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rosellacwrites · 6 months ago

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I wanna be someone who believes

summary: Dieter knows it when he sees it.

pairings: Dieter Bravo x Reader

rating: teen maybe? I never know what to call this shit if it isn’t smutty 🤣

warnings: reader is a real estate agent and uses she/her pronouns but is otherwise undescribed; gratuitous use of double negatives; Dieter being Dieter

word count: 1650 (oops)

author’s note: posting late but written for the @dieterbravobrainrotclub May Drabble Challenge — the prompt was a meet-cute with “Do you believe in aliens?” Please be kind, I’ve never written for any of the Pedro boys before 🫣

Happy reading! ❤️

dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Please,” she coaxes you over the phone. “I’ll owe you big time.”

This is not the first time you’ve heard this from her, and you sigh. “What?”

“I need you to cover a big buyer for me this weekend. Dave got some kind of crazy deal through work, and he wants to take me to Cabo for the weekend, and my in-laws actually agreed to take the kids for once, but this is the only weekend he’s gonna be in LA between projects and I swear to God I’ll make it up to you, I’ll take your biggest pain in the ass buyer off your hands — “

“Danielle.” You take a sip of your coffee and rub the spot between your eyebrows. “Who is it?”

She takes a deep breath on the other end. “Okay — hear me out — he’s not quite as wild and crazy as you hear, more like… sexy eccentric? And the budget is good, all cash, I’ll send you his proof of funds — “

“Danielle,” you growl. “Who. Is. It.”

There’s a beat of silence, before she speaks. “… it’s Dieter. Dieter Bravo.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?” She’s your best friend in the industry, and you’ve watched her build her business, a solid roster of low-key celebrity clients who can trust her discretion, but this — this is the big time. “You really want to take a referral on this one?”

“It’ll be a healthy referral,” she points out. “He’s looking at five to seven, but he’s willing and able to go to eight for the right property. He won’t buy sight unseen, though — he’s gotta visit them all. The vibes, you know.”

You’re mentally calculating two and a half percent of eight million, minus referral, and you like what you’re coming up with, maybe even enough to genuinely enjoy this. “God save me from the vibes. Okay. Fine,” you say, exhaling. “I’ll do it — does he have a short list already?”

It’s her turn to sigh. “Vibes.”

“Vibes,” you echo, shaking your head. “Got it. Have fun in Cabo, you lucky bitch.”

“Have fun with Dieter,” she sing-songs. “You lucky bitch.”

As soon as you set eyes on him for the first time, you know you will. Everything about Dieter Bravo proclaims the fun kind of trouble, like sunshine that didn’t mean to burn you.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he greets you, looking like he just rolled out of bed and wants nothing more than to get back in it, preferably with you. “Do you come with the house?”

“Only when the earth moves,” you retort sweetly.

He looks stunned for a moment, and then the grin breaks over his face like sunrise and he laughs, long and loud. “I like you,” he proclaims. “Danielle said I would.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” His laughter is contagious, and you can’t help liking him too. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Bravo.”

“Babe,” he says, looking pained, and you belatedly remember what Danielle had told you.

“Dieter,” you correct yourself, and he beams.

“That’s more like it,” he says cheerfully.

His assistant materializes from somewhere behind him, handing you a stack of papers. “Standard NDA,” they say. “I’m sure you understand.”

Dieter groans. “Do we have to do this?”

“I’m not offended, I promise.” You smile at him, and start to skim over the contract. It’s all fairly standard stuff, really, apart from the alien invasion bit inserted neatly into the force majeure clause. But it’s not the weirdest thing you’ve ever seen turn up in a legal document — this is Hollywood, after all — and you shrug, and sign.

“Amazing!” Dieter claps his hands like a child. “Let’s go buy a fucking house!”

Six showings later, you’re exhausted, your feet are killing you, and Dieter’s assistant looks as fried as you feel.

“Food?” Dieter asks hopefully. “Or weed? Or both?”

“I’m not feeling great,” his assistant says, rubbing their forehead. “I’m starting a migraine. Dieter, do you think you can manage without me for the afternoon?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be fine.” Dieter waves a hand dismissively. “Go sleep it off.” He turns to you, and before he can say anything else, you nod and lead him away.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re seated at a tucked-away patio table at your favorite cafe, and Dieter’s looking much more relaxed, sunglasses pushed haphazardly up into his hair. “How’d you meet Danielle, anyway?” you ask him over the rim of your matcha latte.

“Hit on her in a club in West Hollywood,” he admits. “She was like ‘haha I totally would if I weren’t married, but hey, do you want to buy a house instead?’”

You can’t help laughing. “Yeah. That’s on brand.”

“It was fate,” he says. “Because I did want to buy a house, I just didn’t know it until she said it.”

“All that Cliff Beasts money burning a hole in your pocket?”

“I’m sick of hotels.” He shrugs, looking almost serious for once. “I travel all the fucking time, but — I want someplace I can come home to, you know?”

“Yeah. I do.” You look down at your drink and smile, toying with the already-disintegrating paper straw. “It’s such a stressful job sometimes, and the money’s not as great as everyone thinks it is, but when I can make that perfect match for someone, and I see their face light up when they walk in because they’re finally home — there’s nothing like it.”

“Yeah?” When you glance back up, he’s giving you the softest look you’ve ever seen, and it makes you wonder what his agent could possibly be thinking. The genuine sweetness he radiates is made for rom-coms, not half-assed action flicks. “Well, I’m glad you’re the one matchmaking for me.”

“Me too,” you say softly, your eyes locked with his, and you realize as you say it that it’s true.

It’s hard to remember that you’re working; you’re having more fun with Dieter than you have on any of the actual dates you’ve had recently. You linger at the table far longer than you should, talking about everything and nothing.

Finally, you crack, leaning forward and resting your elbows on the table. “I gotta ask,” you begin, and you see him tense, just slightly. “Do you believe in aliens?” He looks at you quizzically, clearly not expecting the conversation to take that particular turn. “It’s in your NDA. Alien invasion is one of the situations that gets me out of the contract.”

“Oh, I never read that shit.” He yawns and stretches, and you get an eyeful of his tummy when his shirt rides up. You try not to look — you’re sure there’s something in the realtor’s code of ethics about not ogling your clients, even if they are celebrities — but it’s impossible to look away from all that freckled golden skin. “But… I don’t not believe in aliens, you know? Who knows what the fuck’s out there? My lawyers know better than to leave my ass in the wind.”

“Fair enough, and I appreciate the loophole.” You shrug. “If aliens landed on the roof during one of our showings, you bet your ass I’d be calling TMZ real fast.”

“And I’d support that. Get your bag, babe.” He grins at you. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

You consider your next words very carefully. “I don’t not want to have sex with you,” you admit, and his face lights up. “But I have to do my job, first.”

“Okay, so let’s go do your job and get it out of the way.” He stands up, all business for the first time all day, and extends a hand to you. His hands are warm, slightly calloused, and big, and you find yourself praying that he gets good vibes from this last one.

“I’ve saved the best for last,” you tell him. “I think you’re gonna love this one. It’s been on for a while, and they just knocked the price down to seven-four. I think if you offered a little low, they’d take it.”

“What’s the vibe?” he asks.

“Think Zen, but casual about it. It was built ten years ago, but it feels a little seventies in a good way — lots of stone, warm wood, skylights. Indoor-outdoor living. There’s a koi pond that goes under the house.”

“Funky,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “Go on.”

“Separate guest wing with kitchen, ideal for live-in staff — yoga room with adjoining massage area — detached guest house with art studio potential — “ you recite. He’s weakening by the minute, you can see it. “Pool and hot tub, of course — there’s like a waterfall thing, it’s pretty cool — “ His eyes go all dreamy and you know, you just know, he’s thinking about having sex there.

Almost there, you think; it’s time for the clincher. “Six minutes to the Whole Foods on Sepulveda.”

He whistles, reluctantly impressed. “That’s the good one.”

“It is indeed.” You nod sagely.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, tugging you by the hand he’s still holding. “Let’s go.”

A few weeks later, you surface to the sound of your phone ringing.

“Can you look and tell me who’s calling?” you call out, hooking your elbows over the side of the pool. “I’m all wet.”

Dieter wiggles his eyebrows at you and answers the call. “Hey, babe,” he says. “How was Cabo? Did you get pregnant?” He laughs. “Yeah, yeah — she knows I have her phone. She’s in the pool.”

“Tell Danielle I’ll call her back,” you shout.

“Yeah, she found me the perfect house,” Dieter says, ignoring you. “It’s fucking awesome. Moved in last week — you should come over and hang. Bring the kids. There’s this koi pond — ” He pauses for a moment to listen to her, and you shake your head fondly.

“Dee,” you warn. “Get off my phone.”

“You were right, you know,” he tells Danielle, grinning and blowing a kiss at you. “I liked her.”

Thanks to @freelancearsonist and @reallyrallyauthor for convincing me this was worth posting 😂

#dieter bravo #the bubble #pedro pascal character fanfiction #dieter bravo x reader

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 4 months ago

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Nobody

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

August 2, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Aug 03, 2024

Today, Aaron C. Davis and Carol D. Leonnig of the Washington Post reported that there is reason to believe that when Trump’s 2016 campaign was running low on funds, Trump accepted a $10 million injection of cash from Egypt’s authoritarian leader Abdel Fatah al-Sisi. It is against the law to accept direct or indirect financial support from foreign nationals or foreign governments for a political campaign in the United States.

In early 2017, CIA officials told Justice Department officials that a confidential informant had told them of such a cash exchange, and those officials handed the matter off to Robert Mueller, the special counsel who was already looking at the links between the 2016 Trump campaign and Russian operatives. FBI agents noted that on September 16, Trump had met with Sisi when the Egyptian leader was at the U.N. General Assembly in New York City.

After the meeting, Trump broke with U.S. policy to praise Sisi, calling him a “fantastic guy.”

Trump’s campaign had been dogged with a lack of funds, and his advisers had begged him to put some of his own money into it. He refused until October 28, when he loaned the campaign $10 million.

An FBI investigation took years to get records, but Davis and Leonnig reported that in 2019 the FBI learned of a key withdrawal from an Egypt bank. In January 2017, five days before Trump took office, an organization linked to Egypt’s intelligence service asked a manager at a branch of the state-run National Bank of Egypt to “kindly withdraw” $9,998,000 in U.S. currency. The bundles of $100 bills filled two bags and weighed more than 200 pounds.

Once in office, Trump embraced Sisi and, in a reversal of U.S. policy, invited him to be one of his first guests at the White House. “I just want to let everybody know, in case there was any doubt, that we are very much behind President al-Sissi,” Trump said.

Mueller had gotten that far in pursuit of the connection between Trump and Sisi when he was winding down his investigation of Russian interference in the 2016 election. He handed the Egypt investigation off to the U.S. attorney’s office in Washington, D C., where it appears then–attorney general William Barr killed it.

Today, Brian Schwartz of CNBC reported that Elon Musk and other tech executives are putting their money behind a social media ad campaign for Trump and Vance, and are creating targeted ads in swing states by collecting information about voters under false pretenses. According to Schwartz, their America PAC, or political action committee, says it helps viewers register to vote. And, indeed, the ads direct would-be voters in nonswing states to voter registration sites.

But people responding to the ad in swing states are not sent to registration sites. Instead, they are presented with “a highly detailed personal information form [and] prompted to enter their address, cellphone number and age,” handing over “priceless personal data to a political operation” that can then create ads aimed at that person’s demographic and target them personally in door-to-door campaigns. After getting the information, the site simply says, “Thank you,” without directing the viewer toward a registration site.

Forbes estimates Musk’s wealth at more than $235 billion.

In June the Trump Organization announced a $500 million deal with Saudi real estate developer Dar Global to build a Trump International hotel in Oman.

In January 2011, when he was director of the FBI, Robert Mueller gave a speech to the Citizens Crime Commission of New York. He explained that globalization and modern technology had changed the nature of organized crime. Rather than being regional networks with a clear structure, he said, organized crime had become international, fluid, and sophisticated and had multibillion-dollar stakes. Its operators were cross-pollinating across countries, religions, and political affiliations, sharing only their greed. They did not care about ideology; they cared about money. They would do anything for a price.

These criminals “may be former members of nation-state governments, security services, or the military,” he said. “They are capitalists and entrepreneurs. But they are also master criminals who move easily between the licit and illicit worlds. And in some cases, these organizations are as forward-leaning as Fortune 500 companies.”

In order to corner international markets, Mueller explained, these criminal enterprises "may infiltrate our businesses. They may provide logistical support to hostile foreign powers. They may try to manipulate those at the highest levels of government. Indeed, these so-called 'iron triangles' of organized criminals, corrupt government officials, and business leaders pose a significant national security threat."

In a new book called Autocracy, Inc.: The Dictators Who Want to Run the World, journalist Anne Applebaum carries that story forward into the present, examining how today’s autocrats work together to undermine democracy. She says that “the language of the democratic world, meaning rights, laws, rule of law, justice, accountability, [and] transparency…[is] harmful to them,” especially as those are the words that their internal opposition uses. “And so they need to undermine the people who use it and, if they can, discredit it.”

Those people, Applebaum says, “believe they are owed power, they deserve power.” When they lose elections, they “come back in a second term and say, right, this time, I'm not going to make that mistake again, and…then change their electoral system, or…change the constitution, change the judicial system, in order to make sure that they never lose.”

Almost exactly a year ago, on August 1, 2023, a grand jury in Washington, D.C., indicted former president Donald J. Trump for conspiring to defraud the United States, conspiring to disenfranchise voters, and conspiring and attempting to obstruct an official proceeding. The charges stemmed from Trump’s attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 election. A grand jury is made up of 23 ordinary citizens who weigh evidence of criminal activity and produce an indictment if 12 or more of them vote in favor.

The grand jury indicted Trump for “conspiracy to defraud the United States by using dishonesty, fraud, and deceit to impair, obstruct, and defeat the lawful federal government function by which the results of the presidential election are collected, counted, and certified by the government”; “conspiracy to corruptly obstruct and impede the January 6 congressional proceeding at which the collected results of the presidential election are counted and certified”; and “conspiracy against the right to vote and to have one’s vote counted.”

