#impeachment hearing

[hale-nathan]

Kavanaugh Confirmation Revisited - FBI Sham Investigation

Update

"The FBI conducted a sham investigation into Brett Kavanaugh."

[tomorrowusa]

« As a former director of emergency management, I know a disaster when I see one. »

— Rep. Jared Moskowitz (D-FL-23), former director of the Florida Division of Emergency Management, commenting at the shambolic House impeachment inquiry chaired by MAGA Rep. James Comer (R-KY-01).

Among other things, a Republican witness, Prof. Jonathan Turley, had just testified that there was no evidence of impeachable offenses.

Jared Moskowitz was on a roll on Thursday. Watch it for the quote, stay for the white board.

But wait, there's more!

Rep. Jasmine Crockett (D-TX-30) weighed in by decrying the total lack of evidence against Joe Biden while pointing out the hypocrisy of Republicans who have ignored Donald Trump's non-stop crime spree.

House Republicans are hoping that their "revenge impeachment" will distract Americans from the upcoming Republican government shutdown this weekend. Instead, Thursday's hearing just reminded everybody what a fiasco this year of GOP House control has been.

EDIT: Rep. Jasmine Crockett's party affiliation has been corrected from the original post.

[rosielindy]

Must listen, telling the truth! GOP is a disgrace.

[gemstarb]

Watch "House Homeland Security Committee Holds 1st Impeachment Hearing For Sec. Alejandro Mayorkas | Part 1" on YouTube

[truth4ourfreedom]

THINGS NOT IN THE NEWS ANYMORE. VERSION 6.0

Things not in the news anymore….

(Version 6)

-Maui wildfires. -East Palestine, Ohio -Joe Biden classified documents as a Senator. -Fauci working with China to create a bioweapon. -Pete Buttigieg’s best friend in prison for child porn. -Cocaine in the White House. (TWICE NOW) -The BLM and Antifa riots during 2020 causing BILLIONS of dollars of damage. -The data collected from the Chinese spy balloons. -Ukraine intelligence documents released that showed they were suffering massive losses and the American taxpayer was being lied to. -Nancy Pelosi’s “documentary” film crew on J6. -Veterans being kicked out of shelters to make room for illegals. -Pizzagate “debunker” jailed for possession of child pornography. -Gay porn film in Senate hearing room. -Veterans Affairs prioritizing healthcare of illegals over Veterans. -THE SOUTHERN BORDER CRISIS. -Afghanistan drawdown and 13 service members killed in an attack on Kabul International Airport, that they hid the severity of it. -Obama droning an American citizen in the Middle East. -George Bush’s false WMDs. -3 service members killed in Jordan. -Hunter Biden making over $1M for “paintings”. -J6 political prisoners that are still in jail. -85,000 missing children at the southern border. -Epstein’s clients. -Obama coordinating with John Brennan and 4 other countries (5 eyes) to spy on the 2016 Trump campaign. -Mail-in ballots were the cause of the stolen 2020 election. -Jeffrey Epstein mentioning that Bill Clinton liked his girls “really young”. -The (NOW TWO) airline whistleblowers that mysteriously died. -Benghazi (I won’t mention anything more about this because I care about my life.) -Nancy Pelosi’s daughter stating that January 6th wasn’t an insurrection. -The January 6th committee destroying encrypted evidence before the GOP took over the House. -Nancy Pelosi admitting that J6 was “her responsibility”. -House Speaker Mike Johnson claiming there wouldn’t be foreign aid without border security in the bill, which was a lie. -The recent riots from illegal criminal aliens at the southern border and the border in general. -Hunter Biden not complying with a Congressional subpoena and deemed untouchable. Democrat privilege. -Vaccine side effects. -“Lab leak” out of China -The Secret Service having to basically guide Joe Biden everywhere he goes. -Who leaked (Sotomayor) the SCOTUS Alito decision. -Federal instigators inside the Capitol including pipe bomb evidence against them. -Obama’s chef “passing away”. -HRC’s chef “passing away”. -The Sheriff that happened to be in Las Vegas (during the mass shooting) AND the wildfires in Hawaii. -P Diddy sex-trafficking allegations. Where’s Diddy? -Gonzalo Lira (an American journalist) that was killed in Ukraine -Congress approving warrantless spying violating American’s 4th amendment rights while they are exempt. -Americans that were left in foreign countries (Haiti, Palestine, Afghanistan). -The billions of dollars of weaponry left in Afghanistan and the Taliban receiving $40M a week in “humanitarian assistance”. -Biolabs found in California. -Joe Biden’s impeachment. -The scum in the UNITED STATES HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES waving the Ukrainian flag. -The over 300k ballot images that could not be found in Fulton County, Georgia; the same county Donald Trump on trial for “election interference”. -Democrats defunding the police causing massive rises in crime. -Kamala Harris’s record as DA in California. -The Transifesto from the school shooting. -Many U.S. Representatives and Congress receiving FTX funds. -They’re already working hard to bury Donald Trump’s àssassination attempt but we won’t let them bury that story. July 13th is never going away.

The distractions are out of control.

Share to show that legacy media is dead and that WE are the media now.

Please like,share and reblog to keep people aware!

