#i am once again wishing harm upon her previous owner

[tallymali]

yuki is scared of hairbrushes:(

[carewyncromwell]

Next Cinderella AU part ahoy! Time for the whole world to know who the owner of the mysterious slipper left at Florence’s ball -- King Cosimo’s one true love and savior -- truly is...

Makeup in the 17th century was rather limited, though in the later half of the century, rococo fashion brought very pale skin and red lips into vogue in the upper classes, so nobles took to putting on white face paint and powder, rouge, and finally bright red lip color. The closest thing to foundation in the 16th and 17th centuries was Venetian ceruse, an expensive skin whitener made of water, vinegar, and lead. Needless to say, given that last ingredient, it’s unsurprising that using a lot of it would result in hair loss and lead poisoning. People in the 17th century also took to wearing “beauty patches,” or pieces of velvet or silk cut into pretty shapes, to cover up scars or blemishes. 

“Lavender’s Blue” is a traditional folk song referenced in Disney’s live action adaptation of Cinderella. 

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you all enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

Andre’s plan went into action first thing the next morning. He, KC, and Erika had stayed up all night finalizing their preparations. By the time the clock had struck nine AM, the entire country of Royaume was buzzing with the news that the King of Florence had miraculously survived an assassination plot at the Masquerade and now sought out the “mysterious princess” who had so thoroughly charmed him there so as to make her his queen.

As KC had predicted, soon everyone in the kingdom was preparing for Prince Andre’s arrival so that the eligible young women in their houses could try on the slipper so as to “prove” they were the maiden who had saved King Cosimo. One of those such homes ended up being the Cromwell estate.

Charles Cromwell had been furious to discover that Carewyn had mysteriously disappeared from the still locked tower room without a trace. He’d resolved to use all of his resources to track her down and drag her back home, once breakfast was through. One can imagine that Charles was even less pleased, however, when over that very breakfast he learned the news that Orion had survived the assassination attempt. When he’d seen the scar of Orion’s name appear on his forearm under those of Jacob and Carewyn’s the previous night, he’d thought that it meant that Malfoy and Rakepick were able to tie up the loose ends in his absence, just as he’d told them to. Now it seemed that Orion had just barely managed to survive a dance with Death unscathed...and so not only were his co-conspirators likely in custody, but peace between Florence and Royaume was now a foregone conclusion. 

But, it seemed, there was still one chance the Cromwell family could still get ahead. Charles was rather confident that Rakepick wouldn’t turn on him, and Lord Malfoy was unlikely to be believed by either King, given the position Charles had at King Henri’s side and the established friction between Malfoy and Orion. And even if Rakepick was foolish enough to try to betray him, it would be her word against his -- and he knew his word would win out with King Henri, in the end. And now, according to Andre’s decree, the person who could fit the mysterious slipper left at the ball would become the King of Florence’s bride...Queen of an entire country. It was an opportunity Charles knew he couldn’t be foolish enough to pass up -- and so he set about preparing Dahlia, Iris, and Heather for Andre’s arrival. 

“My intelligence informs me that the shoe is an unusual size,” Charles instructed them, “so we shall do our very best to ensure that one of you is able to wear it.”

And so the three of Claire’s daughters’ feet were bound in thick bandages under their stockings, compressing their toes so as to make their feet smaller. It was very painful -- all three young women were unable to fight back tears as they waited in the sitting room for Andre’s arrival. They weren’t in much state to walk, so their mother Claire fussed over them by fetching them sweets and peppering them with advice about how to play off their tears as being tears of joy at the thought that they’d see “their precious Cosimo” again.

At long last, after an entire morning and afternoon of trying the shoe on many hundreds of women, Andre arrived at the Cromwell estate, KC and Erika in tow. As planned, not one of the women could wear Carewyn’s shoe -- there were a few who managed to get it on, but were unable to keep it on for very long, whether because it fell off due to being too large or because it was too painfully tight. Andre had had to go out of his way to have the shoe cleaned multiple times throughout the day, so as to make sure it stayed in good condition. One woman had even gone so far as to cut her own toe off to try to make the shoe fit, and Andre had furiously put his foot down, refusing to let someone ruin his work of art with blood stains. 

Andre’s arrival at the Cromwell estate was strategically timed to be one of the very last homes with eligible maidens visited. And when Andre greeted Charles Cromwell, decked out in his finest purple and gold velvet tunic, he played it remarkably cool. 

“Your Highness,” Charles Cromwell said in a very demure voice. Although his children Blaise, Pearl, and Claire all bowed or curtseyed, he merely gave a respectful bow of his head. “We are truly humbled to welcome you to our home.”

Andre gave a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you, Lord Cromwell.”

His eyes flitted down to Charles’s right wrist, obscured by his long, flowing black sleeve, and then over at KC, whose eyes were slightly narrowed. 

“Father was a bit disappointed when you and your family left the ball so early,” said Andre smoothly. 

Charles gave something of a resigned sigh. “Yes, well, my grandson Tristan was up well past his bedtime -- Blaise is very meticulous in maintaining such things.”

His eyes then narrowed almost curiously upon Andre’s face. “Rest assured, had I known how the ball would end, I would have remained by your father’s side until the last.”

“I have no doubt of it,” said Andre, just barely managing to keep his voice level. “Your presence would’ve been very helpful, under the circumstances...”

“You mean in answering to the allegations thrown at Lord Cromwell’s feet?” said Erika in a rather blunt voice. 

Blaise, Pearl, and Claire all stiffened. Charles himself, however, didn’t react with any surprise -- instead he only raised his eyebrows. 

“‘Allegations?’” he repeated very coolly. 

Andre acted dismissive. “The magician captured for the attempt on King Cosimo’s life spun a tale of you having hired her to cast the dark spell on him.”

Charles feigned incredulity. “I, hire a magician? Whatever for?”

“She raved about you supposedly conspiring with a Florentine lord to assassinate King Cosimo and sabotage all chance for a proper peace treaty between him and Father,” Andre rambled on, almost the way he would talk to Carewyn about his upcoming fashion design projects. “Naturally, Father and Mother spoke for you and reassured his Majesty that you would never do such a thing.”

“But of course, your Highness,” said Charles. Despite the humility of his mask-like face, his blue eyes flickered with something like satisfaction. “It’s my and my family’s greatest privilege, to serve yours. Why would I ever harm a man who your family sees as a prospective friend and ally?”

“You see, Erika?” said Andre with a wry smile. “I told you Lord Cromwell would set the record straight.”

Erika crossed her arms, her brows high over her narrowed eyes. “Anyone can spout pretty words. That Florentine Lord spouted plenty of them, before the scar on his arm exposed his guilt.”

Charles’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Erika. 

“You doubt my loyalty to the Royaumanian Crown, Lady Rath?” he asked softly. 

“I don’t trust people who talk more than they act,” said Erika, perfectly undaunted. 

“A proper sentiment for a child who thinks so little that she has even less to say,” sneered Blaise. 

“Blaise,” Pearl hissed at him reproachfully.

Erika shot Blaise a very hard look. “You can’t be thinking that much, if you’re not taking your father being accused of treason seriously.”

“Erika,” Andre said sharply, as Pearl grabbed a hold of Blaise’s arm to stop him from striding forward and possibly retaliating. “Father has categorically stated that Lord Cromwell couldn’t have been involved with the plot to kill King Cosimo. And I agree with him -- no blood relation of Carewyn’s could possibly have been involved in something so cruel...”

The mention of Carewyn seemed to make all three of Charles’s children’s eyes darken. In Pearl’s was frustration; Claire’s, irritation; Blaise’s, resentment. 

“I agree,” KC said, her eyes drifting over to Charles thoughtfully. “Still, it might be good to set Erika’s mind at ease. Lord Cromwell, would you please show us your right forearm?”

There was a strange flicker in Charles’s eyes. “My arm? Whatever for?”

“All those involved with the casting of a dark spell show visible evidence of it,” said KC pleasantly. “The Florentine Lord and the magician both had it on their arms -- if you weren’t involved, then you wouldn’t have that same proof on yours.”

Charles gave a mild shrug. “Very well, then...”

He lifted his sleeve and held his arm aloft. 

The skin was ghostly pale and faintly wrinkled...and yet utterly devoid of any scarring or blood-red letters.

Andre, KC, and Erika all gave a visible start. Charles’s lips spread into a very cool smile. 

“There now,” he said as he lowered his arm and shook his sleeve back down into place, “I hope that has...put to rest your concerns.”

His diamond-like eyes shifted to Andre.

“Shall we move to the drawing room, your Highness? My granddaughters should be practicing their needlework there, should you wish them to try on that infamous slipper...”

Andre shot KC and Erika an slightly uneasy glance.

“...Yes,” said Andre at last. “Please, do lead on, Lord Cromwell.”

Charles’s cold smile broadened as he stepped aside to let them enter the manor house. Andre strolled forward, his eyes lingering on Charles’s sleeve as he went. 

This didn’t make any sense...Charles clearly had been involved. He couldn’t have hired another magician to cast an illusion on his arm, could he? 

But, Andre thought, if it were an illusion, then the injury would still be there, even if people couldn’t see it...just like a beauty patch or...

A thought congealing in his head, the Crown Prince of Royaume purposefully stumbled over his own two feet while crossing the threshold. In his fall, he latched onto Charles Cromwell’s right forearm, clutching it hard as he tried to catch himself in a crouched position. Despite himself, Charles couldn’t stop himself from letting out a bellow of pain. 

“Oh...my deepest apologies, Lord Cromwell,” said Andre, his eyes very sharp despite the pleasantry of his expression. 

He gave another few sharp clenches to Charles’s arm as he hoisted himself back up onto his feet. When he removed his hand from Charles’s, Andre could see some blood trailing out from under Charles’s sleeve, tinted with what looked like something powdery white. 

“Ceruse, Lord Cromwell?” Andre said in a very cool voice. “Hardly a suitable healing tonic, for an open wound.”

He shot Erika a significant look. Erika launched herself forward, grabbing onto Charles. All three of Charles’s children made as if to pull her off of him and Charles wrestled in her grip, but it was no use -- within seconds, she’d yanked Charles’s sleeve back up, to reveal a mess of powdery white ceruse stained with blood. Yanking out her handkerchief from the inside of her dress pocket, KC rubbed the residue away, to reveal the same three names that had scarred Patricia Rakepick’s arm. 

Jacob Cromwell.

Carewyn Cromwell.

King Cosimo Amari VII.

Blaise, Pearl, and Claire all recoiled.

“Father?” Claire said shakily. 

“That should be enough proof to corroborate Patricia Rakepick’s testimony,” said Andre, “both about the assassination plot and about what you did to Carewyn and her brother.”

All hints of pleasantry had left his face as he stared Charles down. 

“Lord Cromwell -- for high treason against the Crown of Royaume, I sentence you to be imprisoned immediately and executed at dawn. Erika -- lock him in irons, to be brought back to the palace.”

Charles’s face had become very pale and mask-like, his eyes very wide and dark with shock, rage, and terror. Pearl and Claire both looked horrified. Blaise -- as shocked as he was -- recovered first when Erika tried to drag his father away. He initially made as if to grab at Erika, but immediately pulled back, his hand clasping at mid-air. Instead he whirled on Andre, his eyes very wide with something oddly panic-stricken. 