“Each of these conspiracies,” the indictment reads, “targeted a bedrock function of the United States federal government: the nation’s process of collecting, counting, and certifying the results of the presidential election.” “This federal government function…is foundational to the United States’ democratic process, and until 2021, had operated in a peaceful and orderly manner for more than 130 years.”

The case of the United States of America v. Donald J. Trump was randomly assigned to Judge Tanya S. Chutkan, who was appointed by President Obama in 2014 and confirmed 95–0 in the Senate. Trump pleaded not guilty on August 3, after which his lawyers repeatedly delayed their pretrial motions until, on December 7, Trump asked the Washington, D.C., Circuit Court of Appeals to decide whether he was immune from prosecution. Chutkan had to put off her initial trial date of March 4, 2024, and said she would not reschedule until the court decided the question of Trump’s immunity.

In February the appeals court decided he was not immune. Trump appealed to the Supreme Court, which waited until July 1, 2024, to decide that Trump enjoys broad immunity from prosecution for crimes committed as part of his official acts. Today the Washington, D.C., Circuit Court of Appeals sent the case back to Chutkan, almost exactly a year after it was first brought.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#WAPO #bribery #Letters From An American #Heather Cox Richardson #corrupt SCOTUS #Chutkan #certification of the presidential election #voting rights #disenfranchising voters #organized crime

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charlotte-of-wales · 10 months ago

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a summary of the Monaco Tea, creds to the lovely anon who sent me the article <3

btw most of the information on the family was in article one, the latter were more just info on real estate + off shore accounts

again, this info is all coming from the former accountant of the family:

Prince Rainier III was seriously considering changing succession laws so Caroline would be the head of the family and Monaco as he found Albert to be weak. Albert is said to be the "despised member of the clan" who would stutter while speaking to his father. Rainier even looked into what this would mean to the Grimaldi name since Andrea - at the time 17 - obviously carries his father's name (Casiraghi) and not his mother's (Grimaldi). Rainier told the ones carrying the investigation that this was done in case Albert died.

the funds from Albert's state endowment and his private funds would be mixed all the time.

Albert would say yes to essentially everything his family asked for, including a $30 million apartment for Stephanie

Palmero (the accountant) would frequently buy things for the family to keep "their privacy". He bought Charlene's engagement ring and multiple properties for the Grimaldi's in France. He would pay property taxes for those properties and have the family pay him back.

Caroline and Stephanie would frequently make use of and sell family property (Rainier's cars, family jewelry and art, etc) without letting him know, even though they technically belonged to Albert.

Caroline is in charge of the family's castle in Marchais, which he had an issue with as she would always go off budget.

he makes a note to pay attention to Pierre Casiraghi as he is very ambitious and his dealings in real estate could create problems (spoiler alert: it did)

Caroline is said to hate Charlene

the allowance that Charlene, Caroline and Stephanie receive increases constantly, which worried Palmero. As of late, they were: 1,5 million euros for Charlene, 900.000 for Caroline and 800.000 for Stephanie yearly. This follows the family hierarchy.

Jazmin Grace receives 86,000 dollars per quarter. In February 2010, Palmero had to spend $5,000 “extra for her birthday”. Albert also bought her a $3 million apartment in New York City.

Albert spends almost a million a year funding Nicole Coste's (the mother of Albert's second illegimate child) fashion business. It's all in Alexandre Coste's name as Nicole fears that Charlene might create issues when Albert dies.

loots about Charlene. She frequently demands high sums in cash, her personal chef is $300 a day, she has multiple undocumented people from the Philippines working in her staff, the celebrations for the birth and baptism of the twins was well over half a million euros, in eight years Charlene spent around 15 million euros when she received 7.5 million euros in endowment (the Palace didn't deny this and said that the accountant was simply told to pay the difference with the family's personal funds), she spent 965,000 on a villa in two and a half months, her office decoration cost a million euros, she requested 3 x 300,000 for her brother's house.

Palmero made sure to change Monaco's regency laws so in case something happens to Albert while Jacques is underage Charlene won't be regent. Instead, the principality will be ruled by a regency council.

Albert has a secret apartment in Monaco, bought by one of Palmero's secret companies. He also got rid of problematic photographs of Albert (hinted at blackmail).

there was a whole system for hiding sums used on "special missions". They were labeled DS (for special destinations) and with time were used to pay for an informal intelligence unit that operated within the police force of the principality. They'd collect information on those close to the family and even on politians of the principality. He would also pay journalists to paint a good picture of Monaco while Hollande was president in France and was constantly criticizing tax-havens.

the DS accounts would be used to hide over-budget situations, including budget for the children's nannies and the budget for the wedding.

they were terrified of the Panama papers, as a lot of money laundering funds go through Monaco and the family had accounts on Panamanian banks.

a link between a Russian billionaire and the Monegasque Minister of Justice was revealed in 2017 and the Minister was forced to resign. An investigation was launched by a French judge and there was fears that the palace would be involved: jurisdictional immunity was granted to members of the sovereign family by order. There was rumours that the French judge wanted to hear the Prince as a witness......he was told to leave the principality. He was accused of having, through his “behavior perceived as authoritarian and vexatious”, “endangered the proper functioning of the criminal justice system”.

the real estate market is a big point of collision here and a big focus of article 3. Nothing too interesting to report - Palmero says he tried mingling in the market to break down the monopoly of real estate owners in Monaco (centered around a bestie of the Casiraghi brothers) while Albert claims Palmero had close ties with some of the developers and tried mingling with things that were of interest of the government in order to make money. The real estate issue was what eventually led Palmero to be fired. Palmero and a former laywer of Albert who was his childhood bestfriend and is also now a persona non grata claims that Albert is now fully under the influence of the bestie of the Casiraghi brothers who now controls the real estate in Monaco.

Palmaro is STILL paying property tax on properties he bought for the family!! crazy!!

Palmero detailed a number of off-shore accounts that hold about 250 million euros of the family's fortune including a company created specifically for Charlotte Casiraghi. He passed on the information from that account to Albert's new accountant at a monitored meeting.

Albert's explanation is lowkey....pathetic. He claims he told Palmero to move all of his family's assets from off-shore accounts to Monaco but Palmero never did it and that was that. He claims he was never able to obtain a precise statement on the family assets due to Palmero's secrecy and Albert just trusted him. He claims Palmero would act in his name and refuse to delay his decisions.

#and that's what you missed on glee #again thank u so much anon you're the best!!!!#this was a wild ride #mpf

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dermo-blog · 21 days ago

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Trump is not your guy.

I'm a rural, white male voter, and I'm not voting for Donald Trump. Why? Because he's not going to do anything for me. If you look like me and live out in the sticks, listen up. This one's for you.

Trump doesn't have any solutions to the problems we are facing. While we're driving on crap roads, to get to crap jobs, to buy cheap crap, this guy is talking about trans people and immigrants. Immigrants didn't rig the system against you. Billionaires like Donald Trump did.

Even if Trump had a plan, there's no reason to believe he has the managerial skills to implement it. He accomplished almost nothing of note in his first term, save a tax cut that was only permanent for rich people. One time he tried to give orders to the military via Twitter. He is not a serious executive.

It's also worth mentioning here that Trump's business experience is not the success story he'd have you believe. He inherited a lot of money and an existing real estate operation from his father. He did make money, but probably could have done better just parking that in a low risk mutual fund and keeping his mouth shut. Dude went bankrupt running casinos for crying out loud.

Most importantly, it is obvious that Donald Trump does not care about me. His behavior over the years has demonstrated that there is one clear principle he lives by. Take as much as I can, while giving back as little as possible. You can go with the whole "both sides" thing here, which may be true, but you can't deny the fact that Donald Trump doesn't give a fuck about you.

I'm not asking you to vote for Kamala Harris. Hell, I'm not even asking you not to vote for Trump. I just want you to understand that he's not going to save America. At best, he'll get nothing done. At worst, he'll make things a whole lot worse, for America, and for you. Dude's a con artist and always has been. Don't waste your hopes and aspirations on him.

#donald trump #us politics #kamala harris #election

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meret118 · 29 days ago

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A new report from Popular Democracy and the Institute for Policy Studies reveals how billionaire investors have become a major driver of the nationwide housing crisis. They summarize in their own words:

Billionaire-backed private equity firms worm their way into different segments of the housing market to extract ever-increasing rents and value from multi-family rental, single-family homes, and mobile home park communities.— Global billionaires purchase billions in U.S. real estate to diversify their asset holdings, driving the creation of luxury housing that functions as “safety deposit boxes in the sky.” Estimates of hidden wealth are as high as $36 trillion globally, with billions parked in U.S. land and housing markets. — Wealthy investors are acquiring property and holding units vacant, so that in many communities the number of vacant units greatly exceeds the number of unhoused people. Nationwide there are 16 million vacant homes: that is, 28 vacant homes for every unhoused person. — Billionaire investors are buying up a large segment of the short-term rental market, preventing local residents from living in these homes, in order to cash in on tourism. These are not small owners with one unit, but corporate owners with multiple properties. — Billionaire investors and corporate landlords are targeting communities of color and low-income residents, in particular, with rent increases, high rates of eviction, and unhealthy living conditions. What’s more, billionaire-owned private equity firms are investing in subsidized housing, enjoying tax breaks and public benefits, while raising rents and evicting low-income tenants from housing they are only required to keep affordable, temporarily.

. . .

Thirty-two percent is the magic threshold, according to research funded by the real estate listing company Zillow. When neighborhoods hit rent rates in excess of 32 percent of neighborhood income, homelessness explodes. And we’re seeing it play out right in front of us in cities across America because a handful of Wall Street billionaires are making a killing.

As the Zillow study notes:

“Across the country, the rent burden already exceeds the 32 percent [of median income] threshold in 100 of the 386 markets included in this analysis….”And wherever housing prices become more than three times annual income, homelessness stalks like the grim reaper.

That Zillow-funded study laid it out:

“This research demonstrates that the homeless population climbs faster when rent affordability — the share of income people spend on rent — crosses certain thresholds. In many areas beyond those thresholds, even modest rent increases can push thousands more Americans into homelessness.”This trend is massive.

. . .

As noted in a Wall Street Journal article titled “Meet Your New Landlord: Wall Street,” in just one suburb (Spring Hill) of Nashville:

“In all of Spring Hill, four firms … own nearly 700 houses … [which] amounts to about 5% of all the houses in town.”

This is the tiniest tip of the iceberg.

“On the first Tuesday of each month,” notes the Journal article about a similar phenomenon in Atlanta, investors “toted duffels stuffed with millions of dollars in cashier’s checks made out in various denominations so they wouldn’t have to interrupt their buying spree with trips to the bank…”

The same thing is happening in cities and suburbs all across America; agents for the billionaire investor goliaths use fine-tuned computer algorithms to sniff out houses they can turn into rental properties, making over-market and unbeatable cash bids often within minutes of a house hitting the market.

. . .

As the Bank of International Settlements summarized in a 2014 retrospective study of the years since the Reagan/Gingrich changes in banking and finance:

“We describe a Pareto frontier along which different levels of risk-taking map into different levels of welfare for the two parties, pitting Main Street against Wall Street. … We also show that financial innovation, asymmetric compensation schemes, concentration in the banking system, and bailout expectations enable or encourage greater risk-taking and allocate greater surplus to Wall Street at the expense of Main Street

.”It’s a fancy way of saying that billionaire-owned big banks and hedge funds have made trillions on housing while you and your community are becoming destitute.

. . .

Turns out it was Blackstone Group, now the world’s largest real estate investor run by a major Trump supporter. At the time they were buying $150 million worth of American houses every week, trying to spend over $10 billion. And that’s just a drop in the overall bucket.

As that new study from Popular Democracy and the Institute for Policy Studies found:

“[Billionaire Stephen Schwarzman’s] Blackstone is the largest corporate landlord in the world, with a vast and diversified real estate portfolio. It owns more than 300,000 residential units across the U.S., has $1 trillion in global assets, and nearly doubled its profits in 2021. “Blackstone owns 149,000 multi-family apartment units; 63,000 single-family homes; 70 mobile home parks with 13,000 lots through their subsidiary Treehouse Communities; and student housing, through American Campus Communities (144,300 beds in 205 properties as of 2022). Blackstone recently acquired 95,000 units of subsidized housing.”

In 2018, corporations and the billionaires that own or run them bought 1 out of every 10 homes sold in America, according to Dezember, noting that:

“Between 2006 and 2016, when the homeownership rate fell to its lowest level in fifty years, the number of renters grew by about a quarter.”

And it’s gotten worse every year since then.

. . .

Warren Buffett, KKR, and The Carlyle Group have all jumped into residential real estate, along with hundreds of smaller investment groups, and the National Home Rental Council has emerged as the industry’s premiere lobbying group, working to block rent control legislation and other efforts to control the industry.

As John Husing, the owner of Economics and Politics Inc., told The Tennessean newspaper:

“What you have are neighborhoods that are essentially unregulated apartment houses. It could be disastrous for the city.”

As Zillow found:

“The areas that are most vulnerable to rising rents, unaffordability, and poverty hold 15 percent of the U.S. population — and 47 percent of people experiencing homelessness.”

. . .

The loss of affordable homes also locks otherwise middle class families out of the traditional way wealth is accumulated — through home ownership: over 61% of all American middle-income family wealth is their home’s equity.

And as families are priced out of ownership and forced to rent, they become more vulnerable to homelessness.

Housing is one of the primary essentials of life. Nobody in America should be without it, and for society to work, housing costs must track incomes in a way that makes housing both available and affordable.

Singapore, Denmark, New Zealand, and parts of Canada have all put limits on billionaire, corporate, and foreign investment in housing, recognizing families’ residences as essential to life rather than purely a commodity. Multiple other countries are having that debate or moving to take similar actions as you read these words.

To address the housing shortage and bring down prices for renters and homeowners alike, the Harris campaign’s plan calls for a historic expansion of the Low-Income Housing Tax Credit (LIHTC) and the first-ever tax incentive for homebuilders who build starter homes sold to first-time homebuyers. Building upon the Biden-Harris administration’s proposed $20 billion innovation fund, the campaign proposes a $40 billion fund that would support local innovations in housing supply solutions, catalyze innovative methods of construction financing, and empower developers and homebuilders to design and build affordable homes.

To cut red tape and bring down housing costs, the plan calls for streamlining permitting processes and reviews, including for transit-oriented development and conversions. The agenda also proposes making certain federal lands eligible to be repurposed for affordable housing development. Collectively, these policy proposals seek to create 3 million homes in the next four years.

