#sweat equity

[motion90affect]

[amandasgreen57]

To AI or not to AI

Before anyone blows a gasket, let me remind you that I have been and always will be a supporter of artists. That’s especially true because I grew up with one–unfortunately, I can’t draw my way out of a paper bag. With one or two exceptions, every one of my book covers have been licensed images created by artists who are considered professionals. I will always do my best to support them and their…

[jenny-from-the-bau]

I'm slowly edging toward a new depression fic haha if I get energy to write at all

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

completely forgot to post this bonkers couch i saw yesterday. i am fascinated by how low it is but it has such a high tufted back

[sassmill]

When the vibes of the trailer home you’re looking at are just so rancid that the Zillow app literally crashes

[xipiti]

Hey PDX, if you’re in the mood for some pop/r&b and you’re cruising SE tonight, check out my nephew Gus at Music Millennium!

He’s an awesome kid working his tail off to follow his dream and I’m super proud of him.

Spotify:

[mudsmanagement]

he term “sweat equity” refers to the non-monetary contribution individuals or companies make to a business or project. This contribution can be in the form of physical labor, mental effort, and time, and is often seen in industries such as real estate, construction, and startups.Read more

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - The Library

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: NSFW, academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, smut, fingering, edging, oral, p in v, semi-public sex

Damian thought once would be enough. It wasn't. Because every week, you'd still show up to class well kept in your neat little outfits, still the image of perfevmction. And he still wanted to. Mess. You. Up.

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The previous weekend

Damian had some free time on the weekend, so he flew to help his grandfather with an undertaking. After a brutal but successful meeting, which ended with Damian and Rhas acquiring 50% of equity shares from a competitor company, Damian was desperate for some releif. He donned his training clothes and was headed down to the dojo in his grandfather's keep.

When he turned a corner, an arm landed on his shoulder, an annoying voice calling his name. "Damian!"

Damian turned and offered a nod to Asher, one of his mother's lackeys.

"Yo, check this out," Asher rolled up the sleeve of his button-up to expose a bandage on his arm. "From that attack in Shanghai. Pretty brutal, huh?"

Damian knows. He lead it.

"Eighteen stitches, man," Asher continued bragging on.

Damian recalled the first time he ever got that amount. He was five, and his grandfather taught him how to endure the pain from a katana slice. Ever since then, Damian knew that being scarred was nothing to be proud of - rather, it was a symbol that he let someone get close enough to harm.

He offered Asher an approving nod. "Clean cut?"

Asher nodded. "Slid out from under him. Just like you taught me."

"Good man." Damian patted his shoulder.

"Damian," a new, gruff voice had called. From the end of the hall, a short, chubby man in a suit was approaching them. Damian let go of the notion that he was ever going to get to the dojo as he turned to meet his grandfather's business partner from Malta.

"Enzo," Damian took Enzo's offered hand and shook it. Standing close together, Damian was two heads taller and enjoyed the privilege of getting to look down at one of the richest men in the world.

"I heard you got her." Enzo spoke in Maltese. "The tiger." He said before glancing sideways at Asher.

The lackey turned to look at Damian, who in turn nodded, dismissing him. Asher obediently strode away.

"Yes," Damian answered back in Maltese. "We do have her."

"Is she up for sale?"

"Yes, she is in the auction tonight."

"Ah," Enzo's right eye twitched. "Me with my pet tiger. Imagine that." He said eagerly.

To save his life, Damian couldn't come up with what possible activity one needed a pet tiger for, but the rich could be sold on anything. He simply nodded.

"Is she pretty?"

The tiger? "It depends on your preference." Damian offered so as to not betray how the question confused him. His family needed better company.

Enzo rubbed his hands together excitedly "You know what im gonna do? Ill invite that dickbag who busted my operation in Greece for dinner-"

Damian did not want to be an accomplice to wherever this was going. "Let's keep that between you and god. I'm sorry, Enzo. I'm late for a meeting."

At last, in the training room, he obliterated the punching bag. Letting the sweat blend in with the blood from his knuckles, he tried desperately to focus on his hits and turn his mind off.

Why was he so distracted? Things are going well. Wayne techs stock has been on the rise for the week, and Gotham's crime scene was cooled down. And yet, there's this small itch in his brain he can't get rid of. You.

Not good. You were a distraction. Distraction wasn't going to help his reach his goals.

His mother found him like this hours later, still punching the bag with fervor.

