#antique child's dress

[monkeyssalad-blog]

Child wearing a gorgeous dress by Suzanne Via Flickr: I'd love to know what color this dress was. I'm picturing it as dusty rose. So pretty with the flower embroidery and the pom poms. Photo by Underwood & Underwood, New York. At one time, Underwood & Underwood was the largest publisher of stereoviews in the world. By 1910, Underwood & Underwood had entered the field of news photography. I've see several photos online that they took of Babe Ruth.

[shewhoworshipscarlin]

Child's dress commemorating the wedding of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, 1863, Britain.

[yamujiburo]

Got a few asks about what Pokemon I think Jessie and James would have if 1. they didn't just have the gacha machine and only caught Galarian Pokemon and 2. if they had the chance to go to Paldea

GALAR

Jessie: Sandaconda, Snom➡️Frosmoth, Impidimp➡️Morgrem

Sandaconda is a snake Pokemon. Jessie should be allowed to have all snake Pokemon. Period. Love the idea of her finding it and being unsure of what the hell she's looking at because it's all coiled up but upon it briefly uncoiling she falls in love.

Jessie should have had an Ice Type Pokemon at some point for real. Snow and ice play two big roles in her backstory (eating snow/growing up in a snowy location and her mother disappearing in an avalanche). Her having a lil Snom that's not particularly useful but that she grows to love would be so CUTE. They eat snow together!! Then I love the idea of her going from not thinking much of it to getting more and more attached to it over the series and then having it evolve to Frosmoth after some time (it'd remind her of her old friend Dustox)

Okay this one's gonna take a little explaining but I think it'd be so funny if at the same time, Jessie catches a Hatenna and James catches an Impidimp (mostly because Jessie wants the cute one). BUT Impidimp starts gravitating to Jessie because of her negative energy, which it feeds off of. She's much easier to prank and irritate than James, who's too much of a sweetheart and a little less susceptible to pranks. Jessie never finds out that Impidimp is the one pranking her but notices that it's taken a liking to her for some reason so she and James end up trading their Hattena and Impidimp with each other. It later evolves into Moregrem

James: Polteageist, Toxel, Hatenna➡️Hattrem

I think James is a tea lover, and enjoyed fancy teas when he was a child. Since he's a collector of bottlecaps and Pokeballs, I could see him also collecting teapots/teacups. Maybe they're in a haunted mansion one day and he grabs a teapot thinking it's a rare find but it's actually a Pokemon to his surprise. Also I think he deserves to have an Antique form, so it IS a rare find.

James having another baby Pokemon to fawn over like Mime Jr. would be so cute. It's an egg that the trio find but Jessie's too lazy to take care of it and Meowth's traumatized after the Togepi situation, not wanting to go through all that again. Toxel is born and it's James' everything. It's a bit bratty and constantly vying for his attention, usually by shocking and poisoning him but luckily James has built up an immunity to both those things thanks to Pikachu and Mareanie.

As stated before, James catches Impidimp initially but trades it for Jessie's Hatenna. Hatenna was NOT okay with the amount of emotions Jessie brought to the table and couldn't stand to be around her, often going to James who's much calmer between the two of them. Annoyed by it not liking her and finding that Impidimp DID like her, Jessie demands suggests a trade, which James is okay with as he's been growing attached to Hatenna. After it evolves into Hattrem, it starts (affectionately) smacking him whenever he shows too much emotion, carrying on the "James' Pokemon beat the shit out of him" legacy.

PALDEA

Jessie: Flittle➡️Espathra

Flittle just seems fitting for Jessie. She's always wanting a cute little baby Pokemon but funnily enough, never really gets one in the show. She absolutely pampers it and dresses it up. It eventually evolves into Espathra. Still being Jessie's mini-me, it often mimics her, particularly when Jessie's angry

James: Arboliva

Arboliva just feels like a Pokemon James would have LMAO. I think it'd be really sweet if after a particularly bad blast off, Arboliva finds Team Rocket and helps nurse them back to health even though they're mostly okay. They're grateful to it, James captures it and it continues to try mother all of them (in a less aggressive way than Bewear).

Shared: Scovillain

Listen. It'd be SO funny if Jessie and James shared a Pokemon. They see two Pokemon in the tall grass one day. A Pokemon with a red head and a Pokemon with a green head. Only having one Pokemon each at this time, they decide it's a good idea to catch another each. They throw their Pokeballs at the same time and the catch is successful! Just one problem. They find out the two Pokemon they tried to catch was actually just one Pokemon and they don't know which of the Pokeballs they threw was the one that actually caught it. They argue about it for quite a while but then agree to share custody. Leads to some funny scenarios where they're both trying to direct it in a battle. The red head prefers Jessie and the green head prefers James.

[astrocafecoffee]

•Venus in Groom persona chart •

• FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY, ENJOY •

✨ MASTERLIST

(I totally forgot about this series 🙂, so here I am with Venus in Groom persona chart)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~✨✨~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Venus in 1st house:

Prince charming, tall , handsome and attractive spouse. Has beautiful eyes that Captivate your attention. Appreciates luxury, comfort and sensual pleasures. Could be a romantic at heart with a deep appreciation for love stories. May have talents in music , art or any creative pursuits. People wants to be with them , could be some sort of influencer. Also, maybe a natural people pleaser. May have a secret talent for improvisational comedy or witty banter.

Venus in 2nd house:

Sturdy build or have athletic physique. A hard worker, who values financial security. Very loyal spouse. Acts or service and gift giving could be their love language. Could have a strong connection to family traditions or cultural heritage. They could have a thing for collecting unique items. May have a secret talent for cooking and baking. Loves nature and gardening. Excels in banking or in family business.

Venus in 3rd house:

Possibly has youthful appearance (even if they are older than you). Enjoys mental stimulation. Has talents for writing or public speaking. Also can be a good singer too. May have secret love for leaning new languages. Likes brain teasers or puzzles. Some sort of content creator? May have strong connection with their siblings and friends. Possibly has a fascination with technology or gadgets.

Venus in 4th house:

Possibly has soft, rounded features. They values hone life and very protective and Caring towards their loved one.may have strong connection to their family traditions. Enjoys cooking, decorating or other domestic pursuits. Very intuitive spouse. Possibly has a fascination with antiques or vintage items. Has ability to transform emotional pain into something beautiful and meaningful . Spending time with their loved ones is their love language.

Venus in 5th house:

Has youthful and radiant appearance. Possibly has a playful and mischievous glint in their eye , has a talent for fashion and design. Enjoys risks and trying new things. Loves music , drama, art and any other creative pursuits. May have a strong connection to their inner child. Loves to shine and be the centre of the attention. Some kind of content creator maybe. Hopeless romantic at heart. May have a talent for writing or reading fantasy stories to create elaborate imaginary worlds.

Venus in 6th house:

May have slender or athletic build. Passion or interest in health and wellness / service oriented activities. Values long term commitment, very loyal spouse. May have a talent for energetic healing or reiki. Possess talents for finding creative solutions to everyday problems. They will listen to your every word very closely. Maintains a good body and health. Suprise gifts and heartfelt letters are the love languages. possibly has talent in writing or in journalism.

Venus in 7th house:

Possibly has a strong sense of style and enjoys dressing up. They will love you the most. May have strong magnetic attraction to your beauty. A excellent listener and have a strong ability to understand their partner's needs. Collaboration is the main theme in this relationship ( collaboration in artistic pursuits or any business). They believe in idea of soulmates or twinflmaes . Others admires their beauty so much.

Venus in 8th house:

May have a powerful, intense and dark gaze. They will be attracted to the beauty of your body and sensual expression.also may possess magnetic presence that attracts others to them(Obsessive energy is present too). You can openly share your secrets with them , they will never tell a soul. Could be very spiritual and has knowledge about esoteric things ( tarot, astrology). May have a dark romantic streak or a fascination with unknown.

Venus in 9th house:

Probably big and tall build. May Have interests in foreign cultures/ may have attraction to foreign peoples or people very different to them. May have radiant or philosophical gaze. They are drawn to higher education where they can expand their knowledge. Very spiritual. Their knowledge and words inspire others. Maybe interested in mystical arts and practices such as meditation, yoga or energy healing.

Venus in 10th house:

May have a strong build. May posses a leadership position in the society. Possibly drawn to careers in arts, design or media, also humanitarian field and possess charismatic and charming public persona. Very responsible spouse. Also may have interest in fashion, beauty or any creative industries. May posses some kind of media presence. Possibly may recieve awards or recognition for their work. May have knack for forming successful collaborations or partnerships.

Venus in 11th house:

Possibly has tall or lanky build. Quirky or unconventional appearance. May have a strong desire to help others. They thinks outside the box. Maybe passionate about technology, innovation or progressive ideas. Passionate about science and engineering and mathematics. Involved in social justice and human rights. Possibly has a talent for finding innovative solution to complex problems. Their work inspire others.

Venus in 12th house:

May have dreamy or ethereal quality to their appearance. Has slender or delicate build. Possibly has a talent for art, music or any other creative expression. Passionate about spirituality , and other metaphysical subjects. May have interest in esoteric studies(tarot, astrology). May have intuitive relationships or sense their partners emotions. Possibly some sort of content creator. possibly engages in selfless service or volunteer work.

Thanks for reading ✨

- PIKO 💙

[syrma-sensei]

→ Home.

gif credit.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/ben x Wife!reader.

Rating: Fluff, implied Smut.

Warnings: Bens's pov, very soft ben, implied pregnant sex, praising, horny reader, antiquated mentality....

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Ben's discovering new life affairs while expecting his first baby.

tagging: @zepskies

Soldier Boy guzzled down his third raw drink before he decided to call it a day and go home. He took off his supe gear and changed into more casual clothes in the dressing room in his quarters at Vought's tower after he took a quick shower. He shook his head with a sneer when he tugged the shirt above his head, remembering her telling him —bossing him— that he wasn't to come home stinking with blood and cigars and whiskey and Vought. Soldier Boy didn't take shit from anyone, but he found himself helpless against her wishes—orders. He was grinning though, amusedly so. Sometimes he wondered where his obedient and good wife went. He liked that version of her, nonetheless.

Though he liked to think that his baby was igniting her wild spirit, his pretty wife seemed to have gotten quite sensitive to strong scents, and her stomach grew weak ever since he got her pregnant with their first child four months ago. It was chiselled in his mind; the memory of her hoping onto his chest with happy shrieks when he returned from work affirming the news.

He had been sensing the baby's presence for a week thanks to his superhuman senses before that, and he'd told her that night to go check on it with a doctor. They were eagerly trying to have a baby so it was of no surprise, but it still pulled a huge smile on his lips and made pride swell in his chest. He was going to be a father in nine months. The thing he wanted to be the most.

But as it turned out, pregnancy wasn't as magical as his mind fantasised to be. It wasn't all fuzzy and beautiful like he imagined. He cursed the damn commercials for that. Fucking marketing.

The first couple of months were rough. Morning sickness, vomiting, ungodly cravings at ungodly hours, horrendous mood swings, and worst of all; minimum intimacy. She'd become fragile unlike her nature. And she got overly concerned that he might hurt the baby whenever he suggested penetrative sex. Orals were, certainly, out of the equation. It was both frustrating and maddening to say the least. He was a fucking man and had needs. The best he could get was quick and not so enthusiastic handies from time to time when she could provide. Long story short, he was growing blue balls from the ordeal. Fuck, he used to make fun of men who couldn't get laid properly. The irony had such an impact on his ego; his pride of being a fucking man.

It was not easy for someone like him to stay faithful to his partner. He rarely recognised commitment before he met her, and being surrounded by blatant temptations all the time didn't make things any better. He could have anyone at any time, ladies would eagerly kneel and suck him off without a question if he wanted them to. But he'd be damned if he wasn't in charge of his own self. He'd be damned if he dared to break her heart. He'd be damned if he ruined his family, a family he never thought he'd ever have, for such vagaries.

In time, however, pregnancy did prove itself to be the most beautiful of all affairs. Surprisingly so. Whenever he spooned her up hugging her from behind, he found odd tranquillity of hearing hers and the babe's rhythmical heartbeats, or when he caressed her bumping tummy, feeling his child's life forming inside of her body, a creature they both made, lack of sex seemed to be durable and trivial at some point. Something he himself wouldn't believe before. But here he was. His disgust and appal from what pregnancy entailed gradually dissipated and were replaced with zeal and thrill. And most certainly, he enjoyed the changes of her body the most. Ben just loved the way her boobs were swelling up with milk, and the way her stomach was flourishing with his child. Boob massage was something he greatly took pleasure in. Kneading her sore breasts while hearing her moans of relief. He'd come to learn that intimacy could be found in many other things than sex.

Ben noticed he'd come to hating every moment he spent away from them. His temper got much worse, his teammates observed. And he became more aggressive than he already was when fighting crime. The happiest moment of his day was when he dropped the shield and took the helmet off to head home, where his beautiful wife would be eagerly waiting to have dinner with him even though most of the nights he'd come home and find her dozing off on the couch where she'd been waiting for him. He'd carry her to their bedroom and have dinner by himself — he skipped that very often — then slip right behind her on the bed holding her close to his body. The concept of coming back home to someone was so much alluring to him. He felt his life was complete. Real.

