sight of you alone as he subconsciously blurred out the other faces in the crowd brought him back when he was just a high school boy.

god, how he wanted to marry you so bad.

unfortunately, a certain man seemed to notice this.

“hey, suna-san!” 

well, not him.

one of his teammates, naming komori, called out, affectively breaking suna out of his trance. upon closer investigation on your face, you appeared to be sporting a smug grin spreading across your face. squinting his slender eyes in annoyance, suna turned on his heel towards his awaiting team, already stretching their hearts out as echoes of counting from one to ten faded into the endless chatter of the audience above.

pre-game rituals were done as per usual, and suna almost forgot that he felt someone’s eyes on him while he practically ogling at you a few minutes previously. before he knew it, he was already in the sidelines, awaiting for either the referee, coach, or manager to call him to the side so he could switch with komori once he rotates to the front row.

seeing the libero behind the sidelines a step away from outside the court and the referee beckoning him over, he quickly jogged towards komori and with a high-five and the approval of the official via a deafening whistle, suna was now in the front row, using his hands to block the guy in front of him so he could conceal the current server’s position. 

that said guy was none other than the atsumu miya himself.

with all his experience dealing with him in high school while they were on the same team—which was already an irritation to begin with—when they first played against each other, every single move he pulled varied from causing a slight vexation from the blocker or delivering a huge blow to his ego. from his serves to his setter dumps, ‘unpredictable’ was one of the best words to describe the bleached-blond after a prolonged time of not watching his antics.

however, after a few games against his fellow high school alumnus, suna grown accustomed to his tricks, both on and off the court. 

"who knew ya’d get y/n all the way here as yer personal cheerleader?” atsumu sighed somewhat blissfully, but with the way he said it, you could’ve guessed that he was either being sarcastic. envious, or perhaps even both. his eyes gravitated towards you, trying to locate you in the crowd. once he did, atsumu winked (much to your confusion), and he glanced back at suna, pointing to you for emphasis on his previous question.

“c’mon, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“it’s not that big of a deal,” the blond mocked rather quietly, out fear he could get a nasty look from the referee, his coach, or even worse, the club’s captain, meian. “yeah... right. do 'ya know how many people date their significant others ever since high school?”

“...a lot?” suna’s answer seemed more like a question, yet really he never felt so impatient for the referee to whistle for the rally to start—sure, he sometimes tended to slack off during volleyball games, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be stuck talking to atsumu. what’s taking them so long?

“WRONG,” he practically yelled, than covering his mouth at the sudden outburst before his eyes darted towards the referee right above them, his coach on the bench, and most importantly, meian to the side, before sighing in relief at the confirmation that no one had actually heard him. “it’s less than two percent.”

“what?” 

“i said-”

“-ever.”

the setter’s hand shot up to his chest in dramatic agony while the middle blocker simply rolled his eyes. 

“why is what’s going on in my love life so important to you, out of all people?” 

“don’t think i didn’t see ‘ya goin’ all goo-goo eyes at them! at this point, i wouldn’t be surprised if someone who didn’t even watch the game heard about it!”

suna’s face went blank at atsumu’s exclamation. “okay, and...?”

“do i have to spell everything out for ‘ya?” atsumu shook his head as if suna ‘just didn’t get it.’ “what ‘ya have is special! if i were ‘ya and had someone like y/n, i’d prob’ly already have two kids with them at this point!”

unfortunately, much to suna’s better judgement, he couldn’t help but agree with the man in front of him. he believed—no—he knew that what he had between you was special, that even after a few life times after his current one, he still couldn’t find someone that was able to give him the same butterflies just as it felt a few years prior. 

before he could further ponder on atsumu’s words, the referee finally blew their whistle, effectively starting the rally as the current server (who suna forgot his identity) delivered a loud ‘SMACK’ against the ball as it soared above the net, the players on the other side scrambling to get their positions as some stayed behind in order to get the ball up.

attempting to get comfortable as his role as one of the current blockers, his fox-like eyes immediately darted towards the jackals’ setter. who did he think was the most viable hitter against him and his fellow teammates beside him?

following the blond’s eyesight, suna sprinted to the location so he could block the spiker ahead of him, leaped, then stretched his arms upwards and across the net when he reached the height, and with the help of with the other man participating in the block, managed to prevent msby’s #4 from scoring on their side of the court. 

“STUFFED!!” the sportscaster announced over the intercom, a wave of cheer filling the arena.

passing the ball back and forth rather intensely continued for at least an hour and a half or so, to the point that it looked like as if all the players that were on or were playing on the court practically sweated a whole swimming pool. though suna doesn’t play an all-around rotation (courtesy of komori and the other starting blocker, washio), even he already felt the effects of fatigue take over his mind.

it was currently the third set: one more to go before the jackals win the whole game without any trouble—well, not really. the past two sets were annoyingly close, yet somehow the black and gold team managed to always gain those two points ahead from his team’s score. 

the other side was equally as tired as the raijin, maybe even more so attributable to their hitters (particularly a certain #21) flying all over the place like gigantic fruit flies. however, for some reason, that didn’t stop them for trying their goddamn hardest to get those last few points to win it all. it was painfully obvious to watch, especially since they were on the receiving end o it, but surely their exhaustion would soon keep up with their athletic abilities such as suna and his team?

before he knew it, the board displaying the current scores of the game were set, the red lights emitting from it felt as though it was mocking suna. 

23-24.

one more point until the match was over for the jackals and more than three for the raijin. the blocker mentally groaned at the sight, but if he could just stop whichever poor hitter was in front of him, it would give their team could turn the game around-

“yo,” atsumu greeted, smirk plastered on his face as he found him and suna right in front of one another yet again. 

“what is it this time, atsumu?” suna asked, though it came off more as a complaint than a question. surprisingly, the setter didn’t seem to take it as an offense.

“i say we propose a bet,” he responded, making suna’s face twist up out of cringe at the wordplay. 

sighing, knowing he probably wouldn’t shut up even during a rally, the blocker decided to humor him. “what?”

a brief silence broke out between the two men, after a few seconds of atsumu blinking his brown eyes repeatedly, he continued. “if we win, yer gonna have to propose to y/n-”

“no.”

“c’mon! you didn’t let me finish! anyways, if ‘ya win, yer gonna have to wallow in the fact that ‘ya lost the love of yer life ‘cause you chickened out into proposin’ to ‘em.”

it was basically a lose-lose situation, with the way atsumu was putting it. on one hand, suna would be forced to ‘pop the question’ at the least romantic place, and on the other, the circumstances that the setter suggested seemed favorable if you looked past the dramatics of it... suna wouldn’t have to do this in a rather public setting and actually be able to do it when the both of you were comfortable.

the familiar whistle cut in from atsumu’s little impatient “check-in,” and with a final, knowing gaze, he went to make use of his hands, holding them in a similar manner that suna did while looking back at his side of the court, where msby’s #12 was up to serve. 

it all went so fast—in one moment, he saw komori behind him bumping the ball up without much difficulty, and the next, he was falling from the air, where meian was before him, grin spread across his face out of overwhelming pride. as the two of them reached the ground, the crowd above them roared in joy, the blaring buzz of the scoreboard just barely peaking through, yet still more louder inside of the ejp raijin’s heads than countless of spectators ever will be.

exchanging the usual courtesies towards the jackals, listening to the coach’s advice and remarks about their game, and cooling down via stretching and some refreshing, ice-cold water, suna began to search for your presence; to no avail, you were nowhere to be seen amongst the bleachers. 

before suna had the chance to think of a rational explanation to reason with your disappearance, a voice presumably at the nearby announcers table just a few feet away got on the intercom.

“would suna rintaro please make your way down to the broadcasting table?”

it took a(n embarrassing) while for the blocker to register that the person on the mic was not one of the sportscasters but in fact, atsumu miya himself.

strolling his way towards the table, attempting to look casual as possible and conceal the fact that he scared shitless at whatever shenanigans atsumu was up to after what previously let down, suna approached the table only to be greeted by a microphone and a piece of paper shoved into him by a certain setter, some rather pissed commentators, and a very puzzled you, most of all. 

“rin... do you know what’s going on?” you asked, quirking your eyebrows while looking around yourself repeatedly like atsumu did, worried that you’d get in trouble since usually onlookers weren’t allowed down at the court itself. even though he assured you this was fine, you still couldn’t help but feel a bit concerned. 

suna’s breathing hitched for a second, making the microphone peak and attracting the attention of the people watching the game, the majority of which were still hanging around with the intention of meeting their favorite players or something along the lines of that, not whatever mess that could possibly happen any minute now.

ah, crossroads. something that the young man didn’t expect to happen in his life, especially regarding taking his romantic relationship to the next step. there were three possible outcomes to this: one is that he could completely ignore this, making this seem like some sort of cruel prank, two was to straight up say whatever was on the paper and propose to you, then you rejecting him creating unneeded humiliation for the both of you, and three was to the same thing as two, but have it result into the best possible scenario: you saying yes.

2/3 of those outcomes were pretty negative, meaning around a 67% chance that this go absolutely wrong. it didn’t help that suna couldn’t get a read on you at the moment, mainly since you had no idea what atsumu set you and him up to do.

aiming to stall some time for himself, he palmed the slip of paper just before it escaped from his chest, flipping it over only to find that in messily scribbled black ink a barely legible “marry me” was written on it.

deadpanning at the sight, suna was quick to crumble it up and toss it away from him (hopefully landing on atsumu), with hazel eyes staring into yours as the words that atsumu said earlier echoed in his mind. 

it was now or never.

“y/n...” he began, wincing at the fact that he heard his voice over the intercom after forgetting that he was broadcasting this. “i... well, someone recently told me that what we had between us was... special. that if they had someone like you, they’d probably already have two kids at that point.”

suna chuckled as recalled the words, taking a step forward towards you, his eyes glancing to the ground so he can make this proposing thing more easier on him. 

“...and i agree with them. y/n, you make me feel special every waking and sleeping minute i spend with you by my side, and i only hope that i do the same for you.”

you stood speechless, and since he really wanted to get it over with, he knelt down on one knee, taking one of your hands and encasing it with his, a soft smile gracing his features.

“marry me...?”

𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚. ･ﾟ: *. — 澤村大地

going out with some of his fellow high school alumni after a long day at work to down a nice, cold beer was something that DAICHI found himself not looking forward to quite recently. 

what wasn’t there to like? there was nothing more reassuring than the dim light illuminating the establishment above him and his friends laughing as they drank and ate their fill at their regular food booth. 

however, it wasn’t the drinking that the officer cherished the most; it was the relaxed atmosphere of the small bar. daichi’s friend’s from high school around him, the familiarity of it all that made him feel that this was something he had been doing all his life, and of course, you.

you tended to work later shifts than daichi, so you’d normally come join the group for their little impromptu ‘high school reunions’, as sugawara dubbed even though they do this practically every weekend. 

this time around though, your job required you to be kept around even more later than usual, to the point you weren’t even sure if you could make it to the ‘high school reunion’ at all.

and boy was daichi relieved that was the case.

“YOU GUYS HAVE BEEN DATING FOR HOW LONG??” suga’s voice boomed throughout the place. if it weren’t for the fact that this was a normal occurrence for the teacher when he a bit more than tipsy, the brunette would’ve more than just embarrassed. 

who was he kidding, daichi was flat-out humiliated.

“n-nine yea-”

“NINE YEARS??”

at this point, sugawara’s annoyingly loud voice when he was drunk attracted many stares from people that were either their co-workers, neighbors, fellow regulars, and friends, all blatantly invested at this man’s (that they knew practically forever) love life. 

“yes, suga—nine whole years, wow...” despite the massive blush daichi was currently sporting that definitely wasn’t caused by alcohol (as seen by his yet to be touched glass in front of him), the sarcasm in his voice didn’t fade as he half-heartedly did jazz-hands in mock amazement. 

even when his friend was drunk, the police officer didn’t understand why the length of his relationship with you was that surprising—the two of you started dating in your third year of high school, and with everything going on during his early twenties, him going off to the police academy and you going to college, it wasn’t exactly the best idea to get married when the both of you just fled the nest and were barely financially stable to boot. 

however, sugawara and the rest of the eavesdropping less-than-sober patrons didn’t seem to clock both of that. 