Thalia threw a dart at the bag, aiming to pierce it. Without looking, Damian caught the small flying object before it could land. Panting, he turned around to his mother.

"Damian," she walked up to him. "You've been here for hours. Come eat."

"Right." He exhaled, only now registering the heat rising from his hands. "Coming."

"Is there something you want to talk about?"

He removed his gloves and ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. "Just having a weird day."

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That damned checkered dress sat so well on you. You wore it over a ruffled white button-up with long sleeves and a tie. So fucking cute.

The way you dressed, the way you carried yourself - it was obvious you derived joy from being perceived. The urge to tear it off you was overwhelming. The urge to hide you from anyone's view but his own was overwhelming. Damian grasped at his pencil, grinding his teeth together.

"Can anyone tell me why this works only in zero G?" Your professor asked, referring to a phenomenon he was explaining. Sure enough, no one spoke, and then you raised your hand. As usual.

"Yes?" The professor nodded at Damian, whose hand went up a moment after yours.

Damian didn't miss the moment you followed the professor's gaze to him, and your raised arm fell in disappointment. Your reactions always animated.

Maybe one time wasn't enough, he thought. Maybe twice will do it.

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You favored the den on the second highest floor of the Gotham University Library. You usually reserved it for yourself when you need to concentrate; really isolate yourself. You were given a particularly difficult assignment this week. An interesting one, but a difficult one; to explain a phisics theory you were taught using historical conflict examples.

You studied the subject through and were now working on your essay outline when the door opened, and Damian appeared behind it, green eyes surprised to see you. He leaned back and glanced at the sign outside of the door, confirming the room number before clearing his throat. "I booked this room from three to six."

"Oh, sorry." You began collecting your notes.

Damian eyed your paper. "You working on Stelios' lab?"

You made his gaze. "Yeah,"

"Same," he dropped his bag on the floor near the chair and sat opposite to you on the big table. "Stay. We can share the room."

Your brows rose as you began to lower your things. "Really?"

He nodded. "What'd you get on his last assignment?"

"Ninety two. You?"

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head, and wispered. "Show off. I got a ninety."

You let out a chuckle. "Now who's the show off." You murmered, looking back at your paper. This was the first time the two of you had spoken since spending the night together. You were glad it was so casual.

"How's your neck?" You asked the question that's been eating at you for the past couple of days.

His hand lifted to pat the back of his neck, where you'd seen his scar a few days ago.

Today, he went for a business casual attire. A navy green T was unbuttoned at the top and tucked into his jeans. His long and veiny arms, which flashed a series of memories in your mind, sported a Rolex on one wrist and a leather bracelet on the other. The same ring you saw his father wear was on his index finger, with an engraved 'W'. "It's nothing. My barber got clumsy."

You nodded. "Is it healed?"

"Are you worried about me?" He raised a sharp brow. Green eyes interrogated you behind long lashes.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze. You felt yourself go hot and suddenly you regretted the decision to wear the long-sleeved top that hugged your neck and arms under your dress. "You say it like its a bad thing."

"Not at all." He admitted, leaning back against his chair and opening his laptop.

The two of you sat there for a long time, how long exactly... you don't know. The room was warm and dimly lit by a yellow lightbulb above your heads, the light reflecting off of a small whiteboard on the east wall. The only sound was coming from the heater.

Every once in a while, you glanced up to watch as he typed away on his computer. Stoic and focused on his task. You admired that he was such a dedicated learner. Studious. Serious. Intimidating. Handsome...

Your lower lip was caught between your teeth before you realized what you were doing and looked back down at the textbook you were reading, copying your last piece of evidence.

An hour passed, and you were done typing up the first draft of your essay. You were stuck on one specific part and wished you could consult someone about your evidence. You licked your lips nervously. "Damian?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you mind looking over my third argument? It's supposed to be the strongest, but I don't know if the way I phrased it, the connection would be understandable."

He nodded and gestured you to pass him your laptop. You did. After a minute of assessing him, tisked. You eyed him expectantly.

"You used the phalynx formation as an example?" He asked.

"Yeah,"

He looked up at you. "Funny."

"What?"

"I did the same thing."

"Really?"

He handed you his computer. You looked at his essay and worried your bottom lip. "Is he gonna think one of us cheated?"

He folded his hands. "Mhmm. I'll change mine just in case."

"No, I'll change mine." You assured.

"Y/n," his voice sotened. "Your explanation is exceptional. Stelios is a good prof, he deserves to read it."