The campaign plan cites the Biden-Harris administration’s ongoing actions to support the lowest-income renters, including its actions to expand rental assistance for veterans and other low-income renters, increase housing supply for people experiencing homelessness, enforce fair housing laws, and hold corporate landlords accountable.

Building upon these commitments, the Harris agenda calls upon Congress to pass the “Stop Predatory Investing Act,” which would remove key tax benefits for major investors who acquire large numbers of single-family rental homes (see Memo, 7/17/23), and the “Preventing the Algorithmic Facilitation of Rental Housing Cartels Act,” which would crack down on algorithmic rent-setting software that enables price-fixing among corporate landlords.

To make homeownership attainable, Vice President Harris’s proposal would provide up to $25,000 in downpayment assistance for first-time homebuyers who have paid their rent on time for two years. First-generation homeowners – those whose parents did not own homes – would receive more generous assistance.

Vice President Harris’s economic agenda also includes proposals to lower grocery costs, lower the costs of prescription drugs and relieve medical debt, and cut taxes for workers and families with children. The plan would restore the American Rescue Plan’s expanded Child Tax Credit, which provided up to $3,600 per child for low- and middle-income families for one year before it expired in 2022, and would enact a new $6,000 tax credit for families in the first year after their child is born. These measures to reduce expenses and boost household income would also improve housing security for low-income families, who often face impossible tradeoffs between paying rent and affording food, medical care, and other basic needs.

-----

Sorry for the length, but I thought this was really important.

#Trump #2024 #Housing #Rent #Harris

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 years ago

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mixed race (japanese + native american) fiancé hcs ; 16+

requested by ; anonymous (14/04/23)

fandom(s) ; black butler

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | main characters | main villains | anime only

character(s) ; alois trancy, our!ciel phantomhive, real!ciel phantomhive, sebastian michaelis

outline ; “hey! i hope youre doing well. if/when youreable to, would you mind writing some headcanons for o!ciel, sebastian, r!ciel, and alois (if thats too many, just the first 2 💜) with a gender neutral fiance who is partially both japanese and native american please? thank you very much in advance.”

warning(s) ; references to period typical racism, references to canon-typical violence, generalisations made as to not link the reader to any specific native tribe, author craps on british food in a few places (author is british, it comes from a place of love)

note ; this took ages to look up and research in order to try and not lock the insert into any specific tribe or tribal family for their native side — given how broad and diverse they are. hopefully this came across and wasn’t too disappointing to the requester or anyone else who might have been looking for a very specific type of representation.

Alois Trancy

this man isn’t the most sensitive or understanding in general — so he wouldn’t necessarily ‘get’ or question your religious practises

like if you’re spiritual and perform smudging in the manor then you’re only really going to irritate his demonic staff and prevent them from entering certain rooms for a while

on the other end of the spectrum, smudging is an excellent way of keeping claude and the triplets out of your rooms if you’re annoyed

this would amuse alois for sure — but his interests would be focused exclusively on the aesthetic and story based aspects of your culture

he loves listening to you as you explain the folklores and mythologies of your two heritages — wide eyed and quiet for once as he takes in everything you have to say

he has a particular preference for creatures and deities that explore the gorier aspects of life, and he’ll ask you to retell them often, but he’ll listen to any story you have to tell

and if you participate in cultural crafts like beadwork or shodo or anything along those lines, then he’ll gladly fund your work and might even pay you to make things for his person, his peers or just to display about the estate

he’ll also ensure that you’re never without clothing from your cultures and would prefer you wear it over things from england — be that a selection of richly dyed kimonos for you to wear during galas, or importing regalia from your tribe for you to wear during traditional dances and such if that’s something you partake in

if your tribe partakes in the tradition of getting facial tattoos, then he’ll be incredibly interested in their history and meaning for you

will celebrate and observe holidays that aren’t on the british calendar with you — whether that’s national foundation day, or something that requires travel abroad like a powwow

and in the same vein, he’s not afraid to send his servants after anyone who disrespects you whilst at his manor

Our!Ciel Phantomhive

ciel has a particular interest in the culinary/confectionary side of your dual cultures and would be very invested in trying and recreating the dishes you grew up eating

that, of course, includes sweet things like candies and desserts

(his favourites are dango and saututhig)

but it also applies to meals — especially those associated with specific holidays

so, for example, he would have sebastian recreate the seasonal flavours of namagashi if you opt to take part in any tea ceremonies

or he might recreate some festival foods like okonomiyaki or yakitori when it’s the right season

or if you’re craving something from a powwow, he’ll ensure you have access to things like corn soup, fry bread and so on

he never wants you to be without the comfort foods you grew up with, nor the things you crave

so he has the staff modify the manor’s menu and meal rotation to incorporate more foods from japan and from your tribe

(which is a relief as british food isn’t the most flavourful in the world)

he also insists on trying to learn whichever language (or languages) you’re comfortable with so he’s able to connect and understand more of his future spouse’s culture and world views

he struggles immensely with japanese, specifically with forming his kanji for some reason, but his pronunciation is pretty spot on

but he manages to pick up the language of your tribe pretty quickly

so he’d probably prefer to speak to you using that tongue if he wished to mention something privately

he’s also keenly aware of the history of conflicts faced by native americans — as well as the bigotry faced by immigrants in the uk

he did his fair share of studying at the beginning of your relationship and, well, he has eyes and the situational awareness to recognise how you were being treated

this makes him incredibly protective of you — he trusts you to take care of yourself (you are engaged to the queen’s watchdog, after all), but that doesn’t mean that he expects you to put up with outright horrific treatment by his peers or his people

in other words: sebastian and the rest of the phantomhive staff get some free target practise courtesy of people that insult the lord of the house’s fiancé

Real!Ciel Phantomhive

this man is the sort to spoil his partner however he can at every opportunity — and you are far from the exception

any food that you’re craving, he’ll have the ingredients imported and will hire a specialty chef (or train one) to make it for you

any clothing you desire, he’ll have hand made and imported

if you miss your family or wish to go home to celebrate a holiday, he’ll arrange a trip to the americas or to japan and send you there with supplies and gifts to spare

he’ll usually try to go with you, but there are times where his schedule just doesn’t allow it so you’ll be travelling alone (with dozens of personal attendants)

he’ll study every language you speak independently, learning them whilst you’re away in order to surprise you when you get home

he’ll decorate the manor with pieces of art that represent both of the cultures you come from — or pieces that were made by yourself/your relatives

if there are any local sports or games that you enjoy, he’ll arrange for them to happen at the estate

he’s an excellent partner in that regard

but he puts his business and reputation above a lot of the things he should be doing for you

like yes he’ll spoil and indulge and learn for you

but if one of his most important investors says something offensive then he won’t do anything to stop it

at most he’ll encourage them to keep that talk to his office, but usually he’ll just laugh along and encourage you to grin and bear it

he wants to defend you, really, but he can’t risk plummeting his business because of it

he doesn’t have the means to get rid of someone without it looking suspect — which would tank his reputation and out both of you at risk

if he can punish someone for being cruel, he will — like a staff member of his or someone on the streets

but most of the time he really can’t — so the most he can do is try to keep you away from it all

as his father taught him, his duties to his country and his business come first — only then can he be a husband and lover

Sebastian Michaelis

he spends most of his time with you switching between japanese and the language of your tribe — mainly because he doesn’t like the idea of anyone (or anything) listening in on your combinations and seeing him in such a vulnerable state

he has an incredibly low tolerance for any mistreatment of you (actual or perceived) and, unless instructed otherwise by his master, will just eliminate them immediately after their transgression

a lot of the time you don’t even realise what happened — only that someone is now missing

but you’re usually able to put the pieces together

if you have an argument, he’s usually able to gather how mad you are based on how many rooms have been cleansed and he’s no longer able to enter

the worst argument you had, to date, ended with you cleansing the entire manor and locking him to the outside and the basement for a whole week

(ciel found it hilarious)

if you’re ever feeling homesick, it’s a cakewalk for sebastian to get you back to your family — you can be there one day and back in england the next

but good luck explaining to either side of your family that you’re courting a demon

if you’re artsy and like creating things to honour your heritage then he’ll indulge you, fetching you the necessary materials and displaying the final result proudly

he has met both sides of your family and has scared the crap out of a few relatives when they accidentally almost cleansed him out of a room

(not a fun conversation to have)

he’s an excellent cook (naturally) and is more than happy to indulge any cravings you have for foods that aren’t a commonly sold thing in england

of course he’ll encourage you to eat full, hearty meals because he wants you to be as taken care of as possible, but he can’t say no to his mate and will usually give in if you’re particularly desperate for sweet things or street foods

he gives you a number of nicknames based on new or traditional pet names from your cultures

for example, some japanese pet names he might use are ‘ダーリン’ (daarin), ‘ハニー’ (hanii) (these are mainly used in notes sent to each other) — or, when speaking, he might something more traditional like calling you your given name or an a version with the appropriate suffix (depending on your preference)

and, of course, any other pet names depends on the tribe you’re from

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #black butler x reader #black butler headcanons #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji headcanons #sebastian michaelis x reader #our ciel x reader #ciel phantomhive x reader #real ciel x reader #alois trancy x reader

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justinspoliticalcorner · 2 months ago

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Kevin Robillard at HuffPost:

In June 2015, former President Donald Trump infamously came down a golden escalator and declared himself the man who couldn’t be bought. “I’m using my own money,” Trump said in the opening speech of his presidential election campaign. “I’m not using the lobbyists. I’m not using donors. I don’t care. I’m really rich.” Trump, who did self-fund large portions of his 2016 primary campaign, would return to this theme again and again. He would run against a field of more mainstream GOP politicians, each backed by super PACs filled with million-dollar checks from wealthy donors, and then against Democrat Hillary Clinton, who many voters saw as the embodiment of a moneyed class of Washington insiders. Now, almost a decade later, he is running as a candidate who is openly for sale. He has said he’ll offer plum jobs to major donors like Elon Musk, promised favors to oil executives, bragged to the wealthy about the tax cuts he can deliver and has even taken time away from his campaign to pitch a cryptocurrency project for his sons.

Americans can even buy DJT on the stock market, in the form of shares in the publicly traded holding company that owns his social media site, Truth Social. That company’s revenues are meager, with the share price hitting all-time lows, but it’s still being propped up by the former president’s loyal political fandom. “He just thinks he operates in his own world,” Fred Wertheimer, a veteran of decades of fights over campaign finance and government ethics, told HuffPost. “What he’s doing is incredibly brazen in both asking for large amounts of money and telling people what he’s going to do for them in return.” “Bottom line, I’ve never seen anyone do what he’s doing,” Wertheimer said. Trump’s campaign did not respond to an email seeking comment for this story. His new strategy may have created an opening for Democrats, if Vice President Kamala Harris and her campaign can seize it.

[...] Trump’s image as an outsider/businessman, unafraid to upset political apple carts, powered his run through the 2016 GOP primaries. He took special aim at former Florida Gov. Jeb Bush, the beneficiary of the outside group Right to Rise, which had stunned observers with its explosive fundraising. “They will be bombarded by their lobbyists that donated a lot of money to them,” Trump told a crowd in Iowa of his primary rivals, not long after his campaign’s launch. “Jeb raised $107 million, OK? They’re not putting that money up because it’s a wonderful charity.” Standing on a debate stage in Boulder, Colorado, that October, Trump decried how super PACs were corrupting his fellow candidates. “Super PACs are a disaster,” he said. “They’re a scam. They cause dishonesty. And you better get rid of them because they are causing a lot of bad decisions to be made by some very good people.”

Republicans who worked on the campaigns against Trump remember the message as particularly devastating, if not especially novel. Alex Conant, who was then the communications director for the presidential campaign of Sen. Marco Rubio (R-Fla.), noted plenty of candidates had tried to run as outsiders taking on the establishment before, but said the tactic was far more effective for a New York real estate developer. “That was his most salient message in 2016,” Conant said. “He was a uniquely good messenger for it, because he was such an outsider, and it also kind of excused all the unconventional stuff — attacking John McCain, attacking Republican Party leaders. A more typical politician, if they were doing that, you would think they were idiots. For him, it was part of what made him so authentic.” In the general election, Trump relied more on outside groups and traditional fundraising than he did during the primary campaign. But as he took on a rival from a second political dynasty ― Democratic nominee Hilary Clinton, who was battling scandals about her email account and a trio of paid speeches she delivered to Goldman Sachs — he still ran as an insurgent.

[...]

‘Always Will Be A Con Man’

Despite his rhetoric, Trump did little to “drain the swamp” upon taking office. He failed to follow through on a promise to divest his business holdings. His hotel quickly became a gathering spot where those hoping to win Trump’s favor could also line his pockets. He appointed lobbyists to key government positions overseeing defense, trade and environmental protection. He took in up to $160 million from international business deals while he was president. “He has and always will be a con man who’s really only looking out for himself and whatever helps him to obtain power,” said Tiffany Muller, the president of the Democratic campaign finance group End Citizens United. “All his promises went out the window. Instead of draining the swamp, he brought the swamp to him and his properties and cashed in.”

Donald Trump and his supporters have long pushed the baseless refrain that “he can’t be bought.”

Well, I have some news that the MAGAdonians don’t like: Trump didn’t drain the swamp but expanded the swamp and has been bought by Super PACs to fulfill their agendas.

#Donald Trump #2024 Presidential Election #2024 Elections #Super PACs #Hillary Clinton #Jeb Bush #Marco Rubio #2016 Presidential Election #2016 Elections

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 year ago

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Pleasure Is My Business: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Summary: You’re brought back to your high school days with this case. You put that behind you when you graduated, but life has a funny way of bringing you closer to the person who made your life miserable back then.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

"The prostitute is not, as feminists claim, the victim of men, but rather their conqueror, an outlaw, who controls the sexual channels between nature and culture." - Camille Paglia

Before you leave for work, you grab the coffee you premade as soon as you wake up. The coffee is right next to your high school reunion invitation. The opened card stares at you whenever you pass by it, begging you to acknowledge it. High school was one of the worst years of your life because not only did kids bully you, but you felt their own pain as your own.

It wasn't fun.