“Your Highness -- please reconsider! My father is old, he’s not in the highest of faculties -- ”

“Everything he’s done suggests otherwise,” said KC rather coolly. 

“Please, your Highness,” Blaise plowed on regardless, “my father has always been loyal to the Crown -- he’s served your family faithfully for so many years, just like all of us have -- ”

“For his own benefit,” scoffed Erika. 

“Think of his family, your Highness!” Blaise said in a louder, even more forceful voice, almost trying to block Erika out. “Think of where we would be, without our patriarch! Don’t take him away from his children -- his grandchildren...I will take over all of his responsibilities, as head of our family, if you only release him to my custody...”

Andre wasn’t moved by Blaise’s pleas, but he considered the older man critically for a moment as Erika locked Charles onto the boot of the coach. 

“You will never sway me to spare your father, Master Cromwell,” the Prince of Royaume said sharply. “However...there might be one person who could. The mysterious princess who King Cosimo wishes to wed heard of the assassination plot your father has been implicated in and came to the ball in disguise to warn him.”

Pearl gave a start. “That girl...was there to protect him?”

Charles actually straightened up slightly on the boot of the coach. His face was still mask-like and his eyes were still very dark and hollow, but he was clearly listening intently.

“She not only won the King’s heart, but ultimately saved his life,” said Andre. “Even going so far as to shield him from the spell’s effects with her own body without a shred of hesitation. She’s a hero: one that soon all of Florence and Royaume will rightly celebrate as a champion of peace.”

Andre indicated Charles with an offhand incline of his head without taking his eyes off Blaise.

“Perhaps if your family contains King Cosimo’s savior as well as his prospective assassin...the first will be merciful enough to speak on behalf of the second.”

With the terms set, Blaise immediately escorted Andre to the drawing room where Heather, Iris, and Dahlia were waiting. All three of them were surprised, confused, and a bit intimidated when Blaise ordered all three of them to try on the shoe -- Blaise was much less composed than Charles, and his gaze much more openly volatile. Sure enough, though, even with how much all three girls tried to make the shoe fit, it was no use. Iris even managed to shove her foot into the shoe, but it was so narrow that it pinched her already injured feet too badly for her to even speak. When she opened her mouth, all she could do was cry -- and so Claire, distraught beyond reason, wrenched the shoe off of her middle daughter’s foot and cradled her in her arms as if she were a baby.

“It’s my slipper!” wailed Iris. “I swear it is! My feet are just swollen, from all the dancing we did last night -- ”

Andre crossed his arms, his eyes rather dull. “Iris, really -- after how long you stayed in the palace, you don’t think I know full well your feet wouldn’t have fit this shoe?”

Iris was so startled that her tears stilled in her wide eyes. 

“King Cosimo deserves better than a woman who would only treat him as an object she can use to her own advantage,” Andre said very coldly. “Just as Carewyn deserves better than being around someone who cowardly tears her down when she thinks no one else can hear her.”

Iris’s face lost all of its color. 

“Y...Your Highness -- ” she said shakily, but Andre had already turned his back on her.

“Speaking of Carewyn,” he said airily, “it seems she’s the only one left who could save your father now, Master Cromwell. I sincerely hope you haven’t damaged her feet the way you have your other nieces’...”

Blaise’s jaw clenched. 

“I’m afraid Winnie has...disappeared, your Highness,” he murmured. “Just last night, in fact.”

Andre raised his eyebrows coolly. “Really? Well, I can’t say I blame her, under the circumstances.”

He turned to KC and Erika. “Well then, if she’s not here to speak for Lord Cromwell, then there’s no sense in delaying. Let us be off for the palace -- Father will want to know we’ve captured the final culprit in the plot against King Cosimo and prepare the execution block...”

He swept out the door of the manor, Erika and KC behind him, perfectly ignoring how Blaise, Pearl, and Claire dashed after him.

“Your Highness, please -- ”

“We can more than pay any penalty -- please reconsider -- ”

“Please don’t do this -- ”

“I will only accept King Cosimo’s princess’s defense of Charles Cromwell,” Andre reiterated coldly without looking for them. “You clearly don’t have her under your roof, so this discussion is over.”

“But Winnie might still fit the shoe!” said Claire desperately. 

Pearl and Blaise shot her a thoroughly appalled look. 

“Claire, how dare you suggest such a thing!” snarled Blaise. “As if a low-bred girl like our Winnie could ever charm a King!”

Claire trembled, but actually managed to stand her ground for once. 

“B-but her feet are a strange size!” she whispered to her siblings desperately. “They’ve always been ugly and narrow and misshapen -- her shoes were always falling off! And...oh, Blaise, if she could fit the shoe, then at least Father won’t...won’t...”

She broke off, the last flicker of her courage having long been spent. 

Both Pearl and Blaise looked like they’d swallowed a lemon. One could wonder what horrified them more -- the thought of having to appeal to Carewyn for help in saving Charles’s life, or the thought that she might actually end up fitting the shoe and becoming Queen of Florence.

Despite the nausea in Pearl’s expression, she nonetheless seemed to come down on Claire’s side. As stupid as Claire could be...Andre himself had said Carewyn was their only hope now. 

“Just...just give us time to find Winnie, your Highness,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “She can’t have gotten too far...”

Andre crossed his arms. “Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

“One.”

Everyone turned to look at Charles. He was sitting very still on the boot of the coach in chains. His eyes were so dark in how they glinted that his pale face resembled a skull with diamonds trapped behind his eye sockets.

“There is a boy under your employ called Bill Weasley who trespassed here a week or so ago with his brother, demanding to see my dear Winnie when she was too ill for visitors,” he said in a very cold, detached voice. “Perhaps you should ask him where he’s taken my granddaughter.”

Andre’s lips spread into a very pleased smile. They hadn’t visited the Weasleys’ home since the only single girl who lived there was eleven-year-old Ginny...but Bill and Charlie had planned to sneak Carewyn out that night with Talbott and Badeea, so even if she’d chosen to stay at Talbott or Badeea’s home or even somewhere else, they would undoubtedly know where she was staying. 

“You know the way to the Weasley family home, right, KC?” Andre asked over his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Very well -- perhaps they’ll have Carewyn’s new address, then.”

It took Andre’s royal entourage and the accompanying Cromwell coaches about two hours to migrate up the mountains that held the Weasley home. Blaise, Pearl, and Claire had all insisted on coming on behalf of Charles, and Blaise hated the thought of anyone besides him tending to Tristan, so soon the entire Cromwell clan had been piled into their family carriages. Dahlia, Iris, and Heather in particular had to be carried from the house into the carriages by their father, Arsen, and Kain, since their feet were still in too much pain for them to walk on them. 

Fred and George had spotted the approaching entourage first, from their spot dangling out of the nearby trees while picking apples with Ron and Percy. The four boys barreled back to the house to get Arthur and Molly, but it wasn’t long after they’d told their mother everything they saw that the sound of whinnying horses signaled their arrival. And as soon as Blaise opened the door of his white coach, he stiffened sharply at the sound of a familiar voice singing through an open upstairs window -- one that, when Andre opened his own gold coach, made the Prince beam from ear to ear. 

“I love to dance, dilly, dilly, I love to sing; When I am queen, dilly, dilly, you'll be my king. Who told me so, dilly, dilly, who told me so? I told myself, dilly, dilly, I told me so.”

It was Carewyn. For you see, when the Weasleys returned to the Burrow in the wee hours of the dawn after Orion’s coronation ball, they were delighted to find Bill sitting by the fire, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his arms wrapped around Charlie and Carewyn, both of whom were sleeping soundly with their heads resting against his chest. Bill had just barely managed to hush his younger siblings so as not to wake the two, and Molly immediately bustled around to fetch another couple of blankets to wrap around all three of them, as well as some pillows so as to make Bill more comfortable. In the morning, Carewyn had been pretty set on leaving to find her own place -- but as one might expect, all of the Weasleys shut that idea down, passionately insisting that she stay with them. 

“No, I can’t put you at that kind of risk,” Carewyn had said insistently. “My grandfather will be angry enough to know that I ran away -- if he knew Bill and Charlie had a hand in it, that you all were harboring me -- ”

Arthur took hold of Carewyn’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry about us, Carewyn. I don’t fear Charles Cromwell a ruddy bit, and that goes for Molly too.”

Molly nodded. “Definitely! And after the things we’ve heard, Carewyn...oh, dearie, there’s no way in the world we could ever let you go back to that...that...”

“Demon in human skin?” finished Charlie darkly. 

“Not the words I would have chosen, but yes,” sniffed Molly. 

Carewyn opened her mouth to argue further, but Bill leaned in to give her a light, chiding tap to her nose. 

“Don’t argue with them, Carey -- once Mum’s made up her mind, there’s no changing it.” He grinned. “She’s rather like you that way.”

Carewyn’s expression melted into a weaker, watery smile. 

“...Thank you,” she whispered. “All of you...thank you.”

And so now, at the moment that Andre and the Cromwells had arrived at the Burrow, Carewyn had been cleaning in the upstairs hallway, singing as she always did whenever she was working. 

Ginny, Molly, and Arthur rushed out of the house, greeting him, KC, and Erika with smiles and hugs. Erika in particular was very confused by the family’s almost aggressive amiability, but Andre responded in full, squeezing Ginny as if she were his own sister and clapping Arthur warmly on the back. It was not a welcome revelation for any of the Cromwells, to see the Prince on such good terms with the family of the people who they thought had stolen Carewyn away. And when Molly volunteered to go fetch Carewyn, she came down dressed in a modest teal dress (a hand-me-down from Molly, which Molly and Carewyn had managed to tailor enough to fit her), Bill and Charlie just behind her. 

“Carewyn!” 

Andre opened both of his arms and brought them around Carewyn in a warm embrace. 

“Andre, it’s so good to see you,” she murmured, closing her eyes to try to hold in her emotion. 

The Crown Prince pulled back enough to look her over. 

“That color is absolutely radiant on you,” he fawned over her. He glanced at the neatly tied bow in her ponytail. “Especially with your ribbon...a pale blue like that is a perfect shade to contrast your hair.”

Carewyn smiled wryly. “Well, light blue is my favorite color. My real one, I mean.”

Andre blinked, before his face broke out into an even broader smile. “Oh, that’s so much better than ash gray!”

Carewyn’s gaze was then caught by what was attached to the boot of Andre’s coach. The sight of Charles Cromwell locked up in chains, his diamond-like eyes boring into her with an endless, dark stare, made all traces of a smile fade from her face. 

Charlie, however, couldn’t fight back a huge, smug grin.

“Well, well,” the second-eldest Weasley spoke to Charles dryly, “if it isn’t Lord Cromwell. Not so high-and-mighty now, are you, you no-good feck?”

“Charlie,” said Bill, but his voice was hardly reproachful as he glared down at Charles. “Don’t waste your breath on the likes of him: he’s not worth it.”

