#a business proposal wallpaper

[dramalocks]

☇✈ a business proposal; simples ♡ ❞

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[b-brightvc]

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like or reblog if u save. don't repost pls! <3

[lovsckgrls]

Sejeong icons for you babes ❕️

Muy minha !!!

[chiminly]

⎯⎯ 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 ⠀ ꒰ ⠀🌾 ♡ ⠀ ꒱ ⠀ 𝖿𝖺𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾.

ㅤㅤㅤ 🔪 ᥣikᥱ ꪮɾ rᥱbᥣꪮg pᥣ᥉ ! ☘️

[5staristhebestalbum]

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[frogwithgun]

Write time! With the students cause I feel like it. Um yeah enjoy this one!

In which Gojo forgets his anniversary!

-------------------

Stood in front of three teens he swears that something is off. He's checked, double checked, and triple checked things already. As Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi watch him pace back and forth while muttering to himself.

Maybe he's going insane? No. That happened a while ago when he chose to be a teacher. Gojo turns to his students. "Are you sure?" Mugumi sighs and buries his face in his hands. Yuji pats his back and Nobara nods. "Very. You forgot something." Yeah he must be insane.

Gojo turns his back to his students and starts to pace again. Running through all the things he could have forgotten. "It's not my birthday." He mutters. "It's not Sugurus birthday." He turns back to the students. "It's not the girls birthday." Is he just going through birthdays?

Yes. Yes he is. "It's not a birthday." Nobara says with an eye roll. "Is it a holiday?" Nobara shakes her head. Gojo is just confused now. "Then what is it?" Yuji looks at Gojo with his head tilted. Still rubbing Megumis back. "Didn't you marry Geto-sensi today?" Gojo laughs.

He loves thinking about his husband. "What? No! That's two days from now." Now Nobara is laughing. "Today is March 27." Gojos eyes widen behind his blindfold. He even takes it off to see them better. "What?! No it's the 2-" He pulls out his phone in a hurry. Checking the date.

He pauses. His wallpaper, a photo of Geto and the girls, stares at him. And right above Getos head is the time. In smaller letters above that reads, March 27th. The day he married Geto. The day he proposed to Geto. The day Geto asked him out.

Slowly he puts his phone back in his pocket and clears his throat. "If you'll excuse me." He says as calmly as he possibly can. Then he bolts away from the training grounds. Leaving behind a strong gust of wind.

--------------------

The tea Geto made was sitting on the coffee table. He was sat on the couch peacefully reading a book. As he turns the page he notices the tea in the cup started to ripple. He closes the book and sets it aside. Bringing the cup closer he looks confused. "What the fuck?"

The door slams open. He jumps and almost falls off the couch as a whole. "AH!" He gets ready to summon a curse. But stops as he sees who it is. "Satoru? What are you doing home so earl-mph!?" He's cut off when Gojo kisses him. "I FORGOT." Geto blinks.

Then he starts laughing. "I knew I wasn't crazy!" Geto kisses Gojo on the check and sighs. "I COMPLETELY FORGOT IT WAS TODAY. I SWEAR IT WAS TWO DAYS FROM NOW." Gojo is pacing back and forth again while Geto just calmly keeps reading. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?! MONEY, A CAR, A NEW HOUSE?!" Geto sighs again.

As much as he loves freaking out his husband he would rather he's clam. "Satoru I don't want any of those things." Gojo drops to his knees in front of Suguru. "I DIDN'T MEAN TO FORGET." He's growing at his feet. God he's dramatic. Geto pats his head and smiles. "Calm down. It's fine."

Gojo buries his head into Getos lap and whines. "But I forgot!" Geto nods and turns to the next page in his book. "Yes." Gojo looks up at him. "Aren't you mad?" Geto just shrugs. "Why would I be mad? You're a busy man." Geto looks down at him. "Probably to busy for little old me." Gojo looks offended. "NEVER!"

Then Geto leans down and kisses him. "Then you can take me out to dinner." Gojo lights up. "Ok! I'll take you to a five star restaurant!" Geto shakes his head while Gojo is just happy to be going out with his husband.

------------------

Bonus!

Nobara looks at Megumi and Yuji. "How are they still together?" Megumi looks at Nobara. "Because Geto-sensi likes Gojos muscles." Nobara shrugs and nods. "I guess that's fair." Yuji looks around the training grounds. "So, when is he coming back?" Megumi sighs and covers his face. "He isn't. Their probably at home eating each others faces off."

[mirageofadesert]

Give me more morally gray characters ...

Let me interrupt my regular program for a brief rant about Downton Abbey and Thomas Barrow… well, not really regular as I've been too busy to watch anything with subtitles for the past few weeks. Instead, I passively binged on Downton Abbey while working.

I love morally gray characters, be it Tantai Jin from TTEOTM or Spike from Buffy. One of my favorite characters is Thomas Barrow from Downton Abbey. (Spoiler Alert, TW // suicide, homophobia, conversion therapy)

Thomas is everything I need in a character ... unhinged, angsty and gay.

I loved him from the first rude line to the last. He starts out as a delightful troublemaker with a cruel streak born of fear, hurt and the desire to be respected, fit in and belong. He is, as Baxter understands so well, his own worst enemy, having perfected self-sabotage over the years.

A supporting character for most of the show, the footman-turned-butler's story is usually prioritized over his character development - meaning the writers know where they want him to end up each season, even if it contradicts previous characterizations. This leaves the audience with a character who can be hard to follow at times.

The writing really got on my nerves at times. From conveniently forgetting his medical training when they want him to despair during his job hunt, to pulling any kind of cunning out of him when they want him to appear changed (and depressed), Thomas is always what the showrunners need him to be, but not necessary what would make sense for his character. I'm still annoyed that they made him go through medical torture in the form of conversion therapy and a suicide attempt, and then glossed over these traumatic incidents in favor of boring other storylines. Or how they portrayed his war injury as an act of cowardice rather than desperation.