“nine whole years, hmm?” an older man inquired, a lazy arm was draped around daichi’s shoulder, shaking him around. with a breath that reeked of beer and a familiar, deep voice, it didn’t take his time in the police force to figure out the man that seemingly appeared out of nowhere was his old coach, ukai. 

he wasn’t sure if his senior’s forced intervention would be considered lucky or not; on one hand, it actually shut suga up from asking the same question for the fourth time, but on the other...

“you oughta propose soon, yeah?”

“aww, wittle sawamura-kun and wittle l/n-chan finawwy tyin’ da knot~” the guy sitting besides ukai, whom daichi recognized to be the owner of the electronics shop down the street, takinoue, slurred his words so much that it could bring the kids sugawara taught to shame. “ain’t dat cute... y’know, l/n’s quite da catch, yeah? if y’aww weren’t datin’ for so wong, i woulda snatched dem up for myself!” 

though daichi was mostly thinking about how ew, a man less than twice his age joking about dating his significant other, takinoue’s laugh bellowed as some others joined in to create a chorus of drunk guffaws, chortles, and other ridiculous synonyms of the word ‘laugh’ while also gaining even more people’s attention, much to the former’s absolute mortification.

“hey! we’re supposed to be helping daichi!” sugawara joined back the conversation, now looking rather irritated that these two old coots disturbed the flow of his incessantly repeated questions, he glanced back at his friend, his expression now completely serious.

daichi gulped. 

“now, continuing with what i was saying after i was so rudely interrupted, are you gonna pop the question?”

though what the grey-haired man was asking was actually ukai’s question, the previous rowdiness and high volume of the crowd was now quiet, to the point it could be seen as suspicious. the people packed into the tiny, little bar were like a ticking time bomb, except the fuse would be replaced by daichi’s words alone.

he couldn’t exactly lie and say he wasn’t planning on proposing to you, knowing the people around him and the nature of their small town, word would spread like wildfire. and if he did tell the truth, well, daichi couldn’t guarantee that the exact same thing wouldn’t happen. 

the officer knew that you were most likely weren’t just going to believe any town gossip on the street while running errands; that still didn’t change the fact that he didn’t appreciate the bar occupants encompassing him spreading the latest, juiciest information on his relationship status.

in other words, there was no getting around this. 

sighing, his chocolate brown eyes gazed upon his shoes, muttering in a voice that resembled more of a complaining grumble, “...yes.”

just like that, the bar erupted in cheer, causing daichi to instinctively covered his ears at the sound. he definitely wasn’t any doctor, but if this keeps up, he could guarantee that along with the head-splitting hangover many of the patrons are going to get the next day, their vocal chords would be fried to the point that they couldn’t even speak. to be honest, he was surprised that his co-workers didn’t already drive up to the place due to their sheer noise disturbing the rest of sleeping neighborhood.

“looks like we gotta get sawamura a ring, huh?” ukai exclaimed, tightening his grip around daichi’s neck and effectively (and unintentionally) putting him in a chokehold. 

“ugh- you do know you can get arrested for aggravated assault against a police officer?” he managed to cough out. he didn’t exactly like pulling out the empty detainment threat, but daichi didn’t want to end up actually taking his high school volleyball coach into custody, especially in his drunken stupor. “besides, there’s no need.”

with a flick of his wrist, his hands did a slight disappearing act inside his jacket’s pocket for a velvet box to materialize inside his very hand. another thing he also didn’t want to end up doing was making a bunch of intoxicated people waste their hard-earned cash to buy him a ring when he already possessed one.

much like sugawara’s elementary school class, the newly found audience that surrounded he and daichi’s table, they all collectively ‘ooh’ed and ‘ah’ed. ironic, really, since half of them were old enough to or did have a kid old enough in the grey-haired man’s class.

“ah, just like the daichi i remember!” suga animatedly laughed, adding to the current pain his friend was going through by slapping him on the back rather aggressively. “always prepared for everything!”

“yeah, i- ow-” he was cut off by a fierce blow to his back, causing him to shoot a glare at sugawara’s direction. “quit it!”

daichi’s hand bolted to suga’s arm, swatting it away as he stored the hand that held the box into his pocket once more.

“aww, you’re no fun...”

“dat won’t help!” takinoue interjected, much to the teacher’s vexation. “since we’ve got da wing... we gotta help ‘im!”

“y’know takinoue... that’s literally the smartest thing you said this whole night,” ukai bluntly stated, though his drinking buddy didn’t seem affected in the slightest by his off-handed remark.

“alright, then who’s with us?!” sugawara yelled to catch everyone’s attention (as if it wasn’t already directed at them).

once again, the place practically exploded in enthusiasm, alcoholic drinks spilling all over like makeshift fireworks (bless the poor owner’s heart).

“geez, i think i heard you guys a block away,” your sudden entrance caused many heads to jerk their heads so hard toward the source of your voice that you were honestly worried they got whiplash. eyes widening at the sudden attention you garnered and the quiet atmosphere that was definitely not there a few minutes earlier made you quirk an eyebrow in confusion. “did i miss something...?”

eyes (including yours, though mostly because everybody else’s was) moving towards daichi at once, and with a (not really) reassuring pat from sugawara.

reaching the limit of embarrassment (as if he hadn’t already) he could handle from his fellow customers, in a desperate attempt to escape the bar, he swiftly clasped his hand around yours, yanking you towards the direction where he was headed to lead you outside of the place, right outside the big window separated the cool, relaxed atmosphere of the establishment to the world outside filled with the orchestra of crickets at the distance and the humid, warm climate of a summer night of their hometown.

“someone’s in a hurry,” you joked at daichi’s actions, and instead of him flushing or wincing sheepishly, instead he let out a deep sigh scratching the back of his head.

“remind me to never walk into there ever again...” he complained, letting his neck arch forward and pinching the bridge of his nose after recalling everything that went down recently. 

“they’re not that bad.”

“then you haven’t seen anything yet.”

you laughed jovially, making daichi’s expression soften at the sound. you always seemed to relax him no matter what. 

however, it abruptly stopped the moment you spotted a sudden audience from the window from your peripheral vision, them staring at the two of you like owls. before you could even point at them and open your mouth to address the elephant in the room, the police officer cut you to the chase.

“you know how they are... if we go as much as the ends of the earth itself, they’d follow us just to see what we’re up to.”

“well, you’re right about that... but that wouldn’t be the case if something normal was going on...” you had an accusing tone laced in your voice, and daichi could’ve sworn that you put on some invisible detective hat on your head. “so... you’ve got anything to say?”

giving the crowd beside you two a side-long glance, his chocolates brown eyes slowly made their way towards yours, letting out a deep sigh. “guess like there’s no way around this...”

before you could react to display your perplexity, daichi coughed for a bit, signaling you to at least hear what he was about to say. 

“y/n... we’ve been together for nine years,” he slowly started. “throughout that time, we were both busier than ever... but despite that, we still stuck with each other, and... well...” 

daichi paused to laugh to himself mainly because he felt as though the mood was getting a little bit too tense and awkward than he originally perceived it to be. “i really, really am in love with you, and as cheesy as it sounds... i don’t think anything could top that.”

his knee finally made contact with the ground, he brought out the box from his pocket, presenting it to you.

“i can only ask... do you feel the same way?”

𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚. ･ﾟ: *. — 宮治

onigiri miya was livelier than ever, to say the least. 

the restaurant was practically packed to the point it might be nearing or already is as max capacity, and it didn’t help the fact that a famous setter was sitting in his quote-unquote “reserved” food booth, attracting the attention of many more customers than usual. 

the stress was basically written on both you, osamu, and staff member’s foreheads with black sharpie—and it was more than justified. the line spilled in from the door outside, after all. one false misstep could cause the dissatisfaction of potential patrons, meaning bad reviews, and that it could only go further downhill after that. 

regardless, this wasn’t the time to focus on the potential repercussions of what could happen if you messed up the tiniest details of an order; you really should be focusing on trying not to mess up so the the establishment won’t suffer said potential repercussions. 

you were the first employee that was put under osamu’s payroll when he first opened onigiri miya. you knew him and his twin brother quite before it opened, and when you went into university looking for a part-time job, you took a job under your boyfriend. to simultaneously support him while also getting some money as well. 

to see his restaurant being so successful was a truly wonderful sight to witness, especially since you there since the very beginning. even though your time to graduate university was nearing, you still planned to hold on to your job, maybe even get a posistion full-time.

for now, you’ve got to focus on trying to package the onigiri before sending it out to the customers outside of the kitchen. 

meanwhile, osamu was starting to feel quite annoyed conversing with said customers. 

“wait, aren’t you that setter on the national team??”

“ATSUMU MIYA?!”

“aren’t you supposed to have blond hair?”

“i’m pretty sure i’ve seen you on tv before...”

it was really nothing above a superficial level. really, he was used to it. they were twin brothers, after all. comparisons and mistakes were bound to happen.

however, that didn’t mean that there wasn’t a tick mark appearing on his forehead everytime this gets mentioned which tends to be rather well-hidden with the customer-friendly grin plastered on his face. 

as a patron finished their conversation with osamu, he made his way towards the kitchen behind the counter, away from any clients. then, he let out a heavy sigh, blowing on his cap2.

“long morning?” you jokingly asked, looking up from your work as your partner gives you a playful side-eye.

“don’t get me started,” he replied, osamu’s grey eyes staring down his apron as you laughed. 

“well then, keep your head up, miya osamu,” you practically commanded, forcefully grabbing his head and staring into his grey eyes as they reflected the top half of your face. “the rush is gonna be over before you know it! next thing you know, you’re gonna be complaining about the lack of business again like you usually do.”

the owner of the shop cracked a smile at your encouragement, sharing a small, quiet ‘moment’ before being interrupted by one of your co-workers. 

“miya-san? table seven needs a server.”

the man let out yet another heavy sigh. table seven was the booth that atsumu tended to frequent the most. as much as he loves his brother, under the his current workload, he was definitely not in the mood to whatever antics the setter was up to at the moment.

“y/n?” osamu immediately looked towards you, something you might as well be used to by the amount of times he relied on you to talk to his twin, whether it was to serve their little “messenger” when they weren’t on the best of terms or to deliver some sort of prank, the practice made you make their phones inferior in comparison. nevertheless, osamu was technically your boss after all, so who were you to disagree and say no?

(well, honestly, if you did say no, osamu was whipped enough to begrudgingly go and serve atsumu’s table anyways, but i digress.)

“...fine,” you answered, deeply sighing to mock your boyfriend (much to his dismay). your co-worker tossed you up a white paper bag packed to the brim with onigiri as caught it with your hands.

you walked away from the two to “enter” the restaurant. retying your apron around your waist with the paper bag still in hand, you did a short survey of the establishment. it didn’t really take very long; it wasn’t hard to trace the directions of numerous of people’s eyes to find atsumu. 

strolling towards him, the man’s brown eyes appeared to be glued to his phone below him, though he somehow noticed your shadow growing closer to his general area from the floor. 

“finally... what took 'ya so long?” atsumu grumbled, still scrolling through his device. “i swear i gotta do everythin’ ‘round here...”

your smile spread across your face for all the wrong reasons. if it wasn’t for the fact he was osamu’s brother, you would’ve bit back your less than tasteful insults. yet, before you could open your mouth, the setter cut you to the chase.

“thank me later, ‘kay? now, gimme the onigiri,” atsumu reached out his arm with lightning speed quickly snatched the bag with his meal while just as swiftly chucking at you with a small box just barely larger than some of the said onigiri he just robbed from you. 

of course, since you just stood there in pure shock for a good few seconds at the sheer audacity of him, you ended up playing a game of hacky sack by yourself with the box before finally palming it with both of your hands.

casting your gaze upon it, you noticed it had an oddly soft texture against your hands. it pretty clear that atsumu had absolutely no clue that you were there instead of who he thought was going to be waiting his food booth, but you couldn’t help but grew curious over the contents of the box.

taking a brief glimpse of his current position only to find he was chomping down on the still steaming hot onigiri, you decided that it couldn’t hurt to take a peek at what’s inside. perhaps it his weird idea of saying “thank you,” for whoever he believed was attending the table. 

squinting your eyes to get a better look, you cracked open the box as something shiny shone through. refusing to get affected by the seemingly blinding light, you further continued your investigation, and with the minimum required attention to detail, you were able to instantly deduce what was inside.