“I do believe I made it clear that your family was to stay away from mine, Bill Weasley,” said Charles in a very low, dangerous voice. “You have a lot of nerve, to steal from me -- ”

“That’s just it, though, Lord Cromwell,” Bill cut him off, his voice growing a bit quieter and harder. He brought an arm around Carewyn, bringing her right up against his side protectively, the same way Jacob might have so long ago. “Carey is my family. So I intend to do whatever I have to make sure you and the rest of your lot never lay a foul hand on her again.”

Blaise’s eyes flashed dangerously. “How dare you -- !”

He raised a hand as if to try to strike Bill, but Carewyn stepped in his way. 

“Blaise,” she said in an unusually sharp voice, “the entire Cromwell family was slated to attend the masked ball hosted by the King of Florence...and yet I was not counted among you enough for Grandfather to even consider taking me with you. You can hardly expect me to be considered part of your family now.”

Blaise went sullenly silent. Carewyn looked up at Bill, her stoic expression unable to completely contain the gratitude and affection she felt toward her friend, before she turned to face Andre more seriously. 

“Andre...” she said slowly, “it’s not that I’m not glad to see you, but...what is all of this? Why did you bring them here?”

Andre’s eyes twinkled in amusement. 

“Last night at the masked ball,” the Prince of Royaume explained, “King Cosimo met a beautiful, mysterious woman dressed as a robin in a pair of shoes made of what looked like colored glass. He danced with this woman and no one else, before the two disappeared from the ballroom altogether. It was only just before midnight that they reemerged, with the woman dashing across the ballroom toward the front doors...the lovestruck King running after her, begging her not to go.”

Andre’s lips curled up in a wider smile. 

“This ‘mysterious princess,’ as everyone at the ball called her, had warned King Cosimo of a planned attempt on his life. Had she not come to the ball and danced with the King, it’s certain that he would’ve died, and that all hope for peace between Royaume and Florence would have died with him. Yet she fled the ball so quickly that she never got the recognition she deserved from either my father or King Cosimo for her courage. And because of the powerful illusion she disguised herself with, which made her look different to every single person at the ball, no one knows who she is.”

Andre swept over to the coach, picking up the beautiful hand-painted "stained glass” slipper he’d left on the seat. He cradled it in both hands as he showed it to those assembled. Carewyn’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon it.

“This glass slipper,” said Andre, his smile broadening enough to show his white teeth, “is the only thing she left behind that night, as any indicator of her identity...and whether because of some magic in the shoe or the talents of some incredibly talented master of fashion,” he waggled his eyebrows cheekily, “it has not fit any of the hundreds of women who have claimed to be its owner, seeking to earn King Cosimo’s hand in marriage.”

He beamed at Carewyn much more warmly. 

“I seem to recall, however...that you possess a set of feet that is very difficult to properly shoe.”

Carewyn looked from the slipper to up at Andre. Her face was very stoic, but her blue eyes rippled with something deeper. 

“I do believe I said that the Cromwells did not allow me to attend the ball, Andre.”

“Yes,” granted Andre. “But our mysterious princess didn’t come with the Cromwells.”

“This ‘princess’ also very clearly wanted no recognition for her ‘courage,’” said Carewyn, crossing her arms. “Why else would she wear such a thorough disguise? Why else would she run from the King before the stroke of midnight, when this illusion she supposedly wore would’ve worn off?”

Andre looked a bit embarrassed. “Well, perhaps...but for a woman so brave...well, it seems rather strange, to want to hide...to deny the best parts of herself: avoid a chance at true happiness, with someone who clearly loves her.”

Carewyn faltered. Andre smiled fondly. 

“Please,” he said, “won’t you just try the slipper on? I promise, I cleaned it on the way here.”

Carewyn had to suppress a giggle behind her hand. Her eyes slowly softened upon Andre’s face, before she finally relented and gave a nod. 

Charles, Blaise, Claire, Pearl, and the Cromwell cousins all sticking their heads out of their white coaches all watched as the Prince of Royaume bent down in front of his friend, letting her lift her skirt enough to expose her feet. Slipping one of her way-too-big brown shoes off, Carewyn then easily slid her foot into the stained glass slipper. 

Which, of course, fit like a glove. 

[entering-mymind]

The Mandalorians Prequel

This is the Preqeul of the series where I have inserted my OC character (Mando’s daughter) into the Disneyplus television show. With  her addition I believe this helps the viewers understand the choices  Mando makes in the series. Would love to hear feedback!

It had been six years since Din and Osa established a peaceful life on Lah’mu. Ever since Din packed away his helmet and armor no one had come looking for them, but he couldn’t shake the oath he had sworn. To use for public use, Din had crafted a different type of helmet, since he had broken the Mandalorian Code practically ten years ago. It was prudent to keep his and his daughter’s identities hidden so he also crafted one for her as well.

Osa despised wearing the heavy, hot, bucket on her head but if she ever wanted to see more than the walls in her home, she would have to wear it. Good thing that rule didn’t apply for inside their house, as both her and her father were free to be helmetless.

One day Osa accompanied her father outside, where he was working on one of the moisture towers, as she played happily with a toy she found left behind (from years prior) in their home. It seemed to be a happy coincidence that the two found this abandoned complex six years ago. The home was in the middle of nowhere, still fully furnished, functional, but vacant and dusty, like it had been abandoned for decades.

Din couldn’t have dreamed for a better hide out because his last one ended on bad terms. It was as if this place was left just for him and his daughter and it had served them well until that day.

Din attended to the tower, giving it a regular inspection while he watched his daughter play joyfully in the distance. He could hear her giggling and screaming with enthusiasm, something he had not heard in a few months due to her episodes happening more frequently than he would like.

He did everything he could to help her through them, hope to even understand what was happening to her, but she was young and she was afraid. He tried to encourage Osa not to fear her episodes and instead embrace them, learn something from them each time, but over the years she began to do the opposite. Instead she started to hold it in, which made it worse, but Din was prepared for those moments by the doctor’s sedatives he gave before his death.

Din knew though he had to use them at only dire times because he had been in the path of her projections throughout the years. He had been knocked down, thrown, while also dodging free floating objects, but the older Osa got the stronger her abilities grew. From being merely pushed over and items hovering, Din had been thrown into cabinets or rammed into walls and sometimes hitting so hard he would go unconscious. When he awoke Osa would always be by his side, holding his hand and laying next to him in fear he wouldn’t wake up.

Din tried to reassure Osa that he was strong, but that one time really traumatized her when she seriously hurt her father on accident. Osa was powerless as the invisible force propelled from her body without warning. The tremor radiated through the garage they were in when the ceiling began to in cave on top of Osa, but Din pulled her from harms way and was buried instead.

Luckily Din did not sustain any serious injuries but this incident drove Osa over the edge believing running away was the answer, because Osa was convinced she would eventually be the one who would kill her father. Osa couldn’t live with herself if she was her father’s demise and ran, but no matter where she was her father would find her. She begged him to let her go but he would never come to that conclusion, she was his life. Din swore he would help her in any way possible and noticed by his encouraging words and drawing her focus on him, this routine helped her overcome from releasing the blast and eventually subside the episodes, but it had been weeks since her latest one and this made her ecstatic.

Osa felt on top of the world, her life felt perfect, but that all changed when the both of them saw a ship fly over head and land on the outskirts of their home.

                                                       *   *   *

“Papi, look,” Osa pointed upwards at the ship landing in the distance.

“Osa go inside, now,” Din yelled.

She knew this tone inflicted within his voice and didn’t disobey. She quickly ran for their home but a huge man (who wore armor similar to the one her father use to wear) blocked off her path. Osa screamed from surprise when Din turned to see Osa run for him, he could see her fear, afraid of what these individuals were going to do to them as they encircled Din and Osa. Without hesitation Osa wrapped her arms around her father’s waist when Din took his arm and held her to him. Din knew not to draw his blaster because he was completely out numbered, but yet felt confident they weren’t there to harm them.

“You are a hard man to find, Din Djarin,” a woman – who seemed to be the Tribe leader – approached dressed in silver Mandalorian armor.

Din said nothing, holding his daughter near while eyeing up his old clan, “I guess not hard enough,” he replied.

“You of all people should know a missing clan member is never forgotten until they are back with their Tribe. Our clan can only thrive with our survival and needs to grow in numbers not be depleted,” the woman Mandalorian informed.

“I am aware of the Code,” Din said.

“Then why do you hide from your heritage?”

“No, quite the opposite. I deceived the Tribe. I have…” Din broke off looking down at his pride and joy because he would break the Code all over again in order to have his daughter by his side.

“Oh, I see,” the woman realized by looking at the young one clutching onto Din’s waist, “So this child is not a Foundling?”

“No, she is my flesh and blood,” Din told truthfully making his clan realize his reason for leaving and deception.

“So here you believed you broke the Code,” she said.

“But I did.”

“And yet here your offspring stands increasing our numbers. I presume you have educated her in the Mandalorian ways, hence her wearing a training helmet that she is already practicing. I’m sure she is eager to don a real Mandalorian helmet for her own and follow in her father’s footsteps.”

“You’re allowing us into the Creed?” Din questioned skeptically, “But the oath, the pledge I swore, broken.”

“Yes, but pledges can be made again and besides our clan grows by two now.”

Din didn’t know what to do, him and his daughter were being accepted into the Creed, one of the reasons why he went into hiding. He knew the consequences and so couldn’t face them, he had lied for practically four of those years, but he had a larger issue than just facing his Tribe ashamed, Din had to keep his daughter safe and hidden.

He knew the logical answer, sooner or later they would be discovered even on Lah’mu. If the Mandalorians found them then the Empire would be close behind, it was a clear choice for Din, but would take some convincing for his daughter.

                                                     *   *   *

“What, we’re leaving, why?” Osa said almost in tears.

“We will be safer under the Mandalorians protection,” Din informed while destroying their presence ever existed in their home.

“Safer, from who, who’s after us?”

“Nobody, it’s just no one is safe with the Empire around. Please, Mi Pequeno you have to trust me,” Din got down on his knees staring Osa in the eyes while caressing her cheek with his thumb, “You do trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Good, then take what you can carry,” Din instructed when he pulled Osa forward kissing her forehead and then directing her towards her room.

                                                      *   *   *

Osa didn’t understand why they had to leave, so what if her father’s old Tribe found them, the Mandalorians would keep their whereabouts a secret, there was no reason to go with them, but it wasn’t Osa’s decision.

Osa finished packing what she could stuff in her one bag she was allowed to take as her father stood in her doorway, waiting. With a heavy sigh Osa said her goodbyes to their home, where the two appeared to be replicating the same outcome as the previous owners had. Throughout her years in the home, Osa could see past events play out, she could watch the past as if it had left an impression; happy memories and sad ones.

The one that particularly stood out the most was the family’s last stand against the man in white. It terrified Osa because the man in white destroyed that family’s life as the Mandalorians had come for hers. Osa didn’t know what to think and now understood how Jyn Erso must have felt when she was forced out.

                                                       *   *   *

The flight to the Mandalore covert on Nevarro felt extremely short according to Osa, what she wanted to take forever happened quicker then anticipated. She was dreading what her father had described to her, once she was sworn into the Creed her and her father wouldn’t be able to see each other’s faces until they celebrated her “Date of Existence,” how could this be?