Ben arrived at their penthouse, assuming he'd find her soundly sleeping while she stayed awaiting him. He didn't announce his return loudly as he used to do before the pregnancy. He didn't want to wake her up. But much to his surprise — and delight, Ben found the place dimly lit with scented candles, sensuous silence prevailing within the air.

Ben's eyes glimmered, and an instant wolfish grin slipped into his lips when his eyes landed on his wife's figure as she clambered down the stairs. A thin, short gown with a raunchy red colour hugged her frame, its fabric was so thin that he could see her skin glowing through the red. Her breasts were full, putting her cleavage on more display. Whereas the bump of her belly was deliciously visible. Her hair was neatly styled and spruced up and her pretty face was elegantly painted with make-up.

“Welcome home, Ben,” She warbled with a smile, eyes filled with sultry desire as she strolled down to him. He was dazzled by her appearance, he was practically eating her with his eyes. Fuck, pregnancy did make her much prettier. “Hope you didn't have dinner yet 'cause I made you something special tonight.”

Her palm grazed his stubbled cheek. Ben leaned into her touch, pressing a gentle kiss to her palm, a grin gracing his mouth. “'Course I didn't. Why the fuck would I eat outside when I have a capable wife like you at home?”

She giggled gleefully at his statement as he pulled her flush against his body. He eyed her with a hazed gaze. Her mouth was luring him in, deliciously so. He liked that lipstick shade on her lips so much. He couldn't but to give in to the utter temptation. Ben tilted his head down and captured them in a burning kiss. An instant moan escaped her throat as his mouth passionately pressed to hers. Her arms encircled his neck, hands combing through his brown hair. He synced their heads for a better angle, and deepened the kiss, tongue slipping into her warm mouth. His hands brushed her sides then her ass.

He broke the kiss momentarily and she gasped vehemently. He could hear the rapid pace of her heart and the gushing blood through her vein, pooling down in her groin. He crushed her lips again, hands travelling up to remove the dress but she squealed and pulled back.

“Benjamin, dinner's gonna get cold!” She laughed again when he buried his face in her neck, kissing her skin softly.

“Is that really what you're fucking concerned about now?” He grumbles in a teasing tone.

She giggled, “Should I be concerned about something else—woah!” Ben grabbed her hips and lifted her effortlessly, heading to the living room with her pretty legs around his hips. His lips plundering hers again all the way until they reached the couch where he sat with her straddling his lap. The kiss went wild once they settled comfortably on the couch. His big hands stroked her thighs ardently. They trailed up to her ass giving it a firm squeeze and she moaned in his mouth, plucking the rim of her satin panties. He smirked into the kiss, fingers tracing down to her core. His grin widened when he met her bare cunt.

“Oh, baby,” He rasps when she rolls her hips slowly, pressing her cunt on his clothed cock, “Aren't you a pretty fucking tease?” He tugged at the lip of the crotchless panties, a mischievous grin playing on his mouth.

She guffawed with a coquettish tilt of her head, and his cock twitched in an immediate response. However, the innocent look on her face opposed the tortuous pace of her hips. She was fucking tantalising him with those hips. And he fucking liked it despite the screaming urge growing in his chest to flip her over and fuck her raw. Oh, she did like it rough, the little slut. She liked to be beneath him and beg him to go harder and faster, to yank her hair and make her choke on his dick. She loved how he manhandled her with his superhuman strength despite being only a human, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't take great pleasure in it too. Ben's nothing if doesn't live to be in charge. He'd been shocked that a tiny woman like her could handle him as such. But he was quick to remember that she was with his fucking child. He couldn't go rough on her like he used to do even if they both craved it.

She didn't stop her torment as her delicate hands rested on his shoulders for support. He could smell the sweet scent of her arousal soaking his crotch and he growled, “Holy fuck, you gonna let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours, or you planning on making me cream my pants?”

Her lips twisted wickedly, “Depends,”

“On fucking what?” He grunted, brows furrowed, puzzled. He was way too hard and drunk by her scent to clearly think or read between her lines, “Baby, you're fucking killing me here.”

“Aw, am I to seal the greatest era of America's history?” She giggled again, “What an honour.”

Then it clicked. The fucking slut. She was tempting him to ravish her. Maybe he should, but again, he worried about her and the child. Because honestly, he wasn't so sure if he could restrain himself if he unbridled that side of his.

Then his mouth splitted in a huge grin, brushing his cheek to hers to grumble in her ear, “The only honour you're gonna get is milking my cock empty in that slutty pussy of yours.” He chuckled triumphantly when he sensed her shivering in delight. Leaning his head backward, he saw her chewing on her lower lip adorably with a cute pinkish red dusting across her face, whereas her eyes were searing with covetousness. Ben pecked her nose and lifted her up again, gently. She trilled a series of choppy laughters and playfully kicked her legs when he carried her to their bedroom.

Needless to say, she took whatever honour he bestowed upon her like a champ.

He was craving a whiff of a cigar. He used to smoke after a good fuck in bed, she'd even share him a couple of drags sometimes. But since it was off the table — temporarily — he focused on and enjoyed her fingers running on his chest.

Fuck, pregnant sex did feel amazing. He gotta admit. He did hear from here and there that a woman with child, at some point of her pregnancy, would be touched by sudden and high libidinousness. But fuck, didn't that catch him off guard. And fuck, if he didn't enjoy it down to the last minute detail. And dare he say, it was the best sex he ever had. It was perfect; she was perfect.

Never did he think that he'd find home, his real home in a simple elementary school teacher he met on one of his tours throughout the country. A beautiful and smart woman who always kept him on his toes and had him wrapped around her pretty fingers.

Ben smiled and kissed the crown of her head, and slowly, it turned into a trail of kisses down her face. Then he captured her lips, and soon enough, they were engaging in a heated make-out session.

“Ben,” She whispered as she gazed at him, voice a bit hoarse from screaming and crying beneath him for hours.

His hand was rubbing circles on her ass languidly, “What is it, dollface?” He drawls with a thick voice.

“Sorry for not being a good wife for you the last couple of months.” She said meekly, bringing his hands to cradle them in hers, while he just frowned at her words, “They were tough times on me, on us.” She sighed, pressing light kisses on his rough hands, “But everything's gonna be set right again, I promise.”

Ben's frown only got deeper when he noticed the lick of fear and desperation in her eyes and voice. Fuck, she was scared shitless. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His wife was scared if he was screwing around on her because of her lack of attention due to the pregnancy, for she used to shower him with doting and devotion as a good wife did. Fuck, did he, by any mean, do anything wrong to arise such qualms in her? He certainly did not. Then he fucking remembered that nasty reputation of his that proceeded him.

Fuck, gotta reassure her and chill her the fuck down. He can't have her in such a position. He can't have his home in such a precarious, dark place. Not after what the two of them had done to build what they had up. He wouldn't allow it.

“Hey,” He passed rough-padded thumbs under the lines of her eyes, palms caressing her cheeks, “Nothing went fucking wrong to set back right, sweetheart,” Then he gave her belly tender strokes, “You're an amazing wife,”

She was; everyday she woke up, five in the morning, to prepare him a delicious-ass breakfast. She took it upon herself to be his barber and shaved his beard almost everyday and trimmed his hair every now and then. She was patient when he wasn't. She embraced him when he was practically a walking ticking bomb. She patched him up — when needed — at night when he'd return to her roughed up from fighting crimes. She soothed him down when frustrated and angry. She took his bad temper and relieved it thoroughly. She was everything. She was home.

Ben's finger flicked her nose playfully, “As I'm fucking sure yer gonna be an amazing hot momma,”

Ah, here it was, the sheepish smile that reached her eyes. He'd fucking cherish it forever.

He kissed her forehead, “You're perfect; my perfect wife, my perfect home.”

🦅 Soldier Boy Masterlist.

🦅 Main Masterlist.

🦅 AO3.

[fieldghoul]

A round-up of ministry technology:

Chapter Two: The Cardinal

Copia is carrying the Siemens R836 stereo, produced c. 1988

Chapter 5: The Call

The TV in the hospital is the Toshiba T277Z, produced c. 1977

p.s., the first clip playing on the TV is twins running away in Chapter 1 :-)

Chapter Seven: New World Redro

Nihil's typewriter is the Olympia SM9, produced c. 1965-1968

Chapter Ten: Home Coming and Special Guests

The record player in Cardi's room is actually not vintage! It's the Victrola 3-in-1 Bluetooth Record Player, produced c. 2017

To get deep into minutiae, the other thing they pan past on the shelf that looks like an antique cathedral radio is actually a piece of ceramic -- you can see it's holding a book. It's made from a commercially available plaster mold, namely the Duncan DM-355 B, which was manufactured in the late 70s. Here are photos of the same ceramic with a different glaze, and the mold itself :-)

Chapter Twelve: Ghost Goes Hollywood

Cardi's camcorder is part of the Sony CCD-TRVX5 series, produced c. 1998

(My understanding is the CCD-TRV75, 85 and 93 all have the same body -- but it's one of those.)

Chapter 16: Tax Season

Cardi's TV is the Samsung BT-317TR, produced c. 1984

He is, of course, playing the Nintendo Entertainment System (NES), produced c. 1986-1990

The radio is the Motorola TT23FS, produced c. 1968

The phone gadget is the Tele-Rest, produced c. 1958

The alarm clock is a Lawson Model 215 Sierra, produced c. 1948-1981 (Lawson clock history seems... complicated)

As for the phone itself... I can tell you it's this exact phone, since this prop house seems to have supplied all the props in this video, but there are too many identical puke-green rotary phones produced between the 1940s and 1970s for me to pretend I can tell which one it is (same goes for the other two rotary phones in Chapter Five).

Rite Here Rite Now

The TV backstage is (probably) a Magnavox 20MT4405/17, produced c. 2006

If you turn the brightness on RHRN way the fuck up, you can see a piece of tape over the brand badge on the TV. (But that can't stop me!!!)

I'm sure most of the tech choices are just for humor and Tobias's personal nostalgia as a child of the 80s, but I do love way all of the old tech characterizes the ministry. It's not clear if they're just luddites, cheapskates, out of money, too bureaucratically inefficient to upgrade (like the government!) or if it's something completely different. But that's why set dressing is fun, it tells stories indirectly :-)

[yestrday]

— BLUSH BLUSH ! anemo | hydro | geo | pyro

⤷ yan! hybrid! zhongli, itto, gorou, albedo

summary ! these land-dwelling hybrids have devotion as sturdy as stone and they’re ready to prove it anytime! if you’re feeling shackled by your father’s chain, do not worry, for you have your trusty hybrids to keep you company. should you have any concerns, just come to them anytime. after all, you are all bound by a contract that will never expire~

content ! possessive behavior; obsessive behavior; yandere behavior; mentions of violence; mentions of biting you; mentions of blood; mentions of drugs; sadism; thoughts of corruption

notes ! woah!!!! i have posted an actual full update!!! woah!!! applaud please!

in the neighboring country of your very own, legends say that a great dragon protected their lands in a time of tumultuous peril. were it not for the great dragon general and his army of mythical beasts, the people of that land would have succumbed to war and famine. he built the broken country from the ground back up, and introduced many kinds of craft to help them prosper. the land and its people did indeed flourish,  thanks to the wisdom of the dragon. but wise as he is, he ultimately decided that the humans must learn to rely on themselves, and so he and his army of beasts hid away, till they faded into nothing more but myths and stories…

you stare blankly at the gentleman who is calmly sipping his tea while he tells you this story, and venti's squawking laughter as he dies in the background. having let go of his human form, he sits comfortably with his scaled tail and his golden antlers out, and his black and gold hands gingerly cup the ceramic teacup. aether is beside you giving the man a deadpan stare. all the surrounding hybrids, save for a few clueless ones, give him the side eye. yeah, ZHONGLI is not fooling anybody.

unlike your other hybrids, it was you who came to him. your father had summoned you, much to the anger of your caring hybrids, and your servants had you scrubbed with scented soaps and dressed you in elegant pieces. aether accompanies you all the way to your company's building and soothes your worries away as you ride the elevator going up. the man accompanying you shoots a condescending gaze— the forgotten heir and their hybrid pet— and backing down after receiving aether’s dark glare. when you step into his office, you’re greeted by the apathetic look on your father’s face… and the handsome man beside him.

“this is ZHONGLI,” your father tells you, sounding bored as he resumes to reading his documents. “i heard that you’ve amassed yourself a following of hybrids of some sort.” you tense when you hear that, knowing the positions hybrids hold in this world. “what you do there is of no concern to me. ZHONGLI is a good and efficient secretary– he can help you control those beasts of yours. after all, i cannot risk having so many sources of harm around my child without someone to properly control them.” aether snarls under his breath at the mere implication of them hurting you, but you squeeze his hand. and so off you leave to your isolated villa, your back turning on your neglectful father once more.

