#straight bankruptcy

[jay-weller]

Bankruptcy Attorney In Homosassa

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[rebel-moons]

ahh, that makes so much more sense that gunn was only given head of DC Films because literally everyone else they asked said no

source

[fearyes]

not me buying some pobs as if i didnt have to pay rent

[antilethean]

God taking the 5 hour driving course is like. Here's the 9,000 things your ADHD ass needs to be aware of all the time while being Defensive all the time bc that's super healthy. Don't be tired or anxious while driving even though those are your two defaults. If you zone out for a milisecond you will kill everyone in a two mile radius. This is a completely necessary thing to do every day in order to live in 95% of the country & you sure as shit can't afford to live in the other 5%. On the plus side ig at least I know how I'm gonna die

[beomboomboom]

Cheater

genre: fluff, established relationship, crack

pairing: Jeonghan x reader

summary: Jeonghan knows his every kiss has the ability to steal your breath away and make you forget absolutely everything but him. And of course he'll use this to his full advantage, how could he not?

warnings: a little bit of swearing, kissing?

note: writer's block is a struggle 😭😭 idk why it took me like a literal month to write this. If you have any recs or asks feel free to send them to me! I'm in desperate need of some inspiration 😭. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this fic!!

Deciding to play a game of Monopoly with your boyfriend was definitely a mistake.

For one, you were losing at an embarrassingly fast pace. Your character having landed on Jeonghan's properties way too many times to count, forcing you to fork over money you didn't even have in the first place. The money in the bank was also suspiciously low, the stacks of bills smaller than you initially remembered.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan was doing amazing, much to your distaste. He didn't have much money, but at the same time he somehow conjured up some whenever he needed it. Everything was going well for him—suspiciously well.

"Your turn," Jeonghan announces with a confident smirk as he passes the dice over to you.

"I got this," you mutter to yourself while praying to whatever god is out there that luck be your on side for once. Jeonghan watches with a mischievous but fond look on his face; it's adorable the way you're so invested in a game that was doomed for you from the start.

You toss the dice out onto the table, groaning immediately when you see the result.

You landed on Jeonghan's property.

Again.

Meaning you're the one forking over money to Jeonghan, the one person who needs the money the least, as you sank closer and closer to straight-up bankruptcy. Jeonghan's hand immediately shoots out, a smug smirk is plastered on his face, silently demanding you to hand over what little money you have left.

"Your turn," you grumble, handing over the dice to Jeonghan with a defeated sigh.

Jeonghan rolls the dice. He's so close to winning, and he knows it. You're on the edge of bankruptcy and all he needs to do is push you a little more. All he needs to do is survive a few more turns and the win will be his. Jeonghan is confident he's going to win.

Jeonghan's confident smirk is quickly wiped off his face when he sees where his character lands after rolling the dice.

Jeonghan isn't going to win anytime soon.

He's going to fucking jail.

"HAH," you yell with a triumphant grin. "GO TO JAIL YOU SUCKER"

Jeonghan's mouth opens then closes without a sound; this was not something he anticipated happening. "Fine, i'll pay my way out," he finally responds after a moment, quickly returning to his confident and calm composure.

"If you want to pay your way out, then hand over the money," you say with a smirk, already knowing it's game over for him. "I'm kidding, that wasn't even an option, you only have 20 dollars left."

You watch with a laugh as Jeonghan's eyes widen in realization at his unfortunate luck. He was so close—so close to winning, and in a flash he wasn't. "Hah, better luck ne-"

You're cut off when Jeonghan smashes his lips against yours, taking your breath away. The monopoly game fades into the background and all you can think about is Jeonghan. Jeonghan. Jeonghan. His soft lips on yours, his gentle hands caressing your face, his mischievous eyes memorizing every inch of your face.

Then, just as quickly as it starts, it ends.

"Okay, here's the money. Now get me out of jail," Jeonghan says with a sweet smile after breaking off the kiss, 50 dollars suddenly appearing in the palm of his hand.

"Hey-," you shout in accusation, the realization that Jeonghan has been stealing from the bank this entire time dawning to you. "You cheater-"

Before you can say anymore, you're cut off with another kiss from Jeonghan, taking away your breath like his kisses always do.

After all, it's Jeonghan, your cute and mischievous but cheater of a boyfriend. Of course his every kiss will take away your breath and make you forget absolutely everything but him, and of course he'll use this to his full advantage.

"I won," Jeonghan whispers with a smile into your ear, smiling wider when you don't respond and simply press another gentle kiss onto his lips.

[lucksea]

tsuburaya productions will declare bankruptcy before ever giving us a straight answer about any part of ultra biology and i respect it so much

[surra-de-bunda]

Toni Braxton photographed by Nick Vaccaro for YSB Magazine (September 1996).

In June 1996, Braxton released her second album ‘Secrets’. Motivated "to include a little bit of everything," Braxton reteamed with Babyface, but also worked with R. Kelly, Tony Rich, and David Foster on the album, which she co-produced. A major success, it peaked at number two on the Billboard 200 and reached the top ten on most international charts. After 92 weeks in the charts, ‘Secrets’ was certified 8× platinum, becoming Braxton's second straight 8 million-seller. Internationally, Secrets sold more than 15 million copies, further cementing Braxton's superstar status. The album's first single, "You're Makin' Me High", marked Braxton's first number-one hit on the US Billboard Hot 100, while follow-up "Un-Break My Heart", a ballad written and composed by Diane Warren, became the biggest hit of Braxton's career yet. It spent eleven consecutive weeks at number one on the Hot 100 and enjoyed worldwide top five success. As a result, Braxton topped several of Billboard's year-end charts, and won two Grammy Awards; one for Best Female Pop Vocal Performance for "Un-Break My Heart" and Best Female R&B Vocal Performance for "You're Makin' Me High" as well as two American Music Awards for Favorite Female Soul/R&B Artist and Favorite Soul/R&B Album. Still waiting on her financial rewards, Braxton eventually launched an unsuccessful lawsuit against Arista and LaFace Records. Soon after, she filed for chapter 7 bankruptcy. Public reaction to these events were very harsh, having been expressed most clearly in an interview on The Oprah Winfrey Show.

[missouri-and-woe]

if sears had really wanted to save themselves from bankruptcy they would have started selling firearms straight to our doors again

[aheathen-conceivably]

From the moment Jo and Antoine arrived back home it was clear that something was different. Antoine had grown quiet, contemplative even, while Jo’s newfound confidence was even more pronounced than it had been these last few weeks. She proceeded to the cabin and then the farmhouse, calling out for Gio and Zelda before walking away without an explanation to either. As she did so, Antoine remained outside, throwing branches into the bonfire and staring at them as they went up into flames.

That was the way Zelda found him - staring forward and unmoving even as she looked to him for acknowledgment. Her eyes roamed upward from him to Gio, who was on the opposite porch looking just as confused as she felt. A sort of sympathy passed between them alongside the knowledge that something had fundamentally shifted while they had sat alone in their houses, unincluded and unaware. Jo reached Antoine first, patting him familiarly on the shoulder as though to awaken them all from a dream.

She had a plan. That much was clear from the start. That, and the fact that the reactions she was eliciting would do nothing to change it. So she told them every detail of Hosa Grove’s offer without stopping to let anyone speak, until she had finished reciting each and every date, number, and location he had given her. But as soon as she did, Gio was the first to answer. “Jo, I-I don’t know about this…”

She interrupted him before he could go any further, “You got us into this mess, Gio. If this is what it takes to get us out of it then it’s what I’m going to do.” He dropped his eyes to the sand and went quiet, which was precisely her intention. “Now it's not the full loan amount, but it should be enough to get them off our backs for a while. I can’t imagine there’s a line of people waiting out the bank. Still, it's only enough with me and Antoine’s money combined, and I’m not putting any in unless I get part ownership in return.”

Gio turned toward her incredulously, his obedience momentarily forgotten. “You can’t be fucking serious. Why the hell would you want any of this farm? You hate it and you know my share is as good as yours…”

Her eyes set and the look on her face told them all that the conversation was over before she even said a word. She met Gio’s gaze straight on and lowered her voice into a cold, measured tone. “You offered Antoine half. It’s no different. He can’t pay the full share, but if we split it, then he and I each get a fourth of the ownership.” She paused briefly, letting the gravity of the choice sit on them all for a moment, “Otherwise we lose the house.”

The very fire seemed to cackle at him, punctuating her words and feeding into his guilt-ridden idea that this was simply retribution, some sort of divine justice that placed him neatly beneath the heels of her red shoes after he had tried to tuck them away at the back of their closet. “Fine,” he finally relinquished, the uneven tone of the word signifying that it was anything but, “The farm will go half into Duplanchier ownership, split evenly between the two of you.”

Jo finally turned her full attention to Antoine, leaving Gio’s defeated face happily in her periphery. “Now, Antoine, what about you? All of this is moot if you don’t agree.”