“um... atsumu? i’m flattered...?” you weren’t sure what was the correct nomenclature for such a bizarre scenario such as this one. “but you do know i’m dating your brother, right...?”

“huh? of course i know that-” atsumu halted in his tracks as he tore his eyes away from what he was previously doing, jaw dropping and mouth agape when his eyes finally registered that you were there. though previously aghast that you would accuse him of making a possibly life-changing romantic move on someone who was already taken, much so by osamu, his voice was quick to falter that he was the wrong person who gave you the box. “i- uh...”

“hey! sorry for botherin’ whatever ‘ya and ‘tsumu were doin’ but i need some...” osamu trailed off once he clocked what was going on. “...help.”

though the more customers more farther away from you three’s general area continued eating and chattering amongst themselves like usual, you guys seemed to create a scene, ending up being the cynosure of many of the patrons.

osamu liked to think that he was somewhat reasonable, at least more so than his brother, but though their differences can easily be found out, both with first expressions and getting to know them better, they were still rather similar to each other at the end of the day as a product of how they grew up. 

so, without thinking about the possible repercussions this could cause to his relationship, he grabbed the velvet box from atsumu’s hand, and started walking towards you.

“y/n... if i’m gonna be honest, yer one of the best things that ever happened to me in my life,” osamu smiled, the words falling out of his mouth naturally as he knelt down on one of his knees, his ‘onigiri miya’ cap casting a shadow over his eyes as he secretly hoped it masked the many emotions trying to process through his brain at the same time. 

the restaurant around the both of you fell suddenly deathly silent, the only sound other than the distant cars honking and driving past the place outside was a small gasp escaping from your mouth. 

“...an’ i wanna keep that in my life... forever,” osamu then presented the unboxed ring to you, his hat no longer concealing his silver eyes, which was now swimming with nothing but love and admiration.

“l/n y/n, may ‘ya do me the honor of bein’ my ‘forever’?”

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 <𝟑

#𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞.! #𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮!! 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞.! #suna x reader #osamu x reader #daichi x reader #kenma x reader #kenma kozume x reader #rintaro suna x reader #osamu miya x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #kozume kenma x reader #miya osamu x reader #suna rintaro x reader #sawamura daichi x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq!! x reader #hq x reader #suna fluff #kenma fluff

[mariacallous]

After being ousted from the House of Representatives last week, ex-congressperson George Santos has officially joined Cameo, the platform famous for custom messages from celebrities and influencers.

Though Santos has not yet posted anything to his Cameo profile, it advertises a selection of personally recorded pep talks, “gossip,” roasts, and advice messages from Santos himself. These video messages, all promised to be delivered within 24 hours of an order, were initially priced at $75, but the cost has since increased to $200.

A former Santos staffer confirmed to WIRED today that the profile was real, and it is now linked on the former representative’s personal X account. Cameo did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

After winning his Long Island congressional election last year, Santos encountered problems when the North Shore Leader and The New York Times reported that he had allegedly lied about his finances and much of his personal background, including where he went to college and the claim that he had worked for Goldman Sachs. More absurd lies were uncovered, involving claims that his mother had died as a result of 9/11 (she didn’t) and that Santos was the star of Baruch College’s volleyball team (he wasn’t, and he didn’t attend Baruch).

In May, Santos was charged on multiple federal counts of money laundering, identity theft, and theft of public funds. He is set to face trial next September.

Despite these charges, Santos wasn’t expelled until after the House Ethics Committee finished its own investigation in November and claimed that he had misused thousands of dollars in campaign donations. The report said that Santos spent $50,000 in campaign funds to pay off personal debts and made other unlawful purchases, like subscribing to creators on OnlyFans. Representative Max Miller (R-Ohio) has also accused Santos of defrauding him and his mother by charging their personal credit cards.

Santos isn’t the first politician to join the ranks of Chuck Norris, Tay Zonday, and Brian Baumgartner (of The Office fame) on Cameo: Former Alaska governor Sarah Palin and political consultant Roger Stone have their own profiles, both touting nearly five star ratings.

The Biden campaign also experimented with Cameo in the past. In 2020, the campaign partnered with the platform to allow participating celebrities, like Andy Cohen, Mandy Moore, and Melissa Etheridge, to earmark portions of their earnings as donations, according to The Verge.

Until Santos goes to trial, it’s impossible to know whether his donors will ever claw back the money allegedly stolen from them. But unlike Santos’ reported donor fraud, Cameo has a money-back guarantee for scams.

[wardenparker]

You’re So Vain - Chapter 12

Dieter Bravo x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Oscar winning star Dieter Bravo’s reputation is suffering after the debacle of “Cliff Beasts 6″ and “Beasts of the Bubble”, so his management team has signed him on to a publicity stunt to find his soulmate and show the world a softer side of the erratic and unpredictable star. The plan quickly go awry, though, when Dieter’s soulmate wants nothing to do with him.  

Rating: Explicit for drug use Word Count: 12.6k Warnings: *Blanket warning for chronic illness, cursing, and deceased family members. This is a Dieter fic, folks, so there absolutely will be discussions of drugs, drug use, and addiction.* Enemies to lovers, food/alcohol consumption, discussion of deceased spouse, accidental drug use, misuse of prescription drugs, PTSD, pregnancy scare,  I have a lot of feelings about this chapter okay? Summary: The day Steph and Nora go back to the States, you have a gigantic migraine. But the fallout from trying to take care of it is worse than you could have ever expected. Notes: ✨ NOTES CONTAIN SPOILERS. CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED.  ✨ This chapter contains accidental drug use in the form of mistaking pills for something else (mislabeled bottle). The drug in question is ketamine, and reader’s reaction to it is based solely on my own personal knowledge of the drug as well as some basic research. Not everyone is affected the same way by taking this or any other drug, so this portrayal may not be exactly on the nose for what some others have experienced. 

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10

It takes a little while to pump Steph full of enough caffeine to combat jet lag the next morning, but the four of you arrive at the studio right on time. Dieter hustles off to his dressing room after a round of hugs from everyone and a quick kiss from you, and you pop your head into the director’s office to make sure that the portraits you’ve done for the movie are exactly what they need. After that it’s a guided studio tour and you’re settling down in the cafe with lunch before you know it. Having Steph and Nora here is even more magical and surreal than when you first got here yourself, and you want to make sure they enjoy every second.

“Honestly? I’ve never seen you this happy.” Steph leans back in her seat and looks over at where Nora is coloring in the book that her Uncle DeeDee had managed to get from someone on set. “So things are going a lot better than you texted, huh?”

“Things are…they’re kind of amazing, honestly. And I’m so afraid of jinxing it by saying that out loud.” The abundant charcuterie platter that you and Steph chose to share for lunch sits between you as you both pick at it eagerly. “I mean, I hope it’s not just a vacation fluke and things are still this good when we’re both busy and not sharing a room.” You can’t be more graphic than that with Nora two feet away, but Steph knows what you mean.

Smirking, Steph flutters her lashes at you playfully, making you giggle. “Oh honey, you’ve been getting it good, haven’t you?” She asks, wanting details. “Everyday?”

“Um…usually more than once…” You admit quietly, feeling your whole face set on fire. “It’s the honeymoon phase, ya know?”

“Interesting words.” Steph hums, picking up her wine glass. “Especially when you’re describing the relationship that you have with your soulmate. He’s – you two have really gotten in sync, haven’t you?”

“I didn’t mean literal honeymoon.” No, the implications of that are just a little too much for you to take right now. But you do sigh s little and shrug your sore shoulder. “I…I don’t know if he’s feeling what I’m feeling. But I know that we’re talking and we’re doing our best to be honest with each other, and it’s helped a lot.”

“That’s great.” Steph sets her glass down after a sip and leans in, touching your hand. “I’m really happy that the two of you are getting to know each other. And that it seems like – well, it seems like it’s going better than anyone could have expected.” You had even stayed with Dieter last night, instead of escaping to their room like you would have done if you had been miserable.

“I think it’s safe to say that I feel completely the opposite of how I did when we met.” That is the understatement of the century as far as you’re concerned, but here you are.

Steph’s brow furrows for a moment until a look of understanding crosses her face. “Have you talked about it?” She asks, knowing that it’s a very big deal for you.

“No.” You shake your head, building yourself another bite of food and grateful that Nora is happily distracted with her coloring. “I was actually hoping to talk to you about it first…you know me better than anyone.”

“When did you realize you love him?” She shoots Nora a glance and then looks back at you.

Love. For such a little word, it has such a huge impact - making your pulse jump and your throat run dry and your stomach flip with excitement and nerves. “Yesterday for certain.”

“You are sure it’s not just a reaction to him being so sweet on your birthday?” As much as she had pushed you to get to know Dieter, she doesn’t want you hurt. Talking about this will help you work through the jumble of emotions she knows is mixed up inside you.

“I think it just…solidified it? But this is why I need to talk to you.” Reaching over, you grasp her hands tightly for just a second and blow out a sigh. “He’s been…kind of incredible. The whole time, I mean.”

“Yeah?” She bites her lip to keep from grinning, instead she squeezes your hand and encourages you to talk. “Tell me.”

“The physical part is ridiculous.” You’re not really going to elaborate on that with Nora nearby – or anyone for that matter. Anyone who knows you would know you’re talking about Dieter and that could end up on gossip sites. If Steph wants the dirty details, you’ll tell her later, in private. “But it’s like…when we actually shut off the snark around each other? He’s so sweet and surprisingly attentive. I mean, I know I probably sound like I did when I was sixteen, but the man literally offered to bankroll the start of my own business so I can teach art privately and get away from all the insane bureaucracy of school curriculums, then turned around and got his director to agree to let me paint the incredibly plot important portraits for the movie he’s filming.”

“Wow.” Steph hadn’t realized that all of this was going on. You had been texting, but it had been surface level things. “How’s his – you know, the addiction issue?” You had been terrified about that. It had been one of your biggest fears.

“He takes daily tests as part of his contract.” You take a sip of your tea and shift in your seat so you can be closer to her and therefore talk a little more quietly. “We do drink, but he’s been clean of everything else since we met.” A fact which you know agitates him at times, but he hasn’t fought against it. As much as he might struggle at times, Dieter has actually told you that he wants to stay clean. “He’s never snuck anything or faked a test or anything like that. I think…I think maybe the endorphin rush from… intimacy,” you mumble the word under your breath, “might be kind of a substitute sometimes? But shoot, that’s physical exercise. It’s about the healthiest way to get endorphins ever.”

“That’s a good thing.” She gives a small giggle and waggles her eyebrows at you. “Exercise is a great thing.”

Chewing on your lip for a second, you still end up smiling despite the nervous knot in your stomach. “I’m gonna take him to San Fran. To meet my parents. Once he’s done filming here.”

“Babe…” Steph nearly gasps, knowing that is a big deal. “That’s – wow.”

“When they called yesterday, they asked when they were going to get to meet him and invited us to come stay for a weekend. And he just…” It’s still kind of unbelievable to you that he said yes, if you’re honest. “He asked if I wanted him to meet them. I was honest and said yes, but I told him we could put it off for a while, thinking we might get roped into Thanksgiving or something, ya know? But he just agreed right away and said we could do it when he gets back.”

“Do you think that he’s falling for you?” Her question is gentle, but she wants to know where you think this is going. “I mean, the tattoo, meeting your parents, the business offer…” She trails off, but she gives a small shrug. “I don’t think he would do that for just anyone.”

“I don’t know.” You shake your head, letting it drop into one upturned palm as you rest your elbow on the table. “It feels like I’ve known him forever sometimes, but then I’m the same breath I realize we’ve only really known each other for what…a little more than two weeks?” The Disney trip is when you started working at getting along, and that has become your benchmark for the positive direction of your relationship with Dieter, even if there was a hiccup along the way. “I mean obviously I hope he’s not doing all of this out of some kind of obligation because we’re soulmates, but I just can’t say for sure. I—I’ve made too many assumptions about him over the years. I can’t let this be another one.”