You doubted your paper would even get to the professor. Usually, the TAs marked the lab papers. Though saying that would be irrelevant. "What about your paper?" You ask.

His eyes roamed over the paper. "Tell you what. I'll come up with another third argument. But since I'm being so generous. I'll give you the opportunity to do the same. Then we'll compare. The best argument wins."

You raised a brow, not sure whether you should feel insulted or intrigued. On one hand, the challenge of it seemed interesting. On the other hand, you felt slightly patronized. But the former outweighed the latter. Plus, it was good practice. You sat back and crossed your arms. "Deal."

He raised his Rolex and began to click buttons. "Is thirty minutes enough time?"

You nodded.

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Half an hour later, you put down the book and pen. You stood up and wiped down the writing left on the whiteboard.

Behind you, Damian checked his Rolex and pursed his lips, impressed. "Right on time."

"You ready to hear my idea?" You asked.

He leaned back in his chair. "Lets hear it,"

You began drawing a formation and added the formula on the side.

"Hmm," he hummed behind you before adding. "Echelon formation. Gettysburg."

"Exactly." You smiled over your shoulder. Then excitedly turned around and began to explain your argument. God, this project had been fun.

By the time you finished writing out your demonstration, the whiteboard was covered in calculations. You turned around, the rush of the epiphany flowing through your veins.

Damian sat still one arm resting on the table, the other held in a position in which his fingers were playing with his full bottom lip. But he wasn't looking at your explanation on the board. His heated gaze was on you.

You cleaned your throat nervously, capping the marker and putting it down. "What do you think?"

He sat quietly for a moment eyes moving between you and the board. Suddenly he spoke, his words sending a wave of heat to your core. "Come here."

Your eyes widened. And you took two careful steps until you stood in front of him, your hands held in front of you. It was ironic. He was sitting and gazing up at you, but it felt like he held all the power over you.

Suddenly his hand reached to your dress, giving it a sharp pull tug, pulling your down to sit on his lap.

Your breath hitched, your hands trembling on his hard chest.

"Do you know how hot you are when you're passionate about something?" He whispered, licking his lips.

Your cheeks reddened. "Thanks,"

"Kiss me," he ordered.

You eyed the rectangular window at the door it was covered by a blurred glass, but still. "What if someone sees? Or hears?" You whispered.

"What if they do?" He challenged. "Dont make me ask you twice, y/n." He squeezed your hip in warning.

Cupping his face in your hands, you rushed to kiss him. He cupped your nape and pulled you closer, tongue caressing yours and entering your mouth. His hips grinded up, the top of his pants rubbing against your tights.

You let out a soft giggle against him. "Damian, not the 4th floor of the library, it's such a cliché".

His hand slid under your skirt, drawing circles against your tights. You were about to give another half-assed protest when you heard a tear come from between the two of you, followed by a wave of cold air against your thighs.

"No!-" You began but his other hand covered your mouth.

"For a second there, it sounded like you were going to be loud." His tone was soft but also threatening at the same time. His palm still covered your mouth as his other hand slid into your panties under your torn tights. "We can't have that now, can we... what if someone hears?" He threw your earlier words back at you.

You struggled to suppress your wimpers behind his hand. You were about to bring up the fact that he needed to stop ruining your clothes, but the deliciously slow movement of his fingers against you had your back arching. Your hands gripped the bottom of the chair behind yourself, as you forgot what you were about to say. Your eyes rolled back, and you moaned his name, muffled by his hand.

"Can't keep quiet, huh baby?" He taunted.

"I'm trying," your voice came out muffled behind his hand. Feeling bold, you lowered his hand, whispering. "Please, I'll be good. Just be quick with it."

"What if I don't wanna be quick with it?" He asked. "What if I wanna drag it out like I did last time?"

You began shaking your hand, knowing there's no way you could hold back your reactions if he were to edge you again. You were already getting fingered in the campus library, the stakes were pretty high. You lowered your lips, brushing them against his ear. "Or you we can go to my room."

He shook his head. "No can do, perfect girl." He hummed your nickname. "You're gonna come right here in this room - " His finger sped up against you. You bit your lip to silence your sounds.

"More than once." He continued.

Your mouth dropped with a silent moan.

"And every time you're gonna study in the library, you're gonna remember that." He finished, rubbing with speed and intensity. You began shaking, and he removed his finger, holding your hips down to rub against the bulge in his jeans.

He did a quick job of unzipping his pants and pulling down his underwear. "Look what you do to me, baby. Look."