He knew that the question was rhetorical. Jo had already made an agreement with Hosa, and so he had very little choice in the matter. The deal was nothing without him, and it was the only thing standing between them, bankruptcy, and the fate of the Okies. Even knowing that, he didn’t want to do it. He wanted to stay there on the ranch during the day and wake up next to Zelda every morning. To go outside and see his daughter before she left for school, only to still be there when she returned. He wanted to be home.

But home would cease to exist if he didn’t leave it. His daughter’s dollhouse, his wife’s books, Gio’s fields, Jo’s vanity - their very lives fell on his shoulders and his unwillingness to say yes. Still, he knew he would never make the choice to leave if she didn’t as well, no matter what it cost them. He looked at her profile, which was staring wordlessly into the fire like his had been moments before. 

When Zelda looked back at him she misinterpreted the hesitation in his eyes as worry for her, so she did her best to put on a brave face and looked back at Josephine, “I meant what I promised you all those years ago. Both of you. When the time came for him, I’ll do whatever you need of me.”

With her words, the deal was sealed, and Antoine looked back at his sister with a begrudging nod. He and Jo were going on the road.

[fantasywater]

Catradora and Stolitz: Same Toxic Ship just Different Genders

This series has always felt like the Catra Show, and so much so that even Hordak never felt like the main villain. And nothing drove that point home more than season five proving once and for all that this series' moral line(or lack thereof) is really about a Villain Protagonist when the character that increasingly became a monster for four seasons still got everything she wanted in the end.   

Catra is the poster child for the moral bankruptcy of this series. 

I can't buy her ''redemption,'' or her relationship with Adora, because she went too far. 

Therefore nor can I buy the mental gymnastics that arise when she is the topic of discussion in the fandom. 

For four seasons I watched this character willingly and gleefully jump rope with the moral event horizon. Then she finally broke it to the pieces when she genocides the planet, and everyone on it, because of her sick, evil, obsession with being better than Adora.

Loved all this time my behind.

Catra was a vile person from her introduction, and just got increasingly more poisonous as the show went on. 

Season Five wants us to treat Catra like she was just a bad friend.

She just said a few mean words here and there, and therefore all she has to do is sincerely apologize then friendship can begin again.  

Here's the thing Catra wasn't just a bad friend she was an abuser and a fascist. 

She had multiple opportunities to leave the horde, and had no reason to stay in the first place, gleefully attacks the resistance, is the reason Angela died, tried straight up multiple times to end Adora’s and her friends lives, and was just an abomination to even the ones on her side etc..   

On the flip side we have Adora who doesn’t give a damn about Catra for four seasons. She’s too busy enjoying life with her real friends.

Try and recall, was there ever a moment where Adora was...concerned for Catra’s safety? Pining for her in any way romantically? Ever? Even once during the first four seasons? Because I don’t.

Honestly, Catra wasn’t important to Adora until Catra showed up on screen. And then they both wanted to kill each other. Any moments of Adora thinking about Catra it was in the context of Catra being her enemy.

But I'm supposed to believe in their romance based on what? Catra's toxicity? Adora's nonexistent romantic feelings for pretty much the entire series?   

It seems in season 5 all Catra had to do was one act of atonement and out of nowhere, like Adora has been possessed by the ghost of Queer Rep, she suddenly can’t get Catra out of her head.

Also, note that Catra didn't save Glimmer because she realized her past actions were evil; no it was all for Adora's sake i.e. the person she is toxically obsessed with. 

Furthermore, the redemption in question is handled with the most condescending of kid gloves.

It seems like she was replaced by a clone for season five. She’s just accepted.

It's like seasons 1-4 didn't happen. The forgiveness was excessive and forced so we could be okay with this abuser/war criminal being chummy and romantic with her victims.

For example, Glimmer cries over her, kisses her cheek, etc... Yet Catra is responsible for her mother's death, the world ending, trying to kill her, war crimes against Bright Moon, etc. 

Then Entrapta also forgives Catra like it’s nothing even though she sent her to die, and apparently, she was in this hell space for a year.

But everything is supposed to be wonderful because an abuser ends the series romantically involved with her victim?   

When Adora said you made your choice and now live with it that should have been the end of any reconciliation either platonic or romantic. 

Even her flashbacks are of her being abusive.

You see her in one of them( in her so-called redemption season at that) scratching Adora's face to the point it left blood, and jumping on her stomach just because Adora dared to be friends with other people.

This was pretty much every childhood flashback they showed.

She would emotionally and physically abuse Adora, and then Adora would take her back.

This would continue even as young adults. It was a pattern(red flag) that Adora unfortunately didn't escape. 

But.....I always loved you,says Catra. 

For Adora's own mental health/closure, she could forgive, but only if she also makes it clear that she doesn't want her abuser/ex-friend back in her life.   

I could have tolerated that ending instead of Adora becoming a couple with her abuser. 

Basically, this Villain Sue ends the show getting everything she wants even after manipulation of several characters, genocide, war crimes against her own people, physical and mental abuse(especially toward Adora), repeated attempts at murder, and just being a complete psychopath to anyone within spitting distance of her toxicity. 

She gets to be pretty much abusive scum for four seasons, on top of actually doing the same thing Prime wanted to do, yet whiplash forgiveness and Lesbians 4 Evah is her ending.   

"So we're all just okay with this?", says Mermista incredulously of the war criminal Hordak. Good question, but then I remember you all seem to be okay with war criminal Catra sooo.....

Her mirror Hordak, according to the showrunner, is sentenced to Beast Island for his war crimes. However, my question then becomes where is Catra's sentence? Oh, that's right if you're Catra you get to be a war criminal in peace, and especially if you're dating the protagonist.   

It's also convenient that Mermista's was chipped, and therefore didn't get to say anything to the girl who helped bring down her kingdom with a smile on her face.

Funny how that worked out. 

It's even more convenient that her victims gave their lighting fast forgiveness.  

Can't have icky things like abuse and war crimes get in the way of that ending smooch you know.

I suppose we also just need to look at Angella as collateral damage while we smile as her daughter hugs and kisses her killer I guess.   

I also find it odd(since we're loving abusers) that Shadow Weaver point blank doesn't get forgiveness from Adora, and she even ends the series dead.

However, she defected to the hero's side in season two(regardless of any impure motivation), and stayed there and helped the protagonists until her season five death.

But Catra, who not only stayed with the conquering organization the Horde for almost the entire series while also eventually becoming their leader, was not only forgiven but also rewarded with a romance with her victim. Curious. 

The only way I can stomach her season five 'redemption', and lighting quick forgiveness, is if I forget the monster of four seasons didn't exist.

Problem is I can't do that. 

Why should I get any catharsis that the protagonists prevailed over Horde Prime when Catra is pretty much him with a sob story attached.

So it seems this show's message is no matter how much emotional and physical pain a person does to you it's okay to not only let them back in your life(damn your mental health I guess), but also enter a romantic relationship with them too.

It’s also hilarious that some of her fans say she’s Zuko.

No.

She’s what would happen if Azula and Kylo Ren were made into one character.

Titles the show should I have had:

She-Ra: The Story of a Villain Sue Antagonist That Gets a Happily Ever After With Her Victim

Another alternate: She-Ra: The Story of Lesbian Reylo or more current Lesbian Stolitz.

[radiance1]

Remember that post where Danny was a dragon and Vlad was a pheonix?

Yea, they're thought here too.

And Danny is obvi an eastern dragon.

Also kinda inspired by the Kwami from mlb.

Danny became the prince of the Far Frozen, after having been adopted by Frostbite a few centuries earlier. Danny is immortal here, and lived past his family so he just spends most of his time in the Far Frozen now.

Vlad meanwhile just stuck to his own lair, a great zone of fire filled with his signature black flames. Occasionally he goes out to the human world to check in on Vladco, he unfortunately had to leave his business up to an heir since it would draw a great amount of suspicion if he were to still be the head after, say, a hundred or so years.

Did he have a child with someone? Hah! No, he just took an orphan off the street, cleaned them up a lil, and turned them into an heir worthy of Vladco.

Vlad and Danny aren't exactly friends, nor enemies either. The most accurate term would be that they're Frenemies. After a few hundred years they've just resorted to that.

Vlad is an enemy of Prince Aragon, surprisingly he didn't actually do anything significant to earn his ire, Prince Aragon just hates him because he's a phoenix.

Danny is also enemies with him, since he was one of Danny's enemies before when he was a teen and the guy's attitude didn't at all help in making Danny not be his enemy really.

So you can say they bonded over their shared hatred for that one guy a little bit.

Cute forward a couple years into the future and Danny and Vlad have gotten trapped inside some magical artifacts.

Why?

Because some wizard wanted their power for his own gain and such made a plan to pit them against each other, make them tire themselves out and injure the other, and then turn them into artifacts.

Danny got transformed into a necklace and Vlad got transformed into a ring.

In hindsight, they should've seen this coming.

Like the Kwami's from mlb they can come out of their respective items in a chibi form. Tiny eastern dragon and tiny phoenix that gave the wizard who turned them into what they are now hell.