[wilwheaton]

The notion that the United States is “polarized” into two conflicting, equally stubborn and extreme camps infects much of the mainstream news coverage and everyday chatter about politics. Washington is “broken.” “Gridlock” is a problem. “No one goes out to dinner with someone on the other side.” Such mealy-mouthed language masks a stark dichotomy: Democrats have to move to the center to get bipartisan support; Republicans have become radicalized and unmovable. This is not “polarization.” It is the authoritarian capture of much of the GOP by a right-wing movement bent on sowing chaos. Turkey, Hungary and other countries with autocratic strongmen are not polarized; democratic forces try their best to prevent their country’s ruin and collapse into total dictatorship. Our political scene, sadly, has come to resemble the global authoritarian assault on democracy. [...] The bipartisan border compromise ... was sunk by Republicans. Republicans in the House overwhelmingly opposed the Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act, commonly known as the “Bipartisan” Infrastructure Bill (which President Biden modified to get bipartisan support); almost every Republican voted against the Chips Act, they all voted against the Inflation Reduction Act, and some even voted against the Pact Act, which would have helped veterans. House Republicans have launched phony, baseless impeachment hearings. Senate Republicans filibustered reenactment of a key part of the Voting Rights Act, blocked a bipartisan Jan. 6, 2021, commission and overwhelmingly refused to convict four-times-indicted former president Donald Trump. The assertion that hyper-partisanship, chaos and nihilism (e.g., threatening to shut down the government, egging on a default and refusing to even vote on Ukraine aide) is equally divided amounts to an outright fabrication — or utter cluelessness.

The radicalization of the Republican Party is not ‘polarization’

[hezigler]

AOC slammed text message evidence of alleged corruption in the impeachme...

The greatest failure of our democratic republic is that of the fourth estate.

[filosofablogger]

Think You Matter? Think Again.

It was a nice, peaceful month while Congress was on their month-long vacation, but now they’re back and already stirring the pot … just as we knew they would.  House Speaker Kevin McCarthy just told us in no uncertain terms that he is more important than this nation or its people.  McCarthy has shown us that he will do literally anything to hold on to the power he currently enjoys as Speaker. …

[reality-detective]

Things that are not in the news anymore… 👇

-Maui wildfires.

-East Palestine, Ohio

-Joe Biden classified documents as a Senator.

-Fauci working with China to create a bioweapon.

-Pete Buttigieg’s best friend in prison for child porn.

-Cocaine in the White House. (TWICE NOW)

-The BLM and Antifa riots during 2020 causing BILLIONS of dollars of damage. And yes I brought this up on Juneteenth.

-The data collected from the Chinese spy balloons.

-Ukraine intelligence documents released that showed they were suffering massive losses and the American taxpayer was being lied to.

-Nancy Pelosi’s “documentary” film crew on J6.

-Veterans being kicked out of shelters to make room for illegals.

-Pizzagate “debunker” jailed for possession of child pornography.

-Gay porn film in Senate hearing room.

-Veterans Affairs prioritizing healthcare of illegals over Veterans.

-THE SOUTHERN BORDER CRISIS.

-Afghanistan drawdown and 13 service members killed in an attack on Kabul International Airport, that they hid the severity of it.

-Obama droning an American citizen in the Middle East.

-George Bush’s false WMDs.

-3 service members killed in Jordan.

-Hunter Biden making over $1M for “paintings”.

-J6 political prisoners that are still in jail.

-85,000 missing children at the southern border.

-Epstein’s clients.

-Obama coordinating with John Brennan and 4 other countries (5 eyes) to spy on the 2016 Trump campaign.

-Mail-in ballots were the cause of the stolen 2020 election.

-Jeffrey Epstein mentioning that Bill Clinton liked his girls “really young”.

-The (NOW TWO) airline whistleblowers that mysteriously died.

-Benghazi (I won’t mention anything more about this because I care about my life.)

-Nancy Pelosi’s daughter stating that January 6th wasn’t an insurrection.

-The January 6th committee destroying encrypted evidence before the GOP took over the House.

-Nancy Pelosi admitting that J6 was “her responsibility”.

-House Speaker Mike Johnson claiming there wouldn’t be foreign aid without border security in the bill, which was a lie.

-The recent riots from illegal criminal aliens at the southern border and the border in general.

-Hunter Biden not complying with a Congressional subpoena and deemed untouchable. Democrat privilege.

-Vaccine side effects.

-“Lab leak” out of China.

-The Secret Service having to basically guide Joe Biden everywhere he goes.

-Who leaked (Sotomayor) the SCOTUS Alito decision.

-Federal instigators inside the Capitol including pipe bomb evidence against them.

-Obama’s chef “passing away”.

-HRC’s chef “passing away”.

-The Sheriff that happened to be in Las Vegas (during the mass shooting) AND the wildfires in Hawaii.

-P Diddy sex-trafficking allegations. Where’s Diddy?

-Gonzalo Lira (an American journalist) that was killed in Ukraine

-Congress approving warrantless spying violating American’s 4th amendment rights while they are exempt.

-Americans that were left in foreign countries (Haiti, Palestine, Afghanistan).

-The billions of dollars of weaponry left in Afghanistan and the Taliban receiving $40M a week in “humanitarian assistance”.

-Biolabs found in California.

-Joe Biden’s impeachment.

-The scum in the UNITED STATES HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES waving the Ukrainian flag.

-The over 300k ballot images that could not be found in Fulton County, Georgia; the same county Donald Trump on trial for “election interference”.

-Democrats defunding the police causing massive rises in crime.

-Kamala Harris’s record as DA in California.

-The Transifesto from the school shooting.

-Many U.S. Representatives and Congress receiving FTX funds.

-They’re already working hard to bury Donald Trump’s àssassination attempt but we won’t let them bury that story. July 13th is never going away.

The distractions are out of control.

Share to show that legacy media is dead and that WE are the media now. 🤔

[xdacted]

twenty seconds or twenty years?

Pairing: Reader x Max Verstappen

Warnings: fluff, Regency! Au, period-typical sexism

Word Count: 4,359

Status: Completed

Max was never one for balls or parties. 

The entirety of the social season felt bothersome, a chore. His mother, however, found his resistance to society a mere ‘bout’, a passing stinge, thinking he simply had yet to stumble across the right debutante. As such, she insisted upon his attendance at any and all gatherings, responding to invitations on his behalf. 

He was expected at nearly every event until June. 