You looked down to see him lined up against your entrance, and your eyes widened. Meeting his gaze again, you pleaded. "Wait, Damian, not again, please. I'm still too sensitive - "

There was a nock at the door.

Your hand shot up to cover your mouth. Damian didn't look worried. He just leaned back, holding eye contact with you, and spoke loudly to the person on the other side. "This room is till booked for another hour."

Then he pulled your hips down and until you sat on his dick. Unable to help yourself. Desperately, your hand covered your moth to stop your squeal. But he caught it. Damian grinned up at you, his chest rumbling with a silent chuckle.

"Oh. Uh, my bad." Spoke a masculine voice from the other side of the door before you heard footsteps retreat.

"Do you think he knows?" Damian grinned up at you.

You shook your head as he began to thrust into you with a steady pace. You kept your hand covering your mouth as he fucked you. Suddenly, he stood up, holding you up in his arms and walked you towards the whiteboard. He positioned the two of you with your back against the board and your legs wrapped around his torso, then began thrusting into you again. "You did such a good job on my project, baby. Such a smart girl."

Your eyes rolled back as you were filled with him, particularly when he hit a spot inside you that made you feel so hot.

"W- what did you end up picking?" You struggled to ask, as you were curious. "For your third argument." You clarified.

"I didn't." He panted against your mouth. "I worked on my business course midterm."

Your made dropped, and your brows furrowed. "You asshole!" You whispered against his lips. "You - ah! You tricked me into writing the assignment for you!"

"Sure did, sweetheart." He smirked bit your neck, just above your collarbone. "Guess you're not the only smart one."

You moaned. Why did being outsmarted by him feel so... hot? Like being taken advantage of but in a good way.

"You getting close, baby?" He asked.

"Yes!"

He kissed you then. Whispering, "Come for me, perfect girl."

Not needing to be told twice, you did.

[saltpepperbeard]

Call It Through as a Crew: Alleviating Some Phone Anxiety

Hello everyone! So as you probably already know, there has been a recent call to make, well, calls! Another member of our crew figured out that the max customer service line (855-442-6629) is a very effective way to get our feedback heard, as the feedback gets transcribed and shared to a multitude of teams.

I already sort of briefly shared my experience on this post, but I wanted to go a bit more in detail to offer some solace for those who are also phone averse, as well as share resources and get the word out even more.

And y'all, when I say I'm phone averse, I mean PHONE AVERSE LMAO; MY FEET WERE SWEATING JSDKLS LIKE I WAS FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE. So I totally, TOTALLY get it, and am here to walk you through everything in detail!

So I called that number and was on a brief hold--probably like 5 minutes or so. The customer service representative (Margot my bestie Margot) then picked up, and asked for the email associated with my account as well as my full name.

I was extremely extremely worried and anxious about being bothersome/annoying the person on the other end and just being able to feel it in their tone, so I was shivering and sweating all the while. But then when she asked for my reason for calling, I said, "Oh, it's actually in regard to some feedback," and she went, "Is it for Our Flag Means Death?"

And we both laughed, and I was like, "Haha how did you knooooowww?" And she laughed some more and was like, "Let me tell you, I have never seen anything like this in all my years working here. We are getting so many calls. It's incredible."

And by that point, a large weight was off my chest because she was friendly, I was friendly, EVERYONE WAS FRIENDLY.

I laughed and told her that we were a very passionate and concerned bunch, and she told me that she thought that was so cool and also super important. She then allowed me to tell her my feedback, and she transcribed it as I talked. This was the little script I had prepared in case you'd like to reference it:

I just wanted to call and express my disappointment, dissatisfaction, and concern with the recent cancellation of Our Flag Means Death on Max. As a queer person myself, this show has a tremendous impact on me. And in a climate where so many diverse and LGBT-centric shows have unjust ends, I’d just like to express my wish for reconsideration, and just the hope that…Max will allow LGBT stories like ours to live and flourish. And I’m really worried about there being some kind of…homophobic angle to the cancellation, so it would mean the world to myself and so many others if the decision could be reversed, and we could get our third and final season.

I went a little graver than originally planned, because I saw talks that taking a DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) angle, as well a "hey I'm a queer person and this feels like a decision made for a nefarious purpose" angle, are supposedly more likely to be noted.

Anyway, she allowed me to say my piece and wrote it all down, and then actually stayed with me on the line to chat a bit more. So, the phone call didn't feel rushed or anxious which was SO so huge to me; it felt far more conversational.