This reunion is in a few days but you're still in Quantico. Looks like you won't get to go, and honestly, you're kind of relieved. Spencer wants you to go and prove to everyone you're this hotshot FBI agent (which you are), but you don't feel like proving to a bunch of people who never gave a fuck about you in the first place.

"Are you gonna go?" Spencer says from behind you.

"We'll, seeing how it's in a few days and we're not in Dallas, I don't think so. It's so stupid because instead of a night, they made it a whole weekend getaway. As if I want to spend more time with them than I have to."

"Maybe you can go to the other one."

All you can do is shrug. You really don't want to get into this right now, plus, you have to get ready for a case Hothc pulled together. Hotch got called to Dallas early in the morning to do a briefing on a case sent by Patrick Jackson, the attorney general.

Hoyt Ashford, a hedge fund manager for a major bank, has turned up dead in a hotel room. Hoyt didn't do too well in the public eye after going on talk shows and talking about how the real estate crisis wasn't a real thing. He posted an apology video about the issue, but once word got out that he died, his lawyers classified it as a suicide.

If you know any better, then that's not true.

According to Hotch, there was Viagra near Hoyt's body. Considering that his wife was at home with the kids, it's safe to assume the prostitute he was with killed him. Something that's confidential and not to be mentioned in any reports is that Hoyt took $10,000 out of a fund in cash. No one saw the prostitute he was with, which isn't surprising since they know how to be discreet. According to Patrick, this is the second murder in Dallas.

You might be able to attend your reunion after all.

"Female serial killers are a fascinating field," Spencer says once everyone is in the air. "We don't have much information on them, but what we do know involves throwing the rules completely out the window. Take the signature, for instance. They don't torture or take trophies because there is no sexual gratification when a woman kills. Murder is the goal. They don't have to do anything extra."

"So, basically, women are more efficient at killing," you half-joke.

"Historically, they have had body counts in the hundreds."

"Assuming that the job is the stressor, what are some of the reasons prostitutes kill their customers?" Hotch asks over the phone.

"Money, drugs, and PTSD. At some point, every call girl, no matter how well paid, gets coerced into an activity she didn't consent to. Aileen Wuornos used to purposefully stage paid sexual encounters as an excuse to murder men she thought would rape her," you explain.

"Wuornos was psychotic and disorganized. I think this girl is poisoning them before she has sex with them."

"She's using Tetramethylenedisulfotetramine. It's a popular rat poison in China which can be easily soluble in alcohol," Spencer explains after reading the files Hotch sent over.

"Poison is the perfect MO. It's quiet, quick, and the victims never see it coming because they think they're getting lucky." Hotch makes an uncertain noise. "Does that mean something to you?"

"These men are paying $10,000 a night for discretion as well as sex. She has a history with them. She didn't decide to kill them at the moment. She walks in with the intent to kill them, and she's doing it before she sleeps with them. She's not just organized, she's also methodical. She decides early which one of her clients is worth killing," Hotch says.

"Maybe the victims all share the same fetish. Both victims were in their fifties, highly visible, and careful of their image. If they were kinky in the same way, they'd go to great lengths to hide it."

"We're facing a corporate culture that'll do everything it can to keep us out."

"Actually, I had some luck there. Hoyt's wife isn't too happy with how he died. She agreed to talk to us but because every silver lining has a dark cloud, the hedge fund released a statement." JJ pulls out her phone to read the statement that was sent to her. "Ashford died peacefully in his home, according to lawyer David Madison.' They're already trying to close ranks."

"Does that language sound familiar to anyone else?" Spencer asks.

"What do you mean?"

"It's the same thing as the murder of the first victim. 'According to the company lawyer, Stanton died peacefully in his home'."

"Y/N and Morgan, start with the wife and see if you can get her to open up. JJ, call the lawyers and tell them I want to meet with both of them."

"You want to play them off each other?"

"I think one of them wrote both press releases. Let's see which one calls us back."

Once you land, you and Derek head over to the Ashford home where Yvonne Ashford is eagerly waiting for you.

"Mrs. Ashford, we're very sorry about your husband," you say.

"I've been getting nothing but condolences all day. I feel like a hypocrite for accepting them, knowing how he died."

"We think your husband might have been targeted because of something sexual he did with this call girl. I know this is hard, but is there anything you can tell us about what he liked?"

"In bed? I can sum it up in one word. Younger."

"How much younger?"

"Twenty-five. That was when I first met him."

"So, your age difference was part of the attraction?"

"Are you kidding? It was the whole relationship."

"Mrs. Ashford, no offense, but your husband spent a lot of money on this woman. Was there anything else at all that he liked from a younger woman besides the ego boost?" Derek asks.

"There's a certain kind of man, Agent, for whom the only kind of sex that matters is the ego boost. In a marriage like ours, you have to work at it or in my husband's case, pay for it."

Your phone rings and you step off to the side when you see Hotch is calling.

"Yeah, Hotch?"

"We got a meeting with a madame that sets meetings up like the one Ashford was in. Spencer is heading over to meet with her. I want you to go with him."

"Sure." You hang up and walk over to Derek. "I got to go. See what else you can find out about Hoyt."

"Yeah."

The madame, Lauren, is hosting an open house where she is able to meet clients discreetly. It's actually pretty smart since people might think they're there for the open house instead of something else entirely.

"This is actually pretty smart," you say when you meet up with Spencer. "Properties like this are safe and an inspection-free investment for large sums of cash."

An older woman walks out of the house with a big smile on her face.

"Well, hello, you two!"

"Are you the--"

"Isn't this neighborhood just fabulous? You're gonna love this house," she cuts your boyfriend off. She escorts you two inside the house for more privacy. "You two need lessons in faking it. I teach a class."

"So, you arrange dates for escorts?" you ask.

"All I arrange are meetings. What happens between two consenting adults when that meeting is over is something I'm not liable for. Now, who wants a scone?" she offers from a platter.

"Listen, we're looking for someone who is a high-end prostitute who takes fees up to ten thousand dollars. She has the intent of killing her clients before having sex with them."

"Oh, yes. We all know about this woman. She's terrible for business."

"I guess there's only so many men that can afford the service you provide, right?"

"Yes, but with the way she's behaving, she's only hurting herself. An escort's client list is the most important investment she has. It's her daily income and her retirement package when she sells the list."

"She's not working with a service then. No madam would allow an escort to kill off the clientele."

"What about the type of work your employees do?" Spencer asks nervously. "We're sort of operating under the assumption that this escort is killing men who make her perform a specific sexual act."

"What did you have in mind, sweetie?" she smirks.

"I... I don't even... I don't know."

"Don't mind him," you giggle. "It's his first time."

"If I may, I think you're looking at this all wrong. Start with this question: why would a man pay a woman five figures?"

"It's not just for sex, is it?"

"Of course, you've got to be good in bed to be successful, but that's the easy part. What men want more than the no strings attached sex is a therapist. Someone who will absorb the worst parts of their personalities."

"They're looking for someone to tell their fears and insecurities to. Everything they can't take home to their wife."

"That's what I groom my girls to do--how to talk to these men and how to listen. Don't get me wrong, deviancy comes with the territory. I can't tell you how many men need to be submissive as an outlet from their extremely stressful jobs. I can tell you that if the sex was the reason she was killing these men, she would have broken long before she charged $10,000."

"It isn't how these men act in bed, it's how they act out of it," Spencer says.

This unsub isn't killing at a specific time because it's whenever her client wants to meet with her. While you've been talking to Lauren, another murder has taken place. You and Spencer leave the open house and immediately head over to an office firm.

Joseph Fielding is found dead inside the elevator, tied to an office chair with X's marked in lipstick on his eyes, and clear tape wrapped around all over his mouth.

"The victim is Joseph Fielding. He was the CFO here," Rossi says when you two get there.

"Was he poisoned?"

"Yes, and staged. She killed him in his office and then rolled him out here to be found."

You walk over to the victim but pause when you see the energy left behind by the unsub. It's blue because the unsub is a female, but you recognize this energy. There are eight billion people in this world with eight billion different base energies. Every single person you've met has their own energy signatures, and you're familiar with this one. Not only have you seen this energy before, you know the person attached to it.

You've met and gotten to know this person before.

"I know this unsub," you say.

"You do?" Hotch asks.

"Yeah, but I can't put a name to it yet. I've definitely seen it sometime in my life."

Hotch gives you time to put a name to the unsub, but for right now, he focuses on what he can see physically.

"The lipstick is new."

"It was done postmortem. Reid said female serial killers don't leave a signature. I think she did that just for us. She's already exposed him at his most vulnerable. Now she wants to be noticed."

There is commotion by the barrier formed by local police by a man trying to get through, which he does eventually.

"Which one of you is Aaron Hotchner?"

"Me."

"I'm Larry Bartlett. I represent Mr. Fielding in Webster Industries."

"This is a closed crime scene, Mr. Bartlett."

"I know. I spoke to Ellen Daniels, and she said you're a very reasonable man."

"Escort him out, please," Hotch says to one of the officers.

"No, wait. Please." The officer tries to grab him, but he doesn't leave right away. "The press is outside and they can smell blood. Is there any way we can handle this discreetly?"

"We're not about to lie for you," Derek says.

"You don't have to lie. Just don't comment."

"Excuse us."

Hotch takes the team off to the side to talk about the benefits of not commenting on the murder. "Is there any reason to go public yet?"

"Validating her is exactly what she wants. If we hold back, she's more likely to make a mistake," you say quietly.

"He doesn't need to know that. We need everything you have on Fielding like bank accounts, tax records, and emails."

"Everything?" Larry asks in uncertainty.

"Everything."

"I'll gather everything and send it in the morning."

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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todaysdocument · 1 year ago

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The Supreme Court ruled that the Defense of Marriage Act was unconstitutional on June 26, 2013.

In U.S. v Windsor, SCOTUS held that the federal government could not discriminate against same-sex couples.

Record Group 267: Records of the Supreme Court of the United States Series: Appellate Jurisdiction Case Files

Transcription:

[Stamped: " FILE COPY "]

(Bench Opinion) OCTOBER TERM, 2012 1 [Handwritten and circled " 1" in upper right-hand corner]

Syllabus

NOTE: Where it is feasible, a syllabus (headnote) will be released, as is

being done in connection with this case, at the time the opinion is issued.

The syllabus constitutes no part of the opinion of the Court but has been

prepared by the Reporter of Decisions for the convenience of the reader.

See United States v. Detroit Timber & Lumber Co., 200 U.S. 321, 337.

SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES

Syllabus

UNITED STATES v. WINDSOR, EXECUTOR OF THE

ESTATE OF SPYER, ET AL.

CERTIORARI TO THE UNITED STATES COURT OF APPEALS FOR

THE SECOND CIRCUIT

No. 12-307. Argued March 27, 2013---Decided June 26, 2013

The State of New York recognizes the marriage of New York residents

Edith Windsor and Thea Spyer, who wed in Ontario, Canada, in

2007. When Spyer died in 2009, she left her entire estate to Windsor.

Windsor sought to claim the federal estate tax exemption for surviv-

ing spouses, but was barred from doing so by §3 of the federal Defense

of Marriage Act (DOMA), which amended the Dictionary Act---a

law providing rules of construction for over 1,000 federal laws and

the whole realm of federal regulations-to define "marriage" and

"spouse" as excluding same-sex partners. Windsor paid $363,053 in

estate taxes and sought a refund, which the Internal Revenue Service

denied. Windsor brought this refund suit, contending that DOMA vi-

olates the principles of equal protection incorporated in the Fifth

Amendment. While the suit was pending, the Attorney General notified

the Speaker of the House of Representatives that the Department

of Justice would no longer defend §3's constitutionality. In re-

sponse, the Bipartisan Legal Advisory Group (BLAG) of the House of

Representatives voted to intervene in the litigation to defend §3's

constitutionality. The District Court permitted the intervention. On

the merits, the court ruled against the United States, finding §3 un-

constitutional and ordering the Treasury to refund Windsor's tax

with interest. The Second Circuit affirmed. The United States has

not complied with the judgment.

Held:

1. This Court has jurisdiction to consider the merits of the case.

This case clearly presented a concrete disagreement between oppos-

ing parties that was suitable for judicial resolution in the District

Court, but the Executive's decision not to defend §3's constitutionali-

[page 2]

2 UNITED STATES v. WINDSOR

Syllabus

ty in court while continuing to deny refunds and assess deficiencies

introduces a complication. Given the Government's concession, ami-

cus contends, once the District Court ordered the refund, the case

should have ended and the appeal been dismissed. But this argu-

ment elides the distinction between Article Ill's jurisdictional re-

quirements and the prudential limits on its exercise, which are "es-

sentially matters of judicial self-governance." Warth v. Seldin, 422

U. S. 490, 500. Here, the United States retains a stake sufficient to

support Article III jurisdiction on appeal and in this Court. The re-

fund it was ordered to pay Windsor is "a real and immediate econom-

ic injury," Hein v. Freedom From Religion Foundation, Inc., 551 U. S.

587, 599, even if the Executive disagrees with §3 of DOMA. Wind-

sor's ongoing claim for funds that the United States refuses to pay

thus establishes a controversy sufficient for Article III jurisdiction.

Cf. INS v. Chadha, 462 U. S. 919.

Prudential considerations, however, demand that there be "con-

crete adverseness which sharpens the presentation of issues upon

which the court so largely depends for illumination of difficult consti-

tutional questions." Baker v. Carr, 369 U. S. 186, 204. Unlike Article

III requirements---which must be satisfied by the parties before judi-

cial consideration is appropriate---prudential factors that counsel

against hearing this case are subject to "countervailing considera-

tions [that] may outweigh the concerns underlying the usual reluc-

tance to exert judicial power." Warth, supra, at 500-501. One such

consideration is the extent to which adversarial presentation of the

issues is ensured by the participation of amici curiae prepared to de-

fend with vigor the legislative act's constitutionality. See Chadha,

supra, at 940. Here, BLAG's substantial adversarial argument for

§3's constitutionality satisfies prudential concerns that otherwise

might counsel against hearing an appeal from a decision with which

the principal parties agree. This conclusion does not mean that it is

appropriate for the Executive as a routine exercise to challenge stat-

utes in court instead of making the case to Congress for amendment

or repeal. But this case is not routine, and BLAG's capable defense

ensures that the prudential issues do not cloud the merits question,

which is of immediate importance to the Federal Government and to

hundreds of thousands of persons. Pp. 5-13.