What I love about him is that he was still a coherent character who remained a morally gray character (the last film aside, because they sort of forgot to give him any of his character traits back). Thomas would still lash out when he was angry or hurt, would still manipulate others for his own gain, and would still feel wronged by the world. Once the world has brought him to his knees, he understands that he has only himself to blame, and he tries to do better - which has its ups and downs. The Thomas we see in the final and in the films still wants to belong, is still a desperate romantic, but he is also so incredibly insecure in a rather endearing way.

Younger Thomas was rather stiff but dignified, trying to appear immaculate, trying to hide the fact that he felt he was anything but. Once the mask comes off, he goes from being a reluctant cat to being full of nervous puppy energy. As a neurodivergent person who has recently struggled with not being able to masks well, I can relate a little too much to this version of Thomas.

Most characters, that start out as villains, either change completely (like Tantai Jin), their behavior will be excused (like Mo Ran or Spike) or they sacrifice themselves for the greater good to redeem themselves (like Spike). Thomas stays more on less morally gray. We understand the reasons better, why he would lash out at others, and we can feel sorry for him. He had a harder life than most, but that still does not undo the harm he has done to others.

All in all, the last film was a bit of a disappointment for me, mainly because a lot of the characters felt a bit off. I had to watch the film twice to get behind the romance with Guy Dexter. What Guy meets is Thomas desire to be respected as a person, to be seen as worthwhile, to escape the life as decorative wallpaper and to finally have a romantic relationship with someone that is rather enthusiastic about him. A lot of their relationships seems to have developed off-screen, based on Guy knowing who Carson was during his proposal and understanding how uncertain Thomas still feels about his role in the household. I wish them well - but not at the expense of Thomas being excluded from the rumoured 3rd film. I hope it takes place in the USA and we get to see him again!

I really wish we would see more morally gray characters like this, even through a quick look into the fandom of Downton Abbey shows me, that not everybody can handle it.

[foundtherightwords]

Love in a Mist - Chapter 4

Pairing: Hellcheer Regency AU or Regency!Eddie Munson x OFC (for more info, see A/N of Chapter 1)

Summary: Christine Conyngham, a young debutante whose marital prospects are less than ideal, believes her happiness is secure when she falls in love with Joshua Craven, the handsome future Duke of Hauxwell. However, after her lack of a fortune prevents her and Joshua from marrying, Christine impulsively accepts the proposal of Edward Munson, the eccentric Baron Hurstfield, who is in need of a wife to obtain an inheritance. But with her heart still pining after Joshua, can Christine learn to love her husband and build a life with him?

Series Warnings: sloooooow burn (it's a fucking novel, I'm sorry), angst, suicide attempt, mentions of domestic abuse, some smut in later chapters. Also, my deepest apologies to the people of Yorkshire for the accent and any other details I might have butchered.

Chapter Warnings: angst/depression, more awkward attempt at sex (slight dubcon), blood/bleeding, suicide attempt

A/N: I didn't realize so much happens in this chapter, and all within a single night too! Need to work on my pacing...

Chapter word count: 5k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Christine blinked awake in the gray light of dawn. She had some dim memories of a maid helping her out of her traveling clothes and into bed, but she had fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, so she hadn't seen much of the room. After the desolation of the drive and the gloom of the hall, she wasn't expecting much, yet a weight still settled on her heart when she looked around. The room was steeped in murkiness - everything, from the oak half-paneling, darkened with age, to the embossed wallpaper, to the heavy mahogany furniture, to the windows with their thick draperies and deep sills, seemed to swallow up the light.

The prospect outside the windows didn't do much to lift her spirit either. A gray mist covered the entire landscape, with only some blurry dark shapes here and there suggesting trees and bushes, like a great empty sea leading all the way to the distant hills. A maid came in to help Christine dressed, and then she went out into a long corridor that ran the whole length of the house, into which the bedrooms opened, and down the stairs. She looked at the tapestries around the front hall, which showed a unicorn hunt, and paused in front of the last one, hanging by the door leading into the dining room. It showed the unicorn in captivity, looking rather pitiful with a collar around its neck and fences surrounding it. Christine knew how it felt.

"Poor thing," Edward's voice said by her ears, making her jump. "I'd always felt sorry for it when I was a kid. Breakfast?"

He seemed quite cheerful this morning and didn't notice, or pretended not to notice, his bride's dejected air. After breakfast, he took her around the house, pointing out how it had been built with stones from the ruins of a nearby abbey, how the hall dated all the way from the Crusades and the rest was renovated during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, explaining every scene depicted on the stained glass windows and the tapestries, all with the proud air of the king of the castle. Christine tried to listen, but the chill, vault-like atmosphere of the house was like a blanket weighing her down, and she couldn't muster up the enthusiasm.

She didn't see Edward much in the days that followed. The lambing season had begun and he was busy, riding out to all the farms to supervise the work. When he was home, he shut himself off in his study, going over the finances of the estate - though the debts were paid off, the accounts were apparently still in disarray and required a lot of attention. Meanwhile, Christine wandered through the gloomy, lonely, possibly haunted rooms of Hurstfield Hall, trying to find something to do, to occupy herself with, and forget the sense of melancholy that had settled on her after the wedding and worsened during the journey from London.

When she first arrived, she had thought Hurstfield Hall a cursed place, but now she wondered if she was the cursed one. She had no place here. Mrs. Wayne was considerate and always deferred to her in the household affairs, but Christine could see that the old woman had everything running like clockwork and had no need of her input. She tried reading, embroidering, painting, but none of them stuck. Writing in her journal only emphasized how empty her days were. She wrote long, incoherent letters to Joshua that she burned immediately afterward. Her mother wrote occasionally, and in the early days, Christine would scour her letters for any gossip about Joshua, but everything was about his engagement to Miss Jennings, which stabbed at her heart so much she had to beg her mother not to mention him anymore. She would try music, though music had never been her strong suit, but there was no musical instrument to be found in the house, which she found rather strange.