She was like, "I don't want to toot our little horn or anything, but Max really takes all this feedback into consideration. It will be passed to the properties team (or something equivalent, I can't remember the EXACT term she used), and they're in charge of what goes on Max and why. So, I really feel like you guys have a fighting chance with these efforts."

And of course I was thanking her profusely for telling me all of this, and for listening; polite menace, that will be my brand!

But man, the coolest part of all? She told me that she was POC, and a queer person herself, and that this was all so cool and so amazing to see. She applauded our efforts, and expressed interested in the show. I laughed and said, "Well uhhhh I might have a BIT of a bias, but I cannot recommend it enough."

And then she proceeded to tell me that it might be even MORE effective to hit from different angles. So, keep calling (they're available 24/7), and also keep utilizing the online feedback form. Basically just keep FLOODING them with how much this means to us and why.

I then expressed a lot of gratitude, we exchanged pleasantries, and there was a brief survey at the end. I don't think the survey is necessary, so you can probably hang up by this point, but I stuck around for a little more horsepower. It tells you to rate the customer service on a scale of 1-5 with 5 being the highest, and you know I gave my bestie a fivvvveee. It also tells you to press 1/2 if your issue was resolved or not. I said HELL TO THE NO, DUDE SJDKLS. And THEN, it asks you to leave a voice message after the tone describing your experience. I said that I was with the customer service representative Margot, and that she was extremely friendly and helpful, but that the issue at hand will not be resolved until Max reserves their decision about the recent cancellation of Our Flag Means Death (I'm also always saying the show title in full as opposed to just the acronym, just for more OOMPH).

...And thennnn I proceed to shake it/shriek it all off LMAO.

Buuuut yeah! Probably took a total of 10 minutes or so. @xoxoemynn also shared with me that she's seen people say that these customer service representatives likely deal with older folks who need help with technology, and are subsequently stunned (and maybe even excited) to talk to younger people who just want to voice concerns instead of chew the poor customer service people out lol! And Margot also mentioned that they were eager to take calls no matter what, so as long as we're all polite and succinct, I don't think we'll have to worry about a very tense and awkward call.

I hope this alleviates some fear a bit! We got this, crew. We're doing so, so much. And it seems like it's being heard all over the place; it also seems like we've got so many people on our side, too. Big big hugs, and I'll share the necessary resources once more-

Customer Service Number: (855) 442-6629

The Online Feedback Form:

The original tumblr post with all the information:

The tumblr post where Fox and others were sharing even more information:

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Going Home

König has mixed feelings about moving home. He wants to share the love he has for it with you, but he worries that the bad parts of his childhood are around every bend. You know it wasn't sunshine and rainbows, but you're excited to see where he grew up.

You're both settling in nicely, fixing up your cute little rental. Happily trading rent for sweat equity. König has an eye for landscaping, and soon, you have a lovely spot to sit in the yard and drink lemonade while reading a book. Unfortunately, you have to deal with catcalls and the like if you don't dress like you're going on an expedition across the tundra. You ignore them, preferring not to feed the dogs any scraps of attention.

One day, a man walks across the beautifully tended flowers, crushing them to leer at you. You tell him to get lost, but he ignores your clear protests. He is talking himself up and throwing out gross comments about what he wants to do to you, clearly thinking he is getting somewhere. When he reaches out to touch your face, König appears from nowhere, tackling him in a dolphin dive. You pause for several long seconds, watching König land blow after blow, before gently tapping him on the shoulder. "Let's go in, König. I want a lazy day on the couch."

König chuckles darkly. "I'll be in momentarily, mein Prinzessin. Just need to tend to the flowers."

"Don't take too long, Schatzi. You know how riled up I get watching you work."

He grins recklessly at you, then turns toward the man groaning on the ground. Leaning down, he whispers, "I remember what you did to Tomas. Consider this payback." The man's eyes widen in fear. König stands and kicks his side hard, hearing a crack. "Get off my landscaping, Mistkerl!" Slowly, the man crawls away, watched by König the entire time. Satisfied when he has crawled off the property, König heads inside, ready for his reward. Moving here with you was definitely the best idea he has ever had.

[36n127e]

back at it 🩶🤘🏽 that sweat equity

[allupinyourminds]

The road to Rustin — I mean, that's a great little statement, because it's been a long road for Rustin and to amplify and tell his story. [...] You realize how it's been such a long journey, and then to have these people's names amplified in some way, shape, or form is extraordinary. I think the road is paved with a lot of these people's sweat equity, and now someone like Bayard Rustin is getting — he's getting his flowers. The road is not just paved with sweat equity, but it's now lined with flowers. The flowers tonight are for Rustin.

