#famous footwear
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i'm so happy they had my daughter's size in the back of the store 💖🎀💖
#barbie#barbiecore#pink#pinkcore#famous footwear#shoes#sneakers#cute#kawaii#kids#love#daughter#girl mom#mumblr#feminine#girly
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We got two more pics of 5SOS at iHeartRadio's Famous Footwear!
#ashton irwin#calum hood#michael clifford#luke hemmings#5 seconds of summer#5sos#iHeartRadio#Famous Footwear#iHeartRadio Stage#5SOS5
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Famous Footwear on Sale – Simple Steps to Buy Shoes on Sale
Before getting the Famous Footwear on sale, ask yourself a question to yourself should you buy Famous Footwear at the sale price from an online store. So if you want to live a frugal life, why should you not buy Famous Footwear at a sale price from the online store using the Famous Footwear coupon codes to save your hard-earned money. So, get your Famous Footwear on sale price by following these simple steps.
• Browse CouponRax.com for Famous Footwear
• On your desired coupon, click on the REVEAL CODE link
• You will land on a redirect page from where you can copy the coupon code, and then you will be automatically directed to the official website of Famous Footwear.
• Enter your copied coupon code at the checkout process to buy your desired shoes from Famous Footwear at the sale price.
A little brief about Famous Footwear.
For the readers who don’t know much about Famous Footwear, Famous Footwear is a shoe brand whose basis was founded on a social entrepreneurship model. The idea of the ‘Buy one donate one’ was ignited in the mind of the founder, Blake Mycoskie when he observed the bare feet children somewhere in Argentina and realized the great risks the children were facing in the form of the diseases which could be penetrated in the bodies of kids from the soil. He decided to create a shoe brand that will not only make a profit but will also contribute to a noble social cause. For its shoes, Famous Footwear adopted the traditional alpargata style, the style which is very famous among the farmers of Argentina.
#Famous Footwear#Famous Footwear coupon#Famous Footwear discount#Famous Footwear shoes#shoes#shoes sale
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🖤OP: KUNO:NOKU🖤//🖤bag & necklace: Moi même Moitié🖤//🖤headdress: Bodyline🖤//🖤shoes: Demonia🖤//🖤other: offbrand🖤
#live from a famous footwear outlet#egl#egl fashion#egl community#egl coord#lolita fashion#lolita coord#lolita community#gothic lolita#old school lolita#jfashion#alt fashion#gothic#goth#moi meme moitie#moitie
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In May 1992, I drove up to LA with 3 friends in tow to see a special exhibit at the Contemporary Museum of Art—Salvatore Ferragamo’s “The Art of the Shoe.” It was there where I saw for my very first time, the one pair of shoes that are still to this day one of my top faves EVER. These are
“The 🌈Rainbow Sandals”🌈… made by FERRAGAMO. This talented Italian shoe designer founded his company in 1927. 👠👡👢
I was totally dazzled by the sight of these beauties—illuminated in the clear acrylic display case at the LACMA. At that time, I couldn’t believe that this flamboyant, fanciful, and downright futuristic footwear had been conceptualized 54 years ago! 😮
I was immediately enraptured. 😍
I can say with much certainty that it was the experience of seeing THESE iconic wedge heels that started me on my journey of deep love and admiration for unusual platform shoes… and my obsessive collecting of them thus began! 🤩😜
The first few photos here tell the history of these fabulous shoes!
In 2006, the “Rainbow” was resurrected and a limited-edition run of them was made by Ferragamo. But nowadays, they are able to be purchased on Ferragamo’s website—see below link—for $2900! 🤑😳😜
Well… they ARE works of art, after all! 💁🏻♀️
In 2018—the 80th anniversary of this shoe’s debut!—Ferragamo released a version of them called the “Rainbow Future” that was made with sustainable materials in a more muted color palette. A limited run of 100 pairs were made so they are obviously VERY collectible! 😛
Owning these epic platform wedge sandals would be an absolute DREAM. 😌💭
Grazie, Signor Ferragamo… 🙏🏼
Per aver creato queste scarpe rivoluzionarie 86 anni fa! 👏🏼🙌🏼♥️
I am so proud to be 1/4th Italiana! 🇮🇹
http://www.ferragamo.com/shop/us/en/women/shoes/creations-icons/rainbow-772433
#salvatore ferragamo#ferragamo#rainbow sandals#platform wedges#high heel shoes#platform heels#wedge sandals#famous shoes#fabulous footwear#judy garland#1938#fashion
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I got twooooo new pairs of boots after not buying any new shoes for a long-ass time and I’m so happyyyyyy
#listen to me. DONT buy Doc Martens from the Doc Martens website or Doc Martens stores#buy them from like. famous footwear or DSW or Nordstrom Rack#who CARES if they’re last season’s? you’re going to wear them for 12 years anyway#the reason you do this is bc it’s way cheaper that way if it wasn’t clear#my first two pairs of Doc Martens were like $60 EACH#i don’t know how much these were bc my mom bought them for me and wouldn’t let me see the price :(#but I got like $40 off the other pair of boots we bought so I assume the Doc Martens were similarly discounted
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hi @taylorswift i dreamt about meeting you at my job at famous footwear and i sold you snake skin boots… does this mean you’re releasing rep tv and are we best friends because you were so nice in my dream
#1989 taylor's version#reputation#taylor swift#eras taylor swift#taylor swift 1989#taylor’s version#taylornation#reputation taylor’s version#why were you at famous footwear in my dream
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Sigh about to walk into work
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Elevate Your Outfits with Stylish Sneakers Online from ROVUX Footwear
Step into a world where style meets attitude with ROVUX Footwear. A Famous Footwear Brand Online, which is the ultimate haven for those who crave bold, stylish, and unique streetwear footwear that sets them apart from the ordinary. They design shoes for fun, youthful, and adventurous souls. Therefore, this store can be your go-to destination to swagger with confidence, and for elevating your outfits to the next level. They believe in the transformative power of the right pair of shoes, they're not just an accessory; they're the nucleus of your entire outfit.