One day, while passing through the drawing room, Christine noticed a door left ajar that Edward hadn't shown her. She went in and discovered a little parlor overlooking the garden, spotless, but with even more of an empty, un-lived air than the rest of the house. An embroidery frame stood by the fireplace, with a half-finished piece of needlepoint still in it. Some sheets of paper, yellowed with age, a dry ink bottle, and some quills lay scattered on the escritoire in the corner of the room, as though the occupant had only gotten up and left. A pianoforte stood by the window, its lid shut. The entire room gave the impression of being frozen in time, waiting for someone who would never return. Christine was overcome by an unbearable sadness.

She opened the pianoforte and tentatively struck a chord. A note sang out, surprisingly sweet and clear in the sepulchral quietness. Seemingly summoned by the sound, Edward appeared in the doorway.

"How did you come to be in here?" he asked. He didn't look displeased with her, but there was a stern note in his voice.

"The door was open," she said. "I didn't mean to pry."

Edward's face softened. "Of course not. I didn't say you were. Nancy must've forgotten to close the door after dusting."

"What is this room?" Christine asked, noticing that he still hadn't stepped inside.

"My mother's parlor," he said. Then, crossing to the pianoforte in one long stride, he shut the lid, gently but firmly, and ushered Christine out. "It's very damp in here, you shouldn't stay," he muttered by way of explaining, as if the whole house wasn't dampness itself.

The one thing she thought she wouldn't miss about her former life was London society, but after a while, she began to long for even the dullest of balls or tea parties. For there was no socializing to be had at Hurstfield Hall. The nearest neighbors were twenty miles away, and even if they lived closer, Christine doubted Edward would want to entertain them and vice versa. Edward was not exactly a recluse, but he associated with such odd characters that Christine could hardly consider them guests - a local farmer with a new innovation to winter his stocks, a midwife on her way to Scotland to open a lying-in house, a traveling writer collecting local folklores, and, strangest of all, an itinerant garden hermit, who had been hired by a lord to live on his property for seven years but was sacked after being discovered at a nearby pub. He was now roaming the countryside, looking for another eccentric nobleman in need of an ornamental hermit. "Alas, my friend, my estate is not big enough for a hermitage," Edward said regretfully, though he seemed to be seriously considering it at one point, much to Christine's horror. If she hadn't been so unhappy, she would've laughed at how her mother, Lady Harrington, and other snobby members of the ton would react if they knew this was the extent of society in Hurstfield.

The vicar was the only socially acceptable guest she'd had, having arrived at the Hall one day to make his acquaintance with to the new Lady Hurstfield. However, he was a rather pompous little man, and Edward had argued with him so vehemently over some theological issue that he never visited again, and afterward would cast angry glances in their direction during every Sunday service.

Edward, to be fair, had tried to spend time with her. He told her about a project he was working on - a school for the village children of Hurst (she remembered his argument with Joshua at Lady Harrington's ball). He was having trouble engaging a schoolmaster, someone who could carry out his vision for a modern school, who could teach the children not just basic skills, but also useful and interesting knowledge to broaden their minds. Christine admired his enthusiasm, but in a rather vague, abstract way, as one would admire a person one read about in the papers. He then tried to teach her to ride, hoping it would give her some exercise and get her out of the house, but Christine, who had grown up in London and never been closer to a horse than in a carriage, had stepped back in terror when the horse reared up in front of her. So mostly she just walked, making long, wandering rambles across the Dales like a madwoman, heedless of the mud and mist. If she caught her death of cold, so be it.

She realized everything her mother taught her was only to catch a husband; she had no interest, no knowledge, no skills to prepare herself for life after marriage. What did women like her do to fill their days? They ran the household and raised their children, she supposed. Well, there was none of that for her.

If Edward had been cruel or cold to her, she might have found a strange comfort in it, in having someone to blame her misery on. But he wasn't. He treated her the same way he did the servants and tenants, kind and friendly, though he was a little shyer with her than with those he'd known from childhood. It seemed he had no idea what to do with her. He didn't love her, that much she knew. And he didn't seem to want her either.

Edward's bedroom was next door to hers, separated by a dressing room. Christine kept the door on her side closed every night, and true to his words, he never tried to open it. As the days went by and her shame at their wedding night had dwindled, however, she began to work up her courage to leave the door ajar, preparing herself mentally and physically to fulfill her wifely duties. A child would surely fix everything. If nothing else, it would at least occupy her time and thoughts. But still he didn't come.

Eventually, one night, Christine decided to take matters into her own hands. She knocked on his door and came in without waiting for an answer. Edward was in bed, reading a book by the candlelight. The sight irritated her. Always with his nose in a book, never looking up, never noticing his own wife. She tried to ignore the feeling. It would not do to feel irritated at him, when she was there to seduce him. 

"What is it?" he asked, putting the book down.

She came boldly to the side of the bed and sat down. "You said we won't consummate the marriage until I'm ready," she said. "Well, I am ready now. In fact, I've been ready for a few weeks, but perhaps you've been too tired or too busy to notice." She realized she was sounding too cold, too detached. But there was nothing she could do about it.

Edward sat up and scrutinized her. "Are you really?"

"Yes."

He still looked at her, unblinking, his eyes narrowed slightly. She felt those eyes boring into her very soul, laying bare all her inadequacies, and turned away in discomfort. Fumbling, she undid her dressing gown and let it fall to the bed, revealing her thin chemise underneath. She knew how she looked in it. She only hoped that it would distract him and stop him from examining her with those unrelenting eyes.