She can’t help but give a little groan and slightly amused chuckle. “Of course now we aren’t assuming.” She teases you as only your best friend can, and she knows it. “Are you planning on telling him?”

“I’m actively trying to be better,” you remind her, cheeks on fire at the reminder of just how much assuming you had done not that long ago. “But I am genuinely afraid that saying something could upset the delicate balance that we have going. It might be pushing way too hard and I don’t want to do that to him.”

Nodding in understanding, Steph vows that she’s going to keep her opinions to herself. Or at least not try to push you into anything. This needs to be on your own time. “Taking it slow is never a bad thing.” She offers. “If he does feel the same way…” she grins at you playfully, “I get to tell you I told you so.”

“I would never take that from you.” After all, she would be right, if Dieter ever did return your feelings. “But I can’t see getting my hopes up.”

She snickers and looks around the café. “Because people who aren’t in love don’t fly out their soulmate’s best friend and niece to make sure she has the best day ever on her birthday.” She reminds you. “You didn’t cry once yesterday, did you?”

“I cried at the museum.” Which was a very different type of tears from the way you had spent the last several birthdays, you’ll admit.

“In rare fashion, I’m not going to push.” Steph declares with a laugh. “But I’m happy that you’re happy.” She bites her lip. “I haven’t seen you this happy since before college.”

“I—I don’t think…” you sigh, knowing how fucking sappy and ridiculous you sound. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy, Stephy. Like I hate that I have to leave a week before he does to get back to work. It’s ridiculous.”

“That business offer he made you?” Curiosity is getting the best of her, and she has to know. “What was that?”

“He thinks I could be a traveling art teacher.” The idea has burrowed into you since it was proposed at that first dinner at the museum, but it’s a scary thing to strike out on your own. “Give private lessons or make relationships with cafes while I travel and teach classes for the public. Or…or even for studio employees. Like traveling with him to set and giving art lessons to whoever wants them and contributing to set painting and stuff. Be my own boss and make it whatever I want. Teach whatever my students want instead of what the state of California has decided is easiest to grade.”

The phrases ‘traveling with him’ and ‘set painting’ don’t go unnoticed and it’s all Steph can do to keep from squealing. Or knocking some sense into you. “So, he wants you to develop a business where you can travel with him, spending even more time together. Plus give you autonomy and build your own brand while indulging in traveling – which you’ve always wanted to do more of?”

“He said…that even if I didn’t want to be with him, he still wanted me to be happy.” That conversation will be burned into your mind for a long time, partially because it was how you had decided to try dating for real – but also because of how generous he had been. It had taken you entirely by surprise. “This was before we had decided to try actual dating. It was—it was actually what got us talking about it.”

“Wow.” She had seen Dieter’s generosity, but it’s amazing to see it directed towards you.

“Yeah.” There isn’t really much else to say about it - the surprise you share pretty well sums it up. “Two days later he was convincing his director to let me paint the props that his character will be using in the movie.”

“That’s huge.” Steph sighs almost dreamily. “It’s going to be a big feather in your cap.”

“Or everyone at school is going to give me shit about being too big for my britches now.” It had cropped up in your mind as a very possible fear, knowing that as the younger of the two art teachers at your school and a newer teacher in general, you were looked down upon quite a lot. As though art education wasn’t as essential for a healthy mind as any language or history class.

“Anyone that has anything negative to say can fight me.” Steph promises, nearly growling and shaking her head. “Maybe you should work up a business plan. See how feasible it would be.”

“I honestly have no idea what kind of licensing, if any, it would take to give private or public art classes in other countries and it seems like it would cost a fortune to get started.” A slight – alright, more than slight – fear of the unknown has tinged the idea, and you hadn’t started any research for fear of finding out that the incredibly appealing idea would be too complicated to be realistic. “You know I love my students, but I swear sometimes I still feel like that sixteen-year-old who was going to be a professional painter come hell or high water.” The biggest problem with that plan always being that you needed to be rich first in order to pull it off. Becoming wealthy from painting takes years if it ever even happens. Which it usually doesn’t.

“Maybe you should start looking into it. Can you imagine traveling around and still getting to paint?” Steph muses. She wants nothing more for you than to travel the world with Dieter if it will make you happy. She loves, loves having you live with her – honestly doesn’t know if she would have survived without you after Shawn – but you deserve happiness.

“I’d miss you.” You squeeze her shoulder gently, not minding that the thought of being away from your best friend for too long makes you a little melancholy. You’re family, after all, and you got each other through one of the hardest loses of both of your lives. “Like I’ve been missing the heck out of you for the last week.” And there it is - that little smile that curls the corner of your lips now every time you think of him. It’s because of Dieter that she and Nora are here. He did that out of the goodness of his heart. A much bigger heart than you ever knew he could have. “I love the idea of painting for a living. I do. It would just be a huge change. And change is…it can be scary. That’s all.”

“I completely understand.” That’s very true. Reaching over, she squeezes your arm. “Although we will always be there when you come home. And be so fudging proud of you.”

“You always have been, and I love you for it.” Covering her hand with your own, you offer her a wider smile and shrug. “Who knows. Maybe they’ll like what I did for this movie and I’ll become a set decorator. That would be on par with how weird things have gotten lately.”

“God you would be good at it.” Steph gushes. “And when you make the big bucks, you can help me launch the exclusive food brand.” Dreaming about things helped the two of you get through the lows and it’s still fun to think about now.

“It should have a flagship restaurant.” You recall having a conversation with Dieter to the same affect, and the idea had stuck with you ever since. “Imagine being able to take this one out to eat and not having to worry about hidden ingredients?” If Nora is aware that you’re talking about her, she doesn’t show it, and you waggle your eyebrows at Steph slightly when your niece doesn’t react to the discussion. “Maybe Rico could help. His family had a restaurant, ya know.”

The way her face changes is instantaneous, biting her lip and looking away, suddenly flustered. “He— he’s good about her diet.” She manages, slightly winded even talking about the guard who had been helping her with her daughter while you have been here.

“Oh yeah?” Leaning in with a grin, You rest your chin on your hand and raise an eyebrow. “Is that all he’s good at?”

“Stop. He’s just being nice.” She hisses, although the way the grin nearly splits her face in half tells you otherwise.

“Oh bullshirt.” You lower your voice despite not actually cursing, loving to see such unbridled happiness on her face. “Did something happen?”

“No.” She insists, looking over at Nora. “Yes, or maybe it’s that something almost happened.” She clarifies. “There was a moment.”

“Wait, seriously?” Your eyes widen almost comically. “I was totally just being nosy, but tell me everything!”

“There’s not a lot to tell.” Still, the other woman leans forward. “I gave Rico a key, to make it easier to help with Nora so he’s not waiting on me or stuck at the house.” She explains. “I came downstairs two days ago and he’s already in the kitchen, coffee ready and making breakfast. I just – when he handed me the coffee cup, wearing an apron with a spatula in his hand – I almost kissed him.” She confesses breathlessly.

The “awwe!” You let out is muffled, but it’s just so very on point for Steph. Domestic and sweet and innocent. “Have you thought about asking him out?” To a certain degree, the fact that you’re enthusiastic about her finding someone again really is important, and you know it. You’re her soulmate’s sister. If you even breathed a single word of dissent against it, she wouldn’t say another word to you about men ever again. And that just wouldn’t be right or fair. Steph deserves all the happiness in the world and Shawn would hate to see her waste her loving heart by staying alone.

“No.” Her shoulders slump and she blows out an exasperated breath. “He’s just being nice. Doing what his boss asked or Libby asked him too.” She reasons. “I can’t push myself on him.”

“Libby only asked him to look after Nora while you were at work,” you remind her, smiling softly when her protest comes with a pout. “If he’s doing more than that it’s because he wants to. And Dee knows him better than either of us, and he agreed with me that Rico is into you.” The subject of them had come up a few days ago when Steph had texted you a selfie from family dinner – with Rico right there at the table beside Nora.

“You think so?” The naked hope is probably a little desperate, or maybe sad, but Stephanie wants to be wanted again. She loves Shawn, never will stop, but she also needs to feel like she matters to someone besides her daughter or you, There are just some needs neither one of you can fill. “I just— he’s different from Shawn but he’s also so like him.” She chokes out a small laugh. “Shawn would have loved hanging around him, ironically.”

“He’s a good guy.” And hopefully hasn’t said a goddamn word about the night of the party when he drove you back to Dieter’s house, because that would be mortifying. “He’s caring and kind and funny. And honey…Shawn didn’t want you to stay alone forever. You know that.”

“I know.” She knows that. They had that conversation when it was clear he wasn’t getting better. “I just never expected to actually be attracted to someone.”

“Sometimes the best things happen by accident.” After all, hadn’t that essentially been what happened with you and Dieter? It certainly hadn’t worked out the way anyone had planned - just an accidental night at the hospital with him accidentally overhearing what happened to you as a teen and everything had begun to change. “I’m not saying you should go back home and throw yourself at him. But I do think that it’s okay to be happy or even excited about a crush. You deserve happiness, honey.”

Steph blows out a breath and can’t help but giggle. “It doesn’t hurt that he’s hot either.” She admits with a roll of her eyes.

“Super hot.” Sculpted would be the word you would choose for him – much like your brother had been. “Very much your type.”

“Are you sure you are okay with this?” She asks once again, just needing to reassure herself.

“Yes.” You can’t blame her for asking. If your places were switched you would be terrified of her feeling as though you were betraying her. But the fact is, the only thing that would betray Shawn’s loving spirit more would be if Steph locked herself away for the rest of her life. “I am absolutely okay with this as long as it makes you happy. If it doesn’t make you happy, then forget I even said anything.”

“God.” She can’t help but giggle again, glancing over at Nora. “It’s a good darn thing that someone loves uncle DeeDee and Rocko.” She sticks her tongue in her cheek. “I think she’s saying that one on purpose.”

“I’m gonna end up singing the Rocko’s Modern Life theme in my head all the time.” The old cartoon was a favourite of yours, after all. “So he got a nickname, you think?”

“She giggles every time she says it and demands that he hold her a lot. Or throw her in the pool.” The first time she had seen it, her heart had nearly stopped, but her daughter’s shrieks of laughter had kept her from putting a stop to it.

“You guys are spending a lot of time at Dee’s?” Nora must be loving that. The pool is such a luxury for her, and for Steph too.

“That’s okay, right?” Steph asks, chewing on her lip. “Rico says that the kitchen in Dieter’s house is set up to his preferences so, he enjoys cooking there.” She gives a small shrug. “Plus, Nora is living in the pool.” Her disease meant that often public pools were out of the question and Rico and Dee had assured her that the pool filters would be fine if there was an accident. Even if she did still put her daughter in the swim diapers.

“Honey, of course.” The two of you have returned to eating and are near to demolishing the end of your lunch. “You guys do your thing. And plus, I mean…if things are still good between Dee and me when we get back, I’m sure we’ll still go over there plenty often.” You’ve already admitted to yourself that you’re going to hate not being able to fall asleep next to him every night when you get back to the States. You’ll want to be over there fairly often and you know it.

"I noticed that you didn't jump at the idea of staying with us last night when Nora asked." Steph smirks, eyes filled with mischief. "So I take it your birthday celebration ended with another bang?"

“Well…” You clear your throat, looking a little guilty about having turned down the offer from your niece, but not really regretting it. “I had to thank him properly for bringing my two favourite girls all the way across the ocean to me.”

That smirk ends up being a complete shit-eating grin. "And did you?" She asks, waggling her brows. "Thank him properly?"

You grin, nose wrinkling in that way that always earns you a kiss from Dieter. “Twice.”

"Jesus." She huffs under her breath in amazement and a little jealousy. "How many fuc-udging times did you do it yesterday?"

“Uh…” You actually have to stop and think, literally tallying it up on your fingers as you recall each and every orgasm vividly. “…Five…”

"Oh my God." Her eyes widen almost comically. "He can go five times in a day?"

“The previous record was three.” Even though you have the decency to look a little sheepish about it, it’s not like you’re upset that your soulmate loves sex. “But yesterday was a special occasion.”

"Fuck." Her voice is low, but that deserves the real word. "No wonder you were a little stiff this morning." She giggles.