Max was previously able to busy himself with the workings of business affairs, often called to distant corners of the nation just as the season neared, but his mother had enough of his excuses. When she stomped into his office, an invitation in hand, slamming it upon his desk, he was unable to escape. 

“You will attend,” She seethed, “If you are to take the title from your father, you must find a wife.”

Attend he did, rocking along in a carriage to the first ball of the season. A rather large event, or so Victoria had said, hosted by the Russel family. 

The estate grew closer, emerging from the darkness with twinkling lights. The strong structure sat surrounded by lush grass and proud trees, gently swaying in the evening wind. Max fought the growing knot of dread that formed in the pit of his stomach, twisting uncomfortably in his seat. He wished for nothing more than to pass the evening as a mere shadow, lost to the crowd, unnoticed. 

The carriage slowed to a stop and Max was slow to descend, gingerly stepping down and straightening his tailcoat. He dismissed his driver with a nod, suppressing the urge to clammer back within the confines of the carriage. He was met with the grandeur of the Russel estate, staggering pillars wrapped in foliage, imposing walls that dripped into magnificent window frames, and adorned with intricate moldings. 

It was a sight to beyond, but Max could hardly stand it. 

The sounds of others pulling onto the gravel behind him prompted him to slip through a lingering horde of guests and the entrance. The large doors opened to a spacious foyer, marble floors drenched in the warm chandelier light. 

Max expected nothing less from the Russels, an honorable family attached to an impeachable name and title. He attended school with the youngest son, George, and hoped to find him before he was lost to the throng of other partygoers. Finding his fellow bachelors was the only source of solace Max found at such events. Many were his past schoolmates or current business partners, but more so, they were his friends. 

If he were to suffer, he saw no reason why he needed to do so alone. 

As if hearing his plea, a tall figure entered his field of vision. 

“Verstappen!” A voice behind him exclaimed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

He turned, the tension easing in his shoulders, “Russel.”

George stared at him, an indiscernible look on his face, “I must admit, I was quite surprised to hear that you would be attending tonight. I thought you, of us all, a perpetual bachelor.”

The comment was made in jest, but Max could not deny the truth of his words. Though he did not hold as infamous a reputation as some, Max was regarded as Unmatchable,  unrelenting in his desire to never marry or sire children. 

As far as he was concerned, his father’s wicked bloodline would die with him. 

Max could only shrug, scooping a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, “ I assure you, old friend, it was far from my idea.”

It was my mother's, the thought went unsaid, but Max was sure George knew well enough. His mother worried for him. She only wished to see him happy, Max wished she would drop the marriage matter entirely. 

“I see,” George muttered, running a hand across his chin, a moment of silence passed between them. 

Then, as chipper as ever, he exclaimed, “Well, here is to the rotten luck of some.”

With a snort, Max raised his glass before bringing it to his lips. Their banter was a long-established one, forged within the walls of preparatory academy and later enforced at university. 

Max opened his mouth to inquire about their fellow bachelors, but was interrupted by two ladies making their way to him, fans held up to their faces. He was locked into a conversation before he could plan his escape. Though Max was grateful for George’s company, the sight of two of the ton’s most eligible bachelors detached from a group of their own welcomed the yapping hordes of women and mothers. They were soon drowning in a sea of fabrics and sparkling jewels, unable to do more than listen as accomplishments were rattled off and dance cards were shoved in their faces. 

Max wished they would attach themselves to truly interested bachelors, of which there were plenty, but he suspected it was not so much them as it was their lineage. The other had always been incredibly popular, but Max, well, he knew of the rumors. 

Max Verstappen, heir to the Duke of Hasselt, is a great beast - a monster, like his father. Though his stormy demeanor deterred many, the alluring promise of a dukedom attracted far more than his attitude could ward off. 

Just as the voices began to melt into one, George nudged Max with his shoulder, “Thank you, ladies, but we must take our leave. We are required elsewhere.”

Their protests were almost immediate, pushing themselves closer to the bachelors, fluttering eyes and pouted lips directed towards them. 

Truly, Max would have more sympathy if he would be given more space. 

“Thank you,” He said, voice coming out far firmer than he meant, “But we should be going now.”

They were quick to silence, shuffling apart to clear a small opening, and Max was quicker to take it. He could hardly breathe amongst the clouds of perfume, nose burning with the assaulting scents, and was grateful for their escape. 

“You looked as if you might die,” George muttered, guiding them to a small clearing by the dancefloor, “Were they truly so appalling?”

Max opened his mouth to answer, but no words found themselves tumbling out. It was not as if he were repulsed by the idea of a woman, or even of marriage, but the unhappiness he witnessed with his parents’ marriage was something he was unable to shake. His mother had been miserable, chained to a Verstappen man with no option but to provide him with the children he demanded. 

Max could never, in good consciousness, reward that with the succession of the Verstappen line. 

They arrived at the clearing before he could gather his thoughts. There, nursing glasses and wearing knowing smiles, stood Viscount Riccardo, son of Viscount Norris, and the Earl of Monte-Carlo. 

A few of his oldest friends. 

“Gentlemen!”

The men tipped their heads in respect but maintained their smirks. 

“Never thought I would live to see the day,” Daniel began, “Max Verstappen at a party.”

“I rather think it was not his idea, was it?” Charles laughed, looking over at Lando who watched on with an ill-concealed smile. 

“No,” Max sighed with a roll of his eyes, “It was not.”

Laughter erupted from the bachelors, George clapping another hand down upon Max’s shoulder. Their voices were hidden from passersby by the constant flow of music. 

“Regardless,” Lando said, wiping a tear from his eye, “Perhaps a wife could be best.”

“How so?”

“Well,” He gestured to the room, clusters of women craning their necks to gaze at them, “If you were married, there would be no reason to attend these parties. You would have your solitude.”

“It is not solitude I desire,” Max muttered, running a hand through his hair.