"Christine, look..." He held out a hand, but before he could say another word, she took that hand, pressed it to her breast, and kissed him. She told herself that if she took the first step, instead of passively waiting for him, it would be better. And for a moment, it seemed to work. His lips remained stubbornly closed at first, but she kept brushing her tongue against them, and finally, they parted. Emboldened, she pushed her body toward him and reached under the covers, where she could feel his arousal through his nightshirt. So he did want her. As she lifted his shirt up, Edward pulled away a little. She heard him say "Christine, slow down," but refused to listen. She reached for the hem of her chemise, rucking it up, trying to find a position...

"Stop." Edward's grip was like iron on her wrists. He pushed her to the end of the bed, his eyes never leaving her face. "Why are you doing this?"

"Really, Edward, what a question to ask your wife..."

"Don't try to be coquettish, it doesn't become you." He sounded annoyed, and Christine dropped the act.

"We must produce an heir," she said.

"What do you think we are, a breeding pair of horses?" His harsh words shocked her. "Tell me, why do you want this? Tell me the truth."

Anger came over her, swift and sudden. "You want the truth?" she said. "The truth is that I want a child so it would give me some sort of purpose, someone to care for, to love, because God knows I'm not getting any of it from my husband!"

"That won't be fair to the child," Edward said. "It will be its own person. You can't rely on it for your own happiness."

If she had been calmer, Christine would have noticed how strange it was that he chose to focus on the hypothetical child instead of the dig at his own shortcomings as a husband, but in her fury, she only saw it as deflection. "Then who can I rely on?" she asked.

"Yourself." Christine laughed mirthlessly. Edward went on, unfazed, "I've told you before we married, I cannot promise you happiness. You know this. I'm only trying to be honest with you."

He was right, of course. She knew it and chose to marry him anyway. She had no one to blame for her misery but herself. At this, her anger rose up, both at him and at herself. "Yes, keep hiding behind that mask of honesty," she said, biting out every word. "But you must be honest with yourself as well, Edward Munson. What are you? You're not a husband. You're no one. You're not even a man." Gathering up her dressing gown, she stormed out.

***

 She slammed the door to her bedroom, tears of anger and humiliation streaming down her face. A small part of her hoped, in spite of herself, that Edward would go after her and show her that he was a man, but her door remained intractably closed, taunting her. She wanted to hit someone, to break something, anything to get rid of this helplessness. She took a cushion from her sofa, buried her face in it, and screamed.

When she had screamed herself hoarse, she lifted her tear-stained face from the cushion. It was then that she noticed something white on the floor. Her mother's letter, just arrived that morning, which she had tossed on her dressing table. She had been in no hurry to open it, knowing it would be more of the same mix of gossip and complaint. It must have fallen to the floor when she grabbed the cushion.

To give herself something to do, Christine picked the letter up. It was heavier than usual, and she could feel an odd shape through the layers of folded paper. She broke the seal and saw at once why the letter was heavy - there was another one inside. Her pulse stopped, then quickened when she recognized Joshua's seal on it. Her mother's letter was only a short enclosed note, saying "Lord Craven asked me to forward this letter to you. He was so desperate to see you but didn't want to compromise you by sending it to you directly. How thoughtful it was of him." Her mother's fawning was practically dripping from it.

Christine tore open the letter. Something gold fell out. Her ring. The ring she had thrown at Joshua the last night they were together. What did this mean? With her heart in her throat, she scanned Joshua's elegant handwriting. "My beloved Christine," it said. "It has been two months since I last saw you, and I think about you every day. I hope you are happy in your marriage and do not think too badly of me. I'm writing this to let you know that I'm to be married soon. My father is very ill and I must settle his debts before I inherit the title. So I'm marrying Miss Amelia Jennings on this Saturday. But oh, darling Christine, know that my heart is with you always, and that my love for you shall last 'til life be past. Please let this ring be a reminder of that. Yours for eternity, Joshua C. P/S: I didn't send this to you directly in case someone saw my name on it and started asking questions."

Of course, she had heard the rumors about Joshua and Miss Jennings, but seeing the truth in black and white, in his own handwriting, was a terrible blow. She could hear his voice in every word, so full of love and regret. And as she read the letter again, a thought occurred to her. His father was dying. Afterward, Joshua would be free to do as he pleased. If she could convince him to postpone the wedding... Yes, there was the matter of the debts, but she was sure they could work something out. She could get her marriage to Edward annulled on grounds of impotence... They hadn't even consummated it... But Joshua was getting married this Saturday! She looked at the date on the letter. Three days from now! It would take her nearly that long to get to London.

In a fog of anger and heartache, Christine didn't stop to think how foolish this was. She didn't think at all. She only knew that she had to stop Joshua from getting married, even if she had to drive to London herself.

She got dressed, put all the money she had into a pouch, and put the chain with the ring back on her neck. Its weight felt safe against her heart. Then she went down the back staircase, past the kitchen, where she could hear Mrs. Wayne reprimanding one of the scullery maids of not putting away the rat poison, and toward the stable.

A light was still on in the stable, but inside, she found only one of the stable boys mucking out the stall. "Where's the driver?" she asked.

"They all went to th' pub in Hurst, mum," the boy said. "'Tis their night off." He looked no older than fifteen, with a mop of brown hair framing his face like the thatched roof of a cottage.

Christine bit her lips. She couldn't afford to wait. "Can you drive?" she asked.

"I'm not allowed to, mum," he said, looking alarmed. "I was only hired last month to clean th' stalls. Mr. Wheeler would 'ave my 'ide if I even touched t'orses..."

"Never mind that," she interrupted. "Can you drive?"

"Yes, mum."

"Hitch up the carriage. I have urgent business in London and cannot delay."

The boy dropped his pitchfork in panic. "But I dunno th' way to London..."

Christine wanted to scream. The ring was burning into her skin like a brand. She took a breath, trying to calm herself. "Then drive me to the pub and find Wheeler. He'll take me."