Osa was use to seeing her father’s face on a regular bases, what if she forgot what he looked like? The thought frightened Osa because not only was she restricted from seeing her father’s face, she barely could gaze upon her own, it wasn’t like back at home where she could be helmetless, once dedicated to the Mandalore Code one must walk the path religiously.

Osa didn’t know if she could be that dedicated to something she really didn’t fully believe in, but “This is the way.” The Mandalorians motto didn’t make sense to Osa because how could be closing oneself off from the galaxy the way, shielding oneself off from others the way, but mostly cutting oneself off from loved ones the way?

Suddenly a jolt pulled Osa from her thoughts as the Crest made its landing. From above Osa could hear her father power down the ship and collect the very few things they were allowed to take. Osa stayed huddled in her bed wishing her father would come to his senses and instead take off in order to head back to their real home, but no wishes would be granted that day.

Loud footsteps could be heard descending into the lower deck when Osa laid eyes on her father who donned his old Mandalorian armor. It made him look tougher, not the caring man who would cradle her in his arms, it made him appear menacing, not gentle like the man who would hum in her ear to chase away her nightmares, but mostly the armor made him appear soulless, but this was far from true because her father had the biggest heart.

Osa sat on the bed, cross legged, head down not making eye contact with the Mandalorian, if she ignored him maybe then the warrior would return her Papi, but Din knew, first hand, how hard change could be.

He had to show his daughter all the good the Mandalorians could offer, all their teachings, survival tactics, and ethics. The Code would help her grow from a child and into adulthood by absorbing key knowledge and skills, Din knew “This is the way” but would have to ease Osa into it, which he tried at their home but had been way more lenient then the Creed would be.

Din stood gazing at his stubborn daughter who wasn’t wearing her helmet and who refused to look at him, he couldn’t go about this the wrong way, he had to make her see him like how she did when they were first brought together.

“Have you taken up mediation Mi Pequeno?” Din tried to joke but could tell she was not in the mood.

“No, I’m on strike,” Osa replied in all seriousness.

Din knew this would be an up hill battle, he removed his helmet so she could truly see him and knelt in front of his daughter.

“Osa, I wouldn’t be doing this if I felt it was wrong. It is prudent we join the Mandalorians, their teachings go beyond more then I can give you.”

“I thought you were doing just fine,” Osa said quietly.

“I know you do Mi Pequeno, but I wasn’t preparing you for the galaxy. Just the two of us wasn’t living, by being apart of a larger community allows others to pass along their knowledge onto you, a skill set you never knew you possessed, and hopefully these teachings will help you discover who you eventually want to become. There is only so much I can give you Osa, it is up to you on who you want to be.”

“And you believe the Mandalorians will help me get there?”

“Yes, I do, because they helped me get where I am today, and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else except for right here right now, Mi Pequeno. So what do you say, do you want to take this journey with me?” Din held out his hand praying his daughter would take it and luckily she did.

“I’ll take any journey with you Papi,” Osa displayed one last smile for her father to see before she slipped on her helmet, forever cutting herself off from the outside world and begin an unknown journey she was still hesitant about.

[not-looking-for-happy]

The Last Equation: Chapter 1 - The Beginning is Always the Hardest

Setting of the story: Parallel world of The Umbrella Academy right after the occurrence of the apocalypse in which Five managed to bring them back to the past 17 years ago in which they try to come up with a plan.

For a downloadable format, click here. 

Just when they thought they had managed to save the world, they can see massive rocks across the dark sky itching to touch the earth's ground.

"The Umbrella Academy... A total failure." Diego said in a sarcastic tone. Just thinking of his father's face mentioning those words makes him feel pathetic. He couldn't save Eudora. He couldn't save his mother right before his eyes. And even with his siblings' help, he couldn't save the world. Well? What difference does it make in saving two if they're just gonna die anyway?

Diego's thoughts were stopped abruptly as he hears Five speaks up.

"This doesn't have to be the end..." Five said as Luther, Diego, and Klaus give him a questioning glance.

Five proposes to time travel once again, but this time, together with his siblings. He's not sure if he can do it but there's no harm in trying because they are in a situation where the only option they can choose is to trust Five's judgment or be vaporized in a few seconds.

As they gather towards Five, they hold each others' hands and formed a circle. In just a few seconds, a blue light emerges above them. Five is shouting but they're not sure if it's due to the difficulty of what he's doing.

"Hold on! It's gonna get messy!" Five shouted as he holds more tightly to Diego's and Allison's hands. The first time he glanced at them, they are still the same 30-year old bunch of people he met a few days ago. The second time, he's now looking at the young faces they once have 17 years ago, or in his case, 45 years ago.

"It's working." Five thought to himself. And despite the fact that he's racking his brain's out to make the time travel work, he can't help but feel the sense of nostalgia running through his veins and tearing right through his heart. He missed them severely as he looks at his siblings, now back to their 13-year old bodies.

And then, few seconds right before the Icarus theater was engulfed in flames, the blue light disappears together with the siblings.

*******

In the next few seconds, everyone is at disarray. At first, they are holding to one another's hands and the next thing they knew, they are back to the courtyard where they previously held their father's memorial service. They seem not to remember anything about the time travel experience. All they can remember is the pain it left into their bodies. Also, the fact that they wouldn't want to do it again.

Allison struggles to stand as she tries to search for her other siblings, Vanya, especially. Her brain is killing her but it does not stop her from trying to stand just so she can make sure that everyone made it safely to where she is now. As she looks to her right side, she can see Vanya, still unconscious and being held by Luther. This time, however, Vanya looks exactly how she was when she was 13 and also Luther. At least, in this timeline, Luther's body is still normal. She makes her way to Vanya as she calls her name and Luther seems to have noticed that Allison is already awake.

"Vanya!" Allison called for her sister as she puts her in her arms noticing that she is now a 13-year old too. It's a bit late, but she notices that she can speak now.

"She's okay, I guess," Luther said while stroking Vanya's hair. "She just needs some rest considering.. how she just blew up the moon a few minutes ago," he added while trying to be cautious in his words as he gives Allison a faint smile. She looks up at Luther and agrees with a small nod, Vanya still clutched tightly in her arms.

"I think, maybe we should get her to the clinic and have mom take a look at..." Luther was about to suggest but was stopped as they heard Diego and Klaus' voice from behind.

"Shit!" both Diego and Klaus exclaimed as they move closer to where a seemingly familiar body is lying unconscious too.

Luther was about to stand but he hesitates as he looks at Vanya, then to Allison. After all that happened, he still can't forget the fact that Vanya accidentally slit Allison's throat.

"It's okay. I got this. You go check on the others." Allison said.

By the time Luther arrives at the location where Five was lying unconscious, Diego has already placed Five around his arms, not even noticing that they are back to their 13-year old bodies. Klaus looks very shocked to see Five like this. His condition is almost the same whenever their abusive dear old dad would train Five non-stop using his spatial jumps until he's satisfied. Only this time, he looks worse, and yes, he still looks like a 13-year old boy. Blood was gushing through his nose and there seems to be blood too behind his mouth, Klaus could tell just by looking.

"Hey. Hey, Five. You okay, buddy?" Diego said while trying to shake Five's body wishing it would be enough to wake him up.

Luther and Klaus are still gathered around Diego and Five until they noticed Five's hand flinched at Diego's touch on his face.

In just a few seconds, Five opened his eyes, but still unfocused.

"Hey, buddy," Klaus said trying to get Five's attention as he seems not fully aware of his surroundings. "Look at me," Klaus continued. His voice was soothing and it seems to help Five as he's now trying to search for the owner of the voice.

Five and Klaus's eyes met. Klaus felt a pang of guilt in his gut as he looks at his very-pale-yet-not-dead brother.

"I'm so sorry you have to go through this pain just to bring us all back here. But you're safe now. We're all safe. You made it Five. We all made it." Klaus said as he holds Five's hands in his.

Five seems to have understood Klaus' words. He was about to say something when he felt a sudden pain as he tries to get away from Diego. He felt his hand let go of Klaus' hand as it touches the ground and his other hand covers his mouth. Blood was seeping through his hands as he coughs up more blood. Diego was shocked but he managed to calm himself when Klaus moved forward to hold Five, his hands caressing his back.

"We need Mom," Diego suggested while looking at Klaus and Luther.

Luther nodded as he moves closer to Five. He can see that Five is still in pain.

"You may not like this, Five, but I'll be carrying you," Luther said.

Five didn't say a single word and Luther takes it as a yes. He carries Five with the utmost care and instructs Diego and Klaus to help Allison in carrying Vanya. Judging by Five's expression, his whole body is in pain. Also, he looks totally exhausted, which is an understatement because Luther looks like he's carrying a ghost. Five is so pale that they might have thought he's dead had he not opened his eyes.

As they make their way through the doorway, they are greeted by a boy. A boy they haven't met for a long time. They are all startled as if they saw a ghost.

"Guys!" Ben shouted at his siblings looking at him in a daze. "We don't have time for this." Ben thought to himself. Apparently, it was Ben who first gained consciousness the first second they arrived and took it upon himself to call for their mother when he noticed Five and Vanya's state. Unlike his siblings, he did not feel any sort of pain when they time traveled, only this fleeting feeling like he's floating in space as he continues to travel back in time. Guess there's that one advantage of being a ghost: time travel is safe if you're just a soul!

Aside from Five, it's Ben who has some decent way of thinking. This is also one of the reasons why Five is fond of him compared to the rest of his siblings. Before dashing back to the courtyard, he makes sure to check two more things. One, the exact date and time of their arrival. And two, their father's whereabouts. He does not know if Five was able to calculate the exact time that they must arrive into because everything seems convenient. They arrived on the day before Five disappeared and at this exact moment of time, their father is all cooped up in his own room and no further training will be conducted today.

"I know you have a lot of questions but that can be answered at a later time. We need to bring Five and Vanya to the clinic. I already told Mom and informed her to prepare two sets of beds." Ben exclaimed just so someone could break the uncomfortable silence radiating in the courtyard.

All of them, excluding Five and Vanya, nod in agreement as they went past Ben. He was about to follow when he finds himself face to face with Diego.

"I'm glad you made it," Diego said as he tapped Ben's shoulder to which Ben just gives a faint smile.

"Yeah, I am too," Ben said as he motions to Diego so they can catch up with the rest.

*******

What feels like forever finally ended. Five and Vanya are now well rested in their own bedrooms and the rest of the siblings are standing at the corridor. None of them are speaking. Luckily, their mother did not ask for further questions as to what happened to Five and Vanya. They can simply make an excuse for Five that he overdid himself by repeatedly doing spatial jumps non-stop. Although, that will make him look stupid. As for Vanya, they can't come up with any excuse. She's not undergoing through training so there's no reason for her to suddenly lost consciousness.

It takes five minutes before someone finally speaks.

"So... what's the next plan?" Klaus asked as he looked at them.

At the Icarus theater, they agreed with Five to go back to the past just so they can change it but he did not provide any specifics, except to "fix" Vanya but that appears to be a vague plan too. What part of her needs fixing? Where do they start?