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save your tears
4.6k | 18+ MDNI | Dieter Bravo x f!reader
Warnings: dubcon (sex while high), alcohol & drugs, unprotected piv, rough sex, choking, loss of virginity, mention of blood, degradation/praise, hurt no comfort, mean!Dieter
Summary: It’s your lucky night! Your favorite movie star, Dieter Bravo, picks you up at a club and takes you home. You don’t want to blow it by telling him you’re a virgin, do you?
A/N: Never meet your heroes...and please don’t fuck Dieter Bravo raw without seeing a notarized STD test first.
I’m super excited to share this fic with you and I really hope you’ll enjoy it!! Let me know your thoughts! ♥︎
Dieter Bravo masterlist ♡ main masterlist
Another kiss with a stranger, another fiery shot of tequila, another night immersed in the opulence of a luxurious club in the heart of Beverly Hills.
The pulsating beat of the music reverberates through the venue, drowning out any coherent thought. A sea of bodies sways in a synchronized rhythm, lost in the intoxication of the music, the free-flowing drinks, and the swirling lights.
You and your friends are no exception, caught up in the vibrant chaos of the dance floor, laughing and moving to the infectious energy of the night.
The tight dress you’ve chosen for the night clings to your every curve, a sleek fabric that accentuates the enticing contours of your body. Its deep, midnight black hue embraces you like a second skin, tracing the delicate curve of your breasts, descending sensuously over your torso, and accentuating the gentle swell of your hips.
As you move, the straps, delicate and barely there, become ethereal threads, caressing your skin with each sway and twirl on the dance floor. The dress’s neckline is daring, a subtle plunge that hints at mystery and allure, inviting the eyes to linger for just a moment longer.
Your choice of footwear is equally as captivating. The heels, sleek and strappy, elevate your posture and add a tantalizing sway to your every step. The ensemble not only looks exquisite but feels like a second skin. In this carefully chosen outfit, you feel an undeniable sense of confidence and allure – you feel like a goddess.
As the night progresses, and a few shots later, you find yourself losing inhibitions with each beat. The alcohol warms your veins, and the euphoria of the moment takes over. The atmosphere inside the club is charged with excitement, the air thick with the scent of perfume, sweat, and anticipation.
And then you see him.
Amidst the crowd, your gaze collides with a pair of intense, dark eyes that seem to cut through the chaotic haze. Recognition strikes you like a bolt of lightning – Dieter Bravo, the famous Oscar winner, stands at the fringes of the dance floor, his gaze fixed on you.
The look in his eyes is predatory, stirring desire deep within you. He gestures with a subtle nod of his head towards the exit, a silent command that sends your heart racing.
You excuse yourself to your friends, your words lost in the overwhelming discord of music and laughter. They barely register your departure, the night unfolding in a blur of colors and sound. The crisp air outside is a welcome contrast, a momentary escape from the heated chaos within.
You take a deep breath.
Before you know what’s happening, a strong pair of hands seizes you, pushing you against the cold exterior wall of the club. It’s Dieter, his eyes burning with desire as he takes in the sight of you. His words come out in a low, husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine.
“You’re so beautiful, baby, I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he confesses, his breath hot against your ear. You’re trembling slightly as he pulls back a little to look into your eyes, one hand planted on the wall next to your head, the other gently cupping your hot cheek. His touch sends a jolt through your entire being and your skin tingles beneath his fingertips.
“Why don’t we take this party to a more private setting, hm? My place is just around the corner,” he murmurs, his gaze searching yours for a sign of rejection.
His proposition hangs in the air, a surreal moment that seems too fantastical to be real. Dieter Bravo, a man renowned for having his pick of any woman he desires, wants you to come home with him?
You hesitate for a fleeting moment, the thrill and exhilaration of the unexpected encounter mingling with a feeling of unease. Is this a good idea?
Oh, fuck it.
With a breathless nod, you give in to the magnetic pull of his desire. You’re never gonna get a chance like this again in your life.
Dieter’s eyes flicker with satisfaction at your willingness and a self-assured smirk plays on his lips. “Smart choice, beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and seductive, intertwining with the rhythm of the music coming from inside.
With a confident yet gentle touch, he guides you to his waiting car, his warm palm resting on the small of your back.
His driver awaits, a stoic figure leaning against the passenger door with crossed arms, well-acquainted with the routine of escorting the renowned womanizer and his conquests. The man looks a few years older than Dieter, and as you approach, you can’t help but ponder the untold tales and silent observations this seasoned driver must harbor as living witness to the enigmatic world of his famous boss.