He could hardly imagine a worse fate, but it was one he was willing to fall into. 

“Then what do you desire, dear friend?” Daniel quipped, casting him a sideways glance. 

Max could give no response, the words a thick ball in his throat, he could only push his nose into his glass. The topic was quickly dropped and conversation floated between them easily, even as they were picked off to catch a dance or two. Still, they were left to relative peace. Approaching a pair or lone bachelor was simple, it was encouraged. But, to find yourself in front of a group, was seen as distasteful, and desperate. 

Regardless, the room only continued to fill, guests spilling into other parts of the estate, but with it, so did the knot in Max’s stomach. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, fingers nervously tapping upon a nearby table. 

Parties presented the unknown, and Max had tried desperately to stay far from it - the thought frightened him more than he would ever admit aloud. Within the unknown, was love. 

Love felt completely foreign, a thing of fiction or myth, a sentiment that filled the pages of novels and fairy tales. Max was told that his mother and father did love each other, once. To present, however, that affection had long been lost. 

Max had more than one idea as to why. 

His father was a petulant man, looking to command others through fear, not respect. He was well regarded in the eyes of His Majesty, but ill in the eyes of the Ton. He was cold and selfish and, despite his prayers, Max’s father. Though Max had made every attempt to differ himself, it seemed that he was his father’s son. 

And he always would be. 

“-stappen…Verstappen…Max!”

The sound of his name yanked him from his thoughts. 

“...yes?”

Charles looked over at him, eyebrows furrowed with worry, “Is something the matter? I called your name, but…”

Max shook his head, waving a dismissive hand, “I am quite alright, I apologize. I was merely lost in the lights.”

Still, the look remained. 

“Honestly, Charles,” He placed a hand on the other’s shoulder, “I am fine.”

Max turned away from him before he could utter anything else, bringing his hand back to his side. His eyes swept over the dance floor, hoping to calm his nerves in the senselessness of the evening. Both Lando and Daniel had taken to the floor, pulling themselves towards their partners. They stepped to the music, the quartet hidden away in the balcony. A few paces over, was George. Accompanying his mother on a round of the room, and receiving praise for a successful opening to the season no doubt. 

The room was lively, couples turning in time and chatting coyly. Though it was not his preferred evening, he could see the appeal of such parties. 

He felt rather foolish. 

His eyes moved over the entrance, the trickle of people slowing, most finding themselves huddled around the dancefloor. Then, just as he was about to pull his gaze from the doors, something - or rather someone - caught his eye. 

A woman, drenched in the candlelight, moving through the crowd of people. Her entrance was met with no fanfare or buzz, but he was entranced. If no one had taken notice of her yet, how foolish they must be. 

She was the most gorgeous creature to exist. 

A gentle smile on perfect lips, a tendril of hair curling over her forehead, the softest hint of rouge dusted across her cheeks - Max was caught. He was caught within the lace of her dress, within the glimmer of her jewelry, within the silk of her gloves. He was caught and never wished to be released from her grasp. 

She was beautiful, extraordinarily so - blindingly so. 

She was unlike any other woman he had ever seen, working her way through greetings, and rounding the room with her chaperone. 

“Do you -” He forced himself to swallow, throat suddenly tight, “Do you know who that is?”

Charles nodded, relaying to Max her name and family, “I believe this is her first season. She was, according to my mother, a great success at the presentation to the queen.”

Max could see exactly why, a hand curled around the arm of her chaperone, dance card dangling from her wrist - each step was taken with purpose, with conviction. She was no simpering debutante, she was a lady commanding the attention of the room. Her strength was in her grace. 

He watched as George and his mother approached her, she dropped into a low curtsy, rising again with her gentle smile. They were too far to make out the words they spoke, but Max yearned to know. He yearned to hear her voice, to be near her, to breathe her air.

“Has she caught your eye, old friend?”

For the first time, Max broke his start, turning to glare at Charles. 

“Do not bother denying it,” He laughed, patting Max’s arm, “Ask her to dance.”

Perhaps, he dared, just for tonight. 

He glanced back over to her, her eyes moving across the room before finding him. He was sure he forgot to breathe, her gaze piercing through him. 

The thought crossed his mind. He could take her to dance, it would hardly mean a thing, but he was unsure if he would survive it. If he could withstand the heat of her gaze, the feeling of her hands within his own. 

Max never thought himself a weak man. 

He pulled himself away, “No,” he cleared his throat, adjusting his collar, “I - I - it would be best if I refrain.”

Perhaps, he was. 

He hadn’t the slightest clue what was wrong with him, but he could not possibly give himself the chance to find out, most definitely not with her. Granted, he hadn’t attended as many parties as Charles or Daniel, but he was no neophyte. Such a reaction was ridiculous, he had only learned her name, and he could not dismantle his entire life’s purpose for a woman he had only just met. 

Could he?

A look of curiosity crawled across Charles’ face once more, and this time Max feared he would be forced to hear the question that awaited him, but, as if by magic, George reappeared before them. 

“Whatever is the matter with him?” He teased, sipping from his champagne glass. 

“I think our dear friend is -”

“I am not.” 

“Oh,” George smiled, an evil thing, “I think you are.”

Max felt his face flush, a dreadful heat racing down his spine. He reached over, snatching a lute of champagne from a passing tray, his mouth felt incredibly dry. 

“I suggest you make haste, friend,” George muttered, turning to take in the dancefloor. It was filled with bodies, but Max was only concerned with one. 

She stood alongside other ladies, chatting idly before a gentleman approached. Max recognized him as a second son with little to offer, the gentleman bowed deeply offering his hand to her. She seemed to draw the same conclusion, the smallest lapse of hesitation passing over her before placing her hand in his. He turned them onto the dancefloor. 