Luther is about to open his mouth but decides not to speak. He's still bothered by the fact that the previous decision that he made for the group somehow contributed to the apocalypse.

Ben, who's always observant of his surroundings notices Luther's hesitation. The benefit of being a ghost: you can't speak freely, but you can observe almost anyone without telling you to back off.

"I think it's best to make a specific plan when Five and Vanya wake up. Besides, no one must notice that we're not our actual selves. We must proceed with caution. Right now, Five's former organization is not aware that we're still alive but it might not be long before they noticed." Ben suggested.

"I agree with Ben. The last time we made decisions, someone is missing, so..." Diego agreed as he looked at Luther, Klaus, and Allison.

"That's fine with me." Allison seconded while Klaus and Luther just nod silently.

"For now, I'll be at Vanya's room. Let me know if Five wakes up." Allison requested as she leaves her brothers.

Luther wants to stop her from doing so but he sensed how worried Allison is over Vanya so he just let her be.

"I'll go check on dad. See if he noticed that there's something different upon our arrival." Luther said deciding it's best to do something than nothing at all.

"I'll go check mom. And if we're lucky, maybe I can convince her not to tell the old man about any of this." Diego said.

"Klaus, come with me. We'll check on Five." Ben said is he drags Klaus towards him. Klaus is not saying anything but he can absolutely tell that he is worried about Five. Among the siblings, it's Ben and Klaus who completely understand just how their powers can be a curse at times. Hell, their powers feel like curse all the time. If there is anything that they could be thankful about, that would only be two things: because Klaus can see the dead, he and Ben never felt alone all those years that they are together; because of Ben's ability, he was able to prevent his siblings from being rained of bullets at the theater. All those years being on a mission, he always used his power to destroy. But that time, it was different. He thinks of himself not as a destroyer but as a protector. Someone who's the only person capable of protecting his siblings from danger in that situation.

As they arrive at Five's room, they sit at both sides, Ben on Five's left side and Klaus on the right. Klaus reaches out to Five's hand, gently feeling his pulse as if to fully convince himself that his little brother is still alive.

"Klaus. Five is still alive. If he's dead, you would have noticed because he most definitely wouldn't be lying in his bed and would be pestering you about the next actions that must be done." Ben reassured Klaus as he smiles at him. He's been with Klaus for years and he knows the things that bother his brother.

"Yeah. I know. It's just that, coming back here and knowing that our father is still alive. I don't know what to think or what to feel." Klaus said as he places his hands on his face.

Ben feels sad about the fact that Klaus has to go through this again. All those painful memories he suppressed for such a long time is now coming back to him in the most unimaginable way - not remembering, but actually re-living it.

"I know this will be hard." Ben started speaking as he tries his best to find the right words to make Klaus feels better. "But this time, you won't be alone. I'll be here. We're all be here," he finished.

"I suppose that's true. I guess it's not just Vanya who needs fixing. Before trying to fix others, we should start from within ourselves." Klaus said with a smile.

"Didn't expect that to come from you, but, yeah, that's right." Ben agreed with a surprised look on his face.

"I learned that from you, idiot," Klaus replied as he winked at Ben.

The atmosphere lightens up as they are laughing at each other now. Five seems to be feeling it because his pale face that was once painted with severe pain is now replaced by a smiling face.

"He looks peaceful now," Ben said as he removes Five's hair on his face. "And I'm glad I can touch him," he added.

"Oh, and Ben?" Klaus called Ben's attention.

"Hm?" Ben answered still not looking at Klaus but fondly looking at Five's face. 'Cause let's face it, the only time he can look at Five's face this close is when he is fully unconscious.

"You have to promise me one thing," Klaus said.

Judging by the look on Klaus' face, he already knows what he's about to say but still decides to ask.

"What is it?"

"Promise me that you'll stay alive and survive this shit."

"I'll do my best," Ben replied as he smiles at Klaus.

The conversation ended with a promise. They stay silent as they look at their little brother. They can't help it - considering Five as their "lil' bro" when he told them that his body is no longer aging.

The apocalypse was not averted at the time they went back to the past. Currently, the Commission still believes that the end of the world was completed and they will do everything to make sure it stays that way. They have to be careful with their next actions not to change too much on the timeline which will make them under their radar. But for now, they must rest and prepare themselves for what's about to come.

[supersleepygoat]

Districts and Domains: Part One

Pairing: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

(Spoilers) Commissioned by Anonymous: Part 1: Could you write a series sort of with an abo business au. The reader is an omega office worker and her work gets a new CEO who is Alpha! Sam and she immediately knows he is her true alpha but he gives her space and she doesn't really want to approach him about it since she values being an independent omega. She takes suppressants so that she can still work during her heats but being around her alpha makes them stop working so she goes into heat. Sam brings her back to his house where he Part 2: where he claims her and helps her through her heat. When she comes out of her heat it’s angsty because she never wanted to be claimed and she quickly realized that Sam is a very protective/possessive alpha and barely lets him leave the house. It’s angsty at first but eventually he quells her into a life of submission and they have lots of pups

Summary: Your new boss is an arrogant and dominating Alpha, who also happens to be your true mate. Will he respect your wishes and stay away or will you each give into your basic desires? ABO. Business AU. 

Word Count: 1,720

Warnings: ABO dynamics. (Future Angst and Smut - Nothing in this Chapter)

“Hurry up!” you groan at the dumb mutt who tilts his head at you in curiosity. “You either go to the bathroom now or you’re going to have to wait until I get home around six o’clock tonight!” You threaten your dog as if he could understand you. But the blank stare he gives you tells you your warning tone is pointless.

You continue your staring contest for another minute. The stubborn old bastard finally does his business once he is good and ready. It is the same struggle every morning. Except today, you’re too stressed out to do this usual dance.

The company you work for has been bought out by a larger corporation. Your boss assures you not much will change. But, you’ve done your research. Your buyers, Winchester & Sons, have a reputation. They take over small companies and turn them into profit machines. To anyone else, that would sound like a good thing. But, it has you a little worried.

You had a hard time finding work after college. Nothing seemed like a good fit until you were offered a position at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc. as a member of human resources. They needed to hire an Omega to boost diversity and to make HR seem more approachable. They thought the nurturing presence of an Omega would help that. ‘Nurturing’ isn’t a word you would use to describe yourself. But you faked it long enough to get your foot in the door. You soon showed everyone that you deserve this job not because you’re an Omega but because you’re excellent at what you do. You climbed your way up the corporate ladder on merit, not genetics.

One of the reasons you came to work for this company was because they have great benefits, especially for Omegas. They offer time off for heats and special leave for raising Pups. You always work through your heats thanks to suppressants. Plus, you have no intention of having Pups. So, you don’t need those policies. But, it’s nice to know they are there just in case. What is more important for you, is that suppressants are actually included in your medical coverage. Benefits like this are rare. Most companies don’t even hire Omegas, let alone have specialized policies. So, you have a hard time imagining your new owners will make Omega welfare a priority. The Winchester men are notorious in the business world for putting profit ahead of personnel.

But, the main reason you came to work here is because it is a welcoming environment. No one assumes you can’t or won’t do your job simply because you are an Omega. Everyone knows you are a damn hard worker. They know you will come through and get the job done, even if you are in heat. If that environment changes, you may have to start looking for work elsewhere. You won’t let anyone make you feel incapable.

You pull into your unofficial parking spot and walk into the building. The second you walk into the lobby, you smell something amazing.

“Henry, did your wife make you another loaf of banana bread?” You ask the old security guard who mans the lobby. His wife has a habit of packing him a lunch that makes the whole building drool with envy. Luckily for you, you’re the only person he sometimes shares his goodies with.

“Not today, Y/N. Actually, my Greta has been out of town visiting her sister for the past few days. That’s why I’ve been having to buy my lunch like the rest of you schmucks lately,” Henry laughs.

“Oh, you poor soul!” you tease the old man. “I hope she comes back soon so you don’t have to keep slumming it,” you say as you hand him your pass.

“Don’t worry, kid. She’ll be back on Thursday. Got any requests?” he asks as he scans you card without looking.

You walk through the metal detector and turn around to walk backwards as you reply. “When have I ever been able to pick a favourite? Besides, you know I love surprises!” You wave to the old Beta as you near the elevators. You are still walking backwards when you accidently bump into the wall. Your ankle teeters in your thin heels. You start to stumble over upon impact.

To your surprise, the wall has arms. Two strong arms wrap around you and prevent you from falling onto the marble flooring. You turn in the hold and realize what you thought was the sold wall of the building is actually a solid wall of muscle.

“I too like surprises. Especially clumsy ones,” the man who caught you smiles down at you.

“I - I’m not clumsy,” you defend yourself. You can’t think of anything else to say. The handsome stranger has stolen all your coherent thoughts.

He only lets you go once he makes sure you are steady. “Sure you’re not,” the sarcasm is almost palpable as he steps into the newly arrived elevator.

You follow him in. “I’m not. You try wearing these heels on this type of flooring. You wouldn’t last two feet,” you explain.

“Probably not,” he agrees with you. But before you claim your victory, he speaks again. “But at least I don’t have two leftfeet.” He continues to push your buttons. “Which floor?” he asks as he smiles at the offense written across your face.

You don’t answer him, you push your own floor. You don’t need his help. The second the elevator doors close, the mouth-watering scent from the lobby intensifies. You expected it to dissipate but it is only getting stronger. There is still the intoxicating essence of baked goods. But as the scent envelops you, you notice undertones of burning wood and pine.

Your eyes go wide when you realize it isn’t someone’s lunch or new laundry detergent. The scent belongs to this guy, this Alpha. You scoot a little further away from him. You had been too caught up in your conversation. You hadn’t realized you had gotten into an elevator with a strange Alpha.

As an unclaimed Omega, you usually don’t make a habit out of being in confined spaces with unfamiliar Alphas. He could flip the emergency switch and try to mate you. He could be in rut. By the size of this Alpha, he could over power you in a second and –

“Relax, Omega,” the man’s voice breaks through your nervous thoughts. “I can feel you getting worked up. You don’t have to be scared of me,” the stranger assures you.

“What did you just call me?” you bark at the man. It is highly offensive and presumptuous to call an Omega by her title if you are not her Alpha. You muster up as much anger in your voice as possible. You do that to mask the fact that you almost bent over and presented the second your title left his lips. What the hell is wrong with you?

“I- I am so sorry,” the stranger corrects himself. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know where that came from. I would never-” the man starts rambling and you can tell his apology is genuine.

“It’s fine.” You feel an unprecedented need to ease the worry from his brows. “It was a mistake. No harm done. But just so you know, I’m not scared of you.” You return your attention to the previous conversation.

“Of course you’re not. That’s why you’re practically hugging the far wall, because you’re notscared of me. My bad,” the man tries to lighten the mood by teasing you.

“Maybe I’m not scared of you. Maybe I just don’t like you. Maybe you forgot to put on deodorant this morning and you’re kind of smelly. Did you ever think of that? Maybe you’re stinking up this joint with your BO,” you are purposely trying to embarrass the stranger. You know it’s not a very nice thing to do but he’s annoying you. He is putting you on edge and you’re not sure how else to handle yourself. When you are conflicted, you have the tendency to lash out in unbecoming ways.