Dieter leans in to whisper something into the driver’s ear, a private exchange that ends with a wink and a grin directed at you. With a confident saunter, he rounds the car, slipping into the back seat from the other side.
“Good evening, Miss,” the driver greets you with a practiced courtesy, opening the back door and gesturing for you to step inside. In that fleeting moment, as he meets your gaze, you detect a subtle flicker of concern in his eyes, swiftly masked before you fully register its presence.
You swiftly dismiss the uneasy feeling that briefly fluttered within you and gracefully slide into the luxurious car, taking the seat beside Dieter. The plush interior envelops you, a cocoon of opulence that showcases the movie star’s wealth. As the door closes with a muted thud, the insulating quiet of the vehicle amplifies your anticipation.
The car ride is a blur of sensations.
Dieter pulls you onto his lap, his lips finding yours in a fervent kiss. His hands explore the contours of your body, a mix of escalating desire and urgency palpable in every touch.
Glancing at the rearview mirror, the driver is a silent witness to a scene that unfolds with unsettling familiarity. Dieter’s reputation as a notorious womanizer is well-known, but the silent driver remains impassive, steering the car towards your destination.
“Fuck, baby,” Dieter whispers against your lips, his erection straining painfully against his pants. “You wanna sit on my cock right here or wait ‘til we’re home?”
You sensuously roll your hips, and he responds by squeezing your ass, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips at the tantalizing friction.
“I want you to take me in your bed,” you purr, as the champagne and tequila flowing through your veins embolden you.
“Alright, beautiful,” he murmurs between sloppy kisses to your neck and jaw, his hand tracing the delicate skin of your shoulder before sliding down the strap of your dress with practiced ease. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
Every word Dieter utters, every caress of his hands, the heady scent of his cologne—the fact that your idol, a man larger than life, is currently drunk off your beauty—adds fuel to the intoxicating fire that courses through your body, making you acutely aware of the pulsating ache and growing wetness between your thighs.
You’ve never wanted to fuck anyone this badly.
Dieter slides down the other strap of your dress, the fabric yielding to his touch as he pulls it down, leaving it to pool around your waist and revealing your naked chest.
“Goddamn, your tits are perfect,” he whispers in awe, his hands tracing a delicate path from your shoulders down to your breasts, cupping one in each hand. “I almost forgot how good real ones feel.”
Your smile widens in response to his comment, relishing the sensation of Dieter Bravo praising your tits.
He massages them, softly at first, his touch a gentle prelude that gradually escalates in intensity as you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening your kiss, moaning against his lips. Your body responds eagerly, writhing on his lap, your swollen clit rhythmically rubbing against his hard bulge, each movement eliciting a wave of pleasure that has your eyes fluttering shut and your back arching.
Dieter leans in, spurred on by the movement of your body and your little moans of pleasure, pressing your tits together with a hunger that mirrors his escalating passion. His kisses are sloppy, a mixture of lust and possessiveness as he licks and sucks on your nipples, twirling his tongue around them.
The sensations alternate between pleasure and a tingling pain as he bites down, eliciting a desperate whimper from you that he hungrily absorbs by pressing his lips against yours once more.
“This your first time fucking a real movie star, baby?” he murmurs, trailing kisses and bites down your sensitive neck.
Your head is spinning, and it takes you a few seconds to register what he just asked you. Even if it weren’t true, you’d be smart enough to stroke his famously big ego and tell him what he wants to hear. But, in this case, it is true.
“Yeah,” you breathe, your fingers tangled in his now-disheveled curls.
God, his hair is soft. The thought crosses your mind that being a millionaire must afford you great hair care. Just one of the perks of being one of the chosen ones, you muse with a smile.
“I promise you’ll be thinking of me every time you fuck someone else after I’m done with you, darling,” he smirks at you, satisfied with the fact he’s the first man of his stature you’ve experienced.
If he wasn’t already rock-hard before, he would be now.
You giggle and bite your lip, your dilated pupils telling Dieter everything he needs to know – you want him as badly as he wants you.
“I’ll hold you to that,” you purr, leaning in to suck and nibble on his neck while rolling your hips again.
“Oh shit,” he whispers, letting his head fall against the headrest and gripping your hips with his hands. “I knew you were a bad girl the second I saw you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Good girls don’t rub their needy little pussy on some stranger’s cock minutes after they met.” His breathing is strained, and he needs to concentrate hard to not come in his pants. “Good girls also don’t let me do a line off their perfect tits.”
You pull back a little to look into his eyes, and he raises an eyebrow.
Against your better judgment, you nod, and he reaches into the right pocket of his pants to retrieve the biggest coke baggie you’ve ever seen. Goddamn, how does this guy get any acting gigs done if he does massive amounts of coke like this? His manager must be nothing short of a god.
“Push them together, baby,” he says, watching hungrily as you take your tits and press them together to create enough surface for him to put his powder on. “Fuck, that’s it.”
He pours a generous amount onto your skin, creating a line with his finger.
“You’re so fucking hot, baby,” he murmurs, planting a kiss on your warm lips. His gaze drops to the line of coke on your tits before he lowers his head, presses a finger on his right nostril, and inhales the powder in one swift motion.