"But..."

"Now!"

Seeing the set of her jaws, the boy quickly got to work. Despite his protest, he proved to be quite handy with the horses and managed to hitch the pair to the carriage in no time. Christine was afraid that there might be someone at the lodge that would try to stop them, but they passed through the gate unhindered.

When the carriage rolled down the lonely stretch of road between Hurstfield Hall and the village, the pounding of Christine's heart started to slow, and the fog in her head cleared. She was able to think more rationally and realized how senseless her plan was. She couldn't possibly get an annulment on grounds of impotence. The wife had to prove her virginity for that. And Joshua couldn't possibly marry her, even when his father was dead. He needed to pay off the family debts. But at the thought of going back to Hurtsfield, she could almost feel that damp, gloomy air settle on her once more like a heavy blanket, smothering her, and her heart started pounding again. No, she would go back to London. Perhaps she could see Joshua again, just once before he married, to tell him how much she'd missed him, and how much she loved him. Perhaps she could get a separation from Edward...

A strange pounding sound in the distance interrupted her thoughts. She opened the window and called out, "Driver!"

The boy twisted in his seat to answer. "Name's Will, mum."

"All right, Will. Did you hear that?"

They both listened. Now it became clear that the pounding was hoof beats.

"Oughtn't I stop, mum?" the boy asked.

"No." Oh God, she hoped it wasn't someone from Hurstfield Hall, coming to take her back. "Drive on."

The hoof beats came closer, gradually but relentlessly.

"I think... I think they're followin' us, mum," Will said, his voice trembling.

Christine peered into the distance, hoping to see the lights of the village, but the dark remained absolute. "Can you outrun them?" she asked.

"Maybe I ought to turn back..."

"No! Try to outrun them!"

She glanced out the window again, and her body went cold. In the faint light from the carriage lamps, she could see the horse and rider coming toward them from across the dale. They were one black mass, the rider looming tall in the saddle, a wide-brimmed hat on his head. Now she was sure it was not someone from Hurstfield Hall. Just as she was thinking this, the rider raised his arm. She tried to shout a warning, but it was too late. There was a flash, followed by a sharp explosion. The horses screamed and the carriage ground to a halt.

Heedless of the danger, Christine jumped out of the carriage. She saw that young Will was thankfully unhurt, but he looked badly shaken. The highwayman, the lower half of his face covered by a handkerchief as black as his clothes, drew his horse next to them, holding them at gunpoint.

"Well, well, well, what 'ave we 'ere?" he said. His voice was gruff, muffled by the handkerchief. "Where ye goin', a pretty little thin' like ye?"

Christine held out her pouch of money with shaking hands. "Here's everything I have. Take it and leave us alone."

The highwayman snatched the pouch from her. Christine had a feeling that all his talk about her being "a pretty little thing" was just for show; he would not risk the trouble of kidnapping her. The thought calmed her a little. "Not bad, not bad," he said, feeling the weight of the pouch. "What's that ye 'ave there?" he pointed at the ring, which had fallen out of the collar of her cloak.

Christine's hand automatically went to her chest, hiding the ring from view. "You have your money. Please, leave us be."

"I'll 'ave that ring too, if ye don't mind."

She shook her head, clutching the ring more tightly. "No."

"Don't be silly now. Th' ring."

Will stepped up, shielding her. "Th' lady said no."

The gun was pointed straight at them. "Stand 'side, whelp," the highwayman said. At that moment, a shout went up in the distance, from the direction of Hurstfield Hall. As the highwayman turned his head toward the noise, Will leaped up, trying to wrestle the gun from him. Another shot rang out, and the boy collapsed. The shout in the distance got louder. The highwayman cursed under his breath, wheeled his horse around, and disappeared into the night, leaving the boy in a pool of blood at Christine's feet.

***

Edward ordered one of the footmen to fetch the doctor, while he and the others take Will back to Hurstfield Hall in the carriage. Christine stayed with the boy, clutching his hand in hers. There was so much blood. She had taken off her cloak and pressed it to his wound, and the blood had soaked through it.

When they reached the Hall, Will was taken to the kitchen. Edward followed them to make sure Will was taken care of, then he stormed over to the kitchen door, where Christine was hanging back helplessly. Grabbing her arm, he dragged her through to the front hall. He had never been so rough with her.

"You know, 'tis no concern of mine what you do wi' your own life," he snarled, his voice low and shaking with anger, the Yorkshire accent coming through more clearly than ever. "But if you ever endanger 'nother life with your foolishness, I swear to God..."

He didn't finish the sentence. A footman informed him that Dr. Sinclair had arrived. Edward flung her arm away in disgust and went out to meet the doctor.

Christine stood in the Hall with her blood-stained cloak, dazed. Everybody was busy with Will; no one even thought to ask if she was all right. After a while, when it became clear that no one was coming for her, she went back to her room like a child knowing it was being punished.

Upon entering her room, the first thing she saw was Joshua's letter, which she had left on the floor, now smoothed out and placed back on the dressing table. Edward must have found it and realized what she had done. She wanted to be angry with him, to blame him for driving her to this, but she couldn't. This was all her fault.

She went to the washstand and washed the blood from her hands. Thoughts went round and round in her head. Her mother didn't want her, her lover didn't want her, and her husband didn't want her. She had possibly caused the death of an innocent boy who had tried to protect her, and no one wanted her. She had no life. She had nothing. That bullet was meant for her. If it had hit her, there wouldn't have been any of this trouble.

Suddenly she remembered what she'd overheard Mrs. Wayne say to the maid about the rat poison while she was on her way to the stable. An idea formed. It grew and grew and grew in her mind, until it took over, like the red swirls from her hands staining the water in the basin. She had made two disastrous decisions in a row that night, what was one more? And this, if she succeeded, would be enough to pay for her previous mistakes. But they were all in the kitchen now, taking care of Will. She would have to wait. Slowly, she took off the ring, the ring that had caused so much pain, and put it away with its chain at the bottom of her jewelry box, and waited.