The man doesn’t seem to mind though. He lets out a soft laugh. “That’s not it and you know it,” the man looks down at you and gives you a knowing smirk.

Goddamn him. For all you know, he can smell the slick his scent is generating in your panties. Had you forgotten to take your suppressants this morning? Why is your body reacting this way? And, why does he have to be such an asshole about it?

“How long is this freaking elevator ride?” you blurt out.

He laughs at your flustered state. The elevator dings and you reach your floor. He puts his arm out to keep the door open. “Ladies first,” he all but purrs and you clench your jaw. You clench another part of you too but he will never know. Why are you letting this guy get under your skin?

You walk out of the elevator without a word. You get further down the hall when you hear your boss’ voice sound more cheery than usual. “Mr. Winchester, Welcome! Would you like me to show you to your office?”

You turn around hoping to catch a glimpse of the infamous Winchester. Your face pales when you see your boss is talking to the Alpha from the elevator.

“Please, call me Sam,” the Alpha says as he turns to face where he knows you are watching him. The self-satisfied smile he sends your way makes you knees wobble.

You turn on your heel and try storming away but accidently crash into a mail cart you hadn’t known was behind you.

“You may want to be more careful on those two left feet of yours. I won’t always be around to catch you,” Sam whispers as he and your boss pass you in the hall.

You bite your tongue to hold back the choice words you have for the arrogant man. Now that you know he is your new boss, you’re going to have to work extra hard to keep your big mouth shut. It may be best to try avoiding him all together. But, a part of you knows that won’t be an option.

Forever Tags:

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[nyah-nyan-sensei]

E’Stella’s Journey // Journal entry 6

I met many people since my journey started, I listened to so many stories. Some grand, some minor. But every story counts. Because stories are where memories go when they’re forgotten. And no memory, whether big or small, shall be forgotten. Every memory deserves a story. On the entrance to Hyrstmill, a hamlet nestled deep in the northern woods of the Shroud, there’s a girl, her name’s Emeria. This is her story.

“Pardon me, milady! Might you be the adventurer of whom Eadbert speaks so highly? If you could but spare a moment...”

She approached me with a measure of fear yet there was hope in her eyes. Hope that I could help her out of a conundrum like I did for other villagers.

“I - I've never thought myself a popular girl, and men rarely give me cause to believe otherwise... Yet lately I’ve been the recipient of several gifts. Sparkling jewels and fine silks over which a prouder maid than I would swoon — all from an anonymous admirer. Naturally, I was flattered... But I knew nothing about my mysterious benefactor. And so I endeavored to seek him out... only to discover that he is none other than Ailbert. an infamous rogue wanted for countless robberies in Gridania!”

“I realize now that all of his presents were taken from others... and that I unwittingly won the affection of a dangerous criminal... But that’s not all... With his latest gift came a request. He insists that we meet in the woods outside of Hyrstmill, where he intends to present me with his most precious gift. I am at a loss. I beg of you, milady, will you not go in my stead? I wish only to be left in peace, but I fear a man such as he may be driven to violence when made to hear such words. I pray not to harm comes to you...”

And so I took upon her request and set out to meet this Ailbert fellow. When he saw me and realized I was not Emeria, he let out an anguished scream.

He attacked me — out fear and desperation. I could sense he wasn’t resorting to violence just for the sake of it. It was easy to dispatch him — by then I was more than capable of defending myself: the training under the supervision of Leih and Silvairre of the Archer’s Guild was coming to fruition.

After I dispatched him, he dropped a letter, which I retrieved and brought back to Emeria. I quietly listened to her reading it with a trembling voice.

My dearest Emeria, I pray this letter finds you well. I know my gifts were sudden and many, but I hope they were to your liking. Seeing you in the first summer of your womanhood, I could restrain myself no longer. My thoughts have been only of you these past many moons, of what gifts might bring you happiness. Yet to see you smile from afar is not nearly enough. I long to live together with you in Hyrstmill and nothing would bring me greater joy. I would give you a grand garden, filled with the white chamomile you love so. But such dreams can never come true. My crimes are known and will never be forgiven. The most I can hope for is for you to know my heart. That would grant me a measure of peace. And so if it does not cause you distress, I would like to write you again. Yours ever, Ailbert.

She was at a loss. How did he know her favorite flower? Could it be...? But no! She was still puzzled when she entrusted me with the stolen goods and a request to seek the help of Miounne so they could be returned to their rightful owners. So I made my way back to Gridania and the Carline Canopy. Upon hearing all that had transpired, Miounne filled in the blank in their story, that Ailbert or Emeria herself, for that matter, could not — but she had figured out I think, judging from her reaction to the letter.

“I see...Oh, Ailbert, you fool...I’ll deal with the stolen goods, worry not. Yes, I know of the boy — and his family. He once lived in this very town. One day he stole a handful of chamomile seeds from an influential merchant in the Ebony Stalls. You see, this boy had a sister, and chamomile was her favorite flower. Seeking only to make his sister happy, I doubt he grasped the gravity of his act. Regardless, his parents felt that he had brought terrible shame to the family. And so, they disowned him. Cast out of hearth and home, he grew desperate. And those who think only of survival think little of law. A common tale perhaps, but not less tragic for it.”

“And now you know the truth. The sister Ailbert loves so dearly in Emeria. Emeria was too young to remember when Ailbert left, so her parents decided to conceal his existence. However word of the boy’s banishment soon spread, and her parents were forced to move to Hyrstmill to maintain the fiction. By now Emeria’s surely heard rumors of her long-lost brother, though a gentle girl like her would never question her parents’ honesty. And whatever faint memories she once may have had are long gone. But Ailbert never forgot Emeria. Despite the danger, I suspect he now keeps close to Gridania, refusing to leave his beloved sister a second time.”

“I’ll send Emeria some chamomile seeds by way of thanks for helping us recover the stolen goods. If only it were as simple as returning them to their rightful owners. Sadly, Ailbert’s crimes will not be so easily forgiven. But perhaps by the time the seeds have sprouted and their flowers bloomed, he will have found a new path.”

As I learned of the siblings’ story, something stirred inside me. Sadness and a feeling of longing. Maybe I used to have siblings myself and a home to go back to. It was impossible for me to tell — my memories were ripped from me by the Calamity. Sure, I had my foster family and they were the world to me. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder... 

For those of you who read from the app, here are the previous entries:

entry 1 entry 2 entry 3 entry 4 entry 5

[unofferable-fic]

UNOFFERABLE: 10 - MAGIC

Summary: The unexpected arrival of an injured Midgardian child clinging to life causes a ruckus on Asgard. The princes, Thor and Loki, are somewhat intrigued by this unusual guest, unsure as to how and why she ended up in such a state. What they did not expect, however, was the turn of events her appearance would inevitably cause.

Originally posted by RealWoman77

————

Set Pre-Thor 1

Pairing: Loki x child OFC (platonic)

Inspired by this imagine

Warnings: Language, violence, assault, harassment.

Word Count: 4,191

Previous Chapter     Next Chapter

Playlist: “(-_-)” — Adebisi Shank, “Beetle” — Run River North, “Magic” — Coldplay

————

A/N: Also available on AO3  and FanFiction.net.

“You can’t be serious?”

The Warriors Three and Lady Sif wore the most befuddled of expressions, while Thor was stupidly grinning in delight.

“Oh, but I am!” he answered, plucked a fourteen year old Ellie from atop his shoulders, and set her down on the ground.

Loki sat nearby in the training yard, sharpening his daggers as Thor rambled on to his friends, Ellie’s little hand enclasped in his massive one.

“You want to teach the mortal how to fight?” Sif queried, totally baffled.

“Self defence,” Thor corrected. “But yes.”

Fandral gave him a look. “And why is that?”

“She is very tiny and mortal too. Loki and I know that some do not like that she is on Asgard, so it is merely a precaution. Thus I came up with the exceptional plan to train her and you, my most loyal friends, will assist me!”

“We will?” Volstagg deadpanned.

“You will!”

Fandral nearly guffawed. “Why not get the Trickster to do it?”

“He’s helping,” Thor stated bluntly and Loki sent them a particularly menacing grin.

The four of them stared back at him as Volstagg cleared his throat awkwardly. “Oh, no…”

“My friends, if you must know, my brother and I have been on edge since Frey and Freyja’s comments at the banquet. We would rather teach her some of these skills as a safety measure.”

“Do you think they will act on their comments?”

“Perhaps you should refrain from talking about Ellie as though she is not there,” Loki said dryly, glancing up from his weapons.

Fandral clapped his hands and looked down at the girl. “Alright then… Are you, err, ready to learn how to defend yourself?”

Ellie merely nodded. “Sure.”

“Excellent!” Thor cheered and set his plan in motion.

“Just no snakes this time,” Hogun grunted, giving Ellie the stink eye.

“No tricks,” Loki agreed. “I promise.”

Loki stayed as close to Ellie as he could without getting in the way, making sure that the Warriors Three and Sif did the job properly. While Thor seemed eager to have her swinging around massive claymores, Loki advised that she first learn how to evade attacks, with which Sif quickly agreed. To the passing Einherjar, it was a comical sight to behold — great burly warriors chasing around and trying to grab a slight girl who was doing her best to run rings around them. At first, she seemed uncomfortable with the practice, but once Loki reminded her of the familiar Frost Giant and Hero game, she calmed and listened to all of their instructions.

The lessons took place in-between handmaiden and princely duties, but seemed to be quite successful. The princes would make sure that the yard would be privately reserved to them so that no one would interrupt their sessions. Although Thor’s friends remained ever sceptical of the “Little Trickster”, they settled into their roles as mentors relatively easily. Perhaps now they could get a better understanding of why the Odinsons were so fond of her.

“Little one,” Thor announced one day as they were beginning. “It is time you chose a weapon.”

“You think I’m ready for that?” she replied, clearly intimidated as Thor pulled a massive axe from a weapon rack.

“Oh, I do!”

“Not a chance,” Sif said, pointing to the axe in his hands. “She is not going to be wielding that.”

Thor groaned, the very definition of a petulant child. “But Siiiiiiiiiif…”

“She will use something lighter,” she continued on, ignoring his outburst. She quickly grabbed a dagger, a quiver of arrows, and a bow from the rack. “She clearly takes after Loki, so let us work with that.”

Fandral let out a dramatic groan. “Ugh, now there’s two of them…”

“How terrible,” Loki said with a roll of the eyes.

“You will show her how to wield a dagger,” Sif ordered, addressing Loki. “And I will get her started with the bow. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great!” Ellie agreed with a great big smile as Sif helped strap the quiver to her back.

“Let’s get to work!” Thor declared, Mjölnir in hand.

Loki was sure that the Warriors Three and Sif were just delighted to spend their time teaching a Midgardian how to spar. Sif seemed to be the least bothered by it, although she was probably just happy to do it at Thor’s suggestion. The God of Thunder seemed more than happy to have Ellie in the training yard, finally showing her the things that he loved  to do.