They were sassy, straight out insulted him and laughed to each other about it straight to his face, and when the situation allowed it. Hindered him instead of helping him.

It got so bad that the wizard who turned them into jewelry decided to just give them off instead of holding onto them.

They've been given away, sold, auctioned off. A lot of things, though after being handed off from the wizard they were mostly silent. Over the years they were unfortunately split up, going to different owners.

Fast forward to another couple more years and Danny found himself dug up from a casket belonging to a long dead wizard and then just dumped into the custody of one Timothy Drake.

Meanwhile, Vlad found himself bought Lex Luthor, then he went: "Wait a minute, something about you is familiar.." then found out he was the descendant of that one orphan kid he took off the streets.

Danny appeared to Tim because he was lonely, and basically became his best friend. Though he was confused about his apparent obsession with this Batman character.

Vlad also appeared to Lex Luthor, though he did haggle him quite a bit for his business and what did you mean that kid's descendants ran his business into the ground? He taught that kid everything he knew and his descendants had the gall to run his business into bankruptcy just because he wasn't around?

If he got his claws on them he swore he would-

Anywho, who the hell is Superman and why do you hate him?

[xmalereader]

Simon Riley X Tall! Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Authors note: I caved into this request even though I wasn’t accepting any but couldn’t help but get it done. I tried to give it batman and catwomen vibes but failed miserably. (￣∀￣) anyways, enjoy this shot that I didn’t really try my best on but did what I could to get the story going.

Request: Ghost X Tall! Male Reader that can speak Spanish (it's hella sexy) and tries to teach Ghost some too...

Warnings: Fluff, Spanish language, flirting, masked reader, tall reader, missions, hacker, pas memories, learning, ghost falls for reader, mentions of Alejandro’s past, language, semi short shot, code name: rouge.

Word count: 3.2k

Tags: @guardkeywolf

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Laswell had a mission for the a team, fairly simple but also risky. She thought the process would be a lot faster than she thought but instead took notice that the mission she needed to complete was going to be a lot harder than she thought and needed all the help that she could get. She didn’t need strong men but intelligence and the last intelligent person they had was Graves until the betrayal. His skills would’ve come in handy if he didn’t betray them along with Shepard. She instead had to look for an alternate route, one that she felt hesitant to use.

When she arrived in base she was able to get everyone to meet her, standing around a table as the gives everyone a nod of greeting before starting. “Thank you for accepting my offer, I’ve been tracking down Finch for years and had a hard time tracking him until now.” She holds out a folder and sets it in front of everyone, opening and showing them a picture of their target. “Finch operates in Money Laundering. He’s in charge of cleaning the money in order for it to be used and harder to trace.” She explains, setting out the file. “He helps big leaders, gangs, drug dealers, cartels—whoever the hell he can get in contact with, he will work for them. If we can get him then we can get all the intel that we need from people he might know. Target must come back alive.” Her last weird date stern and serious, she couldn’t lose this man nor can she risk getting him killed.

“Very well,” Price is the first to speak up. “How do you want to do this?”

Laswell nods. “Finch will be arriving to a casino in Las Vegas—good place to deal with money when their are so many people around gambling for it. You’ll all need to be undercover, blend in with the crowd and find a way to keep his guards away from him.” She explains, pointing at a few pictures of Finch’s guards that followed him everywhere he went. “Here’s the tricky part, he has total control of surveillance. If he takes notice of anything then it’s over for us.”

“So, how do we get through without getting caught by cameras?” Soap is the one to ask this time, raising a brow at her as she softly grins at the man. “I know someone who can help us.” She digs into her bag and pulls out another folder, showing the boys before sliding it over to Price first, who takes the folder and reads through it.

“He goes by Rouge—slippery bastard but will help us. He’s a hacker, can easily slip in out of anything.” She stands up straight and crossed her arms over her chest as she watched them carefully, passing the folder to each other as they read through the information and background. “He first hacked into the pentagon at the age of twelve, later at the age of fourteen he would hack into many wealthy companies and steal their personal information along with selling it. The kid got 5 companies to file for bankruptcy and nearly a hundred people were arrested for illegal information.”

Ghost takes the file next, eyes scanning the information as they land on a small picture clicked on the corner, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the other man’s features. Before he could hand the folder back to Laswell she speaks up fast. “Ghost, your mission is to keep a close eye on him and to protect him at all costs.” She refers to the hacker.

Ghost grunts, setting the folder down on the table. “Does he know how to use a gun?” He wants to make sure that the kid could at least defend himself or know how to fight. “He can handle a gun.” Laswell smiles back at ghost before she looks at everyone else. “Very well, he will be arriving tomorrow. Be prepared.” She instructed before giving them one last nod and leaving the room, giving them time to get ready for their new mission.

—

Simon wasn’t too happy that he’d have to sit back and take care of a new recruit. He wasn’t one to babysit rookies but Laswell had pulled him aside after their meeting and told him that their hacker was a slippery one and loved to escape their grip. The kid was smart and could easily steal millions without anyone noticing. Simon questioned himself as to why they haven’t arrested the rookie or perhaps kept a close eye on him? He wasn’t given a reason and he’d rather not ask why. Simon stayed back at base to wait for the hackers arrival while the others got ready, it was until Soap came out to join him when he asked. “Think the new guy knows what he’s doing?”

Simon sighs deeply and shrugs. “Not sure, let’s hope he doesn’t mess up our mission.” He wouldn’t want to deal with the rookies mess if he were to create one for himself. Both him and Soap watched as a plane comes down, landing near them as the two stood back and watched, the door slide open. The first thing the two men took notice of their new teammate was his height, he was around the same height as ghost, perhaps slightly taller by a few inches but he didn’t seem too intimidate. In fact, the new rookie wore all black with a case in hand, grinning at the two as he approached them. “Gentleman.” His voice was soft but also filled with a teasing tone, ghost knew he wasn’t going to like him.

Soap was the first to speak up. “Good to see ya! I’m soap, you’re the one they call rouge?” He questions. While the other nods. “Some call me Rouge others call me Fox.” He suddenly says, giving soaps hand a shake and eyeing Ghost up and down before focusing back to soap. “Fox?”

“You’ll know when you see my work.” Rouge answers, hand on his hip as he looks over his shoulder to see the other team members exiting the building. The first thing rouge does when the rest of the group approaches is pull Alejandro into a hug while the other laughs and slaps his hand against his shoulder. “Look at you! Portándote bien?”

“Como no?”

The two laugh at each other before pulling away. Simon glanced at the two, obviously knowing that the two had some sort of connection to each other but what surprised ghost the most was that the rookie spoke Spanish. He didn’t sound like he was learning, more like he was raised with it as a slight accent is hard in his words.

“It’s been too long, causing trouble again?” Alejandro added while Y/n smiles widely at his old friend. “I’m always causing trouble, because of my trouble I’m here to help you boys. Laswell caught me up on everything and thinks I can help with getting your guy.” He waves his case around, showing them his tools. “Good, we need someone like you.” Alejandro chuckles, giving the other a large smile.

“Good, now.” Price speaks up from the group. “Laswell already gave us the plans, let’s get ready and start heading out. Ghost—you and rouge should head down to the casino first, get in and find a safe place to stay hidden while Rouge does his own magic.”

Rouge smirks. “Si, Señor.”

That gets everyone moving, separating into different vehicles that they plan to take to Vegas. Rouge follows ghost towards their own car, getting up front as he sets his case on his lap, smiling softly to himself as ghost sighs deeply. “Let’s get this done quickly.” He states, starting the car up and driving away from base while Rouge opens his case and pulls out his laptop.

He flips it open and tries away, chewing on his lip as he focused on getting through the building and perhaps a map of the building. Ghost would glance over to him every few seconds before asking. “What are you doing?”

“I’m checking for a blind spot.” He mutters out, tilting his head to the side. “Hm, the bathroom is one but it’ll be too crowded—too many people will come and go. Perhaps the security room?”

“Too dangerous—we can’t get anyone else involved into our mission.”

“Fine.” He continues to check for any other blind spots, scanning the floor and frowning. “We can do the roof.” He points out. “There’s a skylight on the casino, big enough for us to stay hidden and no cameras up there. If their are guards then we simply take them down and I’ll be able to work on peace. No one will get in our way and I have a clear view of the floor below me.” He explains, showing Ghost his laptop and an image of the skylight.

Ghost only gives it a glance before agreeing to the idea. The other man smiles softly and returns back to typing as he checks for any other alternates in case the skylight doesn’t, jumping softly to himself as he mumbled under his breath. “Todavía no.” He sighs to himself before closing his laptop and slipping it back inside the case. Ghost side eyes him before focusing back on the road, his hand gripping the steering wheel and asks.

“How do you and Alejandro know each other?”

Rouge hums. “Oh? Estas curioso?” He raises a brow.

“No.”