Max was unable to answer, attention locked onto her as she danced, the music beginning behind him. Her movement was graceful and perfect, lines straight and steady. 

“You may have found your bride yet,” Charles sighed, resting his hands upon his hips, “But you will lose her if you do not take action.”

“She is not mine to have,” Max said, placing his glass down harsher than necessary, “Perhaps it is time I take my leave.”

“I did not mean -”

“No,” George stepped forward, “You never come out to these parties, stay.”

“I really should -”

“Stay.”

He looked towards his friend, unsure of what to say. He hadn’t ever revealed his reasoning behind his continued bachelorhood, but he knew his friends recognized it as something far deeper. It was simply not in their nature to divulge such feelings. 

Wordlessly, he plucked another glass from a tray and downed its contents. Quite boorish, but the slight burn helped soothe the pounding of his heart. It was far from his favorite alcohol, but it was all accepted for such parties. The stronger brandy was hidden away in the smoking lounges, and Max hardly entered those. 

“Excellent!” George cheered. 

Eventually, Lando and Daniel returned, with George departing to greet more guests. 

Despite not being the heir, George made himself ever-useful. He was often a source of great knowledge or companionship - a dutiful host too. 

“I cannot believe it…” Lando mumbled, fixing a crease in his coat, with a scowl. 

“What?”

“Lord Ambrose,” He nearly sneered, “He insists on filling up dance cards before other gentlemen can, believing it to be a ‘claim’ upon the ladies.”

Charles shuddered, “He is a brute.”

“He is a cheat,” Lando pressed, “There are open bookings at the club with no sight of a check.”

“He is an Earl,” Daniel reminded, placing his glass between Charles and Max, “To be his wife is to have security.”

“But what of love?” Charles questioned indignantly, “What of proper courtship? Of a love match?”

“What of it?” Max’s words left him before he was able to keep them back. 

“Well,” Charles turned to the dance floor, gesturing with his glass to her, “Would you court her? Or would you wish that she marry a man like Ambrose for security?” He nearly spat the word. 

“It is much more complex than that,” Max said, finding her once more in the crowd. 

She returned his gaze in an instant as if she could sense him, offering him a small smile. His heart began to pound once more. 

“Women are forced to rely on the security of a name,” He tried to busy himself with his words, “A name that can only come from marriage, a name only a man can provide. They are not left with much choice.”

Charles seemed to think. He would never truly understand, as he had no sisters, but Max did. He remembers Victoria’s first season with burning clarity, how terribly nervous she had been. Her entire life and personality were boiled down to a singular match. And once she did marry, she was removed from their family, excised, and replanted. 

Max hated it. 

“Yes,” Charles whispered, his voice nearly lost to the swell of the music, “I - I suppose you are right…”

A bubble of pleasant silence grew over them, shrouded by the music as it drew to a close. Max watched as the gentleman returned her to the other ladies, offering another deep bow before stepping away. The ladies curled around her in an instant, their eyes alight with wonder. There was a soft flush to her cheeks, but she still looked breathtaking, fanning herself gently with a hand. 

Something grew within his stomach, only it was not dread, it was something light.

“Oh, bother,” Lando hissed, eyes squirting just beyond the group of ladies. 

“What is it?”

“There he is,” He jerked his head, something quite unlike him, “And dare I say he is -”

He was approaching her, coming upon the smallest break within the ladies’ bodies and greeting them with a hungry smile. Max’s legs were moving before he could will himself to stay put. Lord Ambrose was looking around the ladies, leaning far closer to them than necessary. 

Max was cutting through the crowd, sidestepping other partygoers and ignoring the calls of his name. Anger flared within him, perhaps it was more disgust, at Amrbose’s blatant disregard for their honor. 

Of all the bachelors, he had the most notorious of reputations. Countless mistresses and bastards littered his name, but the depth of his pockets made it a mere speck upon his title. She was well within her rights to select any man she pleased, and Max could never tell her any different, but he would not allow her honor to tarnish - any other gentlemen, just not him. 

“I hope I am not interrupting,” Max interjected, inserting himself between her and Lord Ambrose, “But I was wished to ask if,” He turned to face her, heart pounding, “I may have your next dance?”

“You are interrupting, Verstappen, as I was about -”

Her eyes went aglow with something akin to relief and she placed her hand in his, tightening around him, “Of course, I would be honored.”

The murmurs from the surrounding ladies were immediate, covering their mouths with dazzling fans, but there was nothing to hide their amazement. The beast out to dance, how unlikely. He held his arm out for her, rounding the expanse of the dance floor as they awaited the music.

“I must apologize if - if I overstepped,” He sighed as they settled away from earshot, “I did not mean to make it seem as if you needed my saving.”

“Your apology is accepted,” She smiled up at him, placing a gloved hand upon his shoulder, and the other resting gently within his grasp, “But, regardless of how unnecessary it may have been, I am quite grateful.”

“Though I must admit, Mr. Verstappen,” The music queued up behind them, a gentle melody of strings, “I was under the impression you had no interest in dancing.”

Her words were a double-edged sword and Max could not deny. 

“I, typically, do not,” He swallowed thickly, unable to withhold the truth with her before him, “But for you, I suspect there are many exceptions to be had yet.”

Her blush burned through her cheeks and to the tips of her ears, Max suppressed a chuckle. She was quick to recover, moving away from him with the first steps of the dance. It was a simple one, filled with a series of spins and skips. Despite his reluctance, he was still a member of high society. His education had included such social niceties, though he never thought he would put them to use. 

“You are a far better dancer than the rumors allow you credit for.”

“Are you one to listen to rumors?”

“Only when they make such a man to be a beast,” She looked at him through her eyelashes, though it was not coy. There was nothing demure about her gaze, it was striking. 

It was as if she wished to see into the very depths of his soul, to know all of his secrets and deepest desires. 

And Max, the great fool he is, would gladly allow her. 