ZHONGLI quickly proves himself to be quite the skilled hybrid. he can easily identify from just a glance on what kind of animal they are, as well as the specifications of their behavior, preferred environment, diet, and whatnot. he also helps you sort through your treasures— the jewels and antiques you’ve accumulated over time and tell you stories of these. he entertains you with new knowledge, helping you have a good grasp on the world beyond these walls.

he’s also very, very gentle with you. for the kindness you’ve shown these hybrids, you’ve gained a special place in ZHONGLI’s heart. oftentimes, he will pat your hair down as he recounts an old eastern fable, and straightens out any wrinkles in your shirt when he sees them. it pleases him to know that you are nothing like your father, but he knows that you’re still his blood-related child. if you had to go through any of the trials that your father had, ZHONGLI fears that you may grow just as cold-hearted as he is. so he makes sure to take the utmost care of you, so that you’ll never have to change from your kind and soft self.

ZHONGLI quickly becomes a trustworthy pillar that everyone can rely on. the younger hybrids tend to come to him for advice, and he sometimes even replaces aether as a substitute butler. but when it comes to fights, he only watches in amusement and sips on his tea. youngsters should let out some steam once in a while, he reasons. oh, and aether absolutely forbids him from touching the mora. that’s one thing no one ever trusts him with.

ZHONGLI’s pride and ego as a dragon hybrid has long dissipated since the eras have changed, but even so, it has always irritated him that your father tricked him into a contract. sometimes, when he looks at you, a dark urge dwells in the dark recesses of his mind. it’s a feeling he hasn’t felt ever since he was a young bloodthirsty general— that bloodlust and sadism. he knows you’re not your father… but what he does know is that your father has a great amount of affection he refuses to show to you. so what would happen if ZHONGLI were to… say, ruin you? to push you past your breaking point and present it to your father? 

he knows it’s not right to think such things of you, but you can’t blame him. ZHONGLI is sure you’d understand, like how you understand your every hybrid’s troubles. he’s done so much for you, after all. surely you’ll allow him to take a bite of you, and maybe more. you are a treasure, hidden away where no one can hear you scream. it doesn’t help that ZHONGLI is a dragon, heralded by legends as the mightiest of them all, and he wants to possess every single inch of you until you’re not yourself anymore.

he loves you, and he isn’t afraid to tell you. you are kind, and you are everything your father isn’t. his heart swells when you look at him and his smile is unstoppable when you excitedly chatter on about trivial matters. he wants to give you everything and more but it is in his blood to be selfish, and there’s nothing he wants more than to ruin you and your father too.

RELATIONSHIPS: zhongli and venti often get into passive-aggressive fights by covering up their insults with very fake compliments. poor xiao and aether often find themselves in the middle of this verbal war, but the two old men actually get along more than they’re willing to admit.

ITTO makes himself known by destroying a wall and a room. it was a nice and peaceful day, enjoying a cup of tea before another session of studying with zhongli. but soon enough, the entire manor shakes as a loud explosion comes from one of the outermost rooms, and everyone rushes to see what happened. in the middle of all the rubble and mess is a snorting bull, a stab wound in his side. when it looks up at you, it's eyes grow wide.

everyone covers your eyes when the bull morphs and reveals a naked muscular man with the stupidest grin ever. "hello, little one!" his voice nearly booms, but it stills sound faint as blood dribbles from his mouth. "uh, haha, i know it's awkward to ask this of ya since we just met, but ya look like the master of this house. care to help me out here?"

ITTO apparently has gotten himself injured thanks to a gang war. according to his story, his gang pissed off some of the local ones when they barged into their territory ("anywhere's arataki itto's territory!" he corrects zhongli, but is promptly ignored) and he split up from his gang while running away ("strategic retreat!"). the adrenaline must've gotten to him, because he was a long way off from where he originally came from.

ITTO is loud and childish, but you've never had a normal childhood, so his presence is greatly appreciated. he drags you into his silly games— catching beetles with you to raise them into fierce fighters, shouting out cringey finishing moves during your card games— it’s always a fun time whenever he’s around, and he even manages to wrangle other hybrids into playing with him. a lot of people are exasperated by him, but they do like how friendly and stupid he is, so he’s one of the more popular hybrids in town.

stupid ITTO knows how strong he is, but that doesn’t mean he stops to think before pulling you into one of his bone-crushing hugs. gorou often yelps and tries to pull him off, nagging the laughing bull about his strength and carelessness. when he does loosen his grip on you, he does make for a great cuddle buddy— a set of firm abs behind you, muscled biceps wrapped protectively around your hips, and his head atop yours. sometimes you’ll fall asleep in his arms, much to everyone’s dismay, because then itto would fall asleep with you and everyone knows he has a grip like death.

ITTO’s foolish, but he’s kind and surprisingly wise at times. he’s wise enough to know the dark leer in his fellow hybrids’ eyes, and strong enough to be able to whisk you away from potential danger without any consequences. he tends to move you away whenever territorial conflicts arise between the hybrids, distracting you with a game or two. itto knows all too well how hybrids are treated in this world… he doesn’t want you being scared of them either.

that’s why he doesn’t warn you about the dangers of the other hybrids either. one, because he doesn’t want to fill your head with scary thoughts about them and two, well, he becomes a hypocrite. he may try protecting you, but even that’s hard enough for him. when you smile at him so trustingly, it just breaks his heart in two… and stirs up something dark and possessive within his heart. 

ITTO wants to cradle you gently, continue to play these silly games with you and have fun with the others for your entire life, but sometimes, you make it hard for him to be a nice man. he’s a big, big man— so big, in fact, that you won’t be able to do anything when he wraps that meaty hand of his around your head and muffles your screams. once he pins you to the floor and starts nibbling at your soft flesh, you’ll be helpless and weak, and it’ll only take him a second before he draws blood. he hates himself for wanting to violate you like that, but the thought makes him salivate.

you don’t know the real world like ITTO and the others does, and he wishes to keep it that way. concepts like innocence and pure are too philosophical for the bull hybrid’s taste, but he wishes to keep you safe. he’s been ridiculed, scorned, and cursed at for simply existing. part of him knows its paranoia, part of him believes it, and a small part of him wishes that you continue to hide in the haven you’ve made for yourself.

RELATIONSHIPS: itto’s quite friendly with the entire inazuman group, ready to loop them in for some fun whether they like it or not. due to his outgoing nature, he’s also made friends with the others as well, especially xiao, and seems to be oblivious to his mythical status with his laments about his poor, small figure. aether keeps a tired yet amused smile at his tirades, but makes sure to keep you away from him to avoid his bad influence.

GOROU joins your family after being wrangled by the neck by itto, who had loudly proclaimed that he had found dinner. when he bursts in the front doors, there’s a yipping dog digging its canines into his hand. someone briefly mentions that bulls are supposed to be herbivores, but all you can think about how cute the puppy is. slowly creeping to the shiba inu, you gently stretch out a hand and start petting its soft fur. the small thing flicks its eyes to you and bares its teeth to growl, but a particularly good scratch has it whimpering timidly.

GOROU just might be the only sane one from the inazuman hybrids, minus thoma, who’s more or less subservient to you and ayato. he’s usually frantically running back and forth keeping an eye on itto (“humans are not to be held like that!”) and heizou (“do not try to eat kazuha again!”). when he’s not trying to keep it all together, he likes training in the open field out back, and his night time routines are often spent with other fluffy tail boys, who sit in a circle to groom each others tails. you’re part of this too, often finding yourself groomed by the others too. 

he’s a respected warrior, and he likes to help out around the house too. GOROU is fairly amiable and gullible, so he often plays the straight man of many pranks. he’s strict with himself and with others, but not a lot of people take him seriously, especially with ears and tail as fluffy as that. it’s quite troubling for him, and he doesn’t appreciate it when people stroke his ears out of the blue or ruffle his preciously groomed tail.

although young, he likes to present himself as respectable and responsible. after all, he wants you to trust him, to come to him whenever you need help! but it doesn’t help that whenever GOROU is engaged in a duel, his more base instincts come out and the heat of the fight rushes in his head. he’s growling and scratching the floor, he shoots with a precise aim but doesn’t neglect the use of all four limbs. you find it endearing how embarrassed he becomes when he’s finally relaxed after the duel and you of all people had to see him like that. while you coo and comfort him about how cool he was, all the other hybrids exchange  a look— that wasn’t about being cool, it was a show of primal instincts.

GOROU values your approval and affection more than anything in this world. it’s why he works so tirelessly to become a man you can rely on. he doesn’t allow himself to be clingy, but with some encouragement, he’ll immediately melt in your touch and he won’t let go. he sees you like a being near to divinity– if not divinity itself. your touch cleanses him, your voice soothes him, and should you give him a command, he’ll carry it out with perfect execution. he’s been demeaned as a brainless dog by society, an animal instead of an equal, but for you, he’ll proudly carry that title with blood on its name.

if you’re looking to gain more than what you currently have, GOROU is the perfect lackey to have. it’s not to say that all your dear hybrids are more than happy to follow your pursuit of greatness, but they all have their underlying agendas when it comes to you. meanwhile, GOROU’s wants and needs are all based on yours. he doesn’t need to have any other agendas— all he wants is for you to hold him for the night, bloody mess and all.

RELATIONSHIPS: gorou is usually yelling and running after itto, mostly failing to get him wrangled and disciplined. he’s only ever relaxed around kazuha and aether, who both patiently listen to his grumbles and complaints. the three of them are part of the unofficial tail society of the manor, who along with the other fluffy tail-havers like to sit in a circle and groom each other’s tails.

there was once a time when common household products mysteriously disappeared from your cabinets. it whipped the servants into quite a fright, and rumors of a ghost haunting the halls were popular for a time. it was only when a servant found a small cavern in the side of the hill’s landscape, where the said products were organized meticulously, did they find the culprit— a handsome boy sporting feline eyes and a pair of fluffy ears and tail to boot. when ALBEDO meets your eyes, the wildcat hybrid smiles in a way that would make any romantic’s heart flutter.

“apologies for the inconvenience i may have brought you,” he says in a voice like a fairytale prince’s. “i should have introduced myself sooner instead of stealing from your cabinets. but as you can see,” he poi kntedly stares at the dozen wary eyes behind your back. “... i may have gotten a bit shy in the presence of such… intimidating companions.” 

ALBEDO is almost immediately absolved of all sin. who can get mad at such a pretty face? even your head maid who had been angrily fuming and ranting these past weeks immediately quickly turned all sparkly-eyed and accommodating as soon as albedo sent a charming smile her way. he becomes a quick favorite among the staff, because oh, he’s so nice to talk to! all these scary hybrids are either brooding or scheming or scarily strong and here’s this angel from above come to give them a sense of normality! he’s not nicknamed prince for nothing!

you always feel at ease around ALBEDO, and you like how gentle he is with you. his words are soft-spoken and carefully chosen, and he listens to your insecurities with a patient ear. he shares with you advice and his own perspective of things (albeit a bit flat on the social aspects), and he draws you little doodles to cheer you up. you both have a little game that you play where he draws on his sketchpad and you try to guess what it is before he finishes it. he always finds a way to trick you though, so you never guess correctly. he laughs quietly when you declare that one day you’ll figure it out, and pout when he ruffles your hair like a big brother.

ALBEDO likes how… warm you feel next to him. a favorite past time of his is accompanying you on your strolls and observe the wildlife with you. his hands squeeze yours as you point out the funny cloud in the sky or when you ask about a specific type of flora. if you’re sleepy, you often nap on his lap under the shade of a tree. he can feel his heartbeat racing as his fingers stroke your chin and trace your eyelids, and his big fluffy tail wraps your torso protectively. all he hears is the skritches of his pencil against paper and your faint snoring.

ALBEDO is… passive. strangely so, amidst a harem of dangerous hybrids. he makes it a point to never admit his feelings out loud. to verbalize such fantasies about you, the one who keeps him sheltered, it feels disrespectful to you. you’re too naive of the outside world, too innocent of the darker recesses of the human, er, hybrid mind. he wants to protect this innocence, because there’s too much darkness already in the world.

he hides away in his study, pencil against paper scratching away as his eyes zero in this unfinished portrait. he plans to make a portrait of your likeness, but none of these copies can compare to the real deal. an eye is too off, the nose too thin, the smile not pretty enough. he doodles some little yous on the corner of his scrapped portraits… and blushes furiously. he tears up the indecency and throws them on the fire.

is it so terrible to want to play with you a little? he may put on the big brother act now, but that’s mostly because he likes seeing the expressions you make whenever he praises you. your expressions are so interesting, despite them being like any other human’s. exactly what makes him so drawn to you? it’s a research topic he must explore one day. but for now, ALBEDO is content to play house with you for a little while, and shut away his more sexual instincts for a little while longer. there’d be plenty of time to experiment on you later, once he’s reached his limits. for now, he’ll let the potion simmer for a little while longer ♡

RELATIONSHIPS: albedo often shuts himself away from everyone and stay inside his lil old lab conducting experiments and the like, but once in a while there are people who drag him out. he often experiments on a disgruntled aether, who he bribes with mora. cyno thinks of him as a like-minded friend, but tighnari thinks that the way albedo stares at the jackal is much like a scientist staring at microbes under a glass.

[leucisticpuffin]

On a summer evening in Rivendell, Elrond's little family are busy designing a sensory-play room for the twins. (If Elrond ends up hiding in there too after stressful councils, no one's going to say anything.)