Another hour gone, the commotion downstairs faded, and she slipped into the kitchen. It was dark and deserted. Only the remnants of a fire in the hearth showed her the table where Will was laid, and a drop of blood on the floor that somebody had missed. She found the poison easily enough. It was on a high shelf in the scullery, clearly labeled. She poured a little of the white powder into her palm and swallowed it before she lost her nerves.

The powder tasted of nothing, which surprised her. She had expected it to be bitter or metallic. It seemed impossible that such an innocuous thing could be so deathly. Somehow, the surprise at its tastelessness jolted her out of her stupor, and she realized, with mounting panic, her mistake. Oh God, what have I done?

She ran up the stairs and into Edward's bedroom, without knocking. He was just getting ready for bed. He scowled when she came in, but he didn't seem as angry as before. Only tired.

"What is it?" he said, not looking at her.

"Please... help me." Her trembling voice made him turn around, and his eyes widened in horror when he saw the bottle in her hand. He threw himself to her side, gripping her wrists so hard it hurt. The bottle clattered out of her hand to the ground.

"How much did you take?"

"Not... not a lot." She didn't feel anything yet. How long would it take for the poison to work its way through her body?

Edward rummaged in a cupboard by his bed and ran over to her with a vial, which he unstoppered and pressed to her lips. "It's syrup of ipecac. It'll make you vomit."

Christine obediently swallowed a gulp. The moment the syrup hit her tongue, the taste of bitter mixed with sickly sweet made her gag, and she threw up unceremoniously on the hearth rug, from nerves almost as much as the medicine. She heard Edward calling out for Mrs. Wayne. What followed was a blur. She kept vomiting until there was nothing left. The doctor, who luckily hadn't gone far from Hurstfield, was summoned back. Hands seized her, a cold towel was pressed to her forehead, more liquid was poured down her throat, and she vomited again, but only brought up burning gall. She felt as though her stomach had been stabbed by a thousand needles and turned inside out, and her throat had been scoured with acid. Then the pain became too much and she sank into a dark pit.

Chapter 5

[staticspaces]

The French Suit House

You can check out the full walkthrough here!

https://youtu.be/6x8iQXNuZCE

For today's post we will take a look at the second floor including the master beadroom with some very busy looking wallpaper!

Sitting on a large parcel of land a husband and wife had this beautiful custom home built in the country in the late 70s.  They lived there for many years and being the only owners of the home, almost everything was left untouched as it was built over 40 years ago.  The wife passed away in 2017 followed by the husband a few years later in 2021.

The land was bought by a development company that would later go bankrupt and ended up being sold again through Power of Sale.

Today in this ever rapidly growing area there is a proposal to turn the lot and the surrounding area into a new sub division.  The land will be replaced with a mixture of detached, semi-detached and townhouses that will be starting at close to $1 million.

[rowan-blood]

Prince of the Sorrows BOOK 1: Recap

1. The Ring

The day of the beantighe's Imbolc celebration

-Saffron and Cylvan meet.

2. The Wish

The night of the beantighe's Imbolc celebration

-Saffron stands in as Brìghde.

3. The Sprites

The day of the fey's Imbolc celebration

-Saffron is assigned to work at Danann House to get rid of the flower sprites. -Saffron discovers that Cylvan, the original owner of his book, is a prince.

4. The Prince

The night of the fey's Imbolc celebration

-Saffron works at the welcoming party/Imbolc celebration at Danann House. -Saffron and Cylvan meet for the second time. -Arrow asks Saffron for help.

5. The Geis

The night of the fey's Imbolc celebration

-Saffron spills wine on Taran while trying to prevent Cylvan from getting poisoned by the apples in the wine. -Saffron and Cylvan make a deal: if Saffron finds a spell to forget Cylvan's true name or make his ring work before Ostara Cylvan would offer Saffron an academic endorsement. -Saffron finds Arrow just before he dies.

6. The Wallpaper

Early morning hours, next day after the fey's Imbolc celebration

-Kaelar snatches Saffron's patron ring, compels him, and takes him to Elluin's office. -Elluin and Taran torture Saffron carving "Impertinence", "Selfishness" and the first two letters of "Arrogance" on his back. -Kaelar throws Saffron into lake Elatha. -Cylvan saves Saffron from drowning with Nimue's help.

7. The Party

The morning after the fey's Imbolc celebration

-The Beantighes returning from the night shift find Saffron passed out at the front gate of Beantighe Village. -Saffron wakes up in his bed and asks Silk about Arrow. -Silk tells Saffron that Arrow was buried that morning next to their sister in Verdant Cemetery.

Two days after the fey's Imbolc celebration

-The students return from their Imbolc holyday. All they talk about is Cylvan, how beautiful he is and what a good match he makes with Taran. -Saffron returns to work at Morrígan Academy with the wounds on his back still fresh. The students harass him when they notice he is wounded. -A student makes Saffron fall from a ladder on his injured back. -Cylvan leaves the room, making everyone stop paying attention to Saffron's fall.

That same day, evening

-Saffron waits for Cylvan next to the library, but he never appears.

Days after

-Saffron has been waiting for Cylvan every evening for him to give him access to the library, but Cylvan never shows up. -Saffron begins to show symptoms of pneumonia and his wounds, despite starting to heal, appear to be infected. -Saffron follows some students to Danan House where a party is being held. -Cylvan is bored at the party until he sees Saffron, he makes him approach him and kneel between his legs. -Cylvan whispers to Saffron that he has been too busy to go to the library but promises to go in the future if Saffron keeps him company during the party. -Saffron accepts his proposal but only if he can keep his veil down. -Cylvan gives Saffron wine to drink.