COLMAN DOMINGO RUSTIN Premiere in Washington D.C.

[originallandlockedmariner]

Cathartic Spewings (year 30 of teaching)

Education has become nothing more than the domestication of human beings.

Curiosity is snuffed out.

Excitement is squashed.

Indoctrination is the definitive end goal.

Square pegs hammered relentlessly into round holes.

Antiquated solutions used to solve modern problems.

Disconnection between community and the classroom.

Disconnection from purpose.

AI and tech replacing sweat equity.

Social media and other distractions gobble up any and all moments of inquisitive thought and simultaneously crush self esteem and self worth.

Enabling parents wanting to be their kids’ friends as opposed to their parent.

Discipline seen as a bad word; responsibility another.

Ethical development, critical thinking, altruism, empathy… all considered low on the hierarchy of needs.

Diets built of preservatives and chemicals.

Minimal sleep.

Minimal effort.

Minimal to zero consequences.

No wonder children are lost, confused, unprepared, and frustrated.

We need to be better.

[tozettastone]

A Kakuzu and Hidan-centric fic where Kakuzu realizes he can make a quick buck off of Hidan's regenerating organs. Things go wrong in any number of ways from there.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59776924

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I think Meghan’s frustrated because her level has some pretty popular people already. It’s crowded. To be honest I think the Gaines have a large % followed by a few other target brands. She’d rather be a target brand not a tjmaxx because tjmaxx buys left over inventory that doesn’t sell. Target is still affordable and I think those in her circle are far more willingly to say they go to target than Walmart to tjmaxx. That’s what bothers her.

I also don’t think she was prepared to launch when she did. It was a quick rash reaction that felt more like turning lover an “I’m open for business sign” than anything else. Her ego got the best of her .

Yep, that's the other pitfall of being so focused on immediate gratification: you have beer goggles on. You don't see your competitors for who they really are - you only see what they have that you don't or their flaws that you think you can do better.

If Meghan really cared about Roop, she'd have paid attention to the market research that her partners (and yes, she has partners, even if no one will admit it) and WME did. That market research would have told her exactly who her competitors are, that she has one shot to get this right, and precisely what shot to take and when to take it.

And let's be honest. Her competitors aren't Gwyneth Paltrow (Goop), Reese Witherspoon (Kohls), and Martha Stewart (Macys, Penneys, and Amazon). They aren't even the Gaines/Magnolia (Target), Pioneer Woman (Walmart), and Rae Dunn (TJ Maxx/HomeGoods).

Her competitors are all the other socialites out there launching their own wellness and lifestyle brands. Bravolebrities. Tiktokers. Instagram influencers. People who have such a niche fanbase from 5 minutes in the spotlight with print-on-demand merch. In effect, personality-driven brands that lack substance.

And those brands don't usually do well, because they always overshoot their market and target the wrong audience. There's nothing wrong with being a TJX brand or a department store brand or a "Middle America" brand. Plenty of people have made really good fortunes and livings from it, but only because they were realistic and clear about their expectations and knew it would take time to get the empire they wanted.

And since anon mentioned The Gaines, I have a feeling that's who Meghan intends to come after. They're in Texas (where the Sussexes have been spending time). Tall, leggy, thick-bouncy-dark brown/black hair-for-days, biracial homemaker guru wife with a doofus goofy ginger husband. Their brand (Magnolia Home) is a kind of rustic, vintage, comfort memory that ARO/Roop's video mimicked. They've got that kind of ordinary everyday Americanness that (kind of) competes with William and Kate's kind of ordinary everyday Britishness that Meghan couldn't break.

But here's the thing about Chip and Joanna. They didn't just pop up out of nowhere. I know it feels like they did, but they didn't. They put 10 years of blood and sweat equity into the Waco (Texas) home construction and design world before HGTV even knew that they existed. What has Meghan done that's even comparable? Sure, she got her own doofus ginger but that's it. That's where the comparisons end. And honestly there's no comparison between Chip and Harry either, because Chip comes out ahead by a million points by just being able to replace his own burnt-out lightbulb.

[two-white-butterflies]

false god | d. targaryen

Description: The Prince of Dragonstone falls in love with a singer. In which, you are forced to choose between family and ambition.