He spun her in time with the music, guiding her by the waist, before pulling her near him once more. This close, he was able to see her more clearly. The shape of her eyes, the slope of her nose, the roundness of her face - her beauty knew no bounds. The very dress she wore, a mere cloth of elaborate stitching, seemed to be one with her body, made for her. 

He supposes it was, but so many debutants attempted to hide their nervousness behind frilly clothing and blinding jewels. She, however, seemed to command the very fabric on her skin. 

“Is there something the matter, My lord?”

Her voice shook him from his thoughts, but there was a knowing look in her eye. 

“No, no, I apologize,” He stepped behind her, reaching for her hand, “And I am not Lord, not - not yet.”

“Many men would jump at the chance to claim a title that is not theirs,” She huffed, unable to hide the roll of her eyes. 

“Well,” Max found both her hands, lifting them above their heads before tracing a hand down her spine to the small of her back, “I am not most men.”

She sucked in a sharp breath at his touch, and when he went to remove his hand, she leaned into it, “No, I suppose you are not.”

The air between them was electric, thick with unspoken desire. There was much to say, much to do, but Max only planned to keep her from Ambrose, not the entirety of the marriage mart. 

He straightened once more, clearing his throat, “My - my mother was incredibly involved in our upbringing. I learned a myriad of things my fellow bachelors did not.”

She seemed to think for a moment, cocking her head to the side, “Like…sewing?”

“...Yes,” He sighed, spinning them around, “But she said it was more with my unruly desire to be the best at…well, everything.”

His words pulled a laugh from her lips. It was not gentle nor polite, her laughter was bright and loud, pulling the attention of a few other dancers, but Max could not bring himself to care. He adored it. 

He adored her. 

“I am quite the same,” She mused, “I cannot stand to lose.”

Max smiled before he could stop himself, “Neither can I.”

He walked himself around her, holding his right hand to her waist and the other to her opposite hand. They locked eyes, Max’s blood rushing to his ears. The shy smile she offered him from across the room melted into a genuine smile, larger than the former. 

Far more beautiful. 

The music ended with a soft chord, the floor breaking apart to clap. Max slowly moved from her, unable to fight the need any longer, his eyes still trained on hers. They clapped, but the moment the applause died down, he took her hand in his. The walk back to the group was nearly a crawl. 

He did not wish to leave her side. 

They arrived sooner than he wished, but the words came just as quickly. 

“May -” He nearly forgot himself, “May I call upon you? Perhaps…tomorrow?”

“Yes,” She breathed, still holding onto his hand, “I would like that very much.”

He looked down at their hands and waited for her to pull back from him. She did with a blush moving across her cheeks, and Max was unable to do anything but return it. 

He felt like a boy, with his heart thundering within his chest, but - they locked eyes once more, the infinite land of understanding between them, surrounding them - nothing could ever feel more right. 

_____________________

A/N:This work has been cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to request fics about any of the drivers <3

also, yes, there are geographical inaccuracies, but let's all just have fun and ignore them kay??? and if you guys like this and want me to continue this with the rest of the drivers, let me know

[qqueenofhades]

How do we balance the tentative joy of hearing about the indictment with the overwhelming and crushing knowledge that not a goddamn thing is going to come of this and ultimately nothing will change?

Because

um

reasons.

(actually i feel like if the skies split open and shithead goes to jail it'll just leave a giant sucking void for desantis to slime his way into the party's graces and he'll charge full speed ahead into nuking this country from the inside)

Okay, look. Everyone reacts differently, we've all been through a fuckload of trauma, and all that, but I just... really don't get the pre-emptive "don't get your hopes up, nothing will happen and nothing will change." I know that people do it as a defense mechanism, but we spent months hearing that Trump would win the 2020 election. (He lost it.) Then we heard that all his lawsuits to overturn might actually work. (They didn't.) Then we heard that he wouldn't be impeached after January 6. (He was.) Then we heard that he wouldn't be indicted, and well, today, he was. This is unprecedented in the history of America. Over 250+ years, and a current or former president had never been indicted for anything. Not even goddamn Nixon was formally charged, and Biden definitely isn't gonna pardon Trump the same way Ford did with Tricky Dick. And now that someone has finally bit the bullet and gone first, there are a whole cascade of other indictments lined up and waiting to be finished.

We don't know what will happen, but something will. Trump will be arrested and arraigned, and yet again: this has never happened before. Just throwing up our hands and going "well guess nothing's gonna happen and he'll get off scot free!" is NOT the energy we want to be bringing here. It's time to push forward, make sure that the Manhattan DA, and everyone else with pending charges against him, hold that motherfucker's greasy orange feet to the fire and make him FRY. As for DeSantis, as I have written about before, he's not smart, he's not a good candidate, and his ideas are not by any means universally popular. Fascists thrive on making you feel disempowered and hopeless, so it's no use to fight them since they'll just win anyway, and all the terrible events of the last few years have made it an appealing idea, but... c'mon now.

Everyone insisted for months that Trump would never be charged with anything. But almost 60% of the country thinks that the criminal cases against him are permanently disqualifying, and this is before any major cascades. This whole "if you dare to arrest Trump, he'll win in a landslide in 2024!" psy-op is just that: a psy-op. A trick. A bluff. They're shit scared that the Big Mac God King is finally on the brink of an actual downfall and facing consequences for his actions for the first time in his fucking miserable life, and they're trying to freak us out of doing it, because they have nothing left. So I say: get him. Run him over. Then back up the truck and run him over again.

[tomorrowusa]

To assist the perplexed, here are some facts about Kamala Harris.

She is NOT an adjudicated sex offender.

She's been convicted of 34 fewer felonies than her GOP opponent.

She never had a phony bone spur.

She is not a pawn of foreign autocrats.

She has never been impeached or recalled.