“So was he.” You snicker, smothering a giggle with both hands. “I mean, for the normal morning reason, ya know?” You had both elected to skip morning sex today in favor of a thorough shower, since you had fallen asleep a rumpled mess after one more round last night.

"Well at least you know you are both compatible in that." She reasons. "Can you imagine a soulmate who was just horrible in bed?"

“I mean I’m sure that’s not top priority for some people, and that others are…shall we say…compatibly bad.” The idea of it just makes you shake your head. “But I’m grateful that we aren’t those people.”

"I'm glad you are getting laid." She winks at you. "You needed it."

“God yes.” A giggle bubbles out of you that you just can’t deny. “I’m so much more relaxed.”

"Amazing that the man you thought you hated is giving you the best ...snuggles of your life." She teases playfully.

“One of life’s little ironies, I guess.” Since you never know what could have been if you had met years ago, you’ve decided not to harp on it. Instead, you’re just glad that you have the time you have. However long that will be.

"I am happy the two of you are getting along." She murmurs softly, forgoing the teasing to give you her honest thoughts.

“Things are good.” You finish your drink and sit back in your chair, tracing your fingers along one of Dieter’s triangles in your arm. “I just hope they stay that way.”

"I don't think you have to worry about that." She predicts, watching you toy with the tattoo that had been the source of so much ire for so long. Both of you were idiots - and in love with one another - but you both were her idiots.

******

Three days came and went like wildfire, and even though you missed spending all you time with Dieter, being able to share your favourite things around Geneva with Steph and Nora made everything absolutely worthwhile. Having to bring them to the airport after leaving Dee at the studio feels like ripping a big hole out of your own chest and you know you’re moping as you get out of the cab with them at the airport departure gate.

"You will be back in ten days." Steph reasons, shouldering the bag she was bringing on the plane with her while Nora proudly wheels the Toy Story suitcase that Dieter had managed to find somewhere behind her. She wasn't going to complain about the trip, even though she was already missing you, having enjoyed every second of her impromptu getaway.

“I’ll still text you every day and send you tons of pictures.” Tugging Steph into your arms, you practically crush her against you in a hug before reaching to do the same with Nora. “Did you have fun on your first time in another country, sweetie?”

Nodding, Nora lets out a slightly put out sigh and looks up at you with large, pleading eyes. Saying bye to Uncle DeeDee had included a few tears but she had been mollified by his promise to send her Aunt Gigi home soon. "Do we have to go?" She asks again. "I really, really, really love it with you and Uncle DeeDee."

“And we really, really, really love that you came, honey.” You hug her fiercely, willing yourself not to cry. The throbbing headache that you woke up with this morning won’t be helped at all by crying. “But vacations don’t last forever. That’s what makes them special.”

“I wanna go on anofer vacation soon.” Nora looks at her mom and then over at you. “I like you and Uncle Deedee kissing, Gigi. It’s cute. And you kiss on vacation.” Obviously since she hasn’t seen you kiss any other time, her little mind put those things together.

“You like it when I kiss Uncle Deedee, huh?” You chuckle softly, hugging her tight one more time before pressing a kiss to her hair and setting her back down on the ground beside her mom. “That might happen when we’re not on vacation too, sweetie. Would that be okay with you?”

“Do you like Uncle Deedee?” She asks, biting her lip and looking up at you in awe. She’s been teased about boyfriends, but she wonders about it. Uncle Deedee is handsome and fun.

Nora’s hair is wild today, curls bouncing in every direction, and they bounce around her face as she turns up her chin at you and worries her bottom lip. Being honest with her has always been key, but you’ve never had to be honest with her about a relationship before — you just haven’t been in them. “Yes.” You nod, brushing stray hairs from her face. “I do like Uncle Deedee. I like him a lot.” Exhaling slowly, you watch Nora’s face for a moment before explaining: “He’s my soulmate, and I really like spending time with him.” You know that she understands the basic concept of soulmates. That everyone does from a very young age. And you know that she’s seen your tattoos and Dieter’s side by side. But you can’t be sure that she’s put the two things together, since the night you explained to her that your marks are from your soulmate was before she had met Dieter or even heard his name.

“Does that mean you get married?” Nora asks. “Elisabeth says that soulmates get married and have babies.”

“Sometimes they do.” After all, romantic soulmates are the most common. “But sometimes they’re best friends, or partners for things, or they might love each other a lot but never get married. There’s no rule about what you have to do once you’ve met your soulmate.” What you want is still somewhat up in the air as far as you’re concerned - although you know that that isn’t just up to you.

“Do you want to get married?” She asks, brow scrunched in confusion as she tries to understand.

"Well, that's not just up to me, sweetie." Nor is it a topic you would ever go near with Dieter. Not when things are going so well. Nothing in the whole world is more likely to scare him off. "That's a decision that adults make together."

She nods and shoots you a grin. “I think you’re gonna get married.” She predicts. “Uncle Deedee wants to.” She announces before she lunges forward and gives you another hug. “Bye Auntie Gigi.”

"Uh..." You try not to stare, picking up your jaw off the ground long enough to hug her again. "Bye, honey. I—I love you." The look you give Steph is more akin to what the fuck? than anything else, and as you go to hug your best friend one more time you mutter: "Did he say something to her?" In Steph's ear, practically begging her to see if she can keep her daughter talking while they get through security and off to their gate. If he did, you need to know what it was, and you also know that Steph completely understands that need.

“I’ll talk to her.” Stephanie squeezes you extra hard for reassurance and kisses your cheek before she pulls away. “Go back to the hotel and get some sleep, okay?” She tells you with a knowing look. “That headache isn’t going to go away by itself.” She’s known you for too long to not recognize the symptoms of Aunt Gigi hurting and trying to put on a brave face.

"Love you." The fact that she knows you so well is both a blessing and a curse, and you give her hand one last squeeze before Steph turns to scoop Nora up and whisk her into the bustling airport.

You climb back into the cab with a sigh, asking the driver to simply take you back to the hotel. This migraine isn't going to go away on its own, as Steph pointed out, and there's something else on your mind that only occurred to you this morning that is wreaking havoc in your mind. An offhanded comment from your best friend this morning about starting her period had made you suddenly acutely aware of the fact that yours is late – something which had escaped your notice while you were too happily ensconced in the best and most frequent sex of your life. Of course you are faithfully using condoms with Dieter now – but that first time you were nowhere near as responsible. The world has a way of laughing at you when it comes to Dieter, so you've decided not to freak out about it. You'll go back to the hotel, pop a few aspirin, and nap off this migraine for as long as it takes. If you still haven't started your period by tomorrow, you'll hop down to the pharmacy after Dieter goes to the studio and buy a pregnancy test, and deal with that terrifying ordeal when you come to it. Cool, calm, and collected. That's the way to do it today. Anything else just makes your head throb too intensely.

By the time you get back to the hotel it's starting to become unbearable, and the plans you had for ordering a pot of tea and an afternoon snack from room service are too much to even consider. You know you saw an aspirin bottle somewhere in the bathroom, and the search has now become vital. Drawing every curtain in the place closed on your way through the rooms, you end up in the darkened bathroom with only the flashlight of your cell phone to guide you, because the less light that meets your eyes right now the better. You've practically ransacked the place before you find the aspirin bottle sitting beside Dieter's myriad of hair products that he never seems to use. It's not a brand you recognize, but aspirin is aspirin, right? Taking three for good measure, you wash them down with a drink of water and decide to go lie down in bed. Hopefully Steph will be able to figure out if Dieter actually said anything to Nora or if her active little mind is just extrapolating things before they get on their flight and she can text you, because the wondering is just interminable. Commitment is a 'c' word that you would never bring up to him in a million years, but if he said something? If he gave any kind of indication that he feels about you the way you feel about him? That would be amazing. Unbelievable, but amazing. It's somehow impossible to sleep despite being dead tired, and sluggishness is creeping into your body - holding you to the bed with invisible arms. With your eyes closed you have no idea how much time has passed, but a nauseousness and powerful dizziness slowly set in. The room is spinning around you and you can't even grasp the blankets to hold on for the ride because you can't flex your fingers—

Why can't you flex your fingers? Why can't you move your leg? Why – when you crack your eyes open to try to get your bearings – are you seeing double? The blankets around you have transformed into a beautiful green field with lovely butterflies and flowers that may or may not be singing to you, and those pills weren't aspirin, were they?

The terror that sets in is a deep and all-consuming anxiety, making you cry fierce tears that you cannot feel. This is your worst nightmare, and it has come back to life: alone, unable to seek help, with some kind of drug in you but you have no idea what it is or what it will do to you. The beautiful field around you seems to be far away as you curl into the fear in your own mind. Alone. With no help. Who knows what or how much you took. You could die right here and no one would find you for hours. Hours. Minutes. Weeks. Days. How long have you been lying here? At least your migraine is gone...

******

There had definitely been a little bit of a chilly atmosphere on set today. Not from the cast, but the director had been short with his interactions with Dieter, making him guess what the man was looking for when he reset the scene to redo nearly a dozen times before he was satisfied with it. Making Dieter roll his eyes at the childishness of the entire situation. Being upset about him taking the day for his soulmate’s birthday and then two days later having a late start morning and two hours of shooting was the height of power play bullshit in his opinion. Of course, the director wants the early day tomorrow, so that’s okay.

Slotting his key into the door, he wonders if you are upset that Stephanie and Nora are gone. It’s been a wonderful few days that they’ve been here and your attitude has been nearly bubbly and giddy. Not to mention the sex has been even more satisfying, with you thinking you need to ‘thank’ him for flying them out. You don’t, but Dieter would never turn down an opportunity to have his cock in any part of your body you suggest. Maybe he can talk you into letting him make you both cum before you decide what to do for dinner.

The room is dark, making him frown in confusion since you’ve not once closed the curtains in the living area since you’ve been here. But now, he’s about to trip over the furniture unless he makes his way to the lamp beside the table. “Babe?” He calls out. “Are you here?”

The only sound to follow in the suite is the sound of soft crying – not the hysterical sobbing kind, but the sniffling sound of a constant stream of worry and heartache and not inconsiderable fear. The green field with all its flowers and butterflies has begun to morph around you, and Dieter’s voice punctuates the hallucination unexpectedly. “Where am I?” Is the question you manage to ask, even though you meant to ask “Where are you?”

You sound different and while the crying is not surprising considering you dropped your best friend and your niece off; it doesn’t sound sad. He calls your name, instantly on guard as he nearly stumbles over something that was left near the bedroom door and hits the handle, careening into the room. “What’s wrong?”

The desperate desire to reach for him – grab at the comfort of having him close to you – is completely hampered by the fact that you can’t move. No matter how hard you try to raise your hand, it’s not happening. The only thing that seems to work are your eyes and mouth, but thank god it’s something. “Don’t—not sure.” You mumble, seeing two of him as he finally nears the bed. The fact is, you have no idea how long you’ve been laying here or what the fuck was in that pill bottle, but you have done enough illicit substances in your life to know that there is no chance it was aspirin. “Feel heavy.”

His eyes widen, unaware if you know you are slurring badly. The first, horrifying thought is that you’ve had some sort of medical trauma. Mini stroke or aneurysm because he knows you wouldn’t get high. “Baby.” His fingers are reaching for you, sweeping over your body and you feel warm, really warm. “What happened?” He rushes out. “Did you— did you take something?”

He sounds far away – like you’re underwater almost – and the fact that there’s two of him is making everything feel a little less warm and cozy. There’s not supposed to be two of him. “Aspirin.” Getting the word out is harder than it should be, but your mouth is so dry. “The fuck kind of Swiss aspirin does this?”

Shit. Icy cold dread washes over Dieter and he scrambles onto the bed to cup your cheeks in his hands. “Listen to me.” He orders you, voice sterner than it probably should be with concern. “Where did you get the aspirin? Was it mine?”

The tears come a little harder, mostly from confusion, but that deep-seated part of you that desperately fears doing something wrong is certain you’re in trouble for going through his things. “Bathroom drawer…” you manage to tell him, finding that if you close one eye, one of the Dieters goes away.

“Okay.” The fear that it’s medical dissipates, but now there is the new and very real fear that you will fucking hate him. Again. “It’s okay baby, it’s all going to be alright.” He reassures you. “It wasn’t aspirin. That’s why you feel weird.” His hand flips and his knuckles caress your cheek gently, trying to soothe you.