Rating: Teen [angst, suggestive themes]

Author's Note: inspired by the people who enjoyed 'm*therfucking starboy' 😭

The Japanese have a theory - everyone's little finger is tied to another person's little finger - a person that they would fulfill an important story beside. "Do you believe in fate?" your boyfriend inquires with a strangely stoic facade. "Yes," you whispered in return, placing the book on the table so that you'd be able to give him your full attention. "- and you know that I'll do anything for you." he prefaced, quickly sitting down on the empty spot beside you.

He reaches for your hands, playing with your pinkie finger.

"What's wrong? Is this because of the meeting?" you inquired, knowing that he was always frustrated after a council meeting. "We've been planning to announce our engagement for quite some time now - supposed to be last year, right?" he flicked a piece of your hair away from your face.

Oh, the proposition was far too familiar.

"Yes, we had to take some time because of Baela's birth." you adjusted your collar, intrigued as to where the conversation may lead to. "Well, the King has levied a condition - one that the council members sought to agree with without my permission." he rubbed soft circles on your palms - eyes flickering between your eyes and your palms. "What is it?" you asked.

"They do not want you to have a career outside royal duties." he breathed, waiting slowly for your anticipated reaction. "What!" you questioned sharply - feeling the atmosphere thicken with every move. "They asked me to delete my instagram and, to move countries - and I've done that. Why am I not allowed to have the only thing that I'm proud of?" you argued.

He places both of his hands on your shoulders, pulling you closer to welcome you into a warm embrace. "I'm not here to take their side - matter of fact, fuck them. If you want to keep singing, then we'll face them - I'll be beside you while we defend our rights." he comforted.

Daemon studied his past - he studied other country's history. This wasn't the first time that royals were asked to give a part of their soul away - but he wanted this to be the last in his family.

"That's not possible," Viserys smiled bitterly, stirring his coffee while exchanging a knowing glance with his brother. "- the council will laugh - and our approval rates will go down. This is monarchy, it requires decorum and respect." he added, quickly shooting down his brother's hopes of equity. As the Crown Prince of Westeros, Viserys was exposed to the harsh reality of royal life.

'Kings exists so that no man would imagine themselves as King.'

They were statues. A placeholder - not holding real power. Mere puppets to calm the crowd down. It was a job. A chore.

"Brother, when I was having scandals after scandals - I was not given a lecture about decorum. But my fiancee wishes to retain her lifestyle, and suddenly - decorum is in question?" Daemon placed a hand on your back, posture tall and proud.

"I do not like the role that you are giving me, Daemon. I am not the villain." Viserys frowned, reading his brother like an open book. "- but you are siding with them, you agree with them." his brother insinuated - frustration as thin as the chances of your victory.

"Because they are right!" Viserys raised his voice, you are taken aback. "Is there any other way?" you ask - unable to grasp the calamity of the situation. You gave your blood, sweat and tears to have a singing career - you only have one album out, and everything was already beginning to come crashing down.

"Yes, leave the royal family." Aemma opened her mouth, she enters the room with a book at hand. "Aemma," her husband antagonized. "We'll do it. We'll tender our resignation," Daemon's lips settled into a thin line. "Now, wait a minute." Viserys rose to his feet.

"Thank you," Daemon says sarcastically, pulling you away.

King Baelon places a bar of sugar inside his tea. He liked sweet things, and he was known as the family's sweet tooth. A clear opposite of his personality. He was sour.

"Leave the royal family? Are you jesting, my son?" he interrogated, feeling the entire family's eyes on the both of them. "I am not, kepa." Daemon responded - reaching for his fountain pen and signing a contract. "We live in the 21st Century. Monarchy shouldn't exist." he insulted, flipping the folder and pointing at the empty space where his father could sign.

"All of this for a girl." Baelon glanced at you. "Aemma is a cardiothoracic surgeon, top of her class in Harvard. Her professors told me that she had potential to be the greatest surgeon in the country - but she stopped, because she knew how important this institution is. She didn't ask me to continue her career - she stopped without my question." he quickly compared, and Aemma looks at the ground.

"I will not sign this. (Your Name), you are clever and easy on the eyes. You'll find someone better than my son. If you wish to continue your career, you will leave - and if you love my son, you will stay." Baelon narrowed his eyes, staring at every micro gesture that you made. Daemon glanced at you - you loved him deeper than the ocean.

But there was only one choice.

ynissinging: so glad to be back

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Daemon knew that you'd leave him the moment he heard about his father's condition. Your worst fear was turning into someone that you hated - someone that was bending over her ass to please another person. He couldn't blame you - you've already sacrificed so much for him. Five years of putting your career on hold - three years waiting until he announced your engagement.