2. DOMA is unconstitutional as a deprivation of the equal liberty of

persons that is protected by the Fifth Amendment. Pp. 13--26.

(a) By history and tradition the definition and regulation of mar-

riage has been treated as being within the authority and realm of the

separate States. Congress has enacted discrete statutes to regulate

the meaning of marriage in order to further federal policy, but

DOMA, with a directive applicable to over 1,000 federal statues and

[NEW PAGE]

Cite as: 570 U.S._ (2013) 3

Syllabus

the whole realm of federal regulations, has a far greater reach. Its

operation is also directed to a class of persons that the laws of New

York, and of 11 other States, have sought to protect. Assessing the

validity of that intervention requires discussing the historical and

traditional extent of state power and authority over marriage.

Subject to certain constitutional guarantees, see, e.g., Loving v.

Virginia, 388 U.S. 1, "regulation of domestic relations" is "an area

that has long been regarded as a virtually exclusive province of the

States," Sosna v. Iowa, 419 U. S. 393, 404. The significance of state

responsibilities for the definition and regulation of marriage dates to

the Nation's beginning; for "when the Constitution was adopted the

common understanding was that the domestic relations of husband

and wife and parent and child were matters reserved to the States,"

Ohio ex rel. Popovici v. Agler, 280 U. S. 379, 383-384. Marriage laws

may vary from State to State, but they are consistent within each

State.

DOMA rejects this long-established precept. The State's decision

to give this class of persons the right to marry conferred upon them a

dignity and status of immense import. But the Federal Government

uses the state-defined class for the opposite purpose---to impose re-

strictions and disabilities. The question is whether the resulting injury

and indignity is a deprivation of an essential part of the liberty

protected by the Fifth Amendment, since what New York treats as

alike the federal law deems unlike by a law designed to injure the

same class the State seeks to protect. New York's actions were a

proper exercise of its sovereign authority. They reflect both the

community's considered perspective on the historical roots of the in-

stitution of marriage and its evolving understanding of the meaning

of equality. Pp. 13--20.

(b) By seeking to injure the very class New York seeks to protect,

DOMA violates basic due process and equal protection principles ap-

plicable to the Federal Government. The Constitution's guarantee of

equality "must at the very least mean that a bare congressional de-

sire to harm a politically unpopular group cannot" justify disparate

treatment of that group. Department of Agriculture v. Moreno, 413

U. S. 528, 534-535. DOMA cannot survive under these principles.

Its unusual deviation from the tradition of recognizing and accepting

state definitions of marriage operates to deprive same-sex couples of

the benefits and responsibilities that come with federal recognition of

their marriages. This is strong evidence of a law having the purpose

and effect of disapproval of a class recognized and protected by state

law. DOMA's avowed purpose and practical effect are to impose a

disadvantage, a separate status, and so a stigma upon all who enter

into same-sex marriages made lawful by the unquestioned authority

[page 3]

4 UNITED STATES v. WINDSOR

Syllabus

of the States.

DOMA's history of enactment and its own text demonstrate that

interference with the equal dignity of same-sex marriages, conferred

by the States in the exercise of their sovereign power, was more than

an incidental effect of the federal statute. It was its essence. BLAG's

arguments are just as candid about the congressional purpose.

DOMA's operation in practice confirms this purpose. It frustrates

New York's objective of eliminating inequality by writing inequality

into the entire United States Code.

DOMA's principal effect is to identify and make unequal a subset of

state-sanctioned marriages. It contrives to deprive some couples

married under the laws of their State, but not others, of both rights

and responsibilities, creating two contradictory marriage regimes

within the same State. It also forces same-sex couples to live as mar-

ried for the purpose of state law but unmarried for the purpose of

federal law, thus diminishing the stability and predictability of basic

personal relations the State has found it proper to acknowledge and

protect. Pp. 20-26.

699 F. 3d 169, affirmed.

KENNEDY, J., delivered the opinion of the Court, in which GINSBURG,

BREYER, SOTOMAYOR, and KAGAN, JJ., joined. ROBERTS, C. J., filed a

dissenting opinion. SCALIA, J., filed a dissenting opinion, in which

THOMAS, J., joined, and in which ROBERTS, C. J., joined as to Part I.

ALITO, J., filed a dissenting opinion, in which THOMAS, J., joined as to

Parts II and III.

[NEW PAGE]

Cite as: 570 U. S. _ (2013) 1

Opinion of the Court

NOTICE: This opinion is subject to formal revision before publication in the

preliminary print of the United States Reports. Readers are requested to

notify the Reporter of Decisions, Supreme Court of the United States, Washington,

D. C. 20543, of any typographical or other formal errors, in order

that corrections may be made before the preliminary print goes to press.

SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES

No. 12-307

UNITED STATES, PETITIONER v. EDITH SCHLAIN

WINDSOR, IN HER CAPACITY AS EXECUTOR OF THE

ESTATE OF THEA CLARA SPYER, ET AL.

ON WRIT OF CERTIORARI TO THE UNITED STATES COURT OF

APPEALS FOR THE SECOND CIRCUIT

[June 26, 2013]

JUSTICE KENNEDY delivered the opinion of the Court.

Two women then resident in New York were married

in a lawful ceremony in Ontario, Canada, in 2007. Edith

Windsor and Thea Spyer returned to their home in New

York City. When Spyer died in 2009, she left her entire

estate to Windsor. Windsor sought to claim the estate tax

exemption for surviving spouses. She was barred from

doing so, however, by a federal law, the Defense of Mar-

riage Act, which excludes a same-sex partner from the

definition of "spouse" as that term is used in federal stat-

utes. Windsor paid the taxes but filed suit to challenge

the constitutionality of this provision. The United States

District Court and the Court of Appeals ruled that this

portion of the statute is unconstitutional and ordered the

United States to pay Windsor a refund. This Court granted

certiorari and now affirms the judgment in Windsor's

favor.

In 1996, as some States were beginning to consider the

concept of same-sex marriage, see, e.g., Baehr v. Lewin, 74

#archivesgov #June 26 #2013 #2010s #Pride #LGBTQ+#LGBTQ+ history #U.S. v Windsor #Defense of Marriage Act #same-sex marriage #Supreme Court #SCOTUS

145 notes · View notes

sixofpomegranates · 2 years ago

Text

☠︎ Girlfriend ☠︎

Request: A Part 2 to "Tutor"

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Carver!Fem!Reader

A/N: Ignore that Silence of the Lambs was published in '88.

CW: Smut, Fluff, Angst 18+| [y/n]'s Mother (Family Secrets/Misogyny/Rich Family/Unhappy Marriage/Unplanned Pregnancy) Mentions of Forced Date, Self-Deprecation, Feeling of not being good enough, Secret Relationship, Wayne being our #1 Dad, Smut~ Penetrative Sex (Unprotected, Creampie, Semi-Public)

"Sooo... Girls' night has officially started," Robin announces as the Wheelers leave and reveals the whiskey she stole from her dad's liquor cabinet.

Steve looks up from the graduation cap Nancy makes him hold so she can glue down the white lace she wants on it. "Hey," he cries, hating that he technically is one of the girls.

Robin rolls her eye. "Girls' night with Steve," she corrects herself sarcastically.

Steve ignores the tone, simply giving a satisfied, "Thank you."

Both take a sip of whiskey, grimacing their faces, while I glue the last and final red rhinestone on the devil's skin, which lurks maniacally on Eddie's cap. He hasn't written his test yet, but as I told him, I am certain he'll graduate.

"Eddie will love that," Nancy tells me, and I grin.

"You think?" I ask, looking down at Mike's Hellfire Club shirt one last time to make sure I copied everything correctly. It looks good, the devil, full of red rhinestones, is surrounded by spikes on the edges and a silver '86 on the side, and the black tassel comes from his mouth like a hellish tongue.

Robin cackles, "Are you crazy? The graduation cap looks like it's straight from his brain."

"Because it kind of is," I laugh, taking a sip of the vile liquor that burns in my throat.

"So, you are a couple now?" Steve asks, still confused over the whole secretive concept Eddie and I have going on at the moment.

"Kind of," I reply, making him raise his eyebrows.

"What's a kind-of-couple?"

I sigh, annoyed over the last two weeks - the first two of our relationship - having been nothing but hide and seek, little notes in my locker, mixtapes delivered to me by Dustin, and staying as far away from each other as possible.

"We like each other a lot. We see and want a future together, but we'll have to wait until we graduate because my family believes the devil possesses him," I explain as casually as possible.

"Well, I wish that would be the strangest thing I've ever heard," Nancy mutters, empathetic. "Have you made up a plan for after graduation?"

I nod. "I'll move out, and I already have found a store I'm interested in renting."

"Where are you going to live? I can always ask my parents to let you stay with us," my best friend asks sweetly, but I decline.

"Thanks, Robin. But I think I'll buy a house a little outside of Hawkins, closer to the store."

Steve raises his brows, "You have that kind of money?"

"Yes, it's a generous trust fund. A small house is affordable," I explain as if mine and Steve's dad haven't been business partners for over a decade now.

"Especially since after the earthquake, the real estate prices dropped to an all-time low," Nancy jokes, taking a sip of soda to flush down the taste of whiskey.

"So, no better time to buy a house," Robin joins in. "Except if Vecna comes back and decides to continue his mandala of terror."

We share a look, knowing it's inevitable that it will happen at one point in time, yet I shrug. "Hey, I'm going to enjoy my life to the fullest until he returns."

Nancy's hand brushes over my shoulder, signing her support, then she shows us her finished cap.

As she puts it aside, Steve asks teasingly in his most girlish voice, "Are we now painting our toenails?"

"Who invited you?" Robin exclaims, annoyed but chuckling, and throws a pillow at him.

As they bicker, a very clear yelp from outside the bedroom catches my attention.

"What was that?" I ask Nancy, who answers suspiciously fast.

"That's Mike and the boys."

Another annoyed row of curses follows, making me state, "That sounded like Eddie." As nobody answers, I stare at the most guilty looking of them. "Nance."

"They help him study," she replies, and I feel my heart starting to beat faster.

"So, he's here, and you didn't tell me?" I ask.

Robin shrugs, "It's Girls' Night, and he asked us not to tell you."

I jump off the bed, graduation cap in my hand, and leave the room. Stopping by Mike's room, I watch them through the small gap they've left the door open.

"Last chance, Eddie," Dustin announces, standing before the chair my boyfriend sits on.

From a paper handed to him by Mike, he reads, "Antacids and antiallergic drugs interfere with the function of histamines but do not interfere with the function of each other. Explain."

Eddie's hair is wet and slicked back; Erica stands beside him, a water gun pointing in his direction.

"The-" he starts, but the armed girl soaks him in water. "What the fuck?"

"Erica, he was about to answer," Mike tells her, being quickly shut up by her.

"He was too slow."

"I hate you, little shits," he tells them, brushing his wet bangs from his face.

"Answer," Erica demands, the neon green gun pointed at his face again.

"They do not interfere with the functioning of each other because they work on different receptors in the body. Histamine stimulates the secretion of pepsin and hydrochloric acid in the stomach. The drug cimetidine was designed to prevent the interaction of histamine with the receptors present in the stomach wall. This results in the release of fewer amounts of acid. Antacid and antiallergic drugs work on different receptors."

"Mike?" Dustin asks, having him nod.

"He's right."

A triumphant laugh escapes Eddie, making my heart swell with love. I knew he could do it if he tried hard enough.

"Great, can we take a break?" he asks, hopeful, but Erica shakes her head.

"No."

"C'mon," he whines, and I decide to intervene.

"Hey," I greet them, knocking on the door. "Would you mind if I borrow Eddie for a while?"

My eyes meet his brown ones, and I can swear they sparkle as he realizes I am actually here. If his heart beats as fast from excitement as mine?

"Five minutes, else his dumbass brain resets itself," Erica allows, putting the water gun down.

Eddie uses the opportunity and bolts out of the room, past me, and down the stairs.

"What did he pay you?" I ask the kids.

Dustin grins excitedly. "He bought us the new Atari 7800."

I raise my eyebrows, "And you Super Soaker him for getting answers wrong?"

"Four minutes," Erica announces, and I quickly lift my hands in surrender.

"Kay." She has a bright future ahead of her, that bossy little girl.

I follow Eddie down the stairs, finding him on the porch, a cigarette in his mouth.

"I love kissing smokers," I announce jokingly, making him turn to me and pull me against his chest.

"Sorry, Sweetheart. They're really pushing me in there."

"I know, saw it," I giggle, running a hand through his wet curls.

Flicking the butt of his cigarette away, he cups my cheeks. "Jesus, I missed you," he announces before bringing our lips together. The taste of cigarettes is overpowered by his own, so I don't feel bothered by it as I melt into the kiss.

His hands wander to my waist as he deepens the kiss. "Eddie," I giggle, but he doesn't stop, instead moving down to my neck.

"Eddie," I breathe again, weakly. "I got something for you."

He instantly stops, curious puppy eyes staring me down. I reveal the graduation cap I had hidden behind my back, and he takes it, holding it to the porch light.

"That's... You made that for me?" He asks, baffled. I nod, having him truly touched. "You're that sure I'll graduate?"

As I nod, he pulls me into another kiss, this one being less lusting and more... More.

As he pulls away, he whispers against my lips, "I need to go back in. Still have a few notes I need to go over."

"If you need a break, Nancy, Robin, Steve, and I are having a Girls' Night," I offer, making him place a kiss on my forehead.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," he tells me. "I'll see you when we graduate, but keep Dustin's walkie-talkie on just in case I'll get lonely and need to hear your voice."

We haven't used them yet, but Dustin — our number one supporter — has lent us his walkie-talkies. It's cute and a valuable thing to have since we can't exactly just call each other.

I follow Eddie inside, surprised by how determent he can be. "Eddie?" He stops on the stairs, looking down at me. "If given the choice, house or trailer?"

He chuckles, "Can't afford either."

As I give him a serious look since we both know I can afford both for us, he sighs, telling me smiling, "I'd follow you wherever your heart takes you."

And as if he knows it can't get any more romantic, he leaves me there before the moment is ruined, returning to his study circle of hell.

*****

Cursing, I slam the door behind me. This has to be a sick joke.

My father just announced that his old friend from college and his son are here for a visit. Directly followed by the boy's resume and the information that I will be going out with him for dinner next Tuesday.