For Day 5 of @elrondweek (a little late because of absent-mindedness...) Please click on it to see all the details!!

A lot of research went into this painting (and a lot of thought about how you'd crease a multisensory environment in a fantasy world with no electricity for pretty lights and bubble lamps) so here are some notes and headcanons:

Lighting: A number of elves who studied under Feanor later lived in Middle-earth (especially Eregion) and continued making crystal lamps and light-altering gemstones. The crystals in the small jar are a kind which glows for several hours after being “charged” with sunlight. They are used for decoration and in situations where a flame would be impractical or dangerous, e.g. a child-safe nightlight. 

Light projection jars: Glass jars decorated with colours and patterns. When a light crystal is placed in the jar, the colours are projected across the floor or wall. (Elladan and Elrohir are still a little young to be trusted with heavy glass jars, so for now these will be kept in a locked chest and used with adult supervision). 

Fabrics: Samples of cloth with lots of interesting colours and textures for the kids to choose from. Some (like the star cloth Elrohir is admiring) will be draped from the walls or ceiling of the sensory room to create a dark, cosy environment, and others made into blankets, cushions, etc. 

Star cloth: Cloth embroidered with tiny, faintly-glowing gems, resembling the night sky. First created in Valinor by a member of the textiles guild, it was popular among older elves who wanted to remember the skies of Middle-earth. It was expensive and difficult to make, and fell out of fashion when the Noldor left Valinor. The craft was revived in second-age Eregion, and easier methods of making it were developed. 

Toys: Elladan is playing with a painted wooden rain-shaker. Other sensory toys pictured include a colourful spinning top and a set of tactile wooden balls. They’re gathering a collection to keep in the boys’ toy-chest. Elrohir prefers the tactile objects, while Elladan likes any toy that makes a noise.

Room decor: Inspired by Art Nouveau aesthetics. The rug is based on an antique Donegal carpet, and the wallpaper on Arts and Crafts designs. 

Clothing: Inspired by paintings and antique garments: the twins and Celebrian are (loosely) based on paintings by John Singer Sargent and Henry Arnould Olivier, while Elrond’s robes are based on a 1905 House of Worth tea gown.

There are a number of flowers and plants in this painting; their meanings in flower language are as such: 

Bonsai pear tree: comfort

Irises (in the stained-glass window): wisdom

A vase of white lilacs: joy of youth, youthful innocence

Traveller’s joy (in the patterned wallpaper): safety

Primroses (Elladan’s hairpin and the embroidery on the twins’ dresses): early youth

Daisies (Elrohir’s shoes): innocence

Forget-me-nots (Celebrian’s dress): true love

Lily-of-the-valley (Elrond’s hairpin): sweetness, return of happiness

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 1905 Tudor style estate in Excelsior, MN is crazy classy. 5bds, 5ba, 7,626 sq ft, $2.65m + $83mo. HOA.

The entrance hall is stone and slightly reminiscent of a castle.

And, in the sitting room, the sheer size of the fireplace says "castle" all over it.

It's a beautiful room.

And, then there's a stunning open kitchen/family room. Gorgeous fireplace and tile flooring, but look at the interesting windows and doorways on the far wall.

The kitchen is beautiful and it has an Aga stove, too.

There's a lovely large dining area.

And on the other side of the wall is a gorgeous sunporch.

Classic tartan 1/2 bath.

Large wine room. It looks like they used some of the old kitchen cabinets in here.

Cozy TV room.

The primary bedroom has a wonderful view of the garden.

Very large closet/dressing room.

And, look at the sunroom, thru this little area with a mini fridge.

The focal point of the bath is the antique sideboard they turned into a sink.

And, there's also a sauna.

Look at the nursery for a child of sophistication. No cutsey decor in here.

Here's a guest room. Not sure I'd want to sleep in those claustrophobic bins, though.

The guest room has a private sitting room.

Nice en-suite with an interesting sink.

Then, here's a home office and gym combo.

Outside, they have a brick patio with a pergola and a huge fireplace.

The grounds are beautiful.

There's also a place to keep a boat or two.

Tennis courts, pickleball, whatever floats your boat. The estate is on 1.01 acre of land and that's Smithtown Bay nearby.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/4714-Baycliffe-Dr-Excelsior-MN-55331/1580957_zpid/

[lttawnymadison]

TGCF Revised Version Afterword by MXTX

Since I kept seeing snippets of this, I wanted to read the whole thing for myself. I'd already bought the book on JJWXC and did an MTL for this. It's so wonderful that she's back and sharing new things and that the revised is finally done! - Tawny --------------------------------------------- The author has something to say:

Seeing the small red clay stove again.

———— Afterword of "Heaven Official's Blessing" 2022

■ Finally done!

Long time no see! It's another afterword starting with "finally." Without further ado, seasoned readers would know that I make substantial revisions. For instance, scenes like the Bai Feng Mountain Hunt and the ending recognition of Sizhui in the serial version of "Mo Dao Zu Shi" were not originally there.

The revisions in "Heaven Official's Blessing" are the most extensive of all my works. It was a huge project, as it is also the longest in terms of length, serialized over eight months. Due to poor health and other reasons, the revision process was interrupted for a long time before I picked it up again, and it sporadically took about five to six months over several years.

In the era of web novels, there are endless new entertainments, and honestly, not many people re-read a story. Plus, some problems in the serialized version are structural and can't be changed, but I still tried my best to address my regrets. After all, when I was serializing it, I was almost always in a feverish and sick state, barely pushing through. Additionally, I often enjoy comparing different versions of my favorite authors' works back and forth, finding pleasure in the process. So, for readers, discovering "Wow, this part has changed!" is like starting a new journey with Easter eggs in a second round.

■ The new revised version includes about 100,000 words of new content!

These 100k words are mainly concentrated in the latter half of Volume 1 and Volume 3, but there are plenty scattered throughout the text. For example, I fulfilled a promise to A-Hua, giving him several new outfits. Seeing A-Hua dressed beautifully in a new hairstyle to meet his gege made me happy.

In terms of the intensity of revisions, personally, I feel it goes like this:

Volume 1 and Volume 2 > Volume 3 > Volume 5 > Volume 4.

Additionally, the new version cuts some redundant words and plots that weren't very meaningful. However, I tried to keep all the original interactions between Hua Lian as complete as possible. If some minor interactions are missing, they weren't deleted but moved around.

■ One day, I suddenly dug out something.

An antique from 2017, a folder called "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection."

Curiously, I opened it and read with interest.

● Comparing the original setting outline and the main text, the highest fidelity is in the main storyline between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian.

A-Hua, restored at a ratio of 1:100.

Hua's character setting is the most detailed, and virtually every point made it into the main text, including details like "ghosts don't like the sun, so Hua Cheng sometimes drapes a red cloth over his head"...

Points not used, listed a few:

As a child:

· After being saved from falling off a city wall, he foolishly followed a parade over and over again, grabbing people to ask, "Who is that? Who is that person?" People told him, "That's the royal son, the future Celestial God, the most outstanding Crown Prince of Xianle Nation ever!"

(This point couldn't be used because in the text A-Hua was held in the Crown Prince's arms after being saved)

· At home, he was often punished to stand or kneel, not given food, and wore old clothes, accused of stealing money. Whenever he argued with his family, he would stubbornly sleep in the Prince's temple overnight.

· Went to Mount Tai Cang to volunteer sweeping red leaves at Huangji Observatory, just to sneak peeks at his future wife happily swinging.

After becoming the ghost king:

· One of his hobbies is buying and building houses everywhere.

· Very protective of his leather boots, would (badly) polish them until they shone.

· To other devout followers of Xie Lian, he said: "You have good taste."

· Secretly prepared many betrothal gifts for his beloved god, wanting to marry him!

The character setting of Xie Lian as a teacher in the serialized version compared to the initial draft, the serialized text subtly differs. The initial draft was more... exquisite and elegant, very serious. The serialized text is more... humorous. I think perhaps because some plot points were tragic, Xie Lian thought he should be happier to make the readers more relaxed, so he drove me to adjust his mental state! But due to the spiritual oppression at that time, the character's depth was not enough, while in the new revised version, I hope he can show a more self-content state on the same core basis.

Excerpts from the unused original setting:

· Super easy-going. Easy-going means: if given fifty bucks, he would happily dress in drag and dance. Accepts haggling. Thirty bucks works. Twenty bucks too!

· The observatory is small, the house is broken, wants to grow flowers. Leaks during rain, so he uses a bucket to catch rainwater.

· Because he can't afford a caretaker, he cleans himself, and also feeds chickens. Chickens eat flowers. Keeps a cat.

· Completely engrossed in discussing serious matters, he unknowingly finished all the broken sweet dumplings!

● Water, Earth, Wind original setting:

The highest fidelity is the main line between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, followed by the Water, Earth, Wind subplot.

The main conflict hasn't changed. Just... how could the original setting of Water, Earth, Wind be so dark and terrifying!

The character morals in the main text improved a lot, otherwise, the original Black Water would be sheer scheming + murderous! The ending for the Wind Master would have been more tragic.

The Venerable of Empty Words suddenly became an improvised character. It seemed like an ancient fable-like monster, making the main text more interesting than the original setting.

Overall, the formal version is a bit better written than the original draft.

● The unfortunate life of Lang Ying:

Lang Ying? Is there such a character? I don't remember!

Ah? It seems there was such a person, but I don't remember any of his plotlines.

This is most people's feeling towards the character of Lang Ying. It's not a delusion because he barely had any significant plot. In fact, any valuable scenes could have been replaced equivalently, so in the new revised version, I deleted this character.

But, in the 2017 setting collection, I suddenly found that I had actually opened a separate document for Lang Ying, and his role was defined as a "growing-type BOSS!"

I was silent.

And immediately opened the document, curious about my initial setting. A "growing-type BOSS," how did he become someone whose deletion went unnoticed...? (I even don't know how to address him!)

Who knows, perhaps out of excitement, I accidentally pressed the wrong shortcut, and somehow it became irreversible, leaving only an empty document for me to stare in disbelief. The once "growing-type BOSS" has now forever become a mystery!

This is the unfortunate life of the deleted Lang Ying.

· There was another document in the setting collection called "Swordsmith." I opened the document and read it with interest.

I was shocked. Because I completely forgot I had conceived this story. Why didn't I write it?!

Darn.

I know why I didn't write it. This story... it had no ending!

——————— Thus, the magical glimpse into the "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection" concludes!

■ I like men with stories!

Maybe because I watched an outstanding work as a child. It was a memoir, the protagonist in the biography was gentle and affable, and the protagonist in the memories was cold and ruthless. The story was scattered with the poignant fragrance of white plum blossoms amidst bloody and stormy circumstances.

This almost perfect work deeply influenced my aesthetics, leading me to be most interested in the memory parts of characters in various works. Although many viewers prefer the present scenes, often asking when the memories will end, I actually find these intense and painful memories to be the most fascinating!

A story is the history of a character, as well as the key to their personality. A person with a story stands before me like a puzzle. The way to solve this puzzle is to understand their story. Because the biography makes one curious to know more about a character they like, loving them more now because of their past. When serializing "Heaven Official," my greatest pain initially was telling myself, "This time I don't want to write a memory slaughter," deliberately trying to avoid a structure similar to previous works, yet I still hadn't found a better way to express it, resulting in my deep dissatisfaction with the later part of Volume 1. I was also hesitant to fully commit to the memory scenes in Volume 2, and with the heavy mental burden, this part was very painful to write. When revising, looking at Volume 2 was almost unbearable, because I'm the type of person who, as a child, would immediately switch channels when a TV show's protagonist was about to be wrongfully accused or embarrassed. I couldn't help but knock on a friend's door and ask:

Me: Was the author suffering some kind of mental trauma at the time? This negative energy is too horrifying, the protagonist is so pitiful, I really admire anyone who could read through Volume 2 completely.

Friend: Do you even have the right to say that?

But the memory slaughter in Volume 4 was much freer, written in one breath, so the revisions for this volume were also the least.

So, will you still write large segments of memory slaughter?

Um, well, we'll see, haha, hehe...

■ Closing Remarks:

Lastly, I'll address the question some asked me, "Will the new revised 'Heaven Official's Blessing' be more torturous?"

Me: You're talking nonsense. 'Heaven Official's Blessing' is a sweet pampering story, thank you!

Acknowledgments:

Shi Nai'an wrote in the preface to "Water Margin": "On snowy nights, about five or six people listen to my storytelling; on rainy days, about seven or eight; on bright and sunny days, about ten. I read, everyone listens, and we are all happy, with no other thoughts." When I read this as a young person, I was delighted. What divine days! Writing first to entertain oneself, then to entertain others. Self-expression and self-acceptance are certainly primary, but the affection of others is also a significant positive feedback. Thus, first, I thank the steadfast readers who have accompanied me all this time. I've thought about just walking away amidst the noisy disputes; abandoning the account amidst the tumultuous world! It seems not bad. But looking back, I can't bear to leave some truly sincere readers.