Rouge laughs at his response, throwing his head back and smiling widely. “I helped me with some personal matters, we tend to get in debt with each other.” He doesn’t provide much detail about their relationship, keeping it a secret from him. He didn’t need to tell Ghost further details about his own personal life, it was dangerous and could get him caught if he were to do anything that was considered illegal. He’d rather be safe and not spread too much information about himself which is why his file was so small when Laswell presented it to the boys, only giving his code name along with his skills. The rest was either a mystery to everyone or perhaps a lie in order to keep his identity hidden.

“I’m guessing this personal matter was something illegal.” Ghost decides to speak up again, pulling rouge out of his thoughts as he turns to face the other. He shakes his head in response to ghosts statement. “It wasn’t bad, I was simply helping a friend.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Alejandro did teach me a few things—“ he laughs. “His mother taught me Spanish, she’d force me to speak it when I’m around her and I learned to speak it fluently. She’d also get pissed when Alejandro taught me how to swear around her.” It was a fond memory that he treasured. The sound of an elderly women cussing out her son as she waved a wooden spoon while chasing him around. The women may be old in age but she still had some stamina in her when it came towards disciplining her children.

“I’m trying to learn—been getting dragged around a lot in Mexico and had grown to the language.” Ghost admits.

This gets rouges attention. “Really? Perhaps I can teach you along the way.” He offers, sitting up in his seat and thinks. “You can understand it?”

“A little.”

“Perfect, how about I just speak it every once an awhile before switching back to English. I heard that it helps.”

Ghost thinks about the idea before agreeing with the other man. He’s been around the others for awhile that he’s grown to know a few Spanish words that were repeated around frequently. He understands the language but can’t speak it. In truth, he only asked to learn since he enjoyed the sound of the other man’s voice whenever he spoke the language, soft and seductive and it lured ghost to the man.

“Muy bien—“ Rouge checks the watch on his wrist. “En dos horas llegamos a Las Vegas. Once we get there I’ll make sure that we get inside undetected and onto the roof while the others get ready for tonight.” Rouge had seen the others disguise and how they had to blend in with the other guards or as civilians who were coming in to gamble while both he and ghost remained on the roof.

“You don’t wear a vest.” Ghost suddenly points out since he was wearing all black and some leather gloves sticking out of his pocket.

“Don’t need it, el disfraz que yo tengo puesto es suficiente.” Rouge blended well in the shadows, staying hidden from the publics eyes. He could get the job done and escape without leaving a trace of himself behind. He made sure to make no mistakes when on the job.

—

When they arrived to the casino they made sure to park in the back, waiting quietly as they watched the others enter the casino. The streets of Vegas were full, everyone either drinking or spending their money while they gamble. Rouge wasn’t one for parties but he didn’t mind gambling for some money or just taking money from the rich.

Looking through his scope he watched as the group got inside, signaling that it was there turn to move. Rouge puts his scope away and turns to ghost. “Listo?” He asks and gets a nod in response. Rouge grins, slipping on his own face mask to cover up the bottom half of his face, holding his case close as the two step out of the car and into the dark alleyways. The streets were dark and everyone was too intoxicated to take notice of the two of them as they climbed onto the roof top.

Rouge is the first to reach the top, hiding in the dark as he checks for any guards. “Esta seguro.” He whispers to ghost who followed after him. The two moving low and quiet as they reach the skylight, below them is the casino and gives them both a good view of the entire place. He smiles under his own mask and turns to ghost, leaning close to the other man as he whispers near his ear.

“Keep an eye out, yo hago lo demás.”

His words cause a shiver to run down ghosts spine as he watched Rouge sit near the skylight and open his case, pulling out his laptop and hacking into security. “Child’s play.” Rouge scoffs, easily getting into the security and getting access to all cameras and security numbers. “Ya entre.” He shows his laptop to ghost, showing him the surveillance footage.

Ghost raised his brows, impressed by his work. “Didn’t think it would be that easy.”

“no siempre es fácil.”

Ghost holds his gun in hand, ready for anything. “Para ti si es.” His Spanish is a little choppy and with a hint of his accent. His sudden words surprise Rouge who's eyes widen as he chuckles, clapping his hands twice. “Mirate! Ya andas aprendiendo, mi fantasma.”

Ghosts face heats up at his last words. He coughs and clears his throat, focusing back on the mission as Rouge worked on the cameras. He sat on the floor, leaning against the wall and focused on the computer in-front of him. “You know—this guy your getting why not get him when he’s alone? He’s been around many places without guards but you pick the casino out of all places.”

“We need to make sure that we catch him in the act when he launders money. Who knows what else he’s doing.”

Rouge frowns deeply under his mask. “Yeah, who knows.” His eyes cast down, staring down at the casino and watched people gamble. He watched the rich gamble away their money that they had no need for. He’s seen the way they’ve handled their money, too much to us that instead of giving it to those in need they become selfish and keep it for themselves. He sighs deeply and turns back to the cameras and takes notice of their target while the boys made a move to get him. Rouge sets his laptop to the side and comes to a stand, getting ghosts attention. “Mi haces un favor?”

“What is it?”

Rouge moves past him, going around the skylight. “Can you stand here and keep an eye from here? I took notice of a few escape routes for our target and in case he takes one I want to make sure that you take notice.”

“Wouldn’t the cameras show you?”

“Their blind spots and I wouldn’t be able to see.” He responds back and watched as ghost walks over to him, standing in a new area while rouge grins under his mask. “Gracias.” He stood close to ghost as he whispered his gratitude to him. Ghost tries to focus on his task while Rouge goes back to his laptop on the other side of the skylight, picking it up and typing away as he listens to the comms.

He looks down below at the casino. “And…lights out.” He pressed a key on his laptop as the lights go dark and the room goes into chaos as everyone panics while the guards grow cautious of the lights going out. Their comms go off while ghost grows confused.

“Soap, do you copy? What’s going on down there!” He shouts into his comm but gets no response, he can hear them but they can’t hear him. “What—?” He looks up to see rouge by the edge of the roof, mask removed as he gives ghost a Cheshire grin. “Adois, mi fantasma.” He gives him a wink and jumps off the building, disappearing into the crowded streets blow a ghost cursed under his breath.

He checks his vest to see that his comm was turned off, he’d thought he had it one this whole time. He’s quick to turn the comms back on and quickly gets in touch with the others.

“Ghost, how copy? Dammit ghost are you there?” He hears Soap call for him.

He turns to his comm and glared, before he can respond back the lights are back on in the casino. He growls in anger. “Copy, rouge escaped.” Laswell had warned him.

“Hijo de puta.” He hears Alejandro sigh out in frustration through the comms. “Did we get finch?” Ghost asks the real important question, wanting to make sure that their target was alive.

“No, he escaped.” Said Soap.

Ghost huffs angrily, making his way towards the edge of the roof and to make his way down. Once he reaches the bottom of the steps he finds the car still in the same place, meaning that rouge had escaped by foot. He walks up to the car and pulls the door open, supposed to see Finch tied up and gagged on the passenger seat. The man is unconscious and with a note stuck to its forehead.

Ghost rounds the car and opens the door, removing the note and reading it to himself.

“Para mi fantasma.” 

Ghost laughs, shaking his head as he comms the others and let’s them know that their target was secure and alive. He ignored their questions of disbelief through the comms and focused back on the note in his gloved hand. “Fucking hell.”

[joshslater]

Frat War

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"Sweet dreams," he said and knocked on my helmet. Then he gave me the finger straight in my face. "See you tomorrow or whenever," turned off the lights, and closed the door.

I was alone in the darkness. The only sound I could hear was the vibrator, or perhaps I just felt it and imagined the sound. I tried to jiggle around a bit to see if I could get loose, but I was securely tied up. It wasn't uncomfortable, perhaps not surprising given all the padded sports gear they forced on me, but I would probably have burning muscle aches when they eventually cut me loose. Right now it was the pungent smell of locker room from the gear that bothered me more, or perhaps even more the sock gag they taped in place. It just kept leaking a foul, sour taste. They can't be this bad naturally so it must be because of the oil.

Fuck, I'm losing it. My mind keeps wandering and not focusing. I'll take it from the start.

So someone in the linear algebra class asked if I could walk by the KAX frat house on my way home and hand over some homework to Chase. I didn't recall seeing him before, but then the class lecture hall is large and some people are watching the classes remotely. I assumed we had spoken though, because how else would he know I passed the frat house on my route? "Sure," I said and grabbed the manilla folder from him.

After one lecture in mechanics, friction more specifically, I was on my way home. The KAX frat house was a weird-looking brick building that had been some sort of school before it was converted, with a decent-sized front garden. I walked up the gravel walk to the door and just as I was about to press the buzzer the door flung open and a half dozen dudes tackled me to the floor.

"Hey! Let me" was all I managed to shout out before someone stuck a rolled towel between my teeth. I was pressed down into the floor by several hands and knees. "You find it? Is it him?" someone asked. I could hear rummaging above me. "Yeah, it's here. Schematics, codes, everything. He even put it in a folder with KAX written on it. What a fucking stealth ninja."