“Bottle said aspirin.” The fingers on your left hand seem slightly independent and wiggle slightly against his knee. It’s the best you can do as far as reaching for him goes but you wish he’d hug you or something. “H—had…had a migraine…”

“I’m sorry.” Dieter murmur. “I’m so sorry, baby. It’s not aspirin. I— it’s ketamine.” He explains. “It was my – back up – safety net.” He feels like shit, knowing you will hate him for this. “I didn’t take it. I just kept it nearby – a reminder that I had it if – well, if…”

It takes a long moment to process what he’s saying to you, longer than it should because of the drug coursing through your system. But when you finally wrap your head around it, it’s like the butterflies and flowers and lush green grass all around you start to waver and roll, as your mind starts to be taken over by panic. “No, no, no, no…” If you could shake your head, you would. You would beg him to tell you it isn’t true. Not because you’re worried that he’s been on it, you’re not thinking straight enough for that. No, right now the fear is irrational and terrifying, and not coming in complete thoughts. “Not good. Baby.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He rushes out. “It’s gonna be okay. I promise. I’ll get you some water.” His hand is still on you, and he presses his lips to your forehead.

Water doesn’t take three hours to get, but somehow you’re certain that that is how long he’s gone. Staring at the ceiling, the ambient sound of shouting outside leaks through the haze of being high and become the sound of crying to your unclear ears which only makes your own distress worse.

He’s not proud of the way that he freaks out. Certain that this is it and you’re going to hate him. Throwing a tantrum in the bathroom as he dumps the rest of the ketamine – after discovering you took three pills. He had known exactly how many were in that bottle. Flushing the pills down the toilet and and shouting and crying in frustration and anger at himself before he gets that water he promised you and rushes back to the room to help you, eyes red rimmed from the tears.

“Baby.” The word is on repeat for you, but you can’t explain why. Desperate to not be alone while on something you’ve never taken before – and to see if you can actually move a little this time. As soon as he’s back beside you, all you can think of is that day in the alley in Haight Ashbury. How the kids who had been your friends all leaned over you, looked into your scared, hazy eyes, and decided you weren’t worth the effort. “Gonna leave again.” You shudder, convinced of it beyond doubt.

Dieter chokes out a small sob, wrapping his arm around you and making you sit up. “It’s okay.” He promises. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here. I’m here.” He knows you are terrified; this is your worst nightmare come true and it’s his fault. “Drink baby. Drink all of this.” He puts the glass up to your lips, needing you to stay hydrated.

“Baby.” Drinking the water in long gulps has you oscillating between relief and a panicked feeling of drowning, but soon the glass is empty. “‘S not good for baby…” The thought is there, loud and clear, and you wonder how he could possibly not be worried about the baby when a second ago you were equally convinced that he was going to abandon you completely. Nothing is connected yet everything is, as the thoughts in your mind weave in and out of each other. Anxiety and fear exist for you in spades though your body is light as a feather. It’s dissociative and yet at the same time you’re completely aware of everything you have ever felt all at once.

He freezes, hand nearly dropping the glass before he manages to fumble it onto the nightstand. “Baby?” He whispers, eyes wide. “I – fuck – what?”

“S-Stephy got her period.” Though still slurred, your speech is a little clearer after the glass of water clears up your dry mouth. “I didn’t.” That does make you shake your head though, and wonder out loud as you stare at the buttons on his shirt. “What’s time, though?”

“Shit.” His stomach twists and his eyes dart down to your stomach, wondering if he had royally fucked everything up in your life. It was possible and Dieter can’t decide if he’s terrified or…happy. It’s confusing but he shoves that aside to concentrate on you. “Time is right now.” He murmurs, stretching out beside you and keeping you pulled close to him. “I’m here. You’re gonna be okay, baby.”

“Time’s right now.” Somehow that’s oddly comforting, even with how the world seems to be crumbling in at you from all angles. And because of the way your memories are clawing at the edges of your consciousness right along with it, the mumbled ramblings quickly become apologies instead. “Sorry” and “Didn’t mean it” and “Migraine” are the fragmented explanation you have for him, and you know they aren’t good enough even though you can’t really give him more. The words come and go, and right now they are gone.

“It’s okay.” He promises, knowing you never would have taken those pills if you had known about them. “You can yell at me.”

“Not mad.” The realization isn’t easy, because you can’t tell if you’re actually not mad or you’re not mad because of the ketamine. “‘M scared.”

“I’m not going to leave you.” Dieter knows what a bad trip is like, he’s had them before and he’s never really been left to die. Not when he was aware of it. His own OD, he was unconscious. “You need the hospital? I’ll take you; I’ll take you right now.” Whatever it takes to make you feel better is what will happen.

“Nuh-uh.” Adopting Nora’s favorite phrase of disagreement, you manage to shake your head a little before it makes you too dizzy and you groan, resting your head against his chest. “Don’t want trouble. You’ll get in trouble.” The worry in your voice is all trained on him, and you barely register his shirt being damp. You’re crying again. “Was supposed to be good for you.”

"You are good for me." Dieter promises, reaching up to stroke your cheek again. You are crying and he doesn't want you to do that. Not for him. "It's okay baby, it's okay. You didn't know."

The raspberry you blow at him is derisive and obviously a disagreement, despite the fact that your face is buried in his chest. “Noooooo.”

He can't help but chuckle at you. You are being utterly ridiculous, but he will take this over the upset and frantic soulmate he had been met with when he came back to the room. "Is the room spinning?" He asks, grateful that you aren't screaming at him in anger for leaving drugs in the room.

“Room. Pffffffft.” In the eye of your high, you’ve been outside for hours. That beautiful field melted away to that horrifying alley – but this time Dieter is with you. It’s the rescue you dreamed of but never got. Seventeen years old and wishing while you lay dying that your soulmate would come and save you from the pain. This time he’s here, and there isn’t pain. Just the occasional flash of panic over a baby that may or may not exist. But the way you feel right now? You may or may not even exist. You have no idea. “S’all tippy and whirly. But no more headache.”

“That’s good.” He muses, running his hand up and down your back, trying to keep you calm. “Just close your eyes. It helps.”

Closing your eyes is a good idea in theory, but it intensifies how sleepy you’re feeling as your body wavers between feeling light as air and yet somehow also immovably heavy. “Tired,” you murmur, already feeling yourself slip away from your body.

“It’s okay to be tired.” Dieter coos softly, knowing that sleeping it off is the best thing for you. “You sleep and I’ll be right here.”

“‘Kay…” There has never been an easier suggestion in the world, and you shift only so slightly against him before two more words tumble from your lips on your way to sleep: “Love you.”

Dieter gasps, his hold on your shoulder tightening and he closes his eyes, hating that his heart soars at the words you have spoken while you aren’t yourself. “I love you too.” He promises softly, even if he knows you don’t hear it.

******

The curtains are still drawn when you open your eyes next. It’s been almost fourteen hours and you slept right through them, tossing and turning and snoring and jolting in your heavy slumber. The room is pitch black when you blink and rub your eyes, and the warmth that you have come to fully expect of nowhere beside you. Reaching out, you notice your watch and a ring are still on your hand — which is weird because you never sleep in any kind of jewelry. “Babe?” Your throat is hoarse, making you cough a little. No sound of the shower…maybe he’s getting dressed? “Dee?”

Dieter hears you from the living room, grabbing the bottle of water that he had ordered this morning to be delivered with breakfast. He had been in the middle of writing you a note to leave with the tray, but he rushes back into the bedroom. "Hey." He murmurs, seeing you sit up and coming over to your side.

“Hey.” You’re a little foggy, but you lean forward to kiss him with one hand on his cheek. “You gotta go?”

“I’m sorry.” He is, he had almost called and said he wasn’t making it, but it was only two hours and then he would be back. Plus, he had thought you might sleep the entire time. “I stayed as long as I could. I was leaving you a note.” He frowns slightly and twists the cap off the bottle of water and hands it to you. “When I get back, we need to talk, okay? But I’ve got to go.”

“Okay.” Though you definitely don’t like the sound of we need to talk, you nod your head and give him another quick kiss. Is he mad that you slept through him coming home last night? That must have been a bitch of a migraine to make you sleep that much.

Dieter sighs and stands up. You don’t seem angry right now, but you just woke up and there have been plenty of times that ketamine had affected his memory. “I’ve ordered breakfast. When you feel like getting up, you need to eat it.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, knowing that he’s going to be late if he doesn’t get his ass moving.

All your favorite things are on that breakfast tray: crepes with fresh fruit and whipped cream, a beautiful French omelet full of herbs and cheese, hot and buttery pain au chocolate, and a pot of steaming tea with matching silver vessels of sugar cubes and cream. It’s an exquisite indulgence, and one that doesn’t say anger at all. Maybe he feels bad that Steph left, and you didn’t feel well? If so, it’s a gorgeous display of sympathy and you’re grateful for it, because you’re completely starving.

******

Dieter sighs as he checks his phone one last time before he puts it back in his pocket. You hadn't blown it up, screeching at him for what he had unknowingly done. He just needed to finish up this scene and then he can go back to the hotel and talk to you, and hopefully clarify things.

It’s a few hours before he’s back again, and you’re out on the bedroom balcony with your easel and watercolors when you hear the suite door open. After eating, showering, and changing your clothes, you feel like a whole new woman. Yesterday is a blur, but migraines are like that sometimes. “Back here!” You call when you hear him call your name from the front room.

You sound...happy. His eyes widen slightly and he wonders what has put you in such a good mood. The bag in his hand feels like it weighs five hundred pounds, but he carries it towards the sound of your voice and stops to admire you for a moment. Your back to him as you splash the paint on your canvas in clear, determined strokes. The sun shines on you and seems to cast a halo, making you seem angelic and the tabs that are open on his phone don't seem quite so daunting.

“Hey baby.” The last time you actually called him by his full name seems like it was eons ago, but that’s a good thing. “I’m sorry I slept through you coming home last night.” Turning to face him, you wipe a little paint off your hand and offer him an apologetic smile. “I haven’t gotten a migraine that bad in a long time. You’re not mad, are you?”

Dieter lifts a brow and hums, realizing that you don't remember what happened last night. He swallows, knowing that you might hate him when he tells you, but he owes you the truth. "I'm not mad." He promises, giving you a sad smile, "but you might be."

“Why?” Tilting your head at him, you abandon the canvas and your paints to step inside with a furrow in your brow. “Do you have to go back to work or something? That’s fine. It’s literally what you’re here for.”

Dieter shakes his head. "No, I'm home for the day." It's amazing that he has come to think of this hotel room as home, but he does. You are here, which makes it home. Another reason why this conversation had to happen and his solutions that he had been thinking of all day needed to be offered. "What do you remember of last night?" He asks softly.

“Umm…I dropped Steph and Nora off at the airport, came back and took a couple of aspirin, then laid down to sleep off my migraine.” You shrug a little, embarrassed that you obviously slept so long. “Had some vivid as hell dreams.”

"Baby..." He shuffles slightly, shoulders rounding in shame for having to tell you this. "I— you didn't take aspirin." He admits quietly. "You – the bottle I had was filled with ketamine." He swallows and sighs. "You were high as a kite when I got here last night."

“I—what?” Both of your arms wrap around your waist as you rock back on your heels in surprise. “That doesn’t—no. No. Because you’ve been clean since we met.” Surprise quickly gives way to denial, and you shake your head. “You told me you wanted to stay clean. Why would you have ketamine?”

"I—" He flushes and looks away from you, embarrassed. "It was a safety net." He explains, feeling like his tongue weighs a thousand pounds. "I just kept it, it was – uh, reassuring that it was there if I needed it. I kept it in the aspirin bottle in the bathroom, but I hadn't taken it."

“You had a bottle of Special K just chilling in our hotel room?” Addiction is no joke. You know that. It’s an awful disease that claims thousands of lives every year, but after what you told him about your own past you have to admit to being upset. More than upset. You’re mortified. “H—how…how much did I take? I feel fine today, so I—” His slumped shoulders and your tense ones are at odds, and you carefully step closer to him to force him to look at you. “Shit…”

"I'm so sorry." He offers, nearly babbling as he tries to apologize. "You took three. You were panicked, upset last night but I took care of you. Watched over you while you were...riding your high." He lifts the bag and sighs. "I brought you some tests, wanting to make sure that you had nothing to worry about."