I've had authors I liked disappear from the internet, and I always feel like a part of my youth has vanished, a feeling quite distressing, reminiscent of overly grand and harsh things like the tears of the era or the torrent of history. So, I want to accompany my readers as long as possible, hoping that the day of parting comes later. Perhaps I'm not good enough now, but I will strive to be better in the future. Or perhaps you've never truly understood what kind of person I am, or even completely misunderstood me, but as long as you genuinely like my stories, we can sit down and chat.

And, I must mention my friends, who can be described as having the courage of a hero. Long time no see, Teacher Changyang's illustrations are still as beautiful as those of a celestial being, I hope Teacher CAS can go to bed earlier and worry less, and Teacher Kuohao, who despite a heavy workload, still fully honored our agreement. The "Heaven Official's Blessing" radio drama is really fantastic! It reminded me of the original intention of writing this story, and I was very moved. If it weren't for the silent companionship and efforts of these old friends, Mo Xiang Tong Xiu might have stopped writing back in 2016, disappearing from the world of martial arts, and thus, "Heaven Official's Blessing" would not have been born. I look forward to retracing the paths we once walked together when gathering ideas. And many friends who reached out to help and encourage me, thank you for accompanying me through the snowy nights.

[two-white-butterflies]

timeless | c16

Description: Your relationship is exposed in the weirdest way.

Pairing: charles leclerc/verstappen!reader

y/n.verstappen: christian called me, i'm his favorite child.

89 comments 37,138 likes

maxverstappen1: liar 🤣 - y/n.verstappen: real story actually

danielricciardo: she forgot to take her meds again 😴 - y/n.verstappen: @christianhorner u seeing this? - destinyyaya778: what's he gonna do? take daniel's seat 😭 oh...wait 😁

comments

foolishone88: y/n is the only non-model here but she's eating them all up 😭

carlandosupporter: Lottie basically confirmed Charles x Y/N.

"Why didn't you go inside the Ferrari paddock?" Charles frowned, settling the bowl of yogurt beside you. "I didn't have the passes for that bebe," you answered - gently massaging his forearm. He felt a little disappointed because you visited Mercedes and Redbull. "I'll get you passes for Ferrari tomorrow." he promised with a smile.

He adds a bit of cereal on the yogurt before handing it to you. "Do you ever think about telling the world about us?" he inquired, watching as you browsed mindlessly through social media. He knew that you had lots of dreams - plans for the future. But he also knows that you imagined future with him.

"We have to tell my brother first." you breathed.

Max wasn't a horrible creature - but because of your father's dismissive behavior. He's forced himself in Jos' shoes. He wouldn't be angry finding out about you and Charles - but he wouldn't be delighted either. "Do you have any plans?" he frowned and you closed your phone, placing it in on your thigh. "Yes, but I'm shy." you say.

A small chuckle escapes his mouth.

"We'll tell your brother tomorrow."

y/n.verstappen: little morning crazzy ✨

1298 comments 128k likes

bixietrixie: SOMEONE TELL HER THAT WE CAN SEE CHARLES IN THE BG 😭

sprincklesprinkle: THE GUY ON THE CHAIR BEHIND THEM. and don't call me crazy because charles owns that bag and I can see his shadow.

charlesleclerc: oh no 😂 - y/n.verstappen: that's no you, right? - - charlesleclerc: nope, not me.

UGLY SUPER MAX waar ben je? (where are you)

MOST BEAUTIFUL SISTER vakantiehuis (holiday house)

UGLY SUPER MAX lando showed me the tiktok 🤣 are you dating charles?

MOST BEAUTIFUL SISTER lando has tiktok? we gingen het je vertellen (we were gonna tell you) eventually...

UGLY SUPER MAX all good here vic saw it too

MOST BEAUTIFUL SISTER goodbye!? she doesn't know 😭

UGLY SUPER MAX just be here tomorrow Ik ontken de geruchten niet (i'm not denying the rumors)

MOST BEAUTIFUL SISTER girl??

seen by ugly super max.

"We don't need to tell him. It could've been worse." you giggled, walking around the paddock with his arms wrapped around you. "I expected worse." he hummed, seeing all the pairs of eyes on the both of you. It was your first time in the Ferrari garage.

"The better phrase would be: the worse is still to come." you teased, sitting beside Carlos who was quietly eating his noodles. "Audi next year?" you turned to look at him, earning a nervous chuckle from both of the men. "Don't get me into trouble, Y/N." Carlos joked.

The both of you walked inside an antique store.

"Let's look for some cute things to decorate our house." you pulled him inside, the smell of dust immediately entering your lungs. "Aw, this one is nice." he picked up a picture of someone's wedding. The picture said 1944 - and you couldn't help but imagine the both of you. The man was wearing a fancy suit - the girl, nothing but a summer dress. They looked fun.

"She looks like you," Charles pointed at her face and you couldn't help but agree. "Maybe, they are us - from another life." you leaned your head on his shoulder. He laughs gently. "That's a nice thing to believe," he pressed a finger to his lips.

"We'll buy it."

Charles_Leclerc: found this little thing outside the resto.

tagged: y/n.verstappen

912 comments 356,984 likes

y/n.verstappen: someone owns him...sadly

danielricciardo: Y/N looks good in white! - y/n.verstappen: UNPROVOKED?? - - Charles_Leclerc: 8pm right outside KFC - - - danielricciardo: 🤣

maxverstappen1: my sister looks a little weird with fur... - bebescenario29: how is this his first long instagram comment ?

y/n.verstappen: serving the leclerc fanbase (might delete if too much ppl thirst on him 🤬)

192 comments 33,293 likes

maxverstappen1: my eyes 😑

leclercfansign: OMG OMG OMG DADDY

[fanaticsnail]

You Kissed the Clown? Part 1

(S1:E2 OPLA timeline)

Upon waking, you found yourself in an unfamiliar environment. Stuffed into a small crate with your three travelling companions, your dark haired friend referred to as a “crew”, your senses were still groggy from the crimson powder exploded above your small rigging.

After your “Captain”, Luffy, disclosed to the group he had consumed the map to the grand line to “keep it in a safe place”, the crate opened to reveal a darkened space. Applause rang throughout the area and your eyes were drawn to a spotlight being placed on a man dressed as a white lion. Several circus-type performers littered the room and directed the large crowd to respond with prompts written on large white panels held by several members. You noticed the features of the crowd were bearing terrified expressions, crying streaks littering their cheeks and some crusted over wounds adorning their faces and bodies.

Through the small opening of the red and white tent, a displeased figure appeared out of the shadows. You were immediately mesmerised by the figure, brightly coloured facial paint adorning his cartoonish features, a large brim hat with blue tassels hung over the folded edge and a collection of mismatched stripes, spots, fur and feather upon his physique. He had a dangerous air around him, full of malice, ill-temperament and a small amount of desperation amongst his features.

The blue haired man immediately berated his companions, yelling at them for the wrong timing, the queue being off, the lighting contrasting over a lion-like man instead of his own features. You looked to your green-haired swordsman companion, making brief eye contact with him and quirking up your brow in question. He shook his head at you and nodded back to bring your attention to the scene playing before you.

You had no idea how you were among this ragtag trio of misfits, especially as piracy was never an occupation you fancied for yourself. You and those within your family line were skilled jewellers; antiquity restoration, appraisal and fine gold and silver smithery was your trade. You and your father were requested to appear before Captain Morgan and add a new gem encrusted embellishment to his recently acquired new head for his Axe-Hand.

You witnessed the fight that was brought out with Helmeppo and several other marines at the skilled hands of Roronoa Zoro. At that point, your father decided he was no longer going to be working with Captain Morgan; no payment was enough to continue working for a man that allowed his child to bully those lesser than him. You were given a choice then to find your own way in the world and bring attention to your own skilled crafts or to sail home with your father to return to work in the shop as a finery smith. Opting for the former of the two, you bid farewell to your father and found yourself upon the small rigging with three companions of whom you had grown fond of.

Bringing you away from your thoughts and tuning back into the conversation, your gaze fell to your orange-haired friend, Nami, as she attempted to bribe the blue-haired clown with a new crew member with untold abilities. Before you could stop her, she threw Luffy’s straw hat into the air and bolted for the opening of the large tent. Two members of the circus crew managed to drag her back to the group which she then berated the jester before you for destroying the town the tent was situated in. The conviction she held in her voice sounded quite intimidating, but the clown just laughed in response. He used a small knife to cut a piece of apple and place it into his mouth, while nonchalantly saying he didn’t destroy everything in the town – he allowed the townspeople to keep their hands to applaud his act.

You inhaled through your nose deeply and widened your eyes at his comment, breathing out slowly through your mouth while fixating your gaze onto his relaxed form. He continued to look over the four of you with a twinkling smile as he consumed his crisp apple before his gaze fell over you.

“You,” he began, pointing at you with the small knife in his hand, “you have been awfully quiet.” He gestured to the rest of the crew with the same knife, “that one threatened me,” he said pointing at Zoro, “that one attempted to bribe me,” he pointed the knife at Nami while sauntering over to the spot you were situated, next to Luffi and Zoro.

“Your Captain lays claim to what’s rightfully mine,” he continued while stalking your form. Your eyes leave his form to look to your companions.

“Don’t you look away from me!” he yelled suddenly at you, causing you to flinch in response. Your body began to tremble slightly at his demands, not used to threats of great violence being thrown at you at a whim. He almost danced over to your place on the ground, bringing his body within an uncomfortable proximity to your own. He made no effort to hide his gaze raking over your body from the hair on your head to the shoes adorning your feet.

Although he had a large nose that immediately drew your attention to it, you couldn’t help but to notice the hue of his irises hidden amongst white, red and blue paint. The intensity of his gaze was drawing you in like a moth to a flame. The hue was akin to several fine gemstones you worked with in your family’s smithery. Jade, sapphire, tourmaline and emerald being the first stones that sprung to your mind while gazing at the angry and menacing clown before you.

“And what would you do, hm?” he condescendingly smirked at you, “you’re no fighter, by the looks of you.”

You held his gaze, staring deeply into his mischievous teal eyes while searching your mind for a response to his pointed question. He placed the small knife into his breast-pocket within his long fur coat and stalked slowly over to you like an animal prowling over to their meal. You trailed your eyes over his form slowly, raking and sizing him up with a small amount of unbridled suggestion held behind your eyelids.

Unsure if what came over you was bravery, stupidity or something else entirely, you reached your right hand forward and swiftly grasped the mustard coloured cravat hanging tightly from his neck and pulled him into you with all of your strength and successfully closed the distance between your bodies.

He was right of course, you were no fighter. Your skills lay in appraising fine metals, gemstones and hand whittled crafts. You read books filled with fairytales, poetry and refrains whispered between lovers. With your occupation, an aura of charisma would often aid in sales; whether you were doing the buying or the selling. You were known far and wide in your homeland as someone with a small amount of flirtatious charm, which was why you were asked to aid your father in his journey to the “tight-pocket” Captain Morgan. You were to charm him as you did many others, swindling them out of their apprehensions and bringing more berry to the till of your family’s business.

A shocked whimper left the lips of the Genius Jester as you tenderly placed your own lips against his, bringing your left hand to his side and using it to bring his body flush against your own, cradling him into a tender embrace. Your eyes were closed as you deepened the kiss shared between you. You began using your lips to open his and caressing them slightly with your tongue.

You slowly felt him relax into your embrace as he placed one hand to the back of your head and the other hand wove itself around you, placing it to the small of your back. He almost gently laced his gloved hand into your hair and held you tightly against him. He released a stifled gasp into your mouth as the hand on your lower back squeezed slightly, pressing your bodies closer together. You released your right hand and moved it tenderly from his cravat to his jaw, feeling the slightly prickled skin beneath his painted face.

Not a word was uttered, silence engulfing the space. In this instance, nothing existed to either of you apart from the moment you were sharing with one another. The map? Gone from both of your minds as you held each other tenderly. You arched your back, pressing your chest further into him as you began lacing your fingers into the hair peaking out from the bottom of his broad hat. You snaked your left hand around his waist, beneath his fur coat and raked your fingertips over his skin, causing him to moan into your mouth and cradle you further into him.

You utilized your head to nudge his own head upward for you to deepen the kiss further. Trailing your hand from the hair under his hat down towards his neck and exploring his pectorals, you massaged down his body while holding him tightly and skillfully in this heated embrace. Your fingers began to explore the flesh of his back, lifting the material slightly to expose his flesh to your administrations.

He did not withhold any sounds from escaping his lips, as small groans released from his lips between kisses alerted you to how much he was truly enjoying your touch. You even allowed some gasps to escape your own lips as you continued to caress, massage and cradle him to yourself as he held you.

You were not foreign to the romantic touch of others by any means, but this kiss felt unlike anything you had experienced prior. You could almost feel his desire for affection as he hungrily held your body against him. Waves of loneliness escaped from his form and onto you as he began to be filled instead with your freely given affection, unlike the painted women he would pay berry for their time.

He groaned slightly and furrowed his brows together at the thought, releasing your lips from his own and holding you to him. His eyes bore into your own as your lips parted from one another, almost gazing into your very soul with the intensity he held.

Without warning, he pushed you from his body and swatted your hands from their position on his back. He turned to face away from you and brought his gaze to your captain before monologuing.

“Ok, here end the theatrics,” he began as the spot lights filter onto the four of you.