I had been set up! For what I didn't know, but I started to struggle and shout pleadings to them, which probably came out as muffled nonsense. "Spritz him," someone else said, and soon after a pair of hands held my head still, while a third inserted something into one nostril, sprayed a mist into it, and I blacked out.

"He's awake," someone called out far in the distance, and I wondered who he meant. There was something in my mouth but as I tried to reach for it someone grabbed my arm. Slowly the frat house and the ambush came back to me and I opened my eyes. I saw myself in a large, wall-mounted mirror, sitting relaxed in an armchair that had been placed in a home gym. I was dressed almost completely as a football player. Cleats, socks, tight pants, undershirt, and two guys were about to tie the shoulder pads in place. I had two black streaks under my eyes and duct tape over my mouth keeping whatever in place. There was a funky smell of locker room as if the uniform hadn't been washed. "Almost done. Keep calm and don't struggle, and we won't knock you out again."

I wasn't sure what was happening, but I was pretty sure I wouldn't get far if I tried to fight them. The guys put on a football Jersey in the school team's colors, followed by elbow pads and gloves. Then they helped me up from the armchair and moved me over to their lat pulldown machine, I think it's called. It looked like it came from a professional gym that I imagine the frat had grabbed at some bankruptcy auction. In the few steps over I could feel something else was wrong. I had been so overwhelmed by the sensations of a full football outfit I hadn't noticed something was weird in the groin area.

Once seated on the machine the guys started to tie me in place with thick ropes. Another pair of guys carried the armchair out of the room so the only remaining furniture was gym equipment. I was still at a loss for what the purpose, as well as the reason, for all this was. In front of me one guy rolled up a white sock that was discolored as if it had been heavily used in black shoes. He then picked up a small bottle, unscrewed it, and used the dropper from the lid to squirt some liquid into the rolled-up sock. He then tore off a new strip of duct tape, ripped off the tape from my face, replaced the cloth in there with the sock roll, and taped it shut again. I figured if I resisted they would just use whatever that spritz was again.

"We have a private cannabis oil blend with some other shit mixed in that gives you these amazing sexual highs. Just rock hard for hours while you can space out to your favorite porn. Very dangerous to use too often or too long." He pressed a helmet on my head and locked it in place with the strap. "With the concentration you're getting, and released over such a long time, you'll end up forming completely new sexual attractions to whatever you're subjected to." He pressed something near my hip and I could feel what might have been a cockring starting to vibrate. "To what is however the question." He was about to leave when one of the other guys pointed at something on the floor.

He reached down and plugged in an air humidifier. "We put so much effort into this, and I almost forgot it. We've been pulling moisture out of gym clothes for months to create this experience for you. I'm really interested in what the outcome is. The original idea was to turn you gay for football jocks, but I think it's more likely you'll end up sexually attracted to locker rooms. Or bondage. Well, tell your bros at the frat we won the prank battle this year."

My mouth was filled with bitter, sour taste and my eyes started having trouble focusing on him.

"Fuck, it stinks. Let's leave boys before it sticks in the hair. I bet it takes weeks to get out. Sweet dreams," he said and knocked on my helmet.

[sirianasims]

Chapter 43.6

My mother taught me that sometimes it rains. Sometimes it pours, and you’re soaked through and miserable and it feels like it may never stop. But no matter how heavily the rain falls, no matter how drenched you get, you are not the rain.

Some day you will be dry again.

Things have been easier since I blocked Paul, the pain slowly fading to a dull ache, barely noticeable as long as I don���t dig too deep. I try to keep myself distracted, reading Lucky Girl for what must be the fifth time. It’s my comfort read, Evie reminds me a little of myself. I think we could have been friends, hanging out and agreeing that being in love is the absolute worst, actually, while we yearn for our respective idiots.

The memory of Paul is not the only thing I’m trying to escape. With all my channels inactive, even the haters have gone quiet and my views are dropping every week. I’ve toyed with the idea of simply abandoning everything and starting a new brand, but I don’t want to rebuild my follower count from scratch. I don’t have time for it. My bills are starting to pile up, and while I can still pay them for now, it won’t be long before I have to either crawl back to mom and dad and ask for help, or get one of those real jobs people keep talking about. I’m not even sure which option I would hate the most, so I hide in my book for now.

A sharp knock on the door jerks me away from Evie admiring Jude in an art gallery and back to reality.

I hesitate for a moment. I have no idea who it could be, and I don’t want to see anyone, especially not some smarmy salesperson – or worse, my landlord. With a sigh, I put my book face down on the armrest and shuffle to the door.

Miranda is leaning casually against the doorway, her high heels making her look almost as tall as Samara. At their feet, a couple of large shopping bags are threatening to fall over and spill their contents on my doormat.

“See, Samara? I told you she was still alive.”

“So you did. Then I sure hope she has a very good excuse for refusing to see her best friends for almost two months!“

I feel my cheeks get hot. “Uh, hi. I’m sorry I disappeared, I’ve just had a rough time since, you know. But I promise to call you, maybe we can make plans soon?”

“No need, we’re here now, so you won’t have to worry about that.” Samara’s smile is cheerful, but her tone is resolute. Even so, I try to object.

“Seriously, it’s not a good time, I haven’t even showered for like three days, and the place is a mess.”

“Girl, since when do we care about mess? We’re here because we love you – stinky or not.” She wrinkles her nose, making the freckles on her face dance.

“What is this, some sort of intervention?”

Miranda smirks. “Pretty much. Sorry, but someone’s gotta save you from yourself, and we’re not letting you waste any more time moping over a man who didn’t deserve you. We’ve got snacks and a box of rosé with your name on it, so you might as well get out of the way.”

“Fiiine, but no judging the absolute state of the place.” I roll my eyes and invite them in with a dramatic flourish of my arm, but I can’t help but smile. Samara bounces through the door despite the heavy shopping bags, and Miranda goes straight for my laptop.

“What’s your login?”

“It’s just my birthday, and before you come for me, yes, I know that’s bad.”

Miranda shakes her head as the laptop plays a jaunty tune and lets her in.

“You’ll get the full security lecture another day, right now it’s time to declare inbox bankruptcy. We’re getting rid of all this bullshit so you can get back to business.”

“Miranda, there are literally thousands of messages. It’ll take days to go through, maybe weeks.”

She doesn’t even look up, her perfectly manicured fingers a blur over the keyboard.

“Give me an hour. I’m going to delete anything that contains profanity, and then I’ll sort the rest into folders, so don’t worry, you won’t be losing anything permanently. But I’m going to mark everything as read and archive it so you can get a fresh start. If anyone wants something important from you, they’ll reach out again, trust me.”

I stop myself from protesting further. Miranda knows what she’s doing, and it really would be a relief not to worry about everything.

Behind me, Samara has stopped unpacking the groceries.

“Just let Miranda work her magic and get your smelly butt into a bath. And make it a nice one, soak for a bit and pretend you’re a mermaid or something. We’ll get everything set up in here while you scrub off the sadness.”

I feel a slight pang of embarrassment as I walk into the bathroom. The sunlight is creating little islands of warmth on the black tiles, but it also mercilessly illuminates the limescale in the shower and a couple of cotton swabs that missed the bin. The sink is decorated with a few dried clumps of toothpaste, each of them outlined in red from last time I dyed my hair.

How did I let it get this bad?

I turn on the taps and leave them running while I undress. Then, I lower myself awkwardly into the tub and let the water cascade through my fingers. It would be nice if it was this easy, washing away the sadness and frustration, the longing and the hurt.

The gentle sound of flowing water is mesmerising, and before I know it, the tub is full. I add a small handful of bath salts and swirl it around. A soothing scent of lavender rises with the steam.

When I lie down, the hot water envelops me like a hug. It feels like it’s thawing something in me that I didn’t even know was frozen. I close my eyes and listen to Samara and Miranda laughing about something. It’s almost like being home and hearing my parents talk softly in the other room. It always made me feel safe. Less alone.

As the water begins to cool, I scrub down, slowly, methodically, running soapy hands along every inch of my body. It feels good, like I’m massaging life back into my limbs. Tonight will be fun, I decide. We’re going to stuff our faces with junk food, get absolutely smashed on cheap wine, and pretend that my heart was never broken by some has-been actor from Tartosa.

I watch as the tub empties, imagining that all my sadness is flowing down the drain with the water and the tiny undissolved purple specks from the bath salt. Finally, I move to the shower to wash my hair and rinse off.

When I get out, I stop and examine myself in the mirror. I look a little tired and worn, like I’ve been sick. In a way, I guess I have. But the black tiles are radiating warmth under my feet and there are birds singing outside my window and I’m beginning to feel like everything is going to be fine.

Samara’s blue face glitters in the candlelight. The packaging from the masks we’ve applied is littered with adjectives like “rejuvenating” and “revitalising”, bold statements, but they do actually feel pretty good.

“Sorry, Julia, I know you love this crap, but I just can’t get over the cake tongue. Who decided cake would be the best bait for people? Are we really that obsessed with desserts?”