The lewd, forbidden feeling of letting him do drugs off your body has your pussy clench around nothing. You’re beyond turned on.
“Phew!” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “This is some primo shit, holy fuck. You wanna try?”
Dieter’s eyes find yours as he wipes his nose and tilts his head. “You’re never gonna find something this pure again.”
“Sure, why not,” you coo, succumbing to the excitement of the moment. One more bad decision’s not gonna kill you, right?
“Such a bad girl,” he murmurs with a smirk, then pours some coke on the back of his hand. He arranges it in a line for you and brings it closer to your face.
The fine white powder lies on his skin like a whisper of the night, and with a quick, controlled motion, you inhale. The sensation is immediate, a rush that starts from the point of contact and spirals into a heady euphoria. The sharp intensity sends a tingling sensation through your nostrils, a mix of heat and exhilaration.
In that fleeting moment, the world seems to shift.
The pulsating lights of the city take on a surreal glow, and the hum of the car’s engine becomes a rhythmic accompaniment to the rush coursing through your veins. The nightclub’s music, still echoing in your ears, melds with your newfound energy, creating a synesthetic experience that blurs the boundaries between the external world and your internal sensations.
You’ve never felt this much like yourself and not like yourself at the same time before—it’s surreal.
A tingling warmth radiates through your body, a sensation that is both invigorating and disorienting, like an electrifying surge that momentarily disconnects you from reality.
Dieter watches in real time as the coke takes effect and your pupils dilate further, your features signaling an intensified awareness of your surroundings.
“That’s it, baby,” you hear him purr before you feel his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you into a messy kiss.
You’re not entirely sure how you made it to Dieter’s bedroom.
– – –
His sheets are incredibly soft, some sort of luxurious fabric that feels heavenly against your naked skin. You’re clad only in your panties, lying on your back with Dieter on top of you, your legs spread to accommodate his hips.
You hear music coming from a speaker somewhere in the room – he must’ve put it on when you got in. You moan as he kisses your neck, his warm tongue and lips tracing your skin, nibbling, biting, marking you.
He props himself up with his forearms on the bed beside your head, the soft hair on his belly grazing against your skin with each rhythmic movement of his hips.
“Look at me, baby,” he tells you, breathless, eager to finally bury himself in your pussy. You open your bloodshot eyes, biting your lip at the delicious pressure he’s putting on your clit.
“Tell me you want me.”
He caresses your cheek, his fingertips leaving a tingling sensation on your hot skin. You nod in response and moan when his hard cock rubs against your sensitive clit once again.
“Hey,” he taps your cheek not so gently and bores his eyes into you. “Use your words.”
You’re startled, but a grin forms on your lips as your foggy brain registers what he’s asking.
“I want you, Dieter,” you coo, your nails digging into the meat of his ass. “I want you to fuck me.” His lips crash against yours in an instant, and you whisper, “Please,” against them as your mind drifts off into another realm again.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he murmurs as he straightens up to take off his boxer briefs. “I’m gonna give you exactly what you need.”
Your eyes follow the movement of Dieter’s hands, mesmerized, watching in slow motion as his cock springs free. Fuck. It’s a lot bigger than you’d imagined, and it’s so…beautiful. You wish he’d put it in your mouth for you to taste it, but since you can feel him pulling down your panties, you guess he’s gonna go straight to fucking your pussy.
You feel his hands on your thighs as he positions himself between your spread legs. Then, you watch as he spits on his hand and strokes his cock. You moan at the sight, wanting nothing more than for him to take you, to ravage you, to become one with you.
“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby,” he murmurs more to himself than to you, haphazardly swiping his fingers through your dripping wet folds. You can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips when he brushes your clit.
He scoots closer, and you can feel the hairs on his thighs against yours as he guides the tip of his cock to your entrance. It’s warm, slippery, feels kinda nice. You close your eyes and turn your head.
This is it. You’re gonna have sex for the first time.
And with none other than Dieter fucking Bravo – Oscar winner, movie star, womanizer extraordinaire. If you weren’t so out of it, you’d laugh at the ludicrousness of the situation.
He pushes in with one slow, deliberate thrust, savoring the feeling of each inch gradually disappearing into your body.
You inhale sharply, your breath catching at the initial discomfort of his cock stretching you. Your brow furrows in response, and you instinctively grip the sheets with your hands, a mix of pleasure and mild pain coursing through your body.
“Holy shit, your pussy’s tight,” Dieter groans, his hips stuttering at the sensation of being completely sheathed in you. “Feels so fucking good.”
He withdraws again just as you begin to acclimate to the girth of his cock inside you, leaving you whimpering at the sudden loss. Your hypersensitive system is so overloaded with sensations that it compels you to moan, whine, and writhe under his touch, uncertain of how to process everything you’re feeling and experiencing.
Dieter chuckles at your desperate little noises, more than ready to give you as much of his cock as he can, and to show you pleasure you didn’t know you were capable of.
If there’s one thing he takes pride in, it’s leaving his sex partners thoroughly satisfied, mind empty, covered in cum, and wanting more.
He spreads you open again in one smooth movement, your pussy eagerly devouring every inch. Pleased with your moans and the tight grip of your walls, he grabs your thighs and shifts his weight, pressing them against the mattress to penetrate you even deeper.