Matt is a rich jock, of course, from an old money family and has a family line cleaner than the operating table of the nearby hospital.

He is also exactly what my family wants from me, and therefore, Dad didn't even give me a chance to say no.

No. He said this was an essential step for my future, and if we'd get along, there would stand nothing in the way of further arrangements.

I feel like cattle about to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

I feel trapped in the current situation.

It knocks on the door, and although I – loud and clearly – say no, my mother comes in. She holds a silver foiled Pop-Tart – I know she hates when I eat them – as a peace offering in her perfectly manicured hands.

"Hun," she says, sitting beside me on the mattress. "Your dad didn't mean to upset you. He just really wants you to have a husband that can offer you something."

"I'm eighteen. I don't want to think about getting married just yet."

Mom nods, her eyes focused on the shiny foil in her hands. "I know you think this is ridiculous now, but your teenage years are over quicker than you think, and then you're expected to fit into society seamlessly. You have a family name and legacy to protect. It would help if you'd trust your father more. He knows what's best."

I sit up, feeling like she's messing with me, sounding like a broken record that always tells me what I, as a Carver, am expected to be and do. "I don't wanna go on a date with this guy, but Dad forces me to because he'll benefit from me being with a son of a wealthy friend. That isn't thinking about what's best for me, Mom."

After a few seconds of deafening silence, she looks up from the Pop-Tarts. "You're still seeing the Munson boy, aren't you?" she asks calmly, knowing.

I quickly shake my head. I didn't even dare to look at Eddie anymore, just out of fear we'd get caught. "N-No. Dad said I wasn't allowed to, so I dumped him."

I sound convincing. I trained myself to sound like that. The words are clean and painful to think about, but I am so convincing.

They always say that you can't lie to your mother. She's supposed to be the person knowing you best, having loved and raised you. I never thought my mom knew me enough to keep up with that saying... Yet, her eyes fill with shock and worry the second the lie leaves my mouth.

"[y/n]. Your father will be furious."

"About what?" I ask her. "You want me to call him? I bet you ten bucks he's at some stupid party or has another girl over right now."

I recall the fact that I know Eddie would pick up, that he doesn't like parties, and that he wouldn't cheat on me. I don't like having to sound so convincing. I am messing with my own mind doing it.

Mom sighs. "This might've fooled your father, young lady, but not me. You have to break things up with this boy. [y/n], I beg of you to be reasonable here. You know this family will never approve of him. They will disown you, shun you..."

I shrug. "So? There's worse than having to pass on Thanksgiving dinners with a family that thrived for generations of exploiting others and yet still acts as though they worked for their wealth."

"[y/n]," she sighs. "Sometimes it's about what's best for your family."

"So my family benefits from me being miserable? Sounds like a shitty family to me," I scoff.

"How do you think I would feel if your grandparents would announce your exclusion from the family? Do you think they would ever let me see you again? I wouldn't be able to go to your wedding or meet my grandchildren."

"Mom, this family isn't the mafia. We could still see each other..."

"We both know you're not stupid enough to actually believe this. Think of your Aunt Sweety."

My father's younger sister, Mary Louise Carver, mostly known as Sweety (a hint toward her sweet nature), met the love of her life when she was eighteen. The boy (born to immigrant parents) had come from a broken, financially unstable family and was working odd jobs to support himself.

Sweety decided to marry him, not caring about what our family said.

The scandal had shaken our entire family, I had only been five, but I still remember the Sunday night dinners ending in screaming and tears.

The Carver family line is as clean and purebred as could be. We have lives planned for us, expectations and traditions to fulfill that have come with us on the Mayflower... We're not allowed to pair with the common folk.

Disowned and shunned, my aunt carried on and married her boyfriend. The last time we heard from her, she'd moved overseas.

On family celebrations, we're not allowed to bring up her name; there are no pictures of her found anywhere in our houses; when an old family friend (unaware of the drama) asks about her, we pretend she's dead.

When it comes to the Carvers, Mary Louise doesn't exist.

God, fuck, we have an awful family. Even if I like to pretend that my family life wouldn't change by choosing Eddie, my mom's stressed-out face gives me a very needed but heavily unwanted reality check.

"If our family is as bad, why did you marry Dad?"

I know how Grandma treats Mom. She always makes sure to let her know that she isn't a Carver and isn't a welcomed person in our bloodline. I can't see how anyone would ever choose to be part of this family.

Love makes you do crazy things, but love isn't even in the top ten words I'd use to describe my parent's relationship.

My mother quickly shrugs off my question. "Different situations."

I cock my head, watching her focus painfully hard on the Pop-Tarts. "How so?"

She swallows harshly, forcing herself to smile. "As I told you before, bad boys have the ability to ruin your life."

My mother and I were never close. She genuinely tried but couldn't fully connect with me. And once I was older, we were simply too different.

The way she played the role of the happy, rich housewife, although she needed to take uppers every morning just so she could get out of bed, was common knowledge in our family.

When I was little, Jason spent enough time at our house that he'd even developed a system that was planned to prevent me from seeing her fight with my dad, pop her uppers, or have her breakdowns.

My mother isn't happy.

And the longer I think about it, her words, my age, a very clear image paints itself for me.

"Mom, were you–"

She nods, interrupting me. "Three months pregnant when I married your father? Yes."

"So you married him out of obligation."

Pressing her lips together, she says, "His family was very clear about what they thought of the idea of having a grandchild born out of wedlock. There weren't many options given to me, so I took the most beneficial one for all three of us."

Oh, do things now make sense. "You married Dad because of me."

"Oh, now don't look so sad, [y/n]," she smiles her fake smile; I assume this mask gives her comfort. "I have a beautiful life, and I wouldn't change it for anything. I have a hard-working husband providing for his family and a beautiful, intelligent daughter; I get to keep up the family's values, and I never have to worry about money..."

... And you take pills and cry to yourself every day. Having money doesn't sound like it's worth it.

"It's the '80s, Mom," I tell her carefully. "Money isn't everything, and I definitely don't care if you divorce Dad to start over or not. You'd still be my mom."

Shaking her head and wiping away an uncried tear, she shuts me out again. "[y/n], I am not going to take life advice from an eighteen-year-old child. I am in the place and life I created for myself, and I am very happy," she lectures me.

After handing me the Pop-Tart, her eyes become a little sifter again. "Please just go on this date with Matt and think about all the possibilities a marriage to him could offer you in comparison to marrying trailer trash. If not for yourself, do it for me."

Tired of the conversation, I nod. "Kay."

I wait until Mom's outside, lock the door behind her, and fetch one of the shoe cartons from under the bed. Opening it, I push away my old Metallica shirt and grab Dustin's walkie-talkie.

He gave it to me, saying that Eddie has the other and should we ever want to talk, we could do it over the walkie-talkies. Keeping up an appearance, Eddie agreed not to pick up the phone should I call or pretend not to want to speak to me.

"Eddie," I ask quietly, turning on some music. "Eddie, are you there?"

I wait shortly, having him answer happily, "Hey, Sweetheart. I thought I'd be the one caving in first. Is everything okay? Miss me?"

I decide to tell him about my date. I refuse to be as toxic as the rest of my family, yet, I dread his response. Eddie deserves better than having his girlfriend go out with somebody else. We haven't even had our first date yet.

"I- I need to tell you something you won't like," I say.

"Okay?" he answered, confused.

"I need you to know that it means nothing to me, and I solely do it because I can't get out of it, so please don't read anything into it, okay?"

Clearing his throat, Eddie becomes more serious. "Okay? You're getting me a little worried over here. What's wrong, Baby?"

Biting the bullet, I blurt out, "My dad makes me go on a date with the son of a friend of his."

I wait for an answer, but there is none.

"Eddie, are you still there?"

"Uh-huh," he answers coldly. "Why did you tell me that?"

I frown. "Because you're my boyfriend, and I didn't want to keep it from you and have it look like a bigger deal than it actually is."

"It's a gigantic deal, actually," he tells me, irritated.

"It's just dinner with some jock-"

I am interrupted by Eddie's hurt rambling, build-up anger I didn't know he held coming forward. "No. It's a fucking date you go on with some other dude while I – as your boyfriend – am not even allowed to look at you. That jock gets to take you out and be seen with you while I get nothing."

"Eddie–"

"Don't go," he says quicker than I can find calming words.

"What?" I ask, taken by surprise.

He repeats himself. "I don't want you to go."

"It's not exactly like I have a choice."

"Bullshit. You always have a choice. You're not a fucking piece of meat," Eddie scoffs.

It's something so basic, but I love him for believing that I truly have a choice.

"Eddie, I have to because my dad told me to. I am not interested in the guy, but it is what it is. After dinner, he'll drop me off at home, and that's it," I say, hearing him sigh emotionally.

His emotions are so delicate underneath all of his freak armor.

"I know this is all upsetting for you," I tell him. "But it is only until we graduate, and I'm out of here. The second I have my diploma, I promise I will make sure everyone in Hawkins knows I'm Eddie Munson's girlfriend. Gonna have it printed in the newspaper and on flyers. But I need you to trust me until then."

I really am not eager to meet this guy. I have all my horses set on Eddie, on us.

"It's not about trusting you..." he admits. "Just don't want you to see how much better you can do. What if that guy's some fucking prince charming, and you realize that's what you actually want, and I was just a phase of teenage rebellion?"

A giggle escapes me. "Eddie, you are not a phase. I wanted to be with you for years, and now that I got you're not getting rid of me again. I am not rethinking our plans—not even for a second."

"You sure?" he asks.

"Absolutely," I assure him.

He seems to think for a few seconds, and I just wish I could see his cheeky grin as he asks, "So forever?"

"I'd say till death do us part, but-"

He interrupts me with a burst of giddy energy. "Death can go fuck itself. I'll still hold your hand when I'm a freaking ghost rotting in my forever box. I'm actually thinking of getting a shared casket so we can rot together."

"Romantic," I giggle sarcastically, having him agree.

"Totally metal."

"Makes death metal get a whole new meaning, huh?"

We share a well-needed laugh.

"Gotta love that my girl makes jokes like that," Eddie chuckles.

"So I'm still your girlfriend?" I ask, glad that we're already acting healthier and more mature than my parents.

"You crazy? That was never up for debate," he assures me. "I'm as loyal as a dog. Unless you decide against it, we're forever."

"So, should I start writing [y/n] Munson on all my binders? I think I'm a little too old for that," I tease, still thinking of doing it anyway, feeling like a thirteen-year-old again.

"Lucky for you, I never grew out of that age; my options just got more advanced. I'm gonna ink it all over my body, permanently. Like a deal with the devil."

Having my name permanently marked on Eddie's body does sound nice...

"Hey, [y/n]?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna tell you something, but you're not allowed to reply to it over the walkie-talkie, okay? Wanna hear it in person for the first time."

For towing my brows, I agree. "Okay? What is it?"

"I love you. Can't even think of a day I didn't, which makes me kind of stupid but also stupidly lucky 'cause I never want there to be a day without that feeling."

He says it so casually, yet honestly. I am overwhelmed and want to answer him and tell him I love him too, but as he requested, I'll wait until I get to see him again.

"In other news," Eddie chuckles. "I just finished a new campaign for Hellfire. The guys will both love and hate me, and I can't wait to see where the journey will take them."

"Wanna tell me about it?"

"You actually wanna hear about it, or are you being nice 'cause I'm good in bed?" he jokes.

"So full of yourself," I snicker. "Now tell me."

I get comfortable on my bed and hear Eddie clearing his throat, starting to talk, "Okay. So I actually wrote some lore I made up; I'll have to tell you about first: Centuries ago, the old gods were still reigning over the human kinds..."

*****

You just got to appreciate the irony of having my father set up a date for me to prove I can do better than Eddie Munson, and it just hardening my decision to spend the rest of my days as the freak's girl.

"So, you're going to Yale?" I ask after the seventh time that Matt flirts with the poor waitress, gawking at her ass.

"Yeah," he answers, looking around bored. He looks me up and down. "Look, I'm gonna cut this short: Am I getting something tonight?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Sex," he clarifies, poking his pasta – the one he sent back three times. "I mean, like, you're not my type, but like... If the night ends in the back of my car anyway, we can skip this shit dinner."

Yes, this "date" is a step back for women's rights.

"I don't think we will," I tell Matt, and he shrugs.

"Yeah, kinda thought you were a prude."

I just nod. Fuck that. At this point, I don't even care for anything other than this date being over. Let that guy think whatever he wants.

"Is there any place around here where I can go for a beer?" he asks me, pulling me from my thoughts.

"You're underaged," I tell him loudly as some people have heard his previous question and start talking. We all drink secretly every once in a while, but rich-guy here doesn't seem to care for making it a secret.

Matt sighs, annoyed. "Fuck me. You're a buzz kill, huh?"

I think for a second. It's Tuesday, and suddenly, I know the perfect way to end the night. "Actually, there is this place called The Hideout. They play rock and metal, all in all, a rougher crowd, and usually, they don't check IDs there. We can drive there; I'll lead the way."

Throwing a couple of dollar bills on the table, he stands up. "You sound eager," he notes, putting on his jacket as I do the same. "Your boyfriend's there, right?"

"I don't have a boyfriend," I quickly answer, running after him, toward his car.

Matt chuckles as we get in. "Bullshit. You're dad told my dad you were running around with a punk."

"Metalhead," I correct him quicker than I can stop myself, knowing that Eddie would lose it being confused with punks.

"Ha," Matt quips back.

"Fuck."

Driving out of the parking lot, he sighs. "So, that's why you don't wanna fuck. Has nothing to do with you being a prude or with my looks, huh?"

I internally cringe as he rests his hand on my thigh, but my tone stays friendly. "No, absolutely not," I say, making him smile smugly. "You're an absolute heartthrob; every girl would be happy to be with you.

"But the last time that Eddie – my boyfriend – found out a guy flirted with me..." I remove his hand from my leg, sighing. "Poor guy, they haven't found him since. All I know is that Eddie ate his liver with fava beans and Dad's nice chianti."

Matt sucks in a breath, "Shit, really?"

I blink at him innocently, "I have no reason to lie to you, now, do I?"

"That is absolutely terrifying. Do- Is there anything that I can do to help you?"

Never read "Silence of the Lambs" and realize that you're a little stupid...