I look over my nails one last time and put down the file. “I’m actually more disturbed by the whole chin udder situation. I mean, who came up with that?”

Samara makes a disgusted face, but she’s not ready to change the subject. “Seriously though, even if you were absolutely starving and cake was your favourite thing in the whole world, would you really approach a plant shaped like a giant cow head with huge teeth? Really? And then try to grab what is obviously its tongue?”

Miranda giggles tipsily. “No, but can we talk about how Ned’s relationship with the cow plant is super toxic, though? I mean, it always starts out slow, right? Oh, so it eats meat, little bit of a red flag there, but it’s probably fine. And before you know it, you find yourself luring your neighbours to their deaths just to keep it happy.”

“Yeah, it’s classic, the way he keeps making excuses for her? She didn’t mean it, she’s just misunderstood! She only bites me because she loves me! I’m like, Ned, your girlfriend is eating people, you need professional help.”

Samara laughs. “I guess some men would literally rather feed their neighbours to a plant than go to therapy.”

My phone vibrates on the armrest behind me.

“Sorry, it’s Marten again, I better let him know I’ve got company. He’s been super busy with his exams so we haven’t had much time to play lately.”

Miranda raises an eyebrow.

“And he’s still fine just being your friend, is he?”

“Why wouldn’t he be? I mean, he was fine being my friend even though I was dating Paul. Besides, I haven’t even seen him in person since GeekCon, it’s been almost a year…”

I stop. Almost a year since I met Paul. It feels like a lifetime ago. I wonder what would have happened if I’d cosplayed as someone else, or if Paul hadn’t been there that day. Maybe I could have been dating Marten instead of having my heart trampled by some fickle celebrity. Nice, normal Marten with his mousy hair and his robot facts. I smile.

“Anyway, there’s nothing between me and Marten. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

Miranda sends me a mischievous grin. “That reminds me, you know that hot bartender from The Rooftop? Super flirty, cheekbones that could cut glass?”

“The one who gave us free refills on Samara’s birthday? Shane or something?”

“Yeah, him! He asked about you last time, wondered why you hadn’t come with us for like three weeks in a row.”

“How does he even know my name?”

“He didn’t, he just asked about our red-haired friend but you’ve clearly made an impression.” Miranda winks. “Maybe he’d be willing to help you get over Paul.”

I shake my head. “No thanks, I’m pretty sure he’s slept with like half the regulars. And I’m not looking for hook-ups, not now. I need to get my so-called career back on track, but I want to do something… different.”

I think of Paul, of late nights in hotel rooms, laughing at the most ridiculous b-movies before having amazing sex and falling asleep with his arms around me. “I don’t want to do cosplay again, absolutely nothing with movies or comics or superheroes.”

Miranda looks thoughtful. “What about just fashion stuff? I started out with just my shoe reviews and now it’s more general style advice and outfits to match your heels, but you have an eye for it and you know a lot about cuts and materials and design.”

“I guess? I don’t really know a lot about classic fashion, though, like couture and such. And it’s a really tough business to get into, plus I’d kinda like to keep the expenses down for now.”

“You could always just jump on one of the big trends. I bet you’d make bank as one of those clean girl aesthetic influencers or something.”

“That’s actually a good idea. I mean, I can probably get pretty far with just the makeup and clothes I already have. And I could move my sewing machine and rearrange the room, set up my camera and the lights…”

Miranda laughs. “We can start right now as long as it means we don’t have to watch any more terrible movies tonight.”

I reach for the remote. “Not a chance.”

beginning / previous / next

[flowerandblood]

The Vanity and Variability (5)

[ Jane Austen • Aemond x Baratheon • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, masturbation, sexual tension, angst, mention of trauma, character death ]

[ description: Despite coming from a family with royal blood, Aemond is forced because of his brother’s debts to choose one of the daughters of the famously wealthy general, Borros Baratheon, as his wife to save his family from bankruptcy. When he arrives to make his choice he is distraught and discouraged, made all the more so by watching from the sidelines his youngest daughter, who seems more intrigued by his dog than her possible future husband. Slow burn, sexual tension, regency and Jane Austen prose vibe, vain, self-righteous Aemond. ]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in regency times (1805-1815). The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Aemond & Miss Baratheon & Vhagar Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

It seemed to him that it had all been a dream. The fact that she'd found out about his affair with Alys, which had gone on for years in London, his long, desperate letter that he'd cried over while writing it. That she had come to him, that she had said she wanted to stay with him.

That he had touched her.

He could still hear her sweet, innocent moans of surprise in his head, smell her scent in his nostrils, taste her on his lips after he placed loud, greedy kisses on her neck. He could feel her juices between his fingers, how hot she was, how intensely she responded to his every motion, exploring her body with him, her path to pleasure.

He felt like he was going to explode with arousal, that he was simply going to cum from just touching her and watching the reaction of her sweet body.

When she finally came, when he felt how much moisture flowed from inside her straight onto his fingers with the residual strength of his will, he refrained from throwing himself at her and sliding inside her, feeling how wet and hot she was inside from his treatments, how much she craved him.

When she looked at him with that hazy, beautiful gaze full of heat and affection he kissed her so shamelessly that he was surprised at himself.

And then she stood up, terrified, without letting him get a word in edgewise, announced that they could no longer be friends and ran out of his room with tears in her eyes.

He sat still for a few minutes, staring blankly in front of him, not knowing what to do. Even though he was ashamed, even though he knew he should be thinking about something else right now, about how he would convince her father to give her to him, his hand headed under the material of his trousers.

He groaned loudly as he squeezed his length in his hand, imagining that he had done what he desired, that he had slipped deep inside her, that she was lying beneath him and looking up at him with that same wonderful, hot gaze, that she was moaning just as innocently, heated with pleasure and exertion.

He began to massage himself with quick, aggressive movements, panting hard, thinking of slipping his tongue between her lips again, of giving her everything she wanted.

He came so hard that he pressed his face against his pillow, trying to drown out the sounds coming from his throat, his own semen spilling down his fingers onto the sheets beneath him. He was panting loudly in elation and thought with surprise mixed with despair that he had never before come as hard with Alys as he did now, thinking of his friend.

The thought that he subconsciously wanted her so much surprised and embarrassed him.

He thought he had to make it all right and realised that even if they had not done that he would still have chosen her.

His friend.

He realised this on one of their walks into town, during which they were accompanied by Mr Baratheon himself, longing for some fresh air. They were walking together at the front, and he was surprised when he began to speak suddenly of his late wife.

"When I met her, she was not fond of me. She thought I was immature and incapable of being a serious man. She was right. All I thought about was women, cards, alcohol and having fun with my friends without caring what other people thought of me. I had a huge fortune, but she still didn't want me. She said her husband could not be like a stranger to her, but had to be her friend. I didn't understand it at the time, but now I know that when I really started to listen to her and she saw how valuable she was to me, I myself started to open up to her. During one walk I told her about my whole life and she just listened to me. I wept like a child in front of her and thought I had completely lost respect in her eyes, but the following day she sent me a letter saying that she would marry me. It was the most beautiful day of my life." He said with his voice trembling at the last sentence, he could see from the corner of his eye that his eyes had reddened and he swallowed with difficulty as he tried to continue speaking, folding his hands behind him.

"I tell you this because I can't imagine a more unbearable thing than a wife I wouldn't even like. You must like your future wife, moreover, you should be a devoted friend to her, and she should reciprocate. Life itself is too difficult to share it with someone you don't even like." He finished his statement and grunted, turning towards Royce, who asked him something loudly from a distance, walking by his youngest sister's side.

Aemond turned towards them, and when his gaze met hers she smiled broadly and warmly, as she had always done in recent days when they ran into each other. He swallowed loudly, turning his face towards the road, feeling a strange warmth spread through his body, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

Life itself is too difficult to share with someone you don't even like.

He thought, swallowing hard, that he could have pretended to go on wondering who he would choose, which of his daughters he liked most, but he knew he had made his choice the moment he danced with her at the ball.

Some sort of understanding had developed between them, he felt relaxed in her company, even when they discussed her approach was full of openness and understanding, she never squeezed anything out of him by force, she never asked him which of her sisters he intended to choose.

He realised, however, that he had been waiting for what had happened to him when he saw Alys, for that thought that he must possess her and have her, that he would feel a sudden flame which, however, was extinguished as quickly as it had appeared.

When he thought of the youngest Miss Baratheon a small candle flame came to his mind, surrounding itself with the care of his hand as he walked down a dark corridor. Its flame did not scald, but gave a sense of security and solace.

He thought embarrassedly that he would propose to her as soon as he had sorted it all in his head and figured out how he should present his feelings to her so as not to frighten her.

So that she would agree.

However, afterwards it seemed to him that his worst possible nightmare had come true and Colonel Strong had completely destroyed his image in her eyes. It wasn't until she shouted the truth in his face about who he was that he realised in the back of his mind what he had actually done, and thought with shame that it made him want to cry.