8. The Deal

-

9. The Library

-

10. The Preoccupation

-

11. The Fever

-

12. The Medicine

-

13. The Wolf

-

14. The Apple

-

15. The Queen

-

16. The Silence

-

17. The Raven

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18. The Lord

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19. The Circles

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20. The Night

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21. The Memories

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22. The Berries

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23. The Ridge

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24. The Undine

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25. The Spirit

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26. The Fruits

-

Epilogue

-

[dramalocks]

☇✈ a business proposal; simples ♡ ❞

☇ like or reblog ⋮ @jynani

☇ don’t repost our edits

☇ psd by: @kpop-locks

[b-brightvc]

ahn hyoseop icons

like or reblog if u save. don't repost pls! <3

[noctuafought]

𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍

what’s your phone wallpaper : heizou last song you listened to : hold me like a grudge // fall out boy currently reading : nothing last movie : none last show : vincenzo (currently), business proposal (finished) what are you wearing right now : pink dress piercings / tattoos? : belly piercing glasses ? contacts? : neither last thing you ate? : kfc fries favorite color(s) : purple, black, pink current obsession : diluc, dainsleif, k-dramas, fall out boy (always), and genshin do you have a crush right now? : this loser > @abysshearted favourite fictional character : diluc, miles edgeworth, yang xiao long (pre v6), asmodeus (obey me), naruto uzumaki, sasuke uchiha, cherry blossom / kaoru sakurayashiki

tagged by: stole it off dash tagging: you ❤️

[vaastudevayah]

Vastu Directions For Offices (+ Tips, So Your Business Prospers)

Vastu shastra has been getting popular these days, and one of the best ways you can take advantage of it is by using its concepts in your workplace.

Based on the five core elements - Fire, Water, Space, Air, and Earth, Vastu can help balance the energy around you. Thus, helping anyone occupying that space achieve their true potential.

Want to make sure your business reaches its full potential? Read on and implement the tips in this article.

How To Use The Cardinal Directions In Vastu

North: 

The North direction is best for your sales team to sit in. when sitting there, the team should also face the North direction. The pious energy of the North helps attract more high-paying customers.

Even if you are not on the sales team, facing the North when working on your business can help improve your mindset and productivity.

Those belonging to the banking sector, or have work related to legal or accounting services, should sit in the North-West.

South: 

The South-West direction is remarkable for skill development. The design and development team of any business should be sitting in this direction. Interns or students trying to master a skill should also utilize this direction.

The South also helps attract name and fame. Companies that are yet to establish themselves should have their key employees or leaders working in this direction. 

The team that works on client proposals, signing of contracts, and deals with money should sit in the South-East corner to increase cash flow. Facing the South while sitting here would also help. 

Ensure you do not use the South of South West to work for your business. Being a disposal zone of negative energy, it is bound to create problems for you. Consult a Vastu shastra consultant to help you identify the precisely correct areas in the South direction. This way, you can take full advantage of its goodness.

East: 

The marketing team of a business should be sitting in the East direction. The positivity of the East, brimming with the sun’s enriching energy will help the business create a powerful image for itself. 

You can add green colors or some plants in this direction to help increase the focus of the team. 

If you are a solopreneur and work as a digital marketer, copywriter, social media expert, or consultant, this direction will help you use creative ideas and do better in marketing.

West: 

We have already discussed how beneficial the South-West and North-West directions can be for specific teams working on your business. But that’s not all! 

The complete West direction is fantastic for making profits. That’s why Vastu suggests that the leaders of a company, the CEO, or business owner must be seated in the West direction of the office. 

Facing West while sitting in this direction will add the cherry on top of your cake (gains).

Bonus Vastu Tips For Offices

Add some motivation.

Wherever your staff is seated in the office, posters with motivational quotes, whiteboards to brainstorm, and dartboards to take a break can help keep up the spirits of those occupying that space.

Employees should also use motivational wallpapers on their computers to add to the motivation. 

The leaders should also make sure to add a picture with mountains on the wall behind their team members. It will help the employees get the support of their seniors and keep them inspired. 

Bring nature into your office environment.

Nature has its mysterious ways of supporting our success. For example, the green color in plants helps us concentrate better. The cool wind from the East can help us stay calm and stress-free, so we enjoy our work more. And the Sun’s energy helps boost our energy similar to caffeine, so fatigue doesn't come in the way of our goals.

That’s why you should try adding more plants to your office. Don’t keep them in the South or West regions as they may not get enough Sun. 

You should keep the doors and windows open in the morning to let the cool breeze and the Sun’s warm rays come in and bless you. 

Lastly, you should also try to use natural light instead of artificial ones to light up your office. 

Keep unnecessary things out of sight.

Make sure any documents, stationery, broken electronics, and any sort of clutter is not on your or the employees' desks or near them. These things, not only spread their negative energy into the environment but they distract you from your work.

Another major distraction at the workplace is our smartphones. It’s true. as they say, that smartphones are getting smarter, but making us humans dumber with every passing day.

Smartphones bring their cancerous radiation to your table. And that with social media apps which can distract you from your important work. So, it’s best to keep your phones in your bags or drawers and that too, on silent mode, so they don’t disturb you. 

Wrapping Up

Those were some tips of Vastu for offices that should help your business and career prosper. By ensuring that every staff member is sitting correctly, as per Vastu, you can make way for better profits, recognition, and growth in your business.

Want to know more such tips? Follow us now!

Read More:

South Facing Office Vastu

vastu for home office

direction in office as per vastu

[lowtaxsa]

Down and Out in the Big City

Greetings, my fellow seekers of self-improvement! Dr. Fred Malalavich here, back again to enlighten you with tales of the bizarre, twisted, and downright ludicrous. Today, we'll be taking a deep dive into the seedy world of one Lowtax, a down-and-out eternal grifter who's made it his life's mission to con, swindle, and bamboozle his way through life. As we embark on this wild ride, let us extract valuable lessons from Lowtax's misadventures and apply them to our own journey of self-improvement.