"That is so sweet of you," I tell Matt, laying a hand on my heart, "but please only worry about yourself. This date is already more danger than I'd like you to be in."

He swallows nervously, nodding. "Okay."

"We have to go right after the next fire hydrant."

Fair to say, I think I terrified Matt enough to keep his hands to himself. I would even feel a little bad if he wouldn't have been an insufferable asshat.

The second we're at The Hideout, loud music fills my ears, and Eddie's obnoxiously loud voice makes my heart beat faster. We hurry inside, Matt quick to leave my side, no longer caring if we lose each other in the crowd.

Through all the shit Eddie went through with these false accusations, his story really provided Corroded Coffin with their shot. The knowledge of the lead singer and guitarist being accused of murder, and satanism, being called a freak for minor things like music and the love for fantasy games really resonated with outcasts throughout America.

He is one of them. His story and hardships could easily be theirs.

The crowd loves the band. The cheap, handmade merch – t-shirts and cassette tapes – is already sold out, The Hideout has a tapestry with their name nailed to one of the walls, right next to tons of different biker trinkets.

I make my way to the bar and get myself a beer. Grabbing a stool the second it becomes available, I just sit there and watch my boyfriend and his band perform.

Half an hour later, Eddie thanks the unholy amount of people cheering for them for coming. His eyes scan the crowd and land on me. Instantly his smile becomes wider, eyes glistening in the spotlights he deserves to stand in.

I stay seated until the fans got their chance to swamp the boys, and when Corroded Coffin starts dragging their things outside, I follow swiftly through the back exit.

The cold air bites my skin while I watch Eddie and Gareth lift the drums in the back of the van. When the instruments are gone and he wishes his friends goodbye, Eddie finally notices me. With one hand moving through his sweaty mane, he tries to fix his deliciously disheveled appearance as he approaches me.

"Hey, baby," he says so softly it is almost a whisper. "What are you doing here?"

His hands grab my waist as he tilts his head and lovingly pecks my lips.

"The jock needed a beer after I friendly declined his offer to fuck him on the backseat... and I just couldn't stop thinking of you."

Eddie nods, approving, a smug grin on his lips. "So, two birds with one stone."

"I also told him you're Hannibal Lecter, so he'd keep his hands to himself."

Kissing me again, Eddie nips at my jaw, making his way down to my neck. "I'm honored you believe I know how to cook, let alone have a doctor title."

I giggle, letting him spin us around and back me against the side of his van.

"Missed you," I mumble into the feeling of a hickey being placed right behind my ear.

"Missed you more," Eddie purrs, hands grabbing my flesh so harshly, I just know he's bruising it. "Mind if we take this further, Sweetheart? Need you."

He pulls himself away from me; arm stretched out above my head to keep him up, so he can look at me. I run my tongue over my bottom lip as I stare at his naked torso, only covered by his leather jacket.

My appreciation and unholy thoughts for my perfect boyfriend stop abruptly as I see the new ink decorating his skin. On his chest, right across the bloody demon head and the spider, there's my name.

I lift my hand, pulling the jacket away to get a better look at it. Yes, my name.

"Like it, sweet girl?" he asks genuinely, but with his boyish grin, already knowing my answer.

I carefully trace the tattoo with my fingertips; it's not fully healed yet.

"Eddie..." I whisper, the feeling of possessive lust and love bubbling over, "Fuck me."

He chuckles darkly, "Whatever you want, baby."

His lips crash down onto mine, this time not caring to be gentle. His tongue glides over my bottom lip, entering my mouth the second I moan as he cups me through my panties.

My nails dig into his leathered forearms as I pull myself closer, making sure to give him enough pressure as he grinds his clothed erection against my thigh while rubbing my clit through my underwear.

As Eddie pulls himself from me, a shaky breath escapes him. "Shit, okay." He looks around and then grins at me while opening his black jeans. "Nobody comes here, promise. It's the band exit."

I barely get to nod as his lips are on mine again in a heartbeat. He hoists up my left leg, and I wrap it around his waist, feeling him almost rip my panties as he moves them out of the way and enters me quickly and entirely.

We moan into each other's mouths, then giggle idiotically, yet greedily we begin moving against each other, rocking the van behind us as we fall into a harsh and deep rhythm.

The almost painful stretching makes me rest my head against the van. Only the moonlight makes it possible for me to see Eddie's face. I don't think I ever felt as much adoration for anyone before, and I surely know that nobody ever looked at me like Eddie does.

It's a mixture of deep, unconditional love and animalistic wanting.

It's frightening, yet safe.

It's familiar, yet new altogether.

I whimper loudly as Eddie hoists my leg even higher. Solely his grip on my leg and waist and the van behind me keep me from falling.

This new position not only makes my spine tingle from the adrenaline rush of practically hanging in the air but also allows Eddie's pelvis to grind against my clit.

Having to keep quiet while my body erupts with pleasure is horrible, but being caught in this position would be even worse.

Eddie clenches his jaw, looking down at me. "Fuck, I don't think I can last much longer," he grunts. "How close are you, Sweetheart?"

"So close," I moan, the sensation of approaching bliss having me chase it frantically, "so, so close. Please don't stop."

Keeping up with his harsh thrusts, the tip of his cock suddenly hits the perfect spot, the one that has me see stars, and I unexpectedly fall apart, coming with a loud, lewd moan as my legs start shaking.

I would worry about the fact that I was definitely heard, but Eddie clouds all of my senses and all of my judgment. He moans and groans, throwing his head back and exposing his from sweat glistening neck, and as he fills me with his cum, his fist hits the van behind me, curses leaving his mouth.

For the moments we need to collect ourselves after that, I don't care if we're getting caught or what it looks like... not like there is any way to misunderstand the position we're in.

Eddie leans close, kissing me sweetly. Hand on my back, he helps me stand on my own as he swiftly pulls out and tucks himself away.

"You are ethereal," he mumbles against my lips, accentuating every word of his with a kiss. "Perfect. Beautiful. Love you."

Leaning against the cold van, I hold onto Eddie's leather jacket, making sure he stays close. Thankfully, touch is one of his love languages, and he happily obliges.

"Did that idiot at least take you out for dinner? Did you eat something?"

I shake my head. "We ate at a restaurant, but I was too busy apologizing for his shitty behavior toward the waitress."

"Want me to take you for burger and fries? Gonna take you home after. Don't want you to get driven home by that jock when he's in there getting drunk."

"That sounds good."

He grins. "Good? Yeah, baby?"

I nod excitedly. "Very, very good."

Eddie kisses me again, taking my hand and walking me to the passenger seat, where he opens the door for me. As he joins me in the car, he starts it, turning the stereo down quickly.

"We can listen to music," I tell him as he leaves the parking lot of The Hideout, and his hand sneaks onto my thigh.

"Rather talk to you," he replies, squeezing my leg gently. "Thought you'd like to know that I told Uncle Wayne about us."

I look at him, surprised. "You did?"

He nods. "Hope that's okay," he says, almost embarrassed.

"Of course it is. I- I'm just- I like that you told him."

"You do?"

"Yes. He's... You're close," I say, sad that I can't tell my family about Eddie and how happy he makes me.

Eddie grins. "He's my dad. Like, not actually, 'cause he's my uncle, but he's my dad."

"I hope he likes me," I whisper nervously.

"Want me to tell you how it went?"

I nod, making him lick his lips before setting the scene and carrying me through the relationship he has with his uncle. How Wayne is glad he is happy, how he's concerned because I'm a Carver. How I, indeed, made a good first impression and an even better second one when I stood up against my drunk cousin.

Eddie certainly tends to overshare, the story is filled with snippets of his parents' relationship and how Wayne is Eddie's number-one supporter.

*****

Graduation. Finally.

I've never felt freer than today. After today, a new life is starting for me. I don't even mind the overpriced dress mom put me in.

As Jason and I take our diplomas – technically, the placeholders handed to us for the ceremony – we are surrounded by our family, taking dozens of overly professional photos.

I can excuse myself as I see Eddie standing in line for his diploma. Wearing his black robe and the graduation robe I made for him, he plays with his rings nervously.

Joining my friends and Eddie's uncle, I exclaim, "He made it?"

For surprise and 'safety' reasons, the Hellfire Club had left me in the dark until today. I hated every day since the test, but now seeing Eddie in his robe; I feel proud enough to forget the worry that he might hadn't made it.

That's my boy up there... – standing next to me, Wayne lays a hand on my shoulder – ...Well, our boy.

"I knew he could do it," Wayne tells me, taking out his camera and starting to take photos.

"Edward Munson."

As his name is loudly announced, we cheer and scream his name excitedly. A moment passes while Eddie takes his diploma, and I wonder if he is seriously going to flip our former principal the bird.

But instead, he looks at us, looks at me. And in a burst of his chaotic, uncontrollable energy, he jumps down the podium and runs up to me.

"I did it," he screams loudly, bumping against me and hugging me tightly.

"You did it," I reply, giggling.

"I feel so smart. I bet I could fight God."

Lifting a hand to his chest, I snicker warningly, "Now, don't be crazy."

He chuckles at his own silliness before kissing me, only pulling away when Wayne clears his throat.

"Son," he calls, Eddie quickly walking over to him.

"I did it," the metalhead tells his uncle, holding up his diploma.

Wayne nods. "Always knew you would make it. I'm so proud of you."

They hug, both men clearly not as tough as they present to be.

"Give me your camera," I tell Wayne, taking a photo of them... Two photos since Eddie insisted on going the devil horns and pulling a grimace in the first one.

In return, Wayne insists on taking a photo of his nephew and me. This one is adorable; I already know it as Eddie wraps his arms around my waist, hugging me sweetly from behind. It's like compensation for having missed out on prom.

I see my parents looking for me, their appearance as proper as always. Mine and my mother's gazes meet, her face turning into something terrified as she sees who I am standing next to.

"Come," I say, taking Eddie's hand and walking to my family, Wayne following behind us.

"Mom? Dad?" I say to ensure I have their attention. "Those are my boyfriend Eddie and his uncle Wayne."

My father plays it cool, stepping before my mom. "Mr. Munson. Edward," he greets them, shaking their hands.

Then his cold stare meets me. "If you'd excuse us for a moment?" he tells Eddie and Wayne without as much as to even look at them again, then he grabs my arm and pulls me aside.

"[y/n], is this a joke?" my father asks angrily. "These people-"

I finish his sentence for him, "Are my boyfriend and his uncle."

He huffs angrily, my mother staying quiet. "We talked about this."

"No. You talked, and I was supposed to stay quiet and do what you want," I retort. "I will not stay away from Eddie, and you both will have to get over it."

"You can do so much better-"

I interrupt my father, unsure if Eddie hears us or not, "Stop that. I am sorry you are unhappy with my choice, but I love Eddie, and I will not have you talk about him like that. I want you to make an effort to get to know him."

The angry vein on my father's forehead pops out. "[y/n], I will not have you turn our family's name into a joke," he growls, infuriated. "It is him or us."

"What?" I ask, baffled, my mother's eyes becoming wide with shock, yet she stays silent like the good little wife she is expected to be.

"If you choose this boy, your mother and I don't want to have anything to do with you," Dad repeats himself, Mom whispering his name but falling silent as he lifts his hand, forbidding her to speak.

He is protecting the family's reputation at all costs. Right, because this is all that was ever important to my father, our reputation.

"Wow, thank you for making this decision so easy for me, Dad," I tell him sarcastically, swallowing tears as I see some rolling down my mother's cheeks.

"[y/n]. Are you really going to choose trailer trash above your own parents? How dare you?" Guilt-tripping, all my father could ever do when I wanted to make my own decisions.

"No, how dare you?" I reply. "Treating yourself and my love for you like a bargaining chip to manipulate me... Eddie would never have the bar go that low and respects me and my decisions enough to not challenge them with the thread of leaving me."

"We'll revoke all your trust funds," he tries again, having the impression of me being as materialistic as himself.

"Mom and I had the money from the one set up for my graduation transferred to my bank account yesterday, but please, enjoy your life with the rest of the money. Maybe invest in therapy for Jason or yourself," I tell my father and walk away before tears start running down my cheeks.

Of course has our fight not gone overlooked. My family has been blessed with exceptionally loud voices. The Munson's are fast to walk after me, Wayne having a gentle yet firm grip on my arm.

"Hey, are you okay, kid?" he asks calmly, empathy in his eyes. The way he tilts his head already tells me this isn't the first time he has to calm an upset youth.

I nod, taking the tissue he hands me. "Uh-huh. I- I could use some help moving, though. I kinda just got disowned."

Eddie stands there, looking at me like a kicked puppy, while Wayne pulls me to his chest, firmly starting to rub my back. "It's alright, hun. Promise it's not that bad. We're gonna give them some time to cool off before we try talking to them again, and until then, you're part of the Munson clan. You're not alone, promise. We got you, kid."

It is no wonder that Eddie is as emotionally intelligent as he is. This type of gentle parenting is something that never was used for me. I feel awful, but Wayne's calm way of comforting me talks me off the edge.

"That's my fault," Eddie says, guilt filling his voice.

We look at him quickly, his uncle shaking his head. "Family can be tough, son. It's nobody's fault. Especially not yours or yours, hun," Wayne lectures us, now also having a tight grip on his nephew's shoulder.

"I should talk to them," Eddie insists. "I- Need to make sure they know I'm not that bad."

I shake my head, Wayne stepping back and letting us hug each other. "Eddie, no. No, it's okay. I knew they were going to react that way."

"I'm sorry," my boyfriend repeats.

"You did nothing wrong," I assure him.

Wayne touches my shoulder quickly, saying, "I see your mom, kiddo. I'm gonna go give her our address and phone number so you can talk when things have calmed, okay?" I nod, and he straightens his tie before making his way over to my mother.

The second we're alone, Eddie shoves a folded, green piece of crafting paper into my hands.

"Hey, that's your goal card," I say, surprised.

I open it, and the formerly empty card is filled with [y/n] Munson written into the middle of a heart on one side and the polaroid Wayne took of us while practicing guitar glued on the other side.

"I wanted to graduate for you, so I'm less of a burden to be with," Eddie explains.

"You're no burden," I tell him, making him shake his head.

"Yes, I am. Your family just kicked you out because you want to be with me. I have no money to my name and would be reliant on you. I just barely managed to graduate; having a bunch of freshmen help me study. I am a freak and a burden. And- And-"

"And I love you," I finish his sentence for him.