"You should've ran away," his niece sat beside him, taking his whiskey from the table and taking a slow sip. "Rhaenyra," he warned - knowing that she wasn't allowed to drink alcohol. "Fucking institution. All is does is suck us dry," she cursed, returning the whiskey back to its original place. "Is that how the future queen speaks?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I'll never be queen and you know that." she bit her lower lip, already missing the times that you'd comfort her. "Grandfather is pressuring my mom to have another child. IVF, surrogate - anything so that no one has to deal with a female ruler." she rolled her eyes. She yearned for a universe where her mother wasn't forced to live this life.

Daemon glanced at his niece. A fear that he knew all too well.

"Leave this country, I'm sure that they wouldn't bother looking for you." she scoffed, leaning on the couch while the servants prepared their meals downstairs. "Judging from the ones before me - I'm not sure that's going to be a good idea," he answered.

The media storm that would follow him was damning. He wouldn't risk your safety for temporary happiness.

"It's a better idea than staying here. Aunt Y/N's is smart, she'll probably speak in one of those charity organizations. UNICEF or something - just like Angelina Jolie did - so that no one would bash her for being Pitt's other woman." she attempted to sound smart.

"That's not very feminist of you," he rolled his eyes.

Running away was the last thing on his mind.

"- but it makes sense." she defended herself.

"I'm not running away, Rhaenyra." he stared at her, convincing himself that it wasn't the best course of action. "If you're not running away - then do something that'll annoy them." she rose to her feet, marching away from him defeatedly.

royalfamilyicons: HRH Princess Rhaenyra speaks about sexism.

9 comments 12,495 likes

ilikeit12: this is someone i can get behind

ohhhohh: Y/N also hinted abt sexism in the royal family 😭 I have a feeling that she's right.

RhaenyraQueen23: She's the one that will save us FR

royalfamilyicons: King Baelon I about the recession and how the government plans to reduce it.

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LEAKED PHONE CALLS BETWEEN HRH PRINCESS RHAENYRA AND Y/N L/N. (by anon)

HRH PRINCESS RHAENYRA: They're all fucking awful. I feel like a placeholder until [mom] gives birth to a son.

Y/N L/N: You're not a placeholder, Aemma and Vis love you. It's normal to feel this way, but everyone in Westeros knows that you'll make a great Queen.

HRH PRINCESS RHAENYRA: It's not them, I'm worried about - it's the family. They're all living in the victorian era. Infuriating.

Y/N L/N: I'm sure that they'll choose you. You'll be fine.

HRH PRINCESS RHAENYRA: Britain has already passed a law about the succession thing, no more male preferred bullshit - but Westeros doesn't want to do that. And you know exactly why.

Y/N L/N: Okay ... I get you, but let's meet up somewhere. I don't wanna talk over the phone.

HRH PRINCESS RHAENYRA: Mkay, byee

Y/N L/N: Bye!

rhaenyrafamilysupremacy: THE WORST PART IS, I'M ON RHAENYRA'S SIDE FOR ONCE LOL

RosaRosa8: they're making sense #abolishthemonarchy

"I'm really sorry about the leaked phone call, someone must've wiretapped me." you scratched the back of your head. Daemon offers you a glass of lemonade. "It's alright, the PR team is working overtime - and the King refuses to talk to us." he tilted his head.

"Which honestly isn't even that bad because I don't speak to him much." Rhaenyra slumped on her chair, unbothered with the recent turn of events. "So, all hopes are gone?" you chuckled, sitting on the chair beside her. Daemon nods his head.

"Unfortunate for them, but fortunate for us." he smiled.

A simple smile that led you towards relapsing. Relapsing into his love. Falling back into his arms. If only you knew that 7-months after your supposed breakup. You'd be back with him.

hrhprincessrhaenyra: mansplain, manipulate, manslaughter. @ynissinging @dukeofdragonstoneofficial

928 comments 923,348 likes

iliketoeatapples: ARIANA WHAT R U DOING HERE 😭

rhaenyralover33: Queen Rhaenyra ever since she got full control of her instagram: 💅🏻

hrhprincessrhaenyra: Yes, they're back together. You didn't hear it from me.

PRINCESS RHAENYRA PUSHES FOR A BILL THAT DISSOLVES MALE PRIMOGENITURE.

part two soon the 35 degree weather isn't letting me process anything.