Much like seiðr training, progress was slow, but the young girl was more than happy to do as her superiors instructed. Although they seemed less than happy with Loki’s presence, one which he made sure to be as overbearing as possible, he stood on the sidelines for every lesson. He had never taught someone how to fight, but he simply used the same formula as before by using the techniques his mother taught him. While Thor usually acted as the antagonist in their training, he found the whole thing to be ‘great fun indeed’. As long as none of them said anything disrespectful to Ellie, Loki remained calm and collected in their company.

* * *

As was per Asgard’s tradition, workers were paid monthly. Pay day was also considered an off day, so all workers usually went to the local markets to spend their wages as they wished. This month, Loki finished his duties early in the day and decided to go down to the market to browse the stalls. He went alone considering his personal hand servant, Radburn, was off duty.

Once he had collected his horse from the stables, he took his time riding to the markets. Usually his trips were most pleasant because no one disturbed him. It did irritate him ever so slightly that some people found him so unapproachable, but it also meant that he could peruse the stalls in the market place without being bothered by others. Sometimes, in the more expensive section of the market, he managed to find books or trinkets that grabbed his attention, or even fabrics that could be used in garments made by his tailors. Although he was fully aware he could get these items for free within the palace, he never saw the harm in giving someone decent pay when he had the gold to spend. It wasn’t like he was going to use it for anything else… It was also useful when it came to finding gifts for his mother, who was quite fond of the some of the more unusual novelties or foreign jewellery you could find there. He would also be lying if he said he didn’t get a kick out of seeing people stare as he made the rounds.

Having dismounted his horse upon spotting some interesting leather-bound books, he spent a short amount of time speaking with the stall’s owner about what she had available to buy.

“Have you received any new Midgardian fiction?” he asked, eyeing the display. “Preferably fantasy?”

“Midgardian fantasy, Your Highness?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“There is one book,” she answered politely, seemingly delighted to have a prince willing to buy from her. As she spoke, she rummaged under her stall. “Apparently it’s selling quite well down there. It’s an old book, but it’s popularity has resurged again. Where did I—? Ah! Here it is.”

Loki watched as she lifted a large black tome on to the stall. It was massive — he guessed at least a thousand pages — and landed with a severe thump when she put it down. On its cover was one large gold ring surround by three smaller rings. Within the centre was a gleaming red eye. Alas, it did not have a name on it.

“What is it?” he asked, perplexed as he picked it up.

“I can’t recall,” she admitted. “I think it had something to do with rings, Your Highness. You must understand, we do not have many people asking about Midgardian books…”

“It is alright,” he hushed her, noticing her hands twitching nervously. “I understand.” Without another word, he opened the front cover and began to read the description written on the inside:

‘This special 50th anniversary hardback edition of J.R.R. Tolkien's classic masterpiece includes…”’Yes, yes, but what is it about? “… a sequel to Tolkien's 1937 fantasy novel ‘The Hobbit’…’ Oh!”

“I’ll take it,” he said without hesitation, reaching to his leather pouch for gold.

The vender seemed delighted that he was taking it off her hands and when she said the asking price, he doubled it without so much as a second thought, then thanked her, and placed the book carefully into his carrying bag on the horse. He proceeded to lead the animal by the reins as he strolled through more nearby stalls that were bustling with customers.

“Prince Loki?”

He looked up at the sound of his name and turned to see the culprit.

“Hi,” Ellie greeted him with a wave, her own carrying bag tossed over her shoulder as she approached him.

“Hello, little one,” he replied with a small smile.

“What brings you to the markets today?” she asked curiously. “I don’t think I’ve seen you down here before.”

“Sometimes I do show my face among the common people,” he joked. “I came to purchase goods; same as you, I presume?”

“Yeah, I got some new clothes and stuff! And I got some ingredients because Fen and Sevda want’a teach me how to bake.”

Only then did Loki notice the two women standing either side of the girl. Fen and Sevda were two of his mother’s longest serving handmaidens who had taken Ellie under their metaphorical wing. It was due to Frigga’s request, but it was no surprise that they were happy to comply, considering they both had young children of their own. It made sense that they would be willing to help the child adjust to life in Asgard. Loki had known them for centuries.

“Afternoon, ladies,” he greeted them with a slight incline of the head.

After greeting him formally in unison, Sevda asked him. “How do you fair today, Prince Loki?”

“Splendid, thank you. It is always nice to take a break from the duties that bore me.”

“Ah yes,” Fen drawled. “Being a prince is so very hard…”

“It is far harder than you could ever comprehend, Fen!”

Sevda let out a chuckle. “Oh, please! Your duties just consist of playing tricks on Prince Thor. Why not spend your day plotting against him?”

“Perhaps he deserves a day off every now and then.”

“I have known you both since you were children and you have never given him a break. You think he deserves one?”

He paused, then shook his head and smirked. “No, he definitely doesn’t.”

Sevda shook her head, but he knew that she enjoyed the talks they had. “Shopping for something in particular today, Your Highness?”

He shook his head. “Not particularly, Sevda. I am mostly here to see if anything catches my eye.”

“Did you find anythin’?” Ellie piped up.

“I did find an interesting looking book or two…”

“No way! What is it? Anythin’ I know?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps you might know—”

“Here, you! Mortal! Get out of our realm!”

Loki whipped his head around at the sound of shouting. He immediately spotted two men on the other side of the market, staring daggers in his direction. Suddenly, he realised that they weren’t looking at him; their eyes were firmly fixed on Ellie.

The burly, bald-headed one resembled a rabid animal as he continued yelling. “You’re not welcome here, mortal!”

Sevda and Fen immediately stood closer to the girl, sending the two bulls looks that could kill.

“Do you know them, Ellie?” Fen asked.

She shook her head and tried to ignore them. “No, I don’t, I swear.”

“What a pair of cretins,” Sevda spat through gritted teeth. “Mouthing off at a child.”

Fen threw all decorum out the window and shouted back. “Shut you mouth, you fat oaf!”

While the other man kept his mouth wisely shut, Bald-head spat on the ground and refused to stop. “Fuck off, and take that mortal bitch with you!”

At this point, a crowd had formed to watch the insults rolling back and forth. They stared and chattered, most likely putting all the signs together to figure out who was being battered with insults and why.

The sight of Ellie trying to make herself a smaller target to the hateful spew made Loki see red. “Both of you, not another word! Or, by Odin, I will cut your tongues from your mouths myself!”

Having been chastised by the younger prince, both men were quick to heed his words and stop with their harassment. They turned red from what was probably a combination of rage and embarrassment.

Glaring at them once more, Loki turned his attention back to the Midgardian. “Ignore their words. They are fools and I will not let them hurt you.”

No one had a chance to react as the tomato struck Ellie’s cheek with a harsh smack.

She screamed in surprise. The crowd gasped.

“Prince’s whore!”

It splattered on contact, covering all of them in its red pulp. Loki’s eyes blew wide as he hastily wiped it off his cheek and looked down at her. Her whole face was covered in red, both from the damned tomato and the impact of the strike. She looked like a cornered animal, eyes wide and blinking rapidly. Sevda and Fen both stood in shock. When Loki set his eyes on Bald-head — the clearly guilty suspect — he never wanted to wring someone’s neck so much in his life.

He swiftly turned on his heals to do just that when a hand reached around his cloak and grabbed his dagger from its sheath. Surprised, he gaped down and saw Ellie up on her feet, dagger in hand, her eyes focused on the men with utter hatred. Before she could sprint off, he grabbed her in his arms and held her back as she fought him.

“Ellie, no!” he implored her. “Stop!”

“Let me go!” she screeched, her knuckles white with the dagger in her grip.

Fen wisely grabbed her arm to help restrain her. “If you hurt them you will be charged with assault, foolish girl! They are not worth it!”

“You will let me handle this!” Loki growled, passing her off to the two women and taking his weapon back. “You will not ruin your life for this filth!”

Ellie’s body deflated as she stopped fighting, the watery tomato sliding off her face in the struggle. Sevda was carefully wiping it off with the edge of her sleeve as Fen removed it from her flaxen hair — neither woman was concerned with what had hit them; only for the poor girl. The two men looked delighted until they realised Loki had started for them. Before they could run, he knocked them backwards with a powerful blast of energy — it sent the nearby tomato cart flying — and stalked after their fallen figures. Before Baldy could get up, he delivered a precise kick directly to his fat head. Blood spattered his robes and the cobbled road below.

“You would dare to assault a handmaiden of the Allmother?” Loki roared and spat on the man’s oozing head. “She is a child. I would kill you and your friend myself, but I would rather see what the Allmother has in store for you both, you scum.”

The other man dared not move as Loki approached; he simply stared at the gaping wound in the tomato-thrower’s forehead. The Trickster did not hesitate to grab him by the neck and haul him to his feet as Einherjar quickly descended on the small market. Upon seeing the Prince strangling a man with his bare hands, they openly stared at him.

“Prince Loki?” the commanding officer addressed him. “What has happened here?”

“They have assaulted and harassed a handmaiden to the Queen,” he growled and tossed the gasping fiend to the ground, hard. “Bring them to my mother before I kill them, as I would take great pleasure in it! Tell her I will be with her shortly to further explain what occurred.”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

Both assailants were quickly grabbed by the guards and they marched back towards the palace from whence they came. The other guards quickly dispersed the spectators after some insistent crowd control. Loki quickly made his way back to the three handmaidens  and his horse when the men were out of sight.

“Sevda, return to the palace with Ellie and remain with her in your quarters until my mother arrives. The Einherjar will keep you safe. Fen, you will come with me back to the palace and we will inform her of what just happened.”

“Yes, My Prince.”

“But, Loki…” Ellie sniffled and grabbed on to his free hand. “Please don’t leave.”

His brow furrowed at the sudden contact, but when he met her red-rimmed eyes, he squeezed her hand reassuringly. “You will be safe with Sevda. I will not be long, but I must speak with my mother.”

“But—”

“I will be gone but for a little while. I will return.”

“You promise?” she asked and held up her other hand with all digits but her smallest finger clenched into a fist. It was an odd Midgardian gesture, one which apparently meant you were making an unbreakable promise with the person whose finger you clutched with your own. He didn’t understand the logic or reasoning behind it, but he looped his finger with hers.

“I promise.”

With that, Ellie released her hold on his finger as Sevda quickly led her away with a thankful nod towards Loki. Two guards went with them and stayed nearby in case anyone else got involved. The prince quickly guided Fen to his horse and mounted the animal once she was up too. Together they rode to the palace to find the Queen.

* * *

“An assault on the a handmaiden to the Allmother is an assault on the Allmother herself.”

That evening, Odin’s voice was the only thing booming through the throne room. The attacker and his accomplice — who Loki found out were called Bjorn and Elof — were on their knees before the seated King, hands cuffed securely with thick chains. The Allmother remained incredibly controlled while Fen and Loki stood to the side, glaring and observing the exchange.

“I have heard enough from the countless witnesses, my son included, to make a decision. Considering your hate speech and violent actions, Bjorn, — which I also consider to be directed towards the Allmother — you will be imprisoned within the dungeons below until I see you fit to leave before you are old and frail. Your imprisonment starts at dusk tomorrow. Elof, you will be fined and placed under house arrest for an amount of time to be chosen at a later date. Guards, remove them from my sight. Looking at them through my one good eye is too much to stomach.”