“Fuck,” is all you can get out as he sets a brutal pace, pushing your body up the bed repeatedly. His cock relentlessly strikes a deep spot within you, each thrust accompanied by the rhythmic slap of his balls against your ass.
“That’s it, baby. Take my fucking cock. Fuck, you’re the best slut I’ve had in a while.”
Dieter wants you to scream his name and come all over his cock. Sure. But he’s greedy and craves more than your physical surrender. He wants to etch his name into the very fabric of your desires, your being, a memory that will linger in your thoughts for the rest of your life.
The initial discomfort you’ve experienced slowly gives way to raw, carnal pleasure, a drug-induced dance of sensations that leaves you breathless. Dieter’s movements are harsh, designed to bring you to your limits, and you find yourself meeting his thrusts with an eagerness that surprises you.
The vast expanse of Dieter’s bedroom is filled with the intoxicating sound of your moans and smacking flesh, creating a dizzying symphony that envelops you in the throes of ecstasy.
“Look at me,” you hear him growl somewhere over you, and when you don’t budge, you feel his bruising grip on your jaw. “Hey, I’m not telling you again.”
You open your eyes, your eyelids so heavy you need to summon all of your strength to pry them open. Dieter’s face hovers close to yours, his breaths ragged, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, tracing a path down his temples.
His eyes are dark, hungry, dangerous. He gazes at you like he wants to devour you, to consume you wholly. You sense the intensity of his desire, and you’re more than ready to surrender to it.
You feel his hands tighten around your neck, the diminishing flow of oxygen to your brain heightening your senses even more. As your vision blurs and your pulse quickens, you’re caught in a paradoxical dance of ecstasy and fear, an exhilarating moment that pushes you to the brink.
Dieter deliberately hits your G-spot over and over again, his cock throbbing and leaking precum at your increasingly loud moans and spasming walls.
“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he pants, intensifying the grip on your neck and the force of his thrusts. Instinctively, you start clawing at his arms. “What a sick little thing you are, getting off on me hurting you.”
Your eyes roll back and you feel yourself slipping away as Dieter’s pelvis puts enough pressure on your clit to bring you closer to climax with every roll of his hips.
“Oh fuck,” you faintly hear Dieter’s voice, “you’re choking the shit out of me, holy–”
You don’t hear the end of his sentence as an abrupt, violent orgasm takes over your body and mind in waves. Your walls spasm and contract uncontrollably around Dieter’s cock, every single muscle in your body tensing as you release a silent scream, caught in a tumultuous mix of ecstasy and distress.
Dieter lets go of your neck and bites down on your shoulder as he comes, emptying himself deep inside you with a guttural groan. His cock pulsates as your pussy eagerly milks and swallows up every last drop of his seed.
He pulls out of you and collapses onto the mattress, his chest heaving, heart racing, utterly spent. His cum leaks out of you, pooling on the sheets between your thighs.
The room is heavy with the lingering scent of sex as Dieter finally catches his breath. Sweat glistens on his forehead and chest, and his erratic breaths permeate the air. You lie there, silent and still, your body sore, and your mind in turmoil.
The reality of the moment slowly dawns on you – every heartbeat sobering you up a bit more, tangled emotions leaving you disoriented.
Shit. What have you done?
“That was…holy shit,” Dieter chuckles beside you as he props his head up on his hand.
His face falls immediately as he glances at the bloodstains on the sheets. His eyes widen in shock, and a pang of guilt hits him deep. He wasn’t gentle, and you never spoke up. The room is silent for a moment before he breaks it, his voice sharp and accusatory.
“You’re bleeding.” His eyes meet yours, and the storm within them is unsettling. Your heart beats rapidly, fear coursing through you. “Tell me this isn’t what I fucking think it is.”
You look away, a lump forming in your sore throat. “I...I didn’t expect it to hurt so much,” you admit, your voice barely audible.
“Oh my fucking god.” Dieter’s tone is harsh, his face contorted with a mixture of confusion and anger. He swiftly rises from the bed, the mattress shuddering under his abrupt departure. His pacing is agitated, a restless back-and-forth that adds to the already palpable tension between you two.
You sit up against the headboard and pull up the covers to shield yourself from the chilling air that envelops you. You’re shivering.
“Why the hell didn’t you say something? Are you trying to ruin me?”
Your heart drops. “Wha–”
His accusations hang in the air, and the room feels suffocating. Deep down, Dieter knows he should feel remorse for his actions, but instead, he redirects his hurt feelings towards you. The drugs and alcohol coursing through his system amplify his irrationality and paranoia.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice rises, echoing off the walls. “Is this some sick ploy to get your fifteen minutes of fame or some shit? To expose me?”
You’re left stunned, the whirlwind of pain, confusion, and the sting of betrayal clouding your mind. The vulnerability you shared just moments ago morphs into an uncomfortable reality, a hurtful reminder of what you were to him — a warm, nameless body he could fuck.
And now, you’re a nuisance at best, and a PR nightmare at worst.