“Tests?” You stare at him, obviously missing another piece of the puzzle. “Like…drug tests?”

"Shit..." Dieter closes his eyes, cursing himself for being such an idiot. "You— when you were crying, you were upset that being high would hurt the baby." He tells you. "You said you haven't gotten your period yet. So I brought you some tests."

“Jesus Christ.” At this point you just need to sit down, and you drop onto the edge of the bed with your face in both hands. “I…I got it.” You mumble, feeling overwhelmed to the point of edging on numb. “This afternoon. It’s just a couple of days late, I shouldn’t have—” You huff, almost like the combined act and sound will banish the tears rising in your eyes. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t high.”

"It's okay." Dieter drops the bag and hurries forward, hitting his knees in front of you. You had said a lot while you were high last night, and he won't hold it against you. "You should have said, I—I was looking at rings, you know, in case." He manages, reaching out and cupping your cheek. "Don't cry baby."

“You what?” When your head pops up, your eyes are as wide as saucers. It’s complete shock that instantly dries the few falling tears, and you all but gape at him – though in this moment you have no idea if you’re excited that he trended in the way of rings instead of leaving you in the dust, or surprised by it. The man you have come to know isn’t heartless, just a little unpredictable. “My period was a few days late and you went straight to rings?” Alright, maybe you do know how you feel about that. The beat your heart just skipped is a giveaway.

"Yeah." He shakes his head. "Stupid, I know, but I wanted –" He shrugs, almost embarrassed and unable to tell you that he was slightly disappointed by the fact that you had started your period. Something that shocked the shit out of him.

“To do the right thing?” Gently sliding backward to sit up in bed, you pat the mattress beside you. “I need you to tell me what happened.” It’s slightly more than a request, because you need him to tell you whether he likes it or not, but you’re not trying to start a fight. At least, not as long as he did one important thing. “And— please tell me you got rid of those pills? I don’t even understand why you had them.”

"I didn't –" He bites his lip, ready to protest that it wasn't to do the right thing. Instead, he gets up and sits beside you. "I came back and you were crying in the bedroom. Freaking out." He takes it as a good sign that you aren't slapping him or throwing him out of his own hotel room. "You told me that you had taken the aspirin in the bathroom and freaked out a little more when I told you what it really was. Yes, I flushed the pills, I never— it was something to keep me from going off the deep end. I had them, so I didn't need them. If that makes sense? Maybe? I don't know." He sighs. "I got you some water and you told me about being late and being high hurting the baby before I made you drink some water and you fell asleep." He focuses on telling you the facts and letting you know you hadn't been alone. "You didn't want to go to the hospital. I offered."

"That's it?" Embarrassed enough that you're having trouble looking at him, you still almost reach for his hand. He sounds as outwardly upset as you are inwardly, and you're trying to process what the hell kind of safety net a bottle of pills could be, but you can't, really. But then, you've never had a full-blown addiction. So of course the logic feels skewed to you.

"That's it." He promises. "I – I understand if you want to leave." He's miserable at the idea, but he won't keep you here and he's not going to hold you to your words before you feel asleep in his arms. He knows it was just the drugs, he's said plenty of shit like that when he was drugged out of his mind too. Telling you would make things weird and ruin everything more than it already is.

"I'm not going to leave." Your hand inches over, resting lightly over his but not demanding to be held. Just offering. As mortified as you are, it sounds like he did everything right. "You...you have no idea." The sigh that parts your lips is nearly resigned. "But when I was a kid...a teenager, I mean? All I wanted that night was for you to magically appear and rescue me. It was...it was this stupid, adolescent thing in my head, but I was literally laying there just wishing you would find me like fucking Snow White in the forest. And...and last night you kind of did that."

The relief that he feels is palpable, making him nearly weak with it as he clings to your hand. "I wasn't going to leave you. I didn't. The only time I left your side was when I flushed the pills and get your water." He promises you. "I couldn't just let you worry about it."

"You actually went through last night and half of today thinking I could be pregnant?" With his hand in yours, fingers laced tightly and squeezing for dear life, a new kind of anxiety starts to set in. There are questions here that are demanding answers which you never, ever thought you would need to give. And some that you can't give. Some questions about your future can only be answered by him, and that's even more terrifying. Giving up control is not a thing that you relish at all.

“I thought it could be possible.” He admits. “We’ve been having sex and even if I did pull out the first time, it’s not fool proof.” He squeezes your hand back.

"Yeah, but you functioned through an entire night and day with that thought in your head and didn't implode." You're actually impressed, in an odd way, though you're afraid that telling him that could be taken as condescending when you don't mean it that way at all. "Most guys would have run for the hills."

“I don’t know if I was scared shitless or excited.” The words are out of his mouth before he even thinks. “I mean— it would depend on what you thought.” He adds. “That is the most important thing.”

"This is what you meant, isn't it?" You lift your head to find him looking down at you with searching eyes. "When you left this morning, you said we needed to talk."

“What did you think I meant?” He asks, frowning slightly in confusion. “I half expected you to be screaming at me when I got here.”

"I had no idea." It could have been work, it could have been something Steph said, it could have been a message from Libby. It could have been anything. "But since you left me that amazing breakfast, I figured you weren't mad at me."

“I wasn’t mad at you.” He shakes his head and gives a small, unamused chuckle. “I just— I hated leaving this morning. Knowing that you had just gone through what you feared most. Because of me.” His voice breaks and tears roll down his cheeks, staring at your joined hands.

"Hey..." Seeing him cry definitely wasn't on the list of things you expected from today – or ever – but you tug him closer by your joined hands and carefully brush his cheeks dry with your other thumb before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Unlike the last time I couldn't remember what happened with you, this is a good thing." Although the sentence actually makes you cringe, and you mirror his wry laugh. "Maybe I should check my choices so I stop losing my memory around you. That might be better."

“It might be better.” He admits with grin. “Although maybe it’s because I’m me.”

"Dee..." The impulse to rest your head on his shoulder is strong, but for the sake of asking the hard question, you have to resist it right now. "Do you actually want to stay clean? I—I know you said you did. And I don't think you lied to me, but...but imagine if I was pregnant and we did have a kid and they were the one who had taken those pills."

Dieter sighs, “I wasn’t planning on keeping them forever.” He hadn’t thought of that, but he doesn’t like the idea. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t touch them. Prove to myself that I didn’t need them, and I would get rid of them when I got back to L.A.” He feels foolish but he never said he was the most rational of men. “Kind of like a sobriety chip.”

The expression on your face is lopsided, but you pull his hand into your lap and run your thumb over his gently. "What if we got you an actual sobriety chip? NA meetings and a sponsor and all of that? I mean I'm not going to force you or anything, but if you want to do it formally, I'll help however I can." What you went through when you were younger isn't really quantifiable as an addiction, but technically until yesterday you guess you were seventeen years sober.

“I can’t do that.” Dieter gives you a small shrug. “Non-disclosures and everything. It’s a legal mess, so they encourage me not to go that route.”

"What about me, then?" It's slightly sticky, having someone close to you that you care about be your sponsor, but plenty of people do it. There's the risk that they could grow to resent you for keeping them from their addiction, but more often than not it turns out to be a beneficial connection. "I mean, you can tell me to go to hell and I'll totally understand. But...if it's something you want to try, then maybe I could be your unofficial sponsor?"

“I don’t know.” He bites his lip and ponders that idea. “It’s— I don’t want you to worry about the cravings.” He shrugs. “But, maybe I could talk about it sometime? To the woman I’m in a relationship with?”

"I want you to be able to talk to me about anything." That, at least, is any easy truth. An easy truth attached to a much larger one. One that it may or may not be time for, all things considered. After all – if you can't tell him after he's been your accidental Trip Sitter and weathered the face of a pregnancy scare, then when can you? "The thing is..." Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, are you really about to do this? "I—I..." Squeezing your eyes shut, you barely manage to hold back from cursing at yourself out loud. "I am a giant fucking chicken is what I am."

Dieter snorts and shakes his head. “You aren’t a chicken. You are brave and kind and way too good for me.” He murmurs, picking up your hands and pressing a kiss to the back of yours.

"Brave?" The borderline disgusted raspberry you blow into the air is an inelegant protest, but it pretty much sums up how crap you feel that description is of you. "You thought I was pregnant and you went out and bought tests and started looking at fucking rings and I can't even get up the guts to tell you how much—" Just. Fucking. Do It! "How much I love you." It's like being punched in the gut when the words finally come out, and your whole body wants to slump like a marionette without its puppeteer. You said it. Now you just hope it isn't the final straw that makes him run. Or kick you out.

Dieter blinks and then gives a small bark of laughter. Holding tight to your hand when you try to pull back. “You did.” He tells you. “I thought it was the fucking drugs. You told me right before you went to sleep.” He looks over at you with a wide smile. “You mean it? You do love me?”

"I asked you to tell me everything!" Your jaw drops at him and you're nearly laughing in disbelief, so shocked that he heard that and that you said that and yet...yet he's sitting here and looking at you like that. Like you're replaced the sun in his sky. Like he has hope. "Jesus Christ, the first time I told you I love you was when I was high?" You're never going to live that down; you can just feel it. "I— yes. I mean it. But I realize it's fast and I don't expect you to say it back or even feel it. Maybe ever. I don't know."

“You fell asleep before you heard me tell you that I love you.” He admits. “I thought you were just spouting shit, but I meant it. I love you. I’ve been thinking it for a while.” It’s not eloquent or how he ever imagined it, but it helped to know that you loved him too.

"Wait – really?" It doesn't hit you until after that you truly had been bracing yourself for him to run for the proverbial hills. Terrified of any kind of commitment or just not wanting you to be the one even though the universe thought you were perfectly suited to each other.

“I was going to ask you to marry me if you were pregnant.” He makes a face at you, one that says you’re an idiot. “Don’t know what more to say than that. Do you honestly think I would do something I didn’t want to do?”

"Logically? No." You've practically tugged his entire arm into your lap as your heart swells, absorbing how real this moment is. Even if it came around because of something shitty, it is still a good thing. "But I can't say that my own personal logic machine is working on all thrusters right now."

“You did get really high last night.” Dieter snickers, reaching over and cupping your cheek with his free hand. “But, I’ve got to admit that I do love you. As in I hate that you are leaving in nine days.”

"I love you, too." It's like something inside you is singing, letting you open up and say the words without choking or sputtering out halfway through. "If I didn't have to go back to school, I would stay. I'm...I'm already dreading sleeping without you."

“Oh thank God.” Dieter rolls his eyes in relief. “I was afraid I was going to look like an idiot rolling up to your house right from the airport demanding to take a nap with you.”

"You're an idiot if you think I'm not picking you up." Despite the fact that he has multiple people who work for him, you had fully planned on surprising him with an airport pick up yourself. There didn't sound like any better way to say 'welcome home'.

“Really?” He perks up and gives you a happy grin. “I would like that.”

"It was going to be a surprise, but..." you shrug, feeling a little more than giddy. "I'll come up with another surprise for you by then."

“You don’t have to surprise me.” He tells you shyly. He doesn’t really know how to deal with someone wanting to give him something rather than the opposite.

"I know that." He's cute when he blushes. Always has been. "But this is part of who I am: random acts of love for the people who mean the most to me. Just ask Steph."

“I don’t know what my love language is.” The idea that he even knows what love language is, is laughable. Only knows about it because of some conversation they had about love languages while they were on the Cliff Beasts set.

"Then I guess we'll find out together." Leaning your forehead gently against his, a broad smile spreads across your face for the first time since the words have been said. It's relief and joy and disbelief all mixed together. "Because I'm not going anywhere, babe."

“Jesus.” Dieter breathes out, breaking into a wide, happy smile. “I love you.”

“Not Jesus.” You correct teasingly, leaning into press a sweet kiss to his lips. “Gonna need you to learn my name, Hollywood.” It's not as though he hasn't said it a hundred times or more – as well as panted, moaned, whined, whimpered, and nearly screamed it. It's still fun to tease him.