Eddie stops his self-deprecating rambling. "Huh?"

I smile at him softly. "You heard me. I love you, and you are no burden because love is unconditional. We'll use the money as if it would be a credit we got from the bank together, we build our own life and income with it, and I don't care how you managed to graduate because I know how hard you tried. Even if the rest of the town – including yourself – thinks you're bad and not good enough for me, I won't ever stop loving you or even for a second stop seeing your worth."

My boyfriend's bottom lip shivers as his grip on me tightens. I kiss him gently, hearing some shocked mumbles from nosey watchers and not caring one bit.

As we pull apart, Eddie smiles at me, and I feel the need to teasingly add, "And yes, you are a freak, but you're my freak, Eddie Munson."

"You mean it?"

"Absolutely."

"Thank you," he mumbles, kissing me again. As his lips leave mine, he whispers, "I love you too, Sweetheart."

Another kiss and more unhappy small-town minds noticing the love I share with the town's freak later, Robin makes us jump apart as she nonchalantly slaps our shoulders. "Hey, lovebirds. We're going to have a graduation party at Nancy's." She looks over to Wayne, who politely kept his distance while we were busy. "Family allowed."

"You just ruined their moment, dipshit," Steve says, pulling her away from us.

She shrugs. "They can cry and make out later. Right now, it's time to celebrate."

"You still ruined their moment," he insists, dragging his best friend away while shaking his head in our direction. "Do you see what I need to deal with on a daily basis?"

Robin elbows him in the ribs. "Shut up, dingus. You love me."

I ignore their bickering, looking at my boyfriend. "Do you wanna celebrate?"

He nods. "Yeah, Robin's right, actually. We can make out later and cry tomorrow when we get your stuff."

He places a kiss on my forehead, then enlaces our fingers.

"A house," he says suddenly, making look at him a little confused. "You asked me, trailer or house. My answer is house, and I want a white picket fence, a big living room for D&D adventures, and a guest bedroom for the freshmen to crash at when it's too late to drive home."

I can't help but smile. My metalhead is nothing more than a big softy dressed in leather and denim. "A white picket fence?"

He nods happily, informing me, "Always wanted one. Very heavy metal."

"Okay, crazy," I giggle. "House it is."

Remembering Eddie's uncle, who still stands there, giving us our private moments, I ask, "Have you told him?"

Eddie shakes his head, letting go of me and walking over to his uncle.

"Uncle Wayne?" he says nervously. "[y/n] and I want to move in together."

"Oh, that poor girl," he chuckles deeply.

"Is that okay for you?"

Wayne nods. "Of course it is, Eddie. And until you find something, you'll stay at the trailer with me."

"I'll still visit you all the time, and you can stay over as often as you want," Eddie assures his uncle again.

"Son, I already said it's okay."

"I just don't want you to think you'll be alone."

My heart swells at Eddie's sweet words, and so does Wayne's, as he lets out a loud sigh.

"Lord, you're a good man, Eddie. But I'm okay. I waited nine years to have the trailer to myself again," he assures his nephew, placing a hand on each of his shoulders. "We're family, boy. We're not going to stop being there for each other just because you're changing your address."

Eddie nods, trying to look away from his uncle as his eyes fill with tears, but Wayne follows his gaze, searching for his eyes. "I'm so proud of you. Always were," he tells him, pulling him into a hug.

As they put on their manly facades again, Wayne also adds, "And you better treat that girl well. Not every day one comes around and loves you that much."

Eddie nods quickly, wiping his teary eyes into the sleeve of his graduation robe.

Wayne keeps the boy close while looking at me and opening his other arm. "Now you come here, let me hug you too." I oblige, having my first family hug at the age of eighteen, with a found family that, through its brokenness, is so much more complete than mine ever was.

"If he ever treats you wrong, you'll tell me, okay?" the older man tells me, making me giggle. "I'm serious; you're family now."

I nod. "Okay, Wayne."

Wrapping an arm over my shoulder while we walk towards our friends, Wayne tells me, "You're taking his mattress with you when moving."

I quickly shake my head. "No chance. That thing needs to be burned."

People that requested a part 2: @maystecc @englishmensbitch16 @ttsbaby01 @lucktwistedlady

#eddie x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #x female reader #fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #reader insert #x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader

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artemis1214 · 2 months ago

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La Petite Sirène : Chapter Four

( A/N: Let me explain, this is a mini story of Alastor and Esme's lives together in the modern world. This is basically an ongoing fic but lives in my AU as it's part of multiple different AUs that I have for them.)

You can read more of my one-shots and AUs here!

La Petite Sirène : Modern AU (Chapter 4)

══•●•══

Esme enters the cold night, holding her phone close to her ear. She winces as she hears her father rambling on and on about her poor life choices, “Pa, I’m more than capable o-”

“Posting a photo of you with this man you just met, Esme you are always so impulsive…” He scolds, “Your mother won’t get off my back about who this guy is, she’s mean nagging me for more details.”

“So, why can’t you just tell her that he’s the host of the show you set me up with?” Esme rolls her eyes, her father was always very judgemental of everything she did, overanalyzing and demanding that she follow his criteria to be the ‘perfect little star’ he created.

“Because you were sent there for an interview, not an impromptu date night with some random man.”

“I’m 25 years old, I think I can make my own decisions.”

“When our family’s money doesn’t fund you, perhaps, but until then you will do what I say and behave like a respectable member of this family…”

A couple of more tense moments pass before Esme returns to their table, clearing her throat as she pulls out her chair and sits back down, “I’m sorry about that, he likes to talk and talk.” She smiles nervously, hoping her date didn’t take her absence offensively.

Alastor looks up at her and shakes his head, his face leaning forward into his wine glass. He swallows and pulls it away, smiling, “It’s not a problem at all, they refilled the wine while you were gone.”

“Oh, that’s great!” She takes a small sip. Alastor hums as he watches her continuously sip at the alcohol, it’s not strong at all, and it would take much more intense liquor to get him buzzed, but he notices a soft flush across her cheeks. He finds this amusing, noting that she is definitely somewhat of a lightweight. “So, aside from radio hosting, what do you do?” She cuts into her steak.

Inwardly, Alastor is beginning to worry, but outwardly he appears as calmer than ever. He thinks for a moment, trying to come up with a somewhat normal answer. He was a true crime podcast host on the side, but his true passions were a bit more unorthodox.

He was also very specific with who he allowed to know his true identity, keeping his podcast anonymous and appearing behind an icon for recordings. His listeners knew him as the charming smooth voice they’d hear once in a while, but never his face. Only those within the office, and certain friends, were able to know that. “Ah, well, other than hosting, I also run a small side business.”

“Doing what?”

He shifts slightly in his seat, not expecting her to pry further. He was hoping that the buzz of the alcohol would begin to cloud her mind and she would forget what she was asking him. Hopefully, she’ll accept a somewhat vague response. “Well, mostly just simple business dealings. Some investments here and there, things like that.”

“Oh, my father is involved in business. What do you invest in?”

Of course he does, of course he does.

“Oh, nothing too elaborate. Some stocks here and there, occasionally some real estate. It’s a mere hobby.”

“I hear Microsoft is great to invest in. My father puts his money into some of the local nightlife of Manhattan.” She chews on a shred of lettuce, wiping her mouth with her napkin, “They’re really good, some are even frozen in time. We have the rights to this speakeasy in the east village, it’s an actual prohibition landmark. You’d like it there, really vintage.”

Alastor listens intently, which is unusual for him, noting how her eyes light up as she talks about her city. He can’t be sure if this is a passion of hers, or if the merlot has begun to glaze over her eyes. Either way, he finds it endearing. He pays close attention to her words.

So, her father was a business man…of course, he didn’t know for certain, but he had a strong feeling he knew what kind of business this man was in…

Did that make her?

He raises his eyebrows slightly, shocked back into the conversation, “You think that place would be up my ally, huh?”

“Oh, for sure! The car you drive, your style, you’d love it!”

She was right, he does love vintage cars and history. He does have a bit of a preference for the older things in life, especially those ‘frozen in time’ as she mentioned, “You’ve got me figured out then, you must have a knack for it, cher.” He cuts into his own meat, taking a small bite.

Esme giggles, shaking her head from side to side, “What’s that mean anyway?”

He looks up, still chewing, chuckling slightly. He swallows before answering, “You mean ‘cher’? It’s just another way of sayin’ ‘dear’ or ‘darling’ in our own southern way.”

She laughs, “I swear sometimes I can’t understand what you people are sayin’ down here.” She puts her knife and fork down, wiping her hands, “I thought us New Yorkers had thick accents, but I can’t keep up with youse!”

He shakes his head, holding back a laugh, he supposes their accents could get difficult for others to understand when the words tend to meld together while speaking, “I could say the same for you, my northern belle, you and your ‘youses’ and your ‘New Yawk’ accents, I sometimes struggle to understand your words as well.”

“I do not have an accent.” She smirks.

“Oh, no, not at all. Not even a smidge.” He smirks, finishing his steak and washing it down with some water. She rolls her eyes playfully, “Do not.”

She’s stubborn, isn’t she? There’s something about that little spice that comes with her voice that makes him want to smile from his heart.

“You’re in denial, cher, you’ve definitely got a thick one there.”

“Shaa? Sha? How do you even say that?” She leans forward, her eyes narrowing as she tries to watch his mouth in his pronunciation. The light hits against her freckles and the flush on her face.

“You’re really struggling, huh? It’s rather simple, cher. Say it like ‘sha’ it’s easy.”

“Ya know, you repeatin’ it doesn’t help!”

The two laugh, leaning closer towards one another over the table. The noise from the two of them make the nearby patrons turn their heads, noting how these two are continuing as if they’re the only two in existence.

She continues to butcher the word, her nose scrunching in frustration, “Okay, now you’re just doing it on purpose.” Alastor mumbles, “Just relax, open your mouth a little more, you’re getting there.”

“Sha sounds wrong.” She drops her jaw, “There’s no ‘r’ in it?”

“You have to ease up on the ‘r’, you’re sounding too rough. Say it softer…”

She clears her throat and repeats him in a soft, mockingly sweet accent, “Shaa~~”

“There ya go!” He laughs, “The dramatics were a bit much, but it’s there!” She hunches over and laughs into her hands,

“You sound ridiculous!” She snorts in little hics.

“You keep laughing at me, and I’ll start making fun of your accent instead.”

“Oh, really? Go ahead, I’d like to see you try!”

“Alright, let’s start. Can you say ‘water’ for me?” He asks, laying his chin on his palm with his elbow on the table (something his mother would surely smack him for).

“Watuh.”

He rolls his eyes in disbelief, “Christ, you New Yorkers really have slaughtered that word haven’t you? Where I come from, it’s pronounced, ‘water’, darling.”

“That’s what I said, watuh!”

“Nope, it’s gone now, you’ve killed the poor word. It doesn’t even sound like the original anymore.”

“I got an original word I could call you, but I’m tryin’ not to.” She smirks playfully. He smiles and tilts his head to the side, leaning forward, “Oh, do you? Go on, I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

“A stronz.” She chuckles.

He chuckles and leans back with visible confusion on his face, “Was that English? I have no clue what that is…”

“Italian…for asshole.” She laughs, shaking her head wildly from side to side, causing snickers from the nearby table.

The sound of her laughter could fill him for hours, from her small giggles and hics to the soft snorts in between her breaths. He sits back and just observes her for a moment, the way her hair bounces back and forth as she shakes her head, and how she doesn’t care about the eyes behind her. She moves so perfectly, and before he knows it, an inner thought slips out of his mouth before he can stop it,

“Aha….you’re adorable, you…”

She looks back, “Haha…I’m sorry?” Her mind is slightly buzzed and her gaze drops to a half-lidded one as her eyes trace the chocolate waves in his hair.

The world stops spinning in that moment and he locks eyes with her. He flinches slightly as he realizes his actions. He didn’t mean to say that out loud. Perhaps he was more buzzed than he thought?

“Ah-ah, nothing…don’t worry about it, darling.”

“Adorable?” She repeats, smiling and laying her chin on the inside of her hands.

“I-I didn’t say anything, darlin’, you must be hearing things.” He’s more than happy to change the subject away from this, “So, how was your steak? Mine was great, you sure do know your restaurants.”

“You picked this place…”

Fuck.

“R-Right….well…I-” He’s cut off by her laughter, “You make me laugh.” She whispers, looking down with a soft blush on her face.

This was certainly not the wine.

Alastor looks up and makes connection with her eyes, his heart thumping a little stronger. This was something he had never experienced before, and it both intrigued and frightened him, “I’m glad, I’ve been enjoying our banter this evening.” She looks beautiful when she’s laughing, but even more so when she’s looking so bashful, “Me too…” She says softly, looking down at her empty plate and clearing her throat.

“I’ll go cover our bill, I’ll be right back.” He begins to stand up, but Esme reaches over the table and touches his arm, “Oh, nonono I couldn’t let you do that.” She opens her purse and pulls out an…

American Express Black Card…

“Use this.”

His eyes widens and he freezes staring at the metal card hanging in the air. He has never seen one of those in person before, “H-Hold on..”

“I insist.” She hands it to him, her name imprinted on the side of it. He looks down and his eyes flow across the name engraved into it,

'Esmé Rose Luciano'

“Are you sure you want me to use t-”

“Consider it an apology dinner for being so bitchy in the park earlier.” She smiles sincerely, but he shakes his head, “But I already told you I forgave you, darling, there’s no need to pay for tonight.” She chuckles, “Then, a thank you for inviting me on your show.”

The waiter comes over to their table with the bill and before Alastor can interject, she takes the check and places her card on the inside along with a hundred-dollar bill. She looks back down and opens her purse, taking our her lipstick and small mirror to casually fix her face.

Alastor watches her with bewilderment.

Who was this woman? What business does her father deal with, and what standard of life does she come from to have such an expensive and elite card?

The waiter comes back and Esme quickly signs the receipt, standing up, “Well, I should be heading back. Could you drop me off at my car?”

“O-Of course.” He stands up, following her out.

As they make it outside, the wind blows some of her perfume in his direction, causing him to tense up.

Who is she?

Whoever she is…

Wherever she comes from...

Call him game…

══•●•══

🖤Words: 2000🖤

~ Artemis🦌💗

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