“I know one of you have my map, and I’m gonna get it back,” he said with malicious intent.

“What was it you said, rubber boy? That it was ‘in a safe place’?” he mocked with a small glint in his eye. Luffy looked to you in confusion.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised. I have eyes and ears everywhere,” he laughed. You trailed your eyes over his features, noticing the paint over his lips appeared more smudged than it had been moments prior. You then began to imagine how your face may appear after you shared the kiss with him moments prior.

“So,” he clapped his hands together and looked to his gang of circus members, “please make our guests uncomfortable in the green room.”

You felt hands clasp your wrists. You looked around to see a large man in a leotard grasping your form before you looked back to the clown. Your eyes met briefly once more, an unfamiliar emotion that could almost be described as a combination apprehension, longing and desire located in his eyes as your body was dragged to another location, this time without your captain amongst you.

You held little resistance as your body was escorted away. You looked to Luffy once more and attempted to reassure him with a nod as you walked briskly to be caged with your friends.

Nami was placed in a small cage suspended above the ground, whereas Zoro was bound to a large spinning wheel. As they were placed into these positions, their movements protesting and making it difficult for your captors to place them in these restricting positions; you held no such apprehension.

An aura of calm was coming from your form, confusing the large leotard-clad man. You placed your wrists together and held them out in front of you with a shrug and almost taunted him with how easy you were making this for him. His brows knit together in a puzzled fashion as he began to bind your hands in rope and tie you to a post away from your companions.

Once successfully restrained, the circus people left you with your thoughts as cries of laughter were echoing to the chamber that sounded like it was being pulled from the mouth of your captain.

“You kissed the clown?” uttered your green-haired, tri-sword wielding companion in a low accusatory tone, “why did you kiss the clown?”

You laughed slightly at the question, looking down at your bonds as you wiggled your hands against the tightly clasped rope, testing it for any sort of weakness amongst the restraint.

“I honestly can say I have no idea,” you smiled while pressing your knee against the post you were bound to with a small shove to assess its strength.

“It was incredibly stupid,” Nami commented from her enclosure, “if you were that touch-starved, I’m sure Zoro or Luffy wouldn’t have minded if you wanted to give them a little smooch.”

You turned your gaze over to Nami momentarily before rolling your eyes.

“Oh please,” you replied, “Zoro, I’m sure you are a wonderful kisser but unfortunately you don’t quite have what I’m looking for.”

He scoffed slightly at the comment while you moved your hands down to the hilt of your belt and began searching the folds of your skirts with your wrists.

“And if you don’t mind me asking, what does the dangerous clown-man have that Zoro doesn’t?” Nami asked with a teasing tone. Your wrists find the object within your belt and you smiled broadly, gripping it and bringing it to the light.

“Right now?” you said with a small twinkle in your eyes as you held the small object up to your new friends, "a knife."

For the first time in a while, the three of you shared a laugh before you all began to attempt an escape from the bonds of the green room.

Part 2

[shewhoworshipscarlin]

Children modeling clothes from New Children's Wonder Boutique, 1971, London.

[emmafrostdefender]

crush | logan howlett x female reader

hi everyone! i wrote this for fun. it'll probably turn into a series of small chapters while i write my more hefty logan fic. i hope you guys enjoy!

warnings: reader's kinda horny i guess, sexy man, based on crush by ethel cain, 1.5k words (i wrote this in like an hour)

You’d seen him around town. 

At the laundromat with the blinking fluorescent lights. At the dingy bar around the corner from the laundromat. At the gas station, filling up the tank of his red truck.

You never thought to say hi, never to engage with him in any way. 

He created such a stir when he first arrived. No one moved to your town unless something was truly wrong with them. Most of the men had leering gazes and dangerous intentions, but not him. Never him. You were in his vicinity frequently, but never once did he attempt what many others had. All failures, of course.

You lived contently in your grandmother’s old home, moving there after her cancer took a turn for the worst a few months ago. When she passed away quickly after that, she left the house to you and you decided to keep it. It still smelled like cigarettes, the stench burned into the walls and carpet, but the smell reminded you of childhood trips to Kansas. Those trips were scorched to the back of your eyelids, forever being replayed. Everything was the same as when you were a child; the small Mexican restaurant, the old movie theater, the arcade that closed seven years ago.

 Now, you sat behind the counter at the small antique shop you spent most of your days in. It was quaint, filled to the brim with every kind of knick-knack you could think of. There were crates filled with records and CDs, most scratched or completely unplayable. There were pieces of furniture, dusty mirrors, moth-eaten upholstery, chipped paint jobs, and broken hinges. The bookshelves that lined the walls of the store were stacked with books. You’d taken a few home in the past, knowing that they wouldn’t be missed.

And the clothes. There were racks on racks of vintage clothes. Most were out of fashion (even for the time they were made) or damaged. Still, you liked to play dress-up every so often. 

The job was boring and mundane, but it paid the bills. The family who owned the store didn’t seem to have time to keep up with the place, so you managed the inner-workings of it.

Today, you watched cars go by, wondering when would be the best time to cut your losses and close for the day. Some days you managed to get more than a few browsers, but today was not one of those days. You had one person come in around lunch, but they looked for about five minutes before heading out.

Your mind wandered as you watched people walk by the storefront.

You thought of him. The man you saw everywhere. The man who never spoke to you, not even to say, “Excuse me.”

The man that just walked through the front door.

Eyes widening, you sat up straighter and calmed your heartbeat that suddenly thundered in your ears. “Welcome in! Everything with a blue tag is sixty percent off today,” you said with a bright smile.

He simply looked over at you and then continued his perusal. 

You deflated. Harsh.

As he walked around the store, you felt like a live-wire. Every creak of the floorboards sent your heart spinning in your chest. You hadn’t felt like this about a man since you still called men boys. Being in your late twenties, that meant a very long time.

You grabbed a box of donations from the back room and moved to the floor to start stocking items on the shelves. You rationalized your decision to suddenly start restocking items after having a full day to do so by telling yourself that if you looked busy, he might feel inclined to buy something. You could nearly feel your nose growing by the second at that thought.

Moving through the rows of shelves and assorted items was second nature to you at this point, knowing where everything went in this mess of a store. You conveniently moved to the side of a shelf that viewed his aisle through gaps in the many items strung about. As you placed a silver mirror on the shelf, your gaze moved to watch his face on the other side of the rack. He was stunning.

You hadn’t had much time to analyze him; it was only small glances here and there in the time he’d been around. Now, you took your time. He was looking at an old book, bound in red fabric. It looked as if it had seen the bottom of a sewer. Luckily, he seemed to be making a careful inspection of the text, giving you enough time to look him over.

He was beautiful in a rugged kind of way. He looked like he worked with his hands; they were large and rough, with calluses around the fingers. His knuckles were prominent with sharp edges. You wondered what he did for a living. Did he move here to get away from city life? Was he a runaway circus performer? You internally smacked yourself in the head for the stupid thought. 

He’d probably make the circus look sexy, though.

He had a large figure hidden by a flannel and white t-shirt. His attire pointed to him being a worker of the land. A farmer, maybe. That would check out with the truck you'd seen him driving around in. Always covered in mud with logs of wood piled high in the back. 

His hair was a rich brown and you wanted to dig your fingers into it. You wanted to feel his beard against your skin.

What the hell is wrong with me?

You don’t have sex for so long that your brain goes fuzzy at the idea of a stranger’s beard scratching your neck. God. Get a grip.

You straighten your back and continue restocking things. Play it cool.

Soon, you fell into the rhythm of it, nearly forgetting the other person in the room. You moved to the bookshelves, loading more books onto the already strained wood. People really needed to stop donating things to you and start actually buying things. You’d be out of business by next summer. 

As soon as you realized you needed to go back to the stock room to grab another box, you heard a grunt behind you. You nearly jumped out of your skin. You dropped the box you were holding and faced the man. Your mystery man.

He was so close, you could smell him. He smelled like smoke and sweat. You felt yourself salivate.

You looked him in the eyes for the first time. “Do you need help?” You asked quietly, scared that he’d run off if you spoke too loud, like a wounded animal. 

“How much for this?” He asked, keeping your gaze. His voice was smooth.

You looked down to his hands, which were holding the book he had been examining earlier. “It doesn’t have a price tag?”

He shook his head. 

Now you felt like you were being held under a microscope. The way his eyes ran over your face made you go red; you hadn’t felt this flustered because of a man in a long time. 

“Okay, I can check at the front,” you said, keeping your quiet tone.

He just grunted again and followed as you led him to the register. You had a book of all the prices for things so that you could properly mark them. If you didn’t have the vague feeling that you were going to explode at any moment, you’d know off the top of your head the price of that tiny book. It was about the size of his hand, making you bite the inside of your cheek. 

You opened the book and searched for the page with book prices. When you found the page, you ran your finger down the list.

Small = $1.99

When you looked up at him, you jumped a little. He was looking at you with such intensity, you’d thought he was going to have an aneurysm. It made your cheeks flush again, but you cleared your throat and said, “It’s $1.99. With tax, it’ll be $2.30.”

He nodded, putting the book down on the counter as he reached for his wallet. You read the book title: Frankenstein. “I love Mary Shelley,” you said as you reached for a brown paper bag. 

He looked at you, his expression not revealing anything.

For some reason, you decided to keep talking. “It’s such a perfect analysis of ‘how far is too far’ in science and experimentation. I loved reading it in high school, I think you’ll really enjoy it,” you said, not particularly needing a response. 

He placed the exact change due on the counter and looked you in the eyes as he said, “Thank you.”

Your heart fluttered. “You’re welcome…” You trailed off, hoping to God that he’d tell you his name.

He thought about it for a moment. “It’s Logan.”

You smiled. “I’m glad you stopped by, Logan.” You introduced yourself. It would be nice to have another person to say ‘hi’ to on the street. And you imagined he was thinking the same thing.

His face didn’t jump into a smile, but it didn’t look as harsh as it did when he first walked in. 

And so began your crush on the stoic man who moved to town.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 18

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! An unlikely flirtation turns into a dark obsession... Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw/involuntary captivity. all chapters

Eighteen. 十八

Maybe because Donaka watches you streaming how-to videos over the limited access iPad he gives you, a yoga teacher starts coming every other day to the house for an hour session.  

You cannot help but think the gesture is self-serving, keeping you limber for his own gratification, but it gives you something to do while he’s gone. 

It also helps calm you, in the moments when you are sorely tempted to break every expensive antique ceramic he has in the house, starting with the extremely rare pale green Ru Ware vases.

He’s kept his word, not letting you outside the compound since your little escape attempt. On top of the cameras, you feel his security team watching you at all times when he’s out–from a distance, but it’s still unnerving. You’re doing your best to be the goodest of girls–but it’s driving you crazy inside.

You’ve tried to write, but the words do not come easily anymore. Partly because you know he would read them later, and partly?

You feel too overwhelmed to even begin to make sense of this in the shape of words. 

You read instead, spending a great deal of your time in the library. You sprawl in the comfy chairs, but your favored pose is laying on your belly with a book on the floor like you did when you were a child. Partly because it’s comfortable and partly, it gives you the ridiculous psychological illusion of hiding. You are laying like this behind the table when you hear the door open, and recognize just by the confident footfalls who has entered your little sanctum. 

You cannot keep your heart from pounding double-time–depending on his mood, it could be good to see him back from work this early, or very bad.  

“Are my chairs not satisfactory?” he asks, the corner of his mouth pulled just slightly. “Do you require a pillow fort?”

You roll onto your side to look up at him, shrugging. “You’re home early.” It wasn’t even lunchtime yet. 

“I thought you might like to try out my new toy with me.” 

Your initial reaction to this statement is dread. 

The look on your face must tickle his funny bone. He throws back his head and laughs like a real Bond villain. “Not that kind of toy, y/n. Get up.”

You push to your feet, gingerly closing the book you’d been reading. He tilts his head to peruse the cover. “Tai Chi Theory? Forgot I even had that one.”

“It’s kind of interesting,” you play off, reluctant to tip your hand. In fact, you find it very interesting, especially after watching that young man Tiger Chen. You wonder how long you’d have to study, before you could get to pushing hands, the martial side of Tai Chi. 

You feel the weight of his gaze on you, and as usual, suspect you’re not fooling him one bit. He looks you up and down; you’re still in yoga pants and a tank top. “Go put on one of your new dresses,” he tells you. “Casual is fine.” 

His idea of casual and yours differ by vast degrees. 

This is when it sinks in for you: he is taking you out of the house? He watches your face light up like a lightbulb, and his smile widens slightly. “Tik tok, bunny,” he tells you, glancing at the Rolex upon his wrist. 

With a final glance at him you set your book on the table for later, and rocket out of the room. 

A large section of Donaka’s closet has been filled with clothes–for you. Nothing you had any hand in picking out, of course, although you hate to admit…more of them hit the mark than don’t. In your rush you settle on a sleeveless floral Carolina Herrera shirt dress with an A line skirt, and semi-sensible platform wedge sandals by Dior. It’s something you would almost select on your own–minus the three grand price tag.

Jesus H Christ on a cracker. 