“Dieter, it’s nothing like that," you say, pleading, attempting to diffuse the escalating tension as the walls close in on the shattered remnants of a fun night. “I didn’t know how to tell you and…it’s not a big deal, I’m okay.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouts, shaking his head in frustration. “I wouldn’t have fucked you like that if I you’d told me you were–” he cuts himself off, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
The resentment in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, making your blood run cold.
“Dieter–”
“Get the fuck out of my house.”
“Please, I’m sor–”
“Get the fuck out!” he roars, the anger in his eyes intensifying.
You immediately get up and scramble to get your clothes back on, your hands shaking. You grab your belongings, trying to maintain a shred of dignity as you hastily dress.
Dieter, seething with anger and regret, roughly hands you a wad of cash from his nightstand when you’re done.
“Here, take this. Get a Plan B or whatever the hell you need, and keep your mouth shut.”
You stare at the money in your hand, then at the man who’s throwing you out in the middle of the night after taking your virginity. The bills are cold in your hand, and you crumple them up, throwing them back at him.
“I’m not your whore, Dieter. Go to hell!”
Heels in hand, you make your way past him and out the door. You don’t stop as he calls after you, his voice strained with genuine remorse.
“I’m sorry!”
He really is.
– – –
The cold night air hits you like a slap, tears blurring your vision as you stumble away from Dieter’s mansion, the weight of what just transpired inside heavy on your shoulders.
His hurtful words echo in your mind, the throbbing pain between your legs intensifying with every step you take. Your breath falters in the frigid air, and you clutch your arms tightly around you as you make your way toward the waiting car.
The driver, standing beside the sleek vehicle, regards you with a mixture of concern and pity. His eyes have seen this scene unfold countless times before – another half-naked girl leaving his boss’s home in disarray.
You hate the way he looks at you, as if he knows more about your vulnerability than you’re willing to admit.
He opens the car door for you, and you gratefully sink into the plush leather seat. The warmth inside the car is a stark contrast to the chill outside, but it does little to ease the ache spreading through your body.
The driver takes his place behind the wheel, stealing glances at you through the rearview mirror.
“Where can I take you to, Miss?” His voice is gentle, filled with a practiced sympathy that makes your stomach churn. You hesitate for a moment, wrestling with the words you don’t want to say.
“Home,” you finally mumble, offering your address with a numb detachment. It feels like a betrayal, a surrender of your secret world to this stranger who witnesses the aftermath of Dieter Bravo’s fleeting affections.
The car glides through the silent streets, and you find yourself staring out of the window, the city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors.
Your head is spinning, and the pain in your body intensifies with each passing moment. Tears escape as you touch the bruises on your neck, tracing silent paths down your cheeks. You wipe them away with the back of your hand, hoping the darkness conceals your shame.
The driver glances at you in the mirror.
“Are you alright, Miss?” he asks, his tone a delicate inquiry into the depths of your distress.
“Just…drive me home, please,” you whisper, your voice cracking with the weight of unshed tears. You don’t want his pity, his judgment. You just want to escape the haunting echoes of what happened tonight.
But you know that will never happen. Dieter got his wish after all.
You will forever remember him.
– – –
♥︎ Thank you for reading!! ♥︎
Dieter Bravo masterlist ♡ main masterlist
#dieter bravo x f!reader#dieter bravo x reader#dieter bravo x you#dieter bravo smut#tw dubcon#dieter bravo#mean!dieter bravo#dieter bravo angst#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo x female reader#the bubble fanfiction#fic: save your tears#pedro pascal characters#dieter bravo fic#mean!dieter#smut
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Welcome Back to "Is..... is this it?"
Today's "Treasure" is: Lonely Left Boot of Elvenkind
"This is the left boot of the famous magical footwear. Unfortunately, useless without its pair."
Same dude, same. I've been missing my Left Brain for a while and am just not the same without it. I miss sudoku
#not dice#screenshot#baldur's gate 3#bg3#akabis treasures#ereader friendly#sorta#Lonely Left Boot of Elvenkind
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Inktober Days 25-27
Day 25: Dangerous
I don’t like this prompt. Every national park can be dangerous, and the deadliest places in parks, hands-down, are the roads, where drivers are distracted by wildlife and scenery. But if we’re going with pure statistics, excluding automobile accidents, then the most dangerous park, according to Backpacker Magazine, is Denali. The main cause of death is exposure, followed by falls. Despite what many folks might assume, there has only been one fatality caused by a bear in the park’s entire hundred-year-plus history.
National parks, overall, are pretty safe places. Park rangers work hard to keep them that way, trying to balance the wilderness experience with the health and safety of the visiting public. We implore folks to follow common safety measures in the backcountry and along the roadways, and there’s a whole facet of rangering called “PSAR”—preventative search and rescue. These folks are usually stationed at popular trailheads, checking that people have the proper gear, water, and footwear to successfully complete the hike. PSARs are your friends! Listen to the PSARs!
Day 26: Remove
When seasonals sit down for ranger training at the beginning of the summer, there’s one topic that we know we’re going to hear about, no matter which unit in the system we’re in. Invasive species. From lionfish to kudzu to emerald ash borers to toadflax, every park has its problem species that are taking over native ecosystems. Removal is a tricky, labor-intensive process—if they can be removed at all.