She isn't threatening to be a dictator.

She has always been faithful to her oath of office.

People who are claiming that they "don't know enough" about Kamala tend to be closet Trumpsters who are desperately trying to dredge up some socially acceptable excuse to justify voting for Weird Donald. Call out such people if you hear them saying that around others.

We know plenty about Donald Trump. And it's mostly repulsive and un-American.

[robertreich]

Trump's Chaos Agenda 

Donald Trump wants you to be disgusted. He wants you to be cynical. And he definitely doesn’t want you to watch this video. Why? Because that’s how he wins in 2024. Let me explain.

The Republicans’ election strategy is built on chaos. The more chaos they create, the more pessimistic Americans feel about the capacities of our democracy to govern the nation. So we give up on democracy and turn to a so-called strongman.

Trump has been pushing his party to deny the 2020 election result, shut down the government, pardon insurrectionists, impeach President Biden, investigate Hunter Biden, stop funding Ukraine, and obstruct the criminal prosecutions Trump is facing. He’s stoking hatred, using fascist language by labeling his opponents “vermin” and claiming immigration is destroying the nation.  

Trump wants voters to believe America is ungovernable, and that the only solution is an authoritarian like him taking over.

And he wants those who don’t support him to be so disgusted that they tune out — and not even bother to vote.

Trump’s chaos agenda is also drowning out news about how well we’re actually being governed under President Biden.

Rarely do we hear about how the economy continues to generate a record number of new jobs. 

Not to mention billions of dollars being invested to fix the nation’s infrastructure and combat climate change. Medicare on the way to lowering the cost of prescription drugs. Billions in student debt canceled, in spite of rulings from the right-wing Supreme Court. Corporate monopolies attacked. Workers’ rights to organize, defended.

Trump and his allies don’t want you to know about any of this. And sadly the media plays along by focusing mostly on chaos and dysfunction, with an inclination to blame both sides in the name of “balanced coverage.”

Folks, the political struggle of our time is no longer Left versus Right, Democrats versus Republicans. It’s now democracy versus fascism.

Be warned. And help spread the word about Trump’s chaos agenda by sharing this video.

[liberalsarecool]

Republicans have nothing. The impeachment hearings are a performance for MAGA morons.

[gemstarb]

Watch "House Homeland Security Committee Holds 1st Impeachment Hearing For Sec. Alejandro Mayorkas | Part 2" on YouTube

[un-lawliet]

“Present.”

— in which Dazai wants to kiss you

part two here <3

“Osamu…”

Dazai lifted his gaze, his eyes narrowing at your figure.

It was cold.

The Summer, having prolonged its stay, pliantly welcomed the first cool breeze of Autumn, inviting the ember shafts of the moon a little earlier, cutting the day shorter and introducing the night before the clock struck nine.

And Yokohama appeared to come alive at night.

The streets bustled with crowds, lively and impeached with an alacrity one would expect to see when the sun was much, much higher in the sky.

Dazai found himself outside the Lupin Bar, leaving a half empty glass of sake idle on the cracked confines of the bar top, the crisp air steadying his somewhat dizzy state, un-fogging his senses and clearing his head.

Leaning against the bar wall, his hands in his pockets, an indiscernible look in his eyes as he watched the ever moving city around him.

It was moments like this when you knew his mind was elsewhere, reminiscing over memories in which you did not know, memories that left you except and puzzling over the glimmer of recognition in the depths of his eye.

Breaking his trance he regarded you with quiet solidarity, as if debating weither or not he should throw up his defences or continue to stare, an eyebrow raised in subdued acknowledgment of your appearance.

He didn’t seem shocked at your return, having been on a mission at the other side of Yokohama for a few days, you feel a sickly indulgence of disappointment in his lack of reaction, your shoulders dropping as you approach him slowly.

He probably knew of your return, he has a habit of knowing seemingly every action and it’s equal reaction before they are even taken, it’s a habit that leaves you uneasy at best, and terrified at worst.

Sighing, you join him against the Bar, leaning your head back against the bumpy surface of the wall.

He looks at you for a moment longer, and it’s as if you can feel him back away, creating an insurmountable distance between the pair of you.

In reality, you know he does not move, but at the sight of an ill placed smile stretching his face, you have never felt so immeasurably far from him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He grins, and it’s ugly for a man so devastatingly beautiful in your eyes, you hold back a grimace.

“I’m back.” You say simply, unable to look at him anymore, the footpath suddenly becoming the most interesting thing you’d ever seen before.

A street lamp flickers, the light momentarily dies leaving the pair of you in the dark for a split second before the light returns, Dazai glances upwards to look at it, you don’t even notice.

You don’t know why you even sought him out, your feet seeming to move on their own after Kunikida grumbled that Dazai had headed to Lupin’s Bar just after his shift at the agency.

You have a gift for him from your mission, you tell yourself, attempting to justify your foolish actions, ignoring the voice in your head that reminds you that you would have seen Dazai at the agency at some point the following day.

“You’re back.” He mimics, and he’s back to looking at you again, trying to understand your actions, trying to comprehend why you were currently standing outside in the cold, cold night with him.

“The mission was successful then I suppose?” His smile seemed less indulgent now, and if you were to look up you would surely notice how his body swayed slightly, a testimony to the tipsy feeling resonating in his chest.

You don’t however, your eyes staying downcast as you nod; mumbling about how it was more boring that anything, you hear him laugh at your admission, you hate how empty it sounded.

“Is everyone at the agency ok?” You ponder, clinging to the tail ends of a conversation you were slowly losing.

“You didn’t visit them before you came to see me?” Dazai questions an undeniable tease in his voice, you feel yourself flush.

“I did, it’s how I-” Found out you were here.

The words die on your tongue, refusing to go into detail of how you actively asked for his whereabouts about five minutes into your return.