Nervous, because you have no idea what he has in mind, you find yourself fidgeting in the closet mirror with a deer-in-the-headlights look. This does not improve for you, when you see him filling the doorway, his arms up on the jambs.   

“I knew that would look nice on you.”

His approval should not make you feel all warm inside, but…oh. His dark eyes in the mirror could start a fire, and you take a shaking breath. 

“Is this ok?” you ask, turning, smoothing your skirt. 

“Perfect.” 

This is when you really notice that he is wearing a khaki colored suit, with a white oxford button down, and it’s such a change from his usual grays and blacks that it almost makes your head spin. It makes him seem…less sinister, somehow, and so dapper your chest aches. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, sidling closer. 

“Nowhere, if you keep looking at me like that,” he answers with a half smile and that smoldering look that makes you weak in the knees. 

The devil shouldn’t be allowed to wear white. It’s entirely too becoming. It makes you forget too much. 

Feeling bold, maybe even a little giddy with the thought of going out, you wrap your arms around his lean torso under his jacket, tilting your head towards his. When his lips touch yours gently it feels like spring rain, like parts of you that were near death inside perk up and sigh, and you know you shouldn’t let yourself feel this way…but it’s too late. Too late by half. 

“Come on, y/n,” he says, taking your hand and tugging you to follow him.

***

You do not really know what you’re looking at, at first, when he leads you out to the circle driveway.

It’s a sports car, of course, its perfect porcelain white paint gleaming like a pearl in the sun, with brushed aluminum trim and crimson accents in the wheels. You can see hints of red leather interior peeking through the tinted windows. 

“Well?” he asks impatiently when you are quiet for too long.

“It’s gorgeous,” you admit, meaning it too.

He grins down at you in a moment of what you believe is pure, unadulterated happiness. “That’s worth 2 million dollars, I suppose.”

You almost trip, and might have bit it if he wasn’t already holding on to you. “What?”

The ‘Just kidding’ does not come. He opens the passenger side door for you with a gallant little wave. “My lady.”

You, however, pause at the door. “Donaka, I’m afraid to even touch this thing.” He was ready to spank you over just tearing a button off a shirt.

He leans on the door, smirking down at you. “Baby, do you know what the mark of true, untouchable, fuck you wealth is?”

You blink in answer. “Umm…no?”

“It’s the fact that we could destroy this thing today, and I could buy another one tomorrow just like it. And there were only 58 ever made.”

You let out a slow breath. You know he is not actually so cavalier with his expensive possessions. And the thought of having that much money to burn…it’s just obscene. Like he can read the transcript of your hesitance, he urges you further.

“Come on, bunny. Let’s have some fun.”

You look at the luxurious blood red leather inside the car. “Should I take my shoes off?”

“Honey, you can put your feet on the dash if you want.” 

It feels like…he actually means it, and it’s hard to reconcile this carefree mood of his with the forbidding man you knew before. Maybe you’re the fool…but you want to believe this side of him is real. You want to believe…that you’re safe. You bite your lip, and he can see your trepidations evaporating with the rising sun. In the end, the chance to go outside the compound is too much temptation to resist. “Okay.”

“Mmm. That’s my girl.”

Hearing those words from his lips should not cross the wires in your brain the way they do. You settle down into the sculpted seat, and he closes the door gently after you. 

You notice something sitting in the floorboard at your feet. As he’s getting in you realize it's a handbag, white leather, red lining. It’s almost cute, that it matches his car. There’s a brightly printed silk scarf inside, as well as sunglasses, hand lotion, and organic lip balm. It’s funny that you didn’t even think to bring a bag, because you have no money or identification to put in it. He’s thought of everything, it seems. 

It’s all damn near sweet, is what it is, and as ever you feel the conflict of rabid want and utmost trepidation with this man. 

He starts the car, and the deep, primal rumble of the motor is like the warning grumble of a jungle cat, low and menacing. How fitting, for the man behind the wheel. 

“You’re going to want that for your hair,” he tells you, nodding at the scarf. 

“Oh?” 

He touches a button, and what you thought was a solid tinted black top slides back with seamless precision, folding somehow into the boot. 

“Holy shit.”

He laughs at your surprise, enjoying your mystification. “They told me this car can go from 0 to 100 kilometers in 2.7 seconds. Should we try it out?”

“Uh…that sounds terrifying,” you answer glibly, folding the scarf in half. Your insides lurch a little when you see Hermès printed in the corner. Then you have a heart-stopping inkling about the bag too. Gold hardware and a decorative lock, and in small gold script, there it is. $30,000 sitting at your feet, minimum. 

Don’t panic. Stay calm.

You can’t help but think that if you had that kind of money to throw around, you would give it to Mei for her sister, and not spend it on a Birkin, or a special edition supercar, or a designer dress that you were pretty sure you could find a lookalike of at Target.

He’s watching these thoughts play across your face with a small smile. You’re sure he knows the gist of them, if not the exact translation. You realize he was right, when he told you so unfalteringly that he knows you better than anyone. 

Fine, you think, trying to put some steel in your spine. Bitching about the price of these gifts to indulge your guilt will get you nothing in the end. You decide that you are going to enjoy your day, so that he enjoys his day, and then you are going to ask him again about Mei tomorrow. Honey over vinegar. 

Flow bitch flow.  

As if on cue, the wound on the inside of your thigh aches as you shift in your seat. It’s not infected, but it’s taking a long time to heal. He lets you wash it, but no ointment is allowed. He wants it to scar–and he’s going to get his wish, the manipulative bastard. 

You look around the interior of the car, admiring the undulating white leather dragon detail sewn into the upholstery between your seats. “This is way cooler than the Lamborghini,” you affirm, winning the smug pleasure you sought. 

“I thought it might appeal to you.”

“Um…what is it?” You don't recognize the stylized logo on the dash. 

He smirks at you, as though for some reason it pleases him that you don’t know. 

“This is a Bugatti Veyron, sweetheart.”

You think you’ve heard of that…in a Lana del Rey song.

Then, like he can’t help himself, he adds, “Year of the Dragon edition.” He lifts his eyebrows as he says this, and it hits you like a shovel–he’s being cute. He seems to get so much enjoyment out of giving you the specs–it’s ridiculously endearing, even if he is mansplaining.

“I see. Well…I shouldn’t like it, but I’m afraid I do,” you begrudgingly admit.

This admission makes him laugh out loud. “I don’t think you realize it yet, but you have expensive taste.” 

You shrug, even while it eats at you inside. “I think you mean I have good taste,” you counter, tracing his long fingers lightly where his hand rests on the console between you. He opens his paw in invitation, and you lace your fingers with his. As his grasp closes upon your smaller hand you can’t help but feel like you have sealed something between the two of you. His heavy gaze upon you only reinforces this impression. 

The corner of his mouth ticks up, as though he senses your trepidation deep down. He doesn’t taunt you though, simply stepping on the gas. The car roars, and you are racing off into the warm embrace of a beautiful South China day.

***

As you drive the winding roads of Hong Kong island, the lush landscape on either side and the glittering blue sea stretching off into the distance, you think you finally understand Donaka Mark’s predilection for high-performing sports cars. These roads are made for such machines, or vice versa, the low slung car hugging the curves with ease. Donaka is a good driver, despite the speed, and you strangely find yourself relaxing for the first time in you don’t know how long, enjoying the ride. This man doesn’t have a death wish. He’s not going to do anything stupid, so you sit back and revel in the breeze, riding the wind with your hand out the window like you used to when you were a child. 

Out the corner of your eye you realize he’s watching you with a small smile, and for once he doesn’t look sinister or conniving. He looks content, and you didn’t have to sacrifice any of your mental or physical wellbeing to get him there.

Miracles happen every day.  

He also looks unfairly handsome behind the wheel of this speed machine, and you can’t help but sigh to yourself. You suppose you could certainly be doing worse with your time. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, curious, but in no hurry. 

“On a little adventure. Have you seen the south end of Tai Tam Road yet?” 

You shake your head. Anytime you took the bus to the Central district from Shek O you just went north. “I haven’t seen any of that part of the island,” you admit. You’d wanted to check out the beaches, but just never got around to it. There was a lot in Hong Kong you had wanted to do, before the necessity arose to try to get the hell out of Dodge. 

“Then today’s your lucky day.” 

You think that might be true in more ways than one. At the juncture he turns left, heading south, and you are happily quiet as you take in the views of the lush mountains along the winding road. You roar over the narrow two lane of the dam of the reservoir, and you close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the cooler air. It’s all so stunning, and over-the-top as it is, this is a pretty epic way to take it all in. 

Donaka catches you smiling to yourself, and squeezes your hand in his. 

“Was it difficult, getting used to driving on the left?” you ask. 

“Who says I had to get used to it?” he counters with a little smile. 

“I guess I just assumed you’re American,” you admit, mostly from the way he talks. “You’re too evil to be Canadian.” 

This makes him laugh out loud, delighted. “You might be surprised, darling.” 

He gives you nothing, and you wonder if he encourages the mystery because he left a life behind as a wanted man, or simply because he enjoys the cloak and dagger of it. You realize that you’ve kind of invented this persona of wickedness for him from gut instinct and what little clues you’ve gathered, but you know nothing for certain. Donaka might be a perfectly upstanding businessman–as upstanding as any multi-millionaire ever can be. Mightn’t he???

You just can’t bring yourself to believe it.

“So…how did you come to live in China?”

He tilts his head, looking over at you with amusement. “Are we playing twenty-questions today?” 

“Just trying to get to know you better.” 

“Why?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s not like we’re living together now or anything…” It’s the most politic way you can think of, to describe kidnapping, forced cohabitation, and temporary insanity brought on by the most thrilling quasi-consentual sex of your life.

His lips twist as you think he’s trying to suppress a grin. Instead he presses a surprisingly tender kiss to your fingers, and drives in silence for at least a kilometer before answering, “I came to China a long time ago, to find my father.” 

Sensing the weight of this admission, you hesitate to go forward. But there is that burning curiosity in the back of your brain; you so badly want to know. “Did you find him?”  

“Eventually.” You wait for elaboration, but the silence stretches on. You realize this is not a happy subject for him, and you congratulate yourself on your talent for always pinpointing the exact wrong thing to say to ruin a beautiful day. This is why you prefer writing conversations down to having them in real time. You always, inevitably, unfailingly, fuck up. 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, sinking into your seat, looking out over the stunning landscape rolling before you and feeling incredibly stupid. Once again, it seems, you’ve forgotten your place. Mistresses don’t ask these things, do they? You’re supposed to be pretty and fuckable and entertaining, and don’t forget your role on the odd days when it feels like you might mean more than that to him. 

“Don’t be,” he forgives you with a grace that absolutely surprises you. “I appreciate that you want to know me, y/n. But there are things you don’t want to know. Do you understand?”

“Yes and no,” you admit cautiously. “Are these things I don’t want to know, or things you don’t want me to know?” 

He smiles ruefully at that. “Both.”

Maybe you already knew that, deep down. You try to tell yourself that it doesn’t matter. That you’re not staying any longer than you have to, no matter what he says to scare you, or beguile you, and no matter how it seems that he’s being sweet because it has to be a manipulative lie. That someday you’re going to get your opportunity, and you’re going to bounce. And most important of all: you are not falling in love with this man. You’re telling yourself all of this…but the foremost part of your brain, whatever is responsible for what you are doing now, in this moment–isn’t paying one bit of attention. It likes this handsome monster of a man beside you, in his beautiful suit, with his wicked fast car. It likes where you are right now, and it’s telling your longterm survival instincts to fuck the fuck off. 

His thumb strokes yours gently on the center console between you, back and forth as he thinks. “I haven’t had an easy life, y/n,” he finally admits. “I learned early on that if you want anything worth having, you have to take it, because no one will hand it to you.” It’s possible that you hold your breath at hearing this, thinking about the way he up and took you. “Not that he meant to, but the one good thing my father taught me, was the lengths the rich will go to, to protect their wealth. I’ve made a career capitalizing on that, and it’s gone well for me.” 

You suppose you can’t argue with that. 

Vague as his admission was, it does explain certain things about Donaka Mark to you. It almost startles you, when he flashes that smile that is so much like a tiger showing its fangs. “And now I know you will pick apart every little syllable I’ve just said, trying to get the most information you can out of it.” 

It’s so spot on that you look away, embarrassed by how ridiculous you are, and how well he knows it too. But he squeezes your hand, calling your attention back to him. He doesn’t say anything more, but the warm way he looks at you…it should be illegal. You’re not sure you’ll ever be free, when he turns the full power of that smoldering gaze upon you. 

Inexplicably flushed, you look at the road ahead. There’s a straight away coming up, the azure sea beyond glittering like a blanket of brilliant cut diamonds. “I thought you said this car was fast?” you challenge, and even though you know he knows you’re changing the subject, he rises to your challenge with a smirk, and a roar of the engine as the Bugatti rockets forward down the highway. 

You laugh with unfettered joy as he passes a slower car, slicing back into your lane with a foot to spare in front of an oncoming truck, and you decide that maybe the both of you have gone a little mad amidst this thing that has grown between you, taken hold of your sanity like a strangler vine. 

all chapters.