Our journey begins with Lowtax, half-asleep in his dingy apartment, already cursing the cruel world that forces him to wake up before noon. He scowls at the peeling wallpaper and contemplates his next move. "Dot coms, e-businesses, gotta make that internet money," he mutters to himself, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.

Heaving his lanky frame out of bed, Lowtax stumbles toward the mirror, scrutinizing his scruffy visage. "Gotta look sharp to fleece these suckers," he thinks, scraping a dirty razor across his chin. "Today's the day, baby. Can't let the seedy underbelly of this town get the best of me."

On his way out the door, Lowtax spots a fresh eviction notice. He snorts derisively, crumples it up, and tosses it aside. "Good luck collecting from me, losers," he smirks, as he steps into the shady streets, teeming with shady characters and even shadier opportunities.

As Lowtax navigates the urban jungle, his mind races with possibilities. "Alright, first things first, gotta find some desperate chumps with cash to burn," he muses. "Maybe I can convince 'em to invest in a new line of artisanal vape pens, or a subscription service for designer burlap sacks. Yeah, that's the ticket!"

Lowtax spots a group of gullible-looking tourists snapping selfies by a graffiti-covered wall. "Perfect," he thinks, sidling up to them with a grin. "Hey there, folks! Ever wanted to own a piece of the hottest new trend in eco-fashion? Just hand over your cash, and I'll make you a partner in my revolutionary burlap sack empire!" The tourists, bewildered and intrigued, hand over their vacation funds, buying into Lowtax's absurd pitch.

Flush with cash, Lowtax slinks into a seedy dive bar, looking to score some cheap booze and cheaper company. "Alright, gotta keep this train rollin'," he thinks, nursing a warm beer. "Maybe I can swindle the bartender into giving me free drinks if I promise to promote his rat-infested hellhole on my super-popular blog."

As he sips his beer, Lowtax spots a shifty character in the corner. "This guy's gotta have some dirt on the mayor or something," he thinks, sauntering over. "Hey there, buddy, you look like a man who knows things. What do you say we team up and blackmail the bigwigs in this town, huh? We'll make a killing!"

The shifty guy, it turns out, is an undercover cop, and Lowtax's plan to make a quick buck by blackmailing the powerful quickly falls apart. He's dragged off in handcuffs, cursing his rotten luck, and vowing to bounce back even stronger.

At the police station, Lowtax finds himself tossed into a dirty holding cell. As he sulks in the corner, he notices a deputy leaning against the wall, absentmindedly spinning a set of keys around his finger. The deputy introduces himself as "Spoons" and seems to take a perverse interest in Lowtax's misfortunes. "So, you thought you could pull a fast one on the mayor, huh?" Spoons chuckles, not quite maliciously, but with an unmistakable air of schadenfreude.

Lowtax, never one to miss an opportunity, decides to befriend Spoons, thinking he might be a useful pawn in his grand escape plan. "Hey, Spoons, you ever feel like you're stuck in a dead-end job, bossed around by idiots with shiny badges? I've got a proposition for you. Help me outta here, and we can both stick it to the man and make a fortune in the process!"

Spoons, intrigued by Lowtax's offer and secretly nursing his own grudges against the higher-ups, agrees to consider the proposal. "Alright, I'll think about it," he grumbles, "But if you're just jerking me around, I swear I'll make your life hell in here."

As Lowtax and Spoons plot their grand escape, a sudden explosion rocks the police station. A group of Antifa activists, determined to free one of their own from the clutches of the law, have blown a literal hole in the wall of Lowtax's cell. Seizing the moment, Lowtax yells to Spoons, "Now's our chance! Let's get the hell out of here!"

Spoons hesitates, torn between his duty and his desire for revenge against his oppressive superiors. Finally, he makes a decision, grabbing Lowtax by the arm and pulling him through the hole in the wall. "You better not screw me over," he warns Lowtax, as they sprint out of the police station and into the chaotic night.

Lowtax, grinning like a madman, can't believe his luck. He's managed to escape the long arm of the law, and he's got a new partner in crime to boot. Together with Spoons, Lowtax dives headfirst back into the seedy underbelly of the city, ready to concoct even more outrageous schemes and swindle his way to the top. It's just another day in the life of Lowtax, the eternal grifter, always looking for the next big score.

So, my dear misguided miscreants, that was the dark and twisted tale of Lowtax's adventures in the seedy underbelly of the city. A man whose mind is as tangled as the schemes he concocts, and whose interactions with the world around him are as off-color as they come. What have we learned from this journey, you might ask? As we strive for self-improvement, it's essential to recognize the pitfalls that come with pursuing shortcuts and dishonesty in our lives. Let us take Lowtax's story as a cautionary tale, reminding us to stay on the straight and narrow path to personal growth and to resist the temptation of instant gratification through deception.

Moreover, it's important to surround ourselves with positive influences and to distance ourselves from people like Lowtax, who lurk in the shadows, ready to swindle you out of your hard-earned cash. Embrace the power of honesty, integrity, and perseverance, as these values will ultimately lead you to a more fulfilling and successful life.

But before I go, let me introduce you to a revolutionary product that will absolutely change your life: Dr. Fred Malalavich's MindMender™! This incredible mental healthcare product uses patented brainwave technology to soothe your troubled mind and unlock your true potential. With the MindMender™, you'll be able to rid yourself of negative thoughts, alleviate stress, and develop an unshakable confidence that will propel you toward your goals. It may look like a simple headband with flashy lights and buttons, but trust me, it's so much more. In fact, if you call now, we'll even throw in a bonus MindMender™ pocket edition – perfect for on-the-go mental rejuvenation!

Until next time, dear readers, this is Dr. Fred Malalavich, signing off and wishing you all the best in your journey toward personal growth and success.