He had spent years of his life having an affair with a woman who didn't really mean anything to him just so he could feel desired by someone.

He knew that she would never want him again, but what overwhelmed him the most was the thought that she would avoid him again, that she would not forgive him this time.

He wept as he wrote his letter to her, recognising at last that if he wanted to share his feelings with anyone, it was with her, his friend. So he wrote her everything, without bluntness or hiding, admitting everything with shame and humility, hoping that she would give him a chance and at least read his explanation.

As he slipped the letter under her door he locked himself in his room, sitting down at his secretary's desk and hid his face in his hands, feeling empty and tired.

He wasn't sure he had ever cared so much about anyone's good opinion, and thought with painful amusement that he had fought all his life for attention and a good word from his father and grandfather, only to suffer perpetual humiliation from them.

She would never humiliate him.

She was warm, kind and full of joy, always finding an explanation or solution to problems that seemed to him to be lost in advance.

However, he thought nothing could be done this time and shuddered when he heard a quiet knock on his door.

Then all he could hear was the rapid pounding of his heart, and as he lay down next to her on the bed he swallowed loudly, clenching his eyes shut, keeping his distance from her just enough so that she couldn't feel his throbbing, hard erection on her.

He was embarrassed and surprised at how much he desired her.

After she left he practically didn't sleep through the night, twisting and fidgeting, thinking about what he wanted to say to her. He felt that he should ask her opinion first, rather than going directly to her father, considering in fact her decision as the most important one, without which he had no right to do anything more.

He had been ready to go down to breakfast since early morning, and when he heard the sound of the door opening he literally ran out of his room, eager to see which of the sisters had come out.

He headed for the dining room, but only came across servants preparing the table for the meal, laying out clean plates and cutlery. He heard the loud slamming of the front door and walked out quickly, spotting her silhouette walking ahead.

"Miss Baratheon." He called out after her. She stopped and turned over her shoulder, pale and terrified, her eyes wide.

He thought with pain that she regretted what they had done and he needed to make amends quickly.

He approached her breathing loudly through his mouth, folding his hands behind him, wanting to hide how much they were shaking.

"I'd like to take a moment with you, if you'll allow me." He said in a slightly trembling, throaty voice, thinking with embarrassment that he was scared like a little child.

She looked at him with big eyes, breathing hard, terrified, not saying a word, so he continued.

"I realise that what has happened over the last few days, and last night, may reflect badly on me as a man and a gentleman, to say the least. I will also understand if you have a completely understandable grudge against me for not doing what I am doing now before I dared to touch you. However −"

"− Mr Targaryen −"

"− however, I wish with all my heart to rectify my mistake and humbly ask you to agree to become my wife." He choked out with difficulty on one exhale, feeling that if he stopped speaking he would not be able to gather his thoughts again.

He felt uncomfortable when her silence answered him, she swallowed loudly, looking at him with tears in her eyes.

"I am obliged and grateful for these words, sir, but I must refuse you." She said in a quiet, trembling voice, and he looked at her in disbelief, not knowing for a moment what to say.

What?

"Why?" He growled in a more aggressive tone than he would have liked, his jaw clenched in rage, in a sense of rejection, his heart pounding like mad. She turned her gaze away, looking everywhere but at him.

"I have no intention of becoming your wife because of your remorse, sir. All my life I would only think of you proposing to me by showing me favour, not affection." She said trying to sound dispassionate, biting her lower lip, struggling not to cry in front of him.

He stared at her with his mouth wide open, breathing loudly and shook his head, chuckling nervously under his breath.

"I'm afraid I'm not following you, Miss Baratheon. Will you explain to me why you visited my room, why you laid in my bed, if you did not desire to become my wife?" He hissed in frustration, but it was only when those words left his mouth that he heard how bad they sounded.

She threw him a sudden, surprised look full of pain, her lower lip trembled in disbelief, tears that she had tried so hard to hold back flowed down her face.

"I am sorry if I have confused you, sir, and given you false hope. I am entirely to blame and hope that God will one day forgive me for what I did last night. And now, with apologies, I would like to be left alone." She whispered in a voice washed out of emotion, from which shivers went through him, and then she turned and moved ahead along the dirt road, wiping her cheeks with her hands.

He stared at her dully, watching her walk away, his chest rising and falling in quick, anxious breaths.

He covered his face with his hand and wept helplessly, thinking only that he didn't mean what he said, that he simply hoped that she came to him because she reciprocated his feelings, because she desired what he did.

That his proposal would bring them both relief and make her not feel guilty about what had happened between them.

He returned to their mansion pale, not knowing what to do with himself, where to go, not completely anticipating this course of events.

Royce snapped him out of his reverie by saying that a letter had come for him, handing him an envelope, and he opened it without thinking, staring dully at the two sentences written with his grandfather's handwriting.

Your father is dead. Return to London immediately.

He felt as if the whole world had just collapsed on his head.

He informed Mr Baratheon immediately of what had happened and asked him to lend him his horse and send his belongings to London separately, wanting to be there as soon as possible, while asking them to look after Vhagar in his absence.

He thought that after what had happened he could not bear to stay here any longer.

He set off immediately, without waiting for her return, without saying goodbye to her.

He thought that she didn't want to see him anyway.

When he arrived he had to take a bath and change immediately, and then he joined his family, gathered in his father's bedroom, all of them sitting in mourning garments. His mother ran up to him and hugged him tightly, whispering in his ear that she was glad he was able to return so quickly.

His grandfather grunted, lifting his chin high so that everyone could hear what he was going to say.

"Now that we've all gathered, it's time for the reading of the deceased's will." He said and nodded to one of the lawyers, who was holding an envelope in his hand.

He slit it open in front of their eyes, they all looked at him in suspense, Rhaenyra sitting by her dead father's bed lifted her head, looking at the man with her lips tightened.

"I, Viserys Targaryen, in this document signed and sealed by me announce my last will,

I bequeath the Yorkshire estate and a quarter of my estate to my widow wife, who may do with part of her property as she sees fit. I bequeath the estates in Harnway and Dermore successively to my first-born son Aegon and to my second son, Aemond. My estate in London I pass to my eldest daughter, Rhaenyra, along with all the family possessions located there for generations. The rest of my estate is to be distributed fairly among all my children."

An uncomfortable, long silence fell, Aegon laughed aloud, burying his face in his hands, subconsciously knowing that this was what awaited him.

He was the first-born son, but their ancestral estate was to pass to their sister.

"The law states that ancestral estates can only pass to sons or be passed down the male line. We will challenge this will as illegitimate." Said Otto in an indifferent, impassive tone, Rhaenyra stood up, looking at him with rage and hatred.

"How dare you. For years you poisoned my father's mind and pushed me away from him. You can see that at the end of his life he understood who really loved him and who was just preying on him." She hissed, breathing heavily. He decided he didn't have the strength for it and walked out, leaving the loud arguments behind, heading to his room.

He sat on his bed, looking down at his hands and laughed out loud, shaking his head, leaning forward.

He had nothing.

His only inheritance was a country manor in Dermore, unvisited by anyone for years, overgrown with mould and damp for sure.

That's how much his sacrifice meant to his father.

He squeezed his eye shut, thinking about the morning, about what he had done, what he had said, and closed his face in his hands, wanting to disappear, to simply cease to exist.

Whatever hope he had gained in recent weeks, God seemed to laugh cruelly in his face.

It seemed to him that he was destroying everything valuable in his path.

His father's funeral was a grand event, attended by crowds of aristocracy from all over England at their family estate. He felt a squeeze in his pit and a kind of discomfort when, from among dozens of people, Countess Rivers emerged in front of him, smiling at him in the same catlike way, her eyes dark with desire, her gown completely black but revealing her full, shapely breasts.

She approached him, fanning herself, looking at him curiously.

"It has been a long time since we have seen each other, dear Mr Targaryen. You do not write back to my letters. Have the country daughters of Mr Baratheon taken your fancy?" She asked with amusement, revealing rows of her white teeth.

He knew that she was teasing him, that she was convinced that he was furious about having to travel there, about having to choose among them.

Only a few weeks ago he would have told her that he missed her and locked himself in a room with her, disregarding the fact that he should be mourning his father.

Now, however, when he looked at her he felt only pain.

She was so different from her.

There was no warmth in her gaze, only an expectation to entertain.

There was no openness and lightness in her demeanour to encourage confidences, discussion, trust, only some dark, feminine licentiousness, meant to tap into his physical senses, his subconscious desires.

For some reason he felt like crying at the thought.

He turned away without answering her, disappearing into the crowd of people, startling her completely.

He wanted to be left alone.

Only she could find words of consolation for him now.

She would know what to do, she would know what he would need, she would give him comfort and reassurance, her boundless understanding.

The next few days merged into one mass for him, he didn't know when the day was setting or when night was falling. He knew he should return to Chelsfield, but he had no desire to do so, knowing that the only woman he wanted to marry did not want him.

What was he to look for there?