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “I honestly thought you were going to leave me.” He admits quietly. “That I fucked up.”

"At this point I think we've weathered plenty enough storms. If one of us was really going to leave, we would have done it by now." Cozying into his chest is one of your favourite places to be, but you grin a little as you settle against the bulk of him. "Ya know, Nora asked me yesterday if we were going to get married. She'll never know she was one pregnancy scare away from getting her wish."

“She asked me the same thing when I was watching cartoons with her.” He admits with a chuckle. “Said that only married people kiss, and I like kissing you so I needed to marry you.”

"That's where she got it from." His chest rocks slightly with his laugh and it rolls through until you're both chuckling under your breath. "Kiddo is too smart for her own good."

“Yes, she is.” He huffs, bringing you both back to where you are laying on the bed with your feet hanging over the edge. Right now, he’s just happy that you don’t hate him for the fact you got high because of him. “Smart cookie.” He murmurs. “Like her Aunt Gigi.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat​ @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri    

YSV: @tortor-mcgee @hnt-escape​ @sammus-white​ @spanishmossmagnolia  @frasmotic @quietpainter    

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo x reader #Dieter Bravo x you #Dieter Bravo x female reader #The Bubble #soulmate au #Enemies to lovers #Trash Can Man #tw drug use #accidental drug use

[strwbmei]

Honkai Star Rail Masterlist .

🌂 : dom!reader

☂️ : sub!reader

☔ : switch!reader / unspecified

🫐 : fluff

highlighted in purple = fic

not highlighted = thirst/drabble

╰┈➤ Astral Express ;

☂️ semi-public sex w/ stelle

🌂 corrupting stelle

🌂 fucking march 7th's fever out of her

🌂 corrupting march 7th

🌂 making march 7th beg

🌂 himeko lactating

☂️ soft dom himeko

╰┈➤ Stellaron Hunters ;

☂️ mommy kink with kafka

☂️ priest!reader and succubus!kafka

☂️ cockwarming kafka

🌂 fucking kafka on the kitchen counter

🌂 sending a video of you fucking kafka to the stellaron hunters gc

☔ kafka womb tattoo

🌂 hypnotizing kafka

🌂 poly with kafka and silverwolf

🌂 silverwolf cockwarming your strap

☔ silverwolf recording your sessions

🌂 silverwolf headcanons (sfw & nsfw)

🌂 sleepy sex with silverwolf

🌂 silverwolf with an innocent(?) reader

🌂 catching silverwolf in the act

☂️ cockwarming silverwolf

🌂 silverwolf with a collar

🌂 getting pussydrunk off of silverwolf

🌂 semi-public sex with silverwolf

☂️ petplay with silverwolf

☂️ scummy silverwolf

🌂 silverwolf and herta with a womb tattoo

╰┈➤ Herta Space Station ;

🌂 eating asta out

🌂 manhandling herta and her puppets

🌂 overstimulating/edging herta at the same time

🌂 herta headcanons (nsfw)

🌂 fucking both silverwolf and herta

🌂 silverwolf and herta with a womb tattoo

☂️ ruan mei using an aphrodisiac on you

╰┈➤ Jarilo VI ;

☂️ natasha overstimulating/edging you in her office

☂️ natasha catching you masturbating

☂️ natasha riding you

☂️ dub/noncon w/ yandere!natasha

☂️ improper use of electro w/ serval

🌂 jealous dom!reader with bronya

☂️ office sex with bronya

☂️ deepthroating bronya's strap

🌂 poly with bronya and seele

╰┈➤ Xianzhou Luofu ;

🌂 brat taming with fu xuan

🌂 fu xuan misusing her divination

🌂 fu hua and fu xuan riding you

🌂 helping yukong with her heat

#・❥・strwb navigation #⁠honkai star rail smut #⁠honkai star rail #⁠honkai star rail x reader #⁠honkai star rail x you #⁠honkai starrail smut #⁠honkai starrail #⁠honkai starrail x reader #⁠honkai starrail x you #⁠hsr smut #⁠hsr #⁠hsr x reader #⁠hsr x you

[tentaclecats]

rewatching big hero 6 rn because im babysitting a toddler (no excuse, i would be anyway) and im honestly upset because TADASHI NEVER WANTED BAYMAX TO BE USED AS A HERO. i know this is common knowledge and its theme of the movie how hiro was going against baymax's coding and healthcare routine, but its so much worse than that!!!! baymax wasn't invented specifically FOR HIRO. he was MEANT to be a public healthcare assistant!!? he was SUPPOSED to be mass produced, and help in doctors offices, and be a PUBLIC TOOL TO HELP PEOPLE. baymax was supposed to revolutionize modern medicine. but hiro is keeping him to himself. misusing his technology. i think tadashi would be proud of him anyway, but that's because tadashi is a good person and a good older brother, not because hiro is doing the right thing and preserving tadashi's legacy

#i mean i guess he still saves lives as a hero #just in a way COMPLETELY unrelated to medicine #which is what he was meant to do #he was supposed to be culturally important #to everyone #he was meant to be a healthcare tool #anyway its fine #big hero 6 #big hero six #hiro hamada #baymax

[seymour-butz-stuff]

The Texas Capitol was unexpectedly gripped by an escalating intraparty showdown among top Republicans on Wednesday after a House committee took steps toward a possible impeachment of the Republican attorney general, Ken Paxton, over charges of corruption and abuse of office. The allegations had been lodged before against Mr. Paxton, but they gained new force as investigators working for the Republican-controlled House panel — the Committee on General Investigating — publicly detailed each accusation over three hours of public testimony, concluding that Mr. Paxton had most likely committed crimes. Whether the committee would recommend impeachment, or stop short of doing so, remained an open question. But the Republican House speaker, Dade Phelan — whose own resignation Mr. Paxton publicly called for this week — signaled his openness to that outcome. “The attorney general appears to have routinely abused his powers for personal gain and exhibited blatant disregard for the ethical and legal propriety,” a spokeswoman for Mr. Phelan said in a statement. “Speaker Phelan stands in full support of the general investigating committee and the recommendations that may come as a result of their thorough and diligent investigation.” By Wednesday afternoon, lawmakers and lobbyists around Austin were already discussing the possibility of an impeachment vote, and a subsequent trial in the Senate, and how that could alter the balance of power in the Republican-dominated Capitol. For months, barely concealed acrimony had been brewing among top Texas Republicans from different ideological camps, with Mr. Paxton aligned strongly with supporters of former President Donald J. Trump and Mr. Phelan seen as a more traditional Texas Republican. The most recent tensions initially burst into public view on Tuesday afternoon when Mr. Paxton, who is already under indictment for securities fraud, accused Mr. Phelan of performing his duties while drunk and called for the speaker’s resignation. The move sent a shock through Austin. Shortly after, word came that Mr. Paxton might have had a personal motive for attacking the speaker: The House investigating committee had subpoenaed records from Mr. Paxton’s office, as part of an inquiry into the attorney general’s request for $3.3 million in state money to settle corruption allegations brought against him by his own former high-ranking aides.

The sordid accusations recalled an earlier era of outlandish behavior and political posturing in the State Capitol. But the tangled web of resentments and finger-pointing also highlighted a much simpler and more consequential political reality in Texas: Though they have control over the Legislature and of every statewide office, Republicans have not always agreed on what to do with their power.

The investigators, who include former prosecutors, outlined the evidence they had collected against Mr. Paxton, finding that he had abused and misused his office to help a real estate developer and donor, and retaliated against those in his office who spoke up against him. The investigators said that of the roughly 80 employees in the attorney general’s office contacted for the inquiry, only one did not fear retaliation for participating.

As the investigators met, the attorney general suggested on Twitter that he believed the Texas House was preparing a case to impeach him.

“It is not surprising that a committee appointed by liberal Speaker Dade Phelan would seek to disenfranchise Texas voters and sabotage my work as attorney general,” Mr. Paxton said in a statement on Wednesday aimed at his base of supporters, many of whom view Mr. Phelan as aligned with Democrats.

Mr. Paxton did not refer explicitly to impeachment, but his comment about disenfranchising voters appeared to be a reference to a possible outcome of the committee’s investigation.

The timing of Mr. Paxton’s accusation against Mr. Phelan on Tuesday coincided with word of the committee’s subpoenas and the public hearing the next day. Mr. Paxton based his assessment — and his call for Mr. Phelan to resign — on video circulating online from a late-night session of the House on Friday. At about the 5 hour 29 minute mark in an official House video, Mr. Phelan appears to slur his words as he is speaking.

Some people who were inside the House chamber on Friday said they did not notice any issues with Mr. Phelan’s behavior, even though his speech did sound slurred in one section of video, which came toward the end of more than 12 hours of hearings and votes overseen by the speaker that day.

Mr. Phelan’s office brushed aside Mr. Paxton’s accusation as “a last-ditch effort to save face.” Even so, it underscored the degree to which his leadership of the Texas House has enraged far-right lawmakers and conservative activists aligned with Mr. Paxton. They have complained that Mr. Phelan has blocked or watered down their priorities — on law enforcement at the border, public money for private-school vouchers or displaying the Ten Commandments in public schools.

The House has often acted as a relatively moderate Republican bulwark against the most conservative instincts of the party’s right wing, to the consternation of some in Austin and the relief of others. But the committee’s investigation into Mr. Paxton added an unusual element to the usual infighting.

Though many of the allegations presented to the committee on Wednesday were not new, the hearing was the first extensive examination by the Legislature. And it provided new details and context on Mr. Paxton’s efforts to help an Austin developer, Nate Paul, who gave Mr. Paxton a $25,000 contribution in 2018.

The investigators said that Mr. Paxton also had an affair with a woman who worked in Mr. Paul’s office, and that Mr. Paxton punished or isolated employees who confronted him about his actions.

Mark Donnelly, a former prosecutor with the Harris County District Attorney’s Office, said those who provided information to the investigators were often “the cream of the crop in their fields who resented Mr. Paxton’s behavior.”

“The feeling was shared, almost universal,” Mr. Donnelly said, “that the actions they were being asked to take, the positions they were being put in, the decisions made by the attorney general, sullied the office and sullied their commitments on their careers.”

The situation surprised even longtime observers of Texas politics.

“I would say this is as detrimental and important a scandal as we’ve seen in Texas political history,” said Brandon Rottinghaus, a professor of political science at the University of Houston who is working on a book on Texas political scandals. “Not just because of what happened, but because of how long it’s been going on and how Paxton has been able to survive it.”

The controversy over whether Mr. Phelan was drunk was “fairly mild” in comparison with the allegations against Mr. Paxton, he added. “We’ve had some pretty serious malfeasance in Texas history,” he said.

Much of the information and accusations against Mr. Paxton had been known for years in Texas. In 2020, several of his top aides took their concerns to the F.B.I. and the Texas Rangers.

Four of the aides — Ryan Vassar, Mark Penley, James Blake Brickman and David Maxwell — have also sued Mr. Paxton; the case is pending. Earlier this year, Mr. Paxton said he had reached a settlement with them and asked the state to pay the $3.3 million.

But Mr. Phelan balked. “I don’t think it’s proper use of taxpayer dollars,” he said in a television interview in February.

It was the request for settlement funds, to avoid a public trial, that triggered the investigation by the House committee, Mr. Phelan’s spokeswoman said on Wednesday. As a result, details of Mr. Paxton’s activities were laid out more publicly than before.

One of the investigators, Terese Buess, told committee members on Wednesday that Mr. Paxton may have violated several state and federal laws, including abuse of official capacity, violation of whistle-blower statutes and dereliction of duty.

“That’s alarming to hear, curls my mustache,” responded the committee chairman, Representative Andrew Murr, a Republican with a notably twisting mustache.

Several Republican lawmakers approached for comment declined to discuss the subject of Mr. Paxton’s accusations or a possible impeachment.

Representative Chris Turner, a Democrat from the Dallas area, said that because of the accusations against Mr. Paxton, the attorney general was “the last person” who should call “on anyone to resign.”

“This is someone who is under multiple indictments, under an F.B.I. investigation, tried to overturn a presidential election,” he said, referring to Mr. Paxton’s efforts to challenge the 2020 election results. “So Ken Paxton ought to tend to his own affairs.”