The Everglades are a prime spot for invasive species—they’re considered one of the most severely-infested parks in the system in terms of nonnative plants. The subtropical environment, combined with the famous issues of humans releasing exotic pets into the wild and planting exotic gardens, mean that some of these species can multiply rapidly with no natural checks and balances. Rangers work hard to keep invasives from destroying habitat needed by native plants and animals, but the truth is, in many cases the damage is done, and exotics are simply here to stay.
Day 27: Beast
How fortunate are we to share a continent with bison? Is there any animal more iconic of rolling American wilderness, or more representative of the sins and triumphs of our history? The bison is our national mammal, and the symbol on our ranger patch to represent the wildlife protected by the National Park Service.
Working in parks with bison, like Theodore Roosevelt, always creates an extra layer of excitement to the job. I’ve been late to work because of bison jams along roadways and had to physically move programs because bison were hanging out in the amphitheater. I once couldn’t take my trash out because a bison had bedded down just steps from my door. As a ranger, it’s easy to start thinking of bison as giant, bullheaded nuisances, but then you lock eyes with one outside your car window, and you remember—oh, this beast is the heartbeat of this landscape, my elder and my companion, and I’m dead privileged to wear her image on my chest.
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There's still a few more days left to preorder Thirty-One Days of National Parks: The Artbook!
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- If you enjoy my work, please consider supporting me on Patreon! -
Part 1
Part 3
Bonus Stage
This turned out to be surprisingly popular on Twitter! So far it hasn't attracted many new patrons, but it's still very nice to be seen. I hope everyone here is enjoying it too, though it's a passion project stealing time away from my original work! But like I said, it's good practice for Witch Warp.
Footnotes: Anne’s feet. Maybe it’s taboo, but it’s my AU, so I figured I’d have my druthers regarding Anne’s famous footwear (specifically, that she's canonically disheveled and always missing a shoe). Her new boots are based on a design by a storyboard artist. Mr. Applegate says he drew them on a lark, but I liked ‘em.
Speaking of body parts, the conditions which the Calamity Trio receive here are based on a fan theory which became popular prior to the show’s completion. In my version, each wound flowers from a previous trauma - Anne’s clobbered arm, Sasha’s scar, and Marcy’s spinal injury.
Anyway, thanks for being patient while I humor my muse. I'll get back to my own shared universe soon!
(Part 2 of 3)
Tab for a Cause
Everytown for Gun Safety
Top-Rated Charities for Ukraine
The Trevor Project
National Abortion Funds
RAICES
- Joe
#amphibia#calamity trio#anne boonchuy#sasha waybright#marcy wu#fanart#fan art#amphibiafanart#amphibia fan art#matt braly#comic#fan comic#amphibia au#fan work#charity#trauma#alternate ending#alternate universe#dominos
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Augustus of Prima Porta (1st century) and the reconstruction of its original colors.
“Emma Zahonero and Jesús Mendiola, from the MV Arte Fine Arts and Restoration Workshop, have been in charge of returning the colors to the Augusto sculpture by Prima Porta, in a laborious process that has lasted exactly three months, not counting the time dedicated to research and documentation.
The amazing reconstruction was carried out in August 2014, on the occasion of the 2000th anniversary of the death of the first Roman emperor. The statue of Augustus in Prima Porta is, therefore, probably the most faithful polychrome recreation of those that have been made to date based on scientific and archaeological research. The Augustus of Prima Porta is a statue of Caesar Augustus that was discovered on April 20, 1863 in the villa Prima Porta, belonging to Livia, wife of Augustus, on the outskirts of Rome.”
The sculptures and temples of the ancient world were not colorless as has been believed for centuries. Even today it's difficult for us to imagine those legendary statues, columns, obelisks, pyramids and temples, full of color. But they were very colorful; The colors of the statues' clothing, footwear, skin, and hair were accurately represented; Time made those colors fade. During the Renaissance, attempts were made to revive ancient Roman art and wonderful masterpieces were sculpted in marble without the slightest color because they did not know that ancient Roman statues had colors that had disappeared. In these images we can see a faithful reconstruction of how the people saw one of the famous sculptures representing the young emperor Augustus.
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not s'posed to be snitching about this but someone called an-artist-place-for-extra-art did cool fanart of you and your alternate reality cousins/brothers/yous but from other dimensions. maybe have a look. don't tell them i sent you or the next time you hit a Famous Footwear i'll be there
"YOU SMART BITCH YOU WERE BRILLENT ENOUGH TO USE ANON!"
"BRAVO YOU SHALL NOT BE SNITCHED ON TODAY! TECHNICALLY!"
He proceeds to clap.
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Blood & Wine
Red and other colors.
I don't know if we could call it "Chapter 1" but I'm certainly planning on making it a part of the small (or not) series called "Blood & Wine"
P. S. Highly advise you all to check out the song by Schmalgauzen - Кров і Вино (Blood & Wine) which basically inspired me to write this.
P. P. S. Big thanks too @cloudofbutterflies92 and @chloekistune for giving me bravery to post this. Love you❤
The day started wrong. Like, really wrong. First, she couldn't find her morning sedatives; then she was searching through the house to find her favorite high heels, the ones she believed always brought her luck. A psychologist with OCD, the irony strikes again.
It's as if life gave "all the bad things" carte blanche to make the woman feel horrible in every way. Her body hurts from the position she was sleeping in, her tea is now cold - it can't wait for her, while she is searching for her favorite footwear.