During one of their dinners together a few days before Rhaenyra was to officially move into their estate with her family, Aegon said something from which he froze in horror.

"Hurry, brother. If you procrastinate like this, every one of Mr Baratheon's daughters will be engaged before you return." He said softly, slicing a piece of meat. Aemond lifted his surprised, concerned gaze to him, looking at him intensely.

"What are you talking about?" He asked cautiously, not wanting to reveal how terrified he was. Aegon smiled, seeing the hesitation on his face, deliberately extending his silence.

"Apparently Mr Strong's son asked one of them to marry him and was accepted." He said reluctantly, and he felt a tightening in his throat, his hand lying on the table in front of him involuntarily clenched into a fist.

"Which one?" He asked coolly, feeling that his breathing was laboured, that his whole body was trembling with uncertainty and fear of his answer. Aegon raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders, putting a bit of potatoes on his fork.

"How do I know, after all there are so many of them. Apparently one of the younger ones." He said dispassionately, lifting his eyes to see his reaction. He stared ahead with a blank gaze, trying to calm himself, then stood up and asked one of their servants to get his horse ready for him immediately.

He only arrived at Chelsfield in the morning, raspy and in complete disarray, entering their estate unannounced, guessing that they had just had breakfast.

Everyone got up at the sight of him, and he stood in the entrance, breathing loudly, some of his hair slipping out of its ribbon and he guessed that he looked inappropriate to say the least.

He didn't care, quickly finding her with his eyes, she was looking at him with her mouth wide open, all flushed, her eyes big and warm.

He wanted to ask if she did, if she said yes, but he didn't know how to do it, so they stood in an awkward silence that seemed to last an eternity.

Mr Baratheon, seeing this, grunted saying that they had not expected him so soon, offered his condolences and asked if the funeral ceremonies had gone off without a hitch.

"− yes −" He muttered, not looking at him however, just at her, in her gaze tenderness, compassion, concern, everything he needed, everything he wanted. "− yes, thank you −"

There was an awkward silence again, so he involuntarily licked his lower lip, strenuously thinking how to ask this so as not to betray himself.

"− it has come to my knowledge that one of your daughters will be getting married soon −" He said forcing himself to be calm, still looking at her, at her expression, her eyebrows arched in pain, as if she suddenly understood what he was asking.

He was asking if she was the one getting married.

He heard Floris giggle loudly, rising, showing him the small ring she had on her finger.

"Please see what I got from Colonel Strong. What excellent taste he has. My silly sister rejected his engagement, but I was smarter than that." She said and jumped up with a smile, flushed with happiness, as if this was the most joyous day of her life.

He looked quickly at Mr Baratheon's youngest daughter, her breasts rising and falling quickly in uneven breathing, her pink lips parted slightly, tears in her eyes.

He felt that he looked just like her.

He felt like crying with happiness, with relief, with joy.

She did not accept him.

Mr Baratheon suggested that, after such a long journey, he should join them at breakfast and then rest, and he nodded, suddenly relaxed and light, not quite hearing or seeing what was going on around him, nodding at Floris's words, her stories of how she imagined the whole ceremony, though his gaze kept escaping to her.

They looked at each other from opposite ends of the table far too often, drawing the attention of Royce, Mr Baratheon and Cassandra with it, but he didn't care.

As soon as breakfast was over he did not let the youngest Miss Baratheon leave the dining room, asking her straight away if she would agree to speak to him in private. She swallowed loudly and nodded, saying she had to put on her cloak.

He waited impatiently for her in the park behind their mansion and spotted her a moment later, walking towards him with an uncertain, quiet step. He felt his heart pounding hard, pleased to see her. She lifted her warm gaze to him at last, sadness and concern in her gaze.

"I have not had the opportunity to offer you my heartfelt condolences. I am so sorry." She said warmly, softly, sincerely, and he felt her words like the prick of a needle stuck in his heart. He sighed quietly, pressing his lips together, he felt like his gaze expressed everything.

Desire, affection, longing.

"Thank you, Miss Baratheon." He replied softly and they looked at each other in silence for a moment, embarrassed and uncertain.

"As I understand it, you have rejected Colonel Strong's engagement." He said lowly, lowering his gaze to his feet, swallowing loudly, wanting to hear it from her. He saw out of the corner of his eye a blush of embarrassment spread across her cheeks.

"Yes. It was probably the most miserable engagement I could have imagined." She mumbled, involuntarily smiling out of the corner of her mouth. He smiled too and snorted at her words.

"Worse than mine?" He hummed teasingly, and she lifted her gaze to him quickly, even redder, and snorted a quiet laugh, looking up at him affectionately.

"Please, sir, don't be hard on yourself. I didn't behave properly then either." She said softly, looking down at her hands, playing with her fingers, and he swallowed loudly.

"My father, in his will, deprived me of almost all my property, leaving me only a small country manor in Dermore. I wish to sell it and with those funds buy or rent an estate in this neighbourhood." He said calmly and she looked at him shocked, her lips parted in disbelief.

"You're not staying in London?" She asked in a trembling voice, and he hit the inside of his cheek with the tip of his tongue and chuckled under his breath.

"There's nothing waiting for me there. There's nothing there that I want. What would make me happy." He said quietly, looking at her, and she closed her mouth quickly, swallowing loudly, looking at him in a way that made him feel like throwing himself at her.

He smiled at the thought that flashed through his mind as he looked at her now, after only a few days of separation.

"I hope that this property will soon be filled with the laughter of our children." He said softly and she furrowed her eyebrows as if in pain, pressing her lips together, her eyes welled up with tears, her whole figure tensed in anxious breathing.

He approached her slowly feeling light, feeling confident, wonderful, for the first time in his life having the premonition that he knew what he was doing, that he knew what he wanted, that he knew what would make him happy.

He grasped her warm, tear-wet cheeks in his hands, and she didn't move away, her bottom lip trembling slightly. He ran his thumb over her soft skin and shuddered as she placed her trembling fingers on his, running them gently up and down.

"My sweet friend." He whispered, pressing his forehead against hers, and she smiled so warmly, so tenderly, that he didn't even know when their lips were pressed against each other in a soft, gentle, wet kiss.

He ran his nose over the tip of hers only to kiss her again, a sticky, loud click accompanied each movement of their lips. He felt her small, warm hands on his neck and cheeks and thought he could die now, fulfilled at last.

"Yes." She whispered to him between one sweet kiss and another, and he hummed softly at her words, involuntarily smiling. He fell deeper into her lips, knowing what she wanted to say, their hands clenched tightly on their skin.

She pulled away from him and embraced him, cuddling her cheek into his chest, and he embraced her immediately, one hand laying on her back, the other slipping into her long hair tied back with a blue ribbon, kissing the top of her head, taking in her wonderful scent.

"I need to speak to your father."

_____

Taglist 1

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[the-path-to-redemption]

Hot take: I hate it when RWBY rewrite protray WF as this full on evil organization or try to manipulate faunus discrimination/pain for evil person benefit (I have seen people rewrite as Adam being Amon from Legends of Korra; where he isn't actually a faunus but a man to pretend to be a faunus)

Imo using an oppressed group pain whether a real life group or in universe group is always a cheap move to have an evil person for the sake of being evil.

The closet evil person that I can think of in rwby who has no overly sympathetic backstory is Tyrian.

That's not even a hot take, baby, that's just you seeing racism and rightfully calling it out.

Anyone who sees a fucking person permanently disabled by a slave brand and a person who's orphaned by the same enslaving company and goes, "huh, what if the organization they're participating in that strives for racial equality through extreme means because nothing else has worked to even prevent such tragedies was evil?", is a bonefide idiot and a racist as hell.

That's literally propaganda to separate the "good minority" who doesn't fight back from the "bad minority" who were forced into extremism due to systematic oppression. And like, the discrimination against Faunus is still there; it's still being exploited for an evil benefit, and that benefit is The Schnee Dust Company. Not the WF, the mega-corporation that legally own slaves and mutilate them while driving small businesses into bankruptcy. The company that the protagonists still supports well into Volume 4 and beyond with their Dust supply even though their friend Blake outright tells them that the SDC is immoral and exploitative.

And like, there's already antagonists in the show who are evil for evil's sake; Watts, the Branwen grunt bandits, Salem herself. None of them are the in-universe minority group, yet no one in this brain-dead FNDM ever goes, "they're exploiting another person's pain for their evil benefit", on the same level they do to the WF. It's straight up racism, point fucking blank.

Honestly, I would even argued that Tyrian would still be sympathetic even if we don't know his backstory because of the type of Faunus he is and how society might have treated him. Not to mention he's another example of the meta racism of CRWBY alongside Adam, Sienna, Tock, and Ilia. Notice how the "good" Faunus characters are mostly with cutesy animals with nice traits to look at (cat and bunny ears, monkey and dog tail, sheep horns) while the "bad" Faunus are the ones with scary looking traits (bull horns, venom tail, bat wings, camouflage). Hmmmmmm.