“Hm?” Dazai coaxes you, although you’re certain he knew what you were about to confess.

“Nothing.” You mumble, your hands clammy, “I uh did, but I only saw Kunikida and Yosano so..” You trail off.

“Ah” He muses.

And in the back of his mind, he wonders if you were simply here because you felt like it, that you had no alterier motives, internally frowning at himself for his suspicions despite knowing you were part of the ADA, critiquing himself silently for falling into old habits that should have died when he left the mafia.

He supposes that maybe you just wanted to see him.

The breeze falls over you both and he’s moving to leave, you look at him again, your head cocked, holding yourself back from questioning, restraining yourself from clinging onto his hand and begging to follow him, indulging yourself in the warmth of other human.

The bar door opens, and for a brief moment you hear the drunken giggles and exclamations of careless patrons, before the door swings shut again, muffling the voices. It grounds you.

Dazai takes a few steps and then turns to face you, his face unreadable, before he tilts his head gesturing for you to follow him, you think your heart soars.

“You coming?”

And you’re pushing yourself away from the wall, nodding.

He doesn’t wait for you to catch up, and you find yourself walking at a pace slightly behind him, your hand subconsciously tracing the box in your pocket.

You wonder if you should give him his gift now, or if you should wait.

When you can’t decided you stay silent, choosing to speed up to level the distance between you both.

You have no idea where you’re going, simply following a man who’s actions you couldn’t begin to understand. He makes no effort to inform you of the destination and so you make no effort to ask.

Dazai likes to think when he walks, constantly scheming, devising ways in which he could encourage Atshushi to grow, or better yet, another way to end his life, and fail, over and over again.

A bitter cycle that infringes upon his thoughts like a bullet.

Tonight however, his thoughts circle back to you, and your silence, and how your face seems to glow in the dim light of the night. And he blames the alcohol that’s coursing through his blood, the last of his drink finally hitting him as he walks, dizzying him and rendering him in a state of concealed vulnerability.

“So.” His voice comes out steady, despite his tendency to slur his sentences when under the influence.

You look at him, gently urging him to continue.

“You’re hiding something.” He states, and you curse him for his intellect and damn observation.

You grip your coat tighter, eyeing the bulge in your pocket, defeat already coaxing you to reveal your intentions.

“I suppose.” You whisper, concluding to yourself that there was really no reason to hide the present from him, after all it was just a gift shared between two work colleagues, there was no need to plaster it with a hidden agenda.

Reaching into your pocket you timidly lift it out, his gift was wrapped, just like everyone’s gift from the agency, a pretty ribbon tying it all together in a clumsy bow. You feel foolish.

“I brought you something from my mission.” You explain, your eyes trained on his face.

And Dazai pauses, his steps slowing to a stop as he stares at the box in your hand, and you scramble to explain yourself, eyes wide.

“I-I got everyone from the agency something!” You stammered, “I just…wanted to give it to you.”

He doesn’t move for a second, his eyes moving between your flustered face and the present.

A car drives past, it’s headlights cause you to blink.

“Do you plan on giving them their presents in such an intimate manner as well?” His voice was softer, as if he himself is unsure of your answer.

His question makes you freeze, feeling as if you were caught in your own actions.

You whisper a tiny “No” and Dazai just nods.

And you hate how you don’t understand.

His hand brushes yours as he picks up the box, his hands are cold, you try not to shiver under his calculating gaze.

“You don’t have to open it now.” You mumble, willing yourself to look him in his eye.

Truthfully you hope he doesn’t open it in front of you, unable to cope with the silent weight of the consequences to your actions.

Dazai finally breaks eye contact to look at the bow, his finger going up to play with the flimsy material.

You brought him something, you had thought of him. Dazai, was unable to fathom how you could be so pure and act so well intentioned to someone with his past.

Did you not believe him to cruel? A man desperately trying to patch over his history with the excuse that he had changed. Changed from the eighteen year old who’s presence struck fear in those unfortunate enough to know his name. Who’s presence alone caused the death of the only person who-

Bitterly, he reminds himself that you had thought of everyone at the ADA.

Without a word he pockets the gift, that same ugly smile rippling his features yet again.

“How kind of you to think of me!” He exclaims, his voice far too loud for the quietness of the gesture, clapping his hands together in an enthusiastic display of himself.

The distance between the pair of you stretched for miles and you shake your head.

“I think about you plenty.” Your voice is hushed, edging on exasperated, because (although you would rather die than describe your complicated feelings for Osamu Dazai out-loud) you don’t appreciate being pushed away.

The moon appears to hide behind the clouds, leaving the street lights to fend for themselves. Their glow emphasising your features as he looks at you.

And Dazai wants to kiss you.

It’s a desire that materialises amidst the acutely awkward silence that follows your admission, it breathes down his neck and forces him to lose any and all words that might escape his lips.

He smiles, a bandaged hand reaching up to cup your cheek, your eyes squint; confusion, admiration and need seeping out from their sockets and onto your face, and Dazai, for once, is grateful for his ability to read people, to read you.

He wants to kiss you, but he doesn’t.

You lean into his hand as his thumb gently draws circles across the area just below your eye, your lips part, a question you will never ask bubbling in your throat.

The pair of you look at each-other for another brief moment before Dazai removes his hand from you and turns, hiding his expression.

“You’re cold.” He states, starting to walk, “You should go home.”

And you watch him go, your feet refusing to move, body overcome with a melancholy you only ever seem to experience around Dazai.

The moon peaks out from behind the clouds again, as if to ask if you’re ok. Illuminating both you and your surroundings like a blanket.

And you feel exhausted.

masterlist <3 or part 2 here :)

feel free to leave a request !

A/N: this was supposed to be fluff idk what happened- i think i started thinking of chapter in 109 half way through, i’m sorry ANYWAY hi bsd fandom ily ily ily and thank you for reading !!!