____________________

*the car is a Bugatti Veyron, Wei Long Grand Sport 2012 Year of the Dragon edition. You can google it if you want more specs. I’m not big into cars or anything but I thought it was pretty frickin’ cool. 😂

The route they take on Hong Kong island: (I love maps I'm sorry 😆)

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 52: The Maestro's Correction

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tw: mind control, body control, burns, hand whump, whipping, blindness, abuse, blood drinking

October 1925

Alexander stood and bowed low as the Maestro entered the music room, trailed by Oliver in eerily perfect synchronization. "Good evening, sire. I hope you are well."

"I also hope I am well. That depends largely on your hospitality, I'm afraid," he said. "Let us begin by examining your new acquisition in more detail."

"Certainly, sire."

No, no, no -- it took all of Oliver's self-control to not fight as the Maestro sat down on the padded bench and forced him into a submissive kneel. The hook and eye on his dress was undone, and Oliver's dread rose. What did he mean by examining in more detail…?

It was somewhat of a relief when those stony eyes focused on the brand on his chest. "Slipshod. The edges are clearly uneven. The symbol will hardly be readable." The Maestro looked up. "It's obviously your work, Alexander. If you had coerced Lily into fulfilling your obligation, as you were no doubt tempted to do, it wouldn't be in such a sorry state."

"Yes, sire."

"Your thrall is permanently marred, the results of your task an abject disappointment, and all you have to say in response is 'yes, sire'," said the Maestro, his tone like a knife pressed against Alexander's neck. "When I attended the ballet, your thrall informed me that you are allowing him a great deal of freedom, as well, are you not?"

"Yes, sire."

Oliver couldn't turn around, but he could hear the despondence in Alexander's voice. This had been his fault, hadn't it? He should have covered for his master. But Alexander had warned him in no uncertain terms to be honest. What was the correct action? Was there even a correct action?

"Because your thrall is otherwise so obedient, I feel inclined to only impose a light punishment this time."

"Thank you, sire."

The Maestro indicated a fat candle sitting on the end table, its flames providing the only cheer and warmth in the room. "Place your hand in the candle's flame until I am satisifed."

"Yes, sire."

"No!" The choked cry came from Oliver's mouth before he could stop himself. He wrenched his head out of the Maestro's grasp just enough to see Alexander's shock, his hand hovering dangerously near the flames.

"Oh?" Oliver's head was snapped back to look in the Maestro's eyes, filled with a cold fury. "You disagree with my judgement?"

"No, no, sir, I don't --"

The Maestro slapped him across the face hard. "You disagree with my judgement and then you lie to compound it," he said, rage in every note of his musical voice. "You do this out of loyalty, no doubt. My misguided children seek companionship among humankind, and value loyalty over obedience. A flaw I have not yet burned out of them."

Oliver trembled as the Maestro took his right hand. The vampire's hands were colder than ice and smooth as porcelain. He ran his finger's down Oliver's palm in a way that might have been tender in other circumstances. "Do you play any instruments, child?"

He was thinking of burning Oliver's hands, wasn't he? Oliver desperately wished he could answer yes to that question, in the hopes that he would be spared, but the blossoming bruise on his cheek warned him otherwise. "No, sir."

"Are you clever with your hands?"

Oliver thought back to the many evenings he'd spent repairing the bindings of antique books and mending his worn clothes. "I believe so, sir."

"I see." The Maestro turned over Oliver's hands in his own. "Human hands can be permanently damaged. A shame, truly. Mutilating your hands before you've been given the opportunity to prove yourself useful would be a waste at this time, as would any corrective action that spills excessive blood."

Oliver wasn't sure if he should be relieved by that. "…Thank you, sir?"

"You have an obedient soul. I'm not wrong about such matters," said the Maestro. "It is your master's lack of discipline that is to blame for your insubordination. Therefore, I will not punish you."

"You won't, sir?" Oliver would have found this mercy difficult to believe even if he didn't notice Alexander tensing.

"You don't want to watch your master's punishment, do you?"

"No, sir."

"Then look into my eyes, child. Deep, deep into my eyes."

He didn't have a choice, as the Maestro's power drew his gaze upwards and locked it there before he fully realized what was happening.

"Deeper. Lose yourself."

There was a disconcerted ticking noise in Oliver's head, as though his ear were pressed to a clock, and he realized in terror that he was being enthralled, the power like chains wrapping around his mind. Despite Alexander's many warnings and his own resolve to be obedient and avoid trouble, Oliver couldn't help the urge to pull against it. It was bad enough to have to give over his body. The idea of this cruel vampire invading his mind was too much to bear.

But it was already too late. Oliver was already trapped in his eyes. As the ticking of the clock gradually slowed like a mechanical toy winding down, his thoughts slowed too, his vision engulfed by the cold oblivion of the Maestro's gaze.

"Close your eyes down. Tight. As tight as they can."

"Yes, sir." Oliver's eyes obediently shut, sparing him the weight of that gaze, but doing nothing to free his mind.

"I am placing lead weights on each one. Weights that are far too heavy to allow you to open your eyes on your own." A cold finger tapped each of Oliver's eyelids. "Only I can move these weights. You will not open your eyes again until I allow it."

"Yes, sir."

"Wake."

That crisp snap sounded next to Oliver's ear, and he felt the chains on his mind lift, but he did not open his eyes. Could not. Oliver couldn't help but be confused. The Maestro had full control of his body. Why go through the trouble just to make him shut his eyes?

There was one obvious, awful possibility: because he did not intend for Oliver to open his eyes ever again.

"Now that that's settled, you may take your punishment, Alexander," the Maestro said.

Oliver was forced back into a kneeling position and the Maestro placed one hand atop his head. He heard several steps across the wood floor, and then absolute silence.

Was his master actually burning his hand in the candle's flame? There was no sound at all, no cries of pain from Alexander, not even the sound of breathing. The only thing tethering Oliver to the world was that hand on top of his head. As much as Oliver would hate to see or hear his master in pain, the deathly silence and darkness and suspense made it so much worse.

And just as Oliver thought he couldn't take it any more, he smelled what he desperately hoped was not the scent of charred flesh. His spirit cried out to do something, anything, to help his master, but blinded and bound as he was, there was nothing he could do.

"Enough," said the Maestro, after what seemed like an eternity. "I grow weary of watching you disappoint me. Alexander, play."

Play? Alexander's sire couldn't possibly expect him to play an instrument with a ruined hand. Yet Oliver could hear Alexander sit down at the piano bench and begin to play a piece which obviously involved a great deal of intricate fingerwork. Perhaps his hand was not that damaged after all -- but the smell in the air said otherwise.

He didn't have long to sit and enjoy the music (as much as he could under the circumstances) because the Maestro stood and pulled Oliver up, leading him in a dance. Oliver couldn't see and didn't know the steps, but he didn't have to, as his body was once again puppeted without his input, gliding across the room with a grace that was not his own, his trembling hand trapped in that cold porcelain grasp.

"One," intoned the Maestro. "Two." Several beats of music. "Three."

Oliver didn't know what it meant. Swirling around the music room with his eyes shut tight, his anxiety was reaching a fever pitch, making it difficult for him to relax enough to allow his body to sink into the control.

"Four. Five."

He was counting the mistakes, Oliver realized. Every moment his concentration broke, his body was fighting just the smallest bit against the unwanted intrusion. Each time that happened, he would slightly miss a step, or pull against the Maestro's grip.

"Eleven. Twelve."

He couldn't focus. He couldn't follow. He couldn't stop his treacherous body from rebelling against being made the plaything of the implacable vampire in front of him. And the number was climbing.

"Twenty-two." The Maestro released his grip on Oliver, who reeled backwards. "You may stop now, Alexander. Do you see now what I was talking about? He has obedience, but lacks discipline."

"Yes, sire." Alexander sounded as dead inside as he was metaphysically.

"Try not to spill blood unnecessarily when you administer the punishment. I finally find myself with an appetite."

"Yes, sire."

Oliver didn't have to wait long to know what the punishment was. Once more, he was kneeling, and he felt a sharp blow from a thin implement sting his back. It was followed by another, and another, and although Oliver was being kept from movement, he couldn't help but cry. The anticipation of each blow was as bad as the pain, and his back felt like it was on fire.

"That's twenty-two, sire."

"Your hand was light," said the Maestro. "No matter. You had three mistakes in your playing."

He heard Alexander kneeling beside him. The blows the Maestro delivered to Alexander's back rang out through the music room, unmistakable.

"Now that that unfortunate business has been taken care of," said the Maestro as casually as though he'd been discussing an unpleasant chore, "I will take my meal."

Oliver felt every muscle in his body tense, despite the control holding him. It was wrong, wrong, wrong for anyone but his master to drink his blood, but everything about this evening had been wrong.

And it was made even worse by the fact that Oliver couldn't see what the Maestro was doing, when the bite was coming for him. All he could feel was a hand on his head and a thick vampiric aura enveloping his mind. It felt strangely empty. Not like desire or hunger or pleasure, like Oliver had always felt with his master. No, the Maestro's aura was purely about control and practicality, freezing him in position so that he could be fed from. Oliver couldn't even tilt his neck as he'd been trained.

At least a feeding wouldn't be so bad, compared to everything that had happened so far, Oliver reasoned. Miss Lily had instilled in him the craving to provide for a vampire, and the feedings he'd experienced so far had been pleasant, even euphoric. He'd been dreading it previously, but now it actually be a relief.

At least, it seemed like a relief until the Maestro's slender fangs sunk into the flesh of his neck.

Oliver gasped in surprise and pain. It hurt, agony radiating from the bite, and the sensation of teeth in his muscles was deeply violating, not to mention the uncomfortable suction of his blood being consumed. His world narrowed down to nothing but the awful, aching wound, his body spasming with the need to escape from the predator, frozen in place by unnatural means.

It hurt, of course it hurt. He should have known better than to think this might be a relief. Alexander always put him under a gentle spell of sleep and submission and pleasure as he fed, a spell that kept Oliver from feeling any of the pain that would naturally accompany his neck being bitten. Of course the Maestro would not do that, would instead relish his suffering.

As his master's sire drank his blood, his thoughts began to overpower Oliver's own, and he found…

Nothingness.

A pitch black sky with no stars or moon or clouds. An empty field devoid of life as far as the eye could see. A bitter chill sapping the strength and cheer from his very marrow.

Order. Solitude. Misery.

The inky sky rushed to meet him, to swallow him in oblivion, and Oliver thought he might be dying.

"Oliver?"

He was floating back up through the darkness, tethered by his master's voice.

"Oliver? Oliver, please wake up."

"I'm awake, sir," he said, trying to open his eyes and finding that he couldn't, the memories of what had transpired rushing back to him. He couldn't open his eyes at all, the imaginary lead weights keeping them firmly shut. He could tell that he was laid out on the padded bench, cradled gently in what he hoped was his master's arms. His back hurt and his cheek stung and the wound on his neck was intensely uncomfortable… but he was alive. "I can't…" he said, panic rising. "I can't open my eyes, sir. Is he still here? Is it over?"

"He's gone. He probably won't trouble us for some time," Alexander said. "You were brilliant, Oliver. A picture perfect thrall. I wish you didn't have to go through any of that, but you handled it all so well."

Praise from his master cut through some of Oliver's fear and pain. "Will I be able to open my eyes again, sir?"

"Yes, you will, I promise. Hypnotic commands usually fade away on their own if they're not reinforced."

"How long will that take, sir?" said Oliver. Despite the welcome reassurance that this wouldn't be forever, his mind was already filling with anxiety over how he would be able to live. How could he find his way around the expansive manor while blinded? How long would he have to go without reading?

"Well… my sire's very powerful, as I'm sure you know, and you're…"

"Weak, sir?"

"I wasn't going to say weak. You take to enthrallment very well, which has nothing to do with mental weakness, believe it or not. And it's a trait I find endearing, but unfortunately in this case it might be a problem. It could last a month, maybe more…"

Oliver's heart clenched at the idea of weeks in the dark. How could he even take care of himself? Would he be able to cook or bathe? Would he need his master to help him do all of those things? Would Alexander help him?

"…but don't worry!" said Alexander hastily, running a hand through Oliver's hair. "I'll take you to see Lily first thing tomorrow night. She can usually undo things like that, especially considering the grip she has on your mind already."

Oliver never thought he'd be so grateful for Miss Lily. "Thank you, sir. I hope it isn't too much trouble."

"It's no trouble at all. You endured all of this for me. Helping undo my sire's damage is the least I can do. Speaking of which, I've already bandaged your neck, but I should tend to the wounds on your back and make sure they aren't too serious. I could get some ice from the icebox for your face, as well."

"But what about your hand, sir? Did you actually…"

"Yes. It will heal on its own, and I can clean and bandage it later. You don't need to concern yourself with it. I wish to tend to you."

Blinded and in pain, Oliver couldn't bring himself to argue with that. "Thank you, sir."

"I can't easily undo my sire's work, but I can help ease your pain with my song. Would you like that?"

"Yes, very much, sir."

His master began to sing, and his voice was like a lifeline in the dark, soothing and relaxing him and making him feel like everything would be okay, even if it very much wasn't.

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Thanks for reading. Next week: happier days with Fitz.

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