Miss Unlucky knows not to keep testing her own limits. Choosing to get a taxi was the right choice because Kate Laswell is already trying to get to the psychologist through the messages.
Somehow, Laswell thought that it would be a good idea not to wait for the psychologist near the entrance to the military base but to wait inside, discussing something with the Captain whom the girl knows as Captain John Price. Okay, she's a big girl, she'll find a way through the base, probably.
Getting there was a challenge; no one in their right mind would let a civilian car inside the military base, that was understandable, so the psychologist walked in her high heels on the uneven pavement, feeling more than stupid.
The base was dimly lit, no people inside right now, which gave eerie energy. No sound was heard except the psychologist's red-soled high heels clicking on the base's floor. The more steps she takes, the less she wants to be here; the less she wants to be here, the more she wants to just turn around and pretend like she never even thought about coming inside this base.
The empty corridors of the military building slowly made the woman start panicking. There was no one she could ask for directions towards Captain Price's office.
The girl stood still, thinking. This whole situation gives off too much headache for no reason. In her peripheral vision, the woman saw movement. In the dimly lit corridor, it turns out that, to her happiness or horror (she had not yet decided), the girl was not alone. Her heart began to pound with surprise, and she froze in place, stunned by this meeting. She sees a huge buff guy in full tactical gear wearing a skull mask and balaclava coming out of the shadow. The soldier didn't say a word, just stared at her with his motionless brown eyes through his skull mask, studying her, his eyes stopped on her ginger hair for a second then moved on, looking at her attire, so different from military clothing he used to seeing every day. That was probably the famous Ghost, Laswell mentioned.
'Well... I think I could give my high heels a running test,' the woman thought, staring at the soldier.
The man moved slowly, almost making no sound which was impressive considering his size. The psychologist tensed but trusted Laswell's words: all men of Task Force 141 are reasonable. As the soldier approached, most likely noticing the hints of confusion and curiosity on the girl’s face, he spoke in a deep, calm voice that possessed a British accent.
"You are heading to Captain Price?"
The psychologist nodded, calming down. "Yes, sir. I'm here by Kate Laswell's request."
The soldier only nodded, but then suddenly his eyes, that she could barely see under the mask, fell on something behind her. "If you want to greet the new addition, you should just come and do so, MacTavish. Do not eavesdrop."
The psychologist turned on her heels to look at whoever was scolded by Ghost.
"Oh, come on, LT. Ye know I was not eavesdropping! Lassie's got a nice accent." From the shadows, another figure came out. It was a young and handsome soldier, his blue eyes shined brightly under the dim light. Woman barely stopped herself from giggling when she saw the mohawk on his head. Is he ten or something?
"Price has called in the briefing. This lady is needed to be escorted there too," Ghost wasn't very talkative, that's fine by her. Less explaining to do.
"Oh, didn't know they would send such a bonnie lass to us. I'm John MacTavish, callsign Soap." his Scottish accent is nice to the ear.
"Nice to meet you. I know your names, though. Laswell gave me a short briefing before today's meeting," psychologist shrugged her shoulders, feeling like that revelation made Ghost tens up.
"Then why don't we know your name?" British soldier asked.
"Because it was part of the deal."
The meeting with Price went smoothly; he's a responsible Captain. The woman got introduced to another member of the Task Force 141 who goes by callsign Gaz. He's reserved, and from what she could gather, looks up to the Captain. Who wouldn't, though?
Laswell, bless her soul, was short about the psychologist's personal information. And there is nothing the new interrogation expert values more than people who can keep to their word.
Captain Price, who turned out to be responsible and serious man also showed his more humorous side, finding this whole 'nameless expert' situation quite amusing.
"Well, it wouldn't be right calling you Jane Doe, would it?" He asked, rhetorically. "I used to call her Thirteen," Laswell's voice rang through Price's office. "Ah, like the unlucky number!" Scottish accent rang behind the psychologist, his voice has that teasing side in it.
The girl feels like she isn't even supposed to be here. Feels like when parents-teachers meeting is happening and she is just a schoolgirl that supposed to be home, doing her thing.
"Poor lassie, the unlucky number..." Soap keeps nagging the girl as if trying to get something from her.
She is an anxious person; when people talk over her, as if she is not there... It makes her blood boil.
"The only unlucky number here is the number that your hairdresser did on you." The girl spits out. And only when the room becomes quiet the realization comes to her.... Scottish sergeant was trying to rile her up, to see how far he could go. And she... she fell for the provocation. Unprofessionally so.
The room is quiet for a few moments, till she hears MacTavish's soft chuckle. The psychologist looked around slightly, noticing the amused reactions of her soon-to-be coworkers. "I like this one," Gaz's whisper was heard.
"That one is gonna be called Red," Ghost finally spoke up, looking through his skull face mask, straight at the embarrassed woman who just showed her teeth to the elite team, as if trying to read her soul and mind.
'What the hell did I get myself into?' Is the only thought Red has now. And would probably have from now on too.
Tag list: @cloudofbutterflies92 @chloekistune
#cod oc#oc:red#cod self insert (maybe)#cod self insert#blood & wine#blood & wine series#Spotify#self insert: red#self insert
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