Loki blanched. Beside him, Fen wore the same expression.

Assaults on personal staff of the royal family usually carried far heavier sentences. It wasn’t uncommon to see heads flying or life imprisonment being settled on when the crimes occurred. He had thought that such a sentence would be chosen — that’s why he kept them both alive, for fuck sake! — but now they would both walk free eventually.

“That is an unusually… kind sentence,” Fen whispered with a hint of malice.

“I agree,” was his mumbled response, still eying his father in bewilderment. Once the guards hauled the prisoners from the room, Loki was daring enough to approach the throne. “Father? Why have they received such a light sentence?”

“Light sentence, my son?” Odin replied.

“They assaulted and harassed a handmaiden to the Allmother.”

“And I chose a punishment that I saw fit.”

With a glance towards his mother, Loki frown. “Father, I have seen many prisoners sent to the chopping block for such a crime.”

“Then I will explain my reasoning to you,” he offered and stood up with Gungnir in hand. “As a future king, you must learn from the current one, yes?”

“Fen?” Frigga called her handmaiden. “Would you escort me to see Ellie?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Left alone with his father in the throne room, Loki waited anxiously for Odin to begin explaining why he had made such a decision.

“I know that you are aware of the opinions of some people within this realm, Loki. You know that these people do not welcome mortals here at all. Bjorn and Elof are two such people, it just so happens that Bjorn is far more vocal about it. Daring to assault any member of our personal staff is a bold, and incredibly stupid, move. But I do not think that sentencing two men to death for throwing fruit at a mortal is a wise decision. They both have families as well, even despite their violent tendencies. It could very well cause backlash among our people — one that could, in turn, cause attacks against her and possibly other staff to grow in severity. Their punishment is one which should silence their hate, but also not incite anymore of it. Do you understand?”

Loki’s brow creased with conflicted thoughts. Part of him — a very prominent part of him — wanted those mens’ heads on a pike. Families or no, he didn’t particularly care. They hurt a child. They called her a whore. She was defenceless. Her only crime was existing, and this is the punishment she received.

But the last thing he wanted was for Ellie to receive more of these punishments. If giving those men a milder sentence would result in her safety, then he would try to put aside the hate he felt for them and replace it with the affection he felt for her.

“Yes, Father,” he answered with the most neutral expression he could muster.

“Good, I am glad. Do not worry any more over this incident.”

“Of course, Father. Am I dismissed?”

Odin eyed his son for a brief moment before he nodded. It took Loki most of self-control to not briskly walk from the throne room and slam the doors behind him.

* * *

Unable to sleep, Loki found himself sitting in his usual chair in the library with an open book in his lap. The words remained unread as he played the events of the day through his mind over and over. He had gone to see Ellie and his mother as he so promised — after all, he did do that unusual Midgardian finger-loop thing… He had not attempted to go near the handmaiden quarters since, having just briefly stuck his head in to check on her. Afterwards, he locked himself in his rooms until the sun had gone down. He only left to collect his dinner from the kitchens — leftover stew and bread from the night before — considering the cooks also had the day off. In the middle of the night when most people had gone to sleep, he wandered the halls and wound up here. He had expected to be alone.

The doors opening and Ellie rushing inside was certainly not expected.

“Ellie?”

Her big eyes met his immediately. “Loki! I did it!”

“You did what?” he asked, leaning forward in his seat. For a brief moment, he considered the possibility that she had somehow murdered Bjorn and Elof without anyone noticing.

“The flower!” she cheered, her voice echoing through the library. “I did it!”

She held her open palms out to him and, sure enough, Loki saw a very small clematis flower within them, small tendrils of a ruby red energy surrounding it and gliding through the air. His jaw dropped. He had not expected this tonight. She gently placed it on the nearby table and both of them stared in disbelief and delight as it remained solid and alive.

Pride swelled within him as he looked at the little thing. He had never been so delighted to feel magical energy from an object before. He felt the grin pulling at his lips as he turned his attention from the flower to her. “You did it, little one, as I knew you would.”

Just as he was not prepared for her to burst into the library at all hours, he was not prepared for her to leap into his chair and fling her arms around him. She nearly knocked the wind out of him — she did literally knock the book from his lap — but her lithe arms circled around his neck and hugged him with all the might her frame possessed.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he flailed his arms for the briefest of moments before he recalled how her whole body shook when those threats were hurled at her; threats for simply existing and living on Asgard…

Loki slowly released the breath he had been holding and wound his arms tightly around her. He promised that he would never let anyone hurt Ellie so long as he lived.

“Well done, little one. You did it.”

[itsyouraveragebooklover]

Family

A/N: Hello everyone! I’m back with another mini story for you all! I hope you all enjoy this Nessian drabble I thought up after being inspired by countless fanarts. This was a fun one to write and hopefully everything flows smoothly. As always the characters do not belong to me. But without further ado, let the story begin~

Laughter echoed throughout the room tediously bouncing off walls and furniture. The sound rang in her ears, loud enough to break her stream of consciousness. However, she didn't mind for the sound was comforting and pure. It almost possessed the power to brighten a night sky or crack smiles for even those who have not an ounce of happiness within their hearts. It was something worth remembering.

The same laughter rumbled from outside her room within the corridor. Out of curiosity, Nesta listened to the chuckle grow in volume. It soon reached its apex in volume as the sound quickly passed the entrance to the room she currently occupied and down the hall growing fainter and fainter by the second.

A rustling of wings and pounding of feet joined in with the boisterous noise swiftly gliding passed her room as well. Taking a quick peek her eyes only caught a pair of large wings and fighting leathers race off in the direction of the giggling.

After a moment the cabin quieted enough for Nesta to retain her focus and return to the novel laying deserted upon her lap. She sank into the plush cushion enjoying the softness of the material and propped her book up into a comfortable position.

This week she picked up a book detailing the past policies and overall history of previous High Lords within the Summer Court. Over the years Nesta took it upon herself to learn everything she could possibly learn about each of the seven courts.

When negotiating and discussing policies the High Lords take her as emissary more seriously. It also helps immensely during negotiations once she teases them about revealing certain secrets which were meant to remain buried.

Slowly she flipped through the pages studying records and letters until a faint sound of laughter returned from the direction it disappeared from. Once again with each tick of the clock, the giggling grew closer as well as what sounded like labored breaths?

She shook her head of the distraction and returned to reading until a body flew past her chair straight into an unoccupied closet. The figure was so fast it caught her heightened senses off guard. Not all the training in the world could have prepared her for someone who snuck up so quickly behind her.

Her storm grey eyes peeked towards the closet. There was a small crack between the doors since they weren't fully closed. With closer inspection, she spotted a blue eye appear and glance between her and the door. The blue was bright and charming as well as the rim of purple surrounding it.

Nesta raised an eyebrow towards the curious soul lingering within the wardrobe and would have spoken if it not for the shuffling outside the room.

"Nesta," a voice spoke out soon appearing at the door.

With a moment to inhale she glaced towards the mysterious figure hiding away, then replied, "How can I help you?" Once the words rolled off her tongue she turned to face the owner behind the voice.

It was no surprise to find Rhysand for she distinguished his voice the second he opened his mouth. Along with him stood Azriel. They were both at the doorway, hands on knees and chests puffing in and out rapidly no matter how much they tried to hide it. Their long intakes of breath told her enough of what she needed to know.

“Have you seen him anywhere?” Rhysand laughed out with a huff as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

Nesta surveyed the two men, glancing back and forth with calculating eyes. Once she took in all she wanted to see she twisted back into her sofa and opened the book, dust floating into the air around it.

“No. Last time I heard, you two chased him down the hall and that was it,” she spoke, no hint of the playful bluff laced within her words. To no surprise, Rhysand didn't believe her for a minute.

���And what direction might that be?” Rhysand countered with a bluff of his own.

“Run down to the right, and straight into the kitchen. You know better than anyone how much he loves to eat,” she spoke with a wave of her hand.

Rhysand and Azriel merely glanced to one another. They lingered for a moment longer than turned to sprint down the hall towards the kitchen pretending as if they were in a hurry.

She listened closely waiting for footsteps to emerge but none came. Waiting a few moments longer she finally deemed it safe to walk about the room without another ambush. Nesta straightened her back and crawled out of the chair, leaving the warmth behind. She placed the book on the wooden table nearby and lifted off the cushion.

“It’s safe to come out,” Nesta whispered loud enough for only the boy to hear. She sensed him hesitate and heart rate quicken fearing she would expose him to his seekers. But then a pair of small hands grasped the doors and pushed them aside careful not to make a sound.

With each sway, Nesta spotted the black and blue shaggy hair first. It was ruffled, unlike its usual combed look. Then the pointed ears came into view next as well as the boy’s golden skin. Each time Nesta lays eyes on him he looks more and more like Rhysand.

“Aunt Nesta!” The child screamed out throwing his tiny arms around her neck. It was at times like these where she was thankful for her improved reflexes. In one swift movement, she caught him carefully, aware of the developing wings sprouting out from behind.

The embrace was warm and soothed an ache within her chest that happened to linger after a recent meeting between the High Lords.

"Are you hiding from your father again?” She questioned enjoying the feeling of his small sausage fingers touching her cheeks.

With another laugh, the boy chuckled laying his head on her shoulder, “Sure am. Papa, Uncle Azriel, Uncle Cassian, and Aunt Mor haven't caught me yet!” He chuckled mischievously, a hand over his mouth.

“Think again,” a chorus of voices chanted in the background behind Nesta. Chills radiated up and down her skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. With a glance over her shoulder, she saw Rhysand and the rest of the Inner Circle stand within the doorway. Each of them held an evil glint within their eyes that almost made her feel bad for the boy and his winning streak. Almost.

The child squealed in joy and stretched his wings out ready to fly. Nesta merely unhooked her arms around him and let him drift down to the floor. He quickly broke into a sprint around the room purposely running to the back to get the Inner Circle from blocking his only exit.

His plan miraculously worked. He saw an opening and took it. The boy was out the door running off to who knew where next with everyone hot on his tail.

“Shit! He’s so fast!” Mor mumbled leaping out the door. Rhysand and everyone else joined her evident on capturing him. Their shouts and stomps died off with time until silence washed over the west side of the cabin. It almost felt empty now without the welcomed ruckus, not that she would ever admit that.

Nesta’s grey eyes lingered towards the doorway, a hand clutched to her chest. A slight pain flickered deep inside as she stood there deep within her thoughts.

With sadness, the boy reminded her of a childhood she never had the chance to experience. A childhood where she could have been chased around a garden, her parents, and sisters hot on her trail squealing with joy. A childhood filled without fear and the hope to survive long enough to see the next sunrise. A childhood where she wished she wouldn't have suppressed emotions and closed herself off to those who cared most.

But then looking back at the boy he reminded her of happiness and uncontrollable laughter. A happy childhood filled with people who love and cherish him to no end including herself.

A small smile formed on her lips at the thought.

"I have a feeling he likes you more than the rest of us," a voice spoke out.

Nesta's heart quicken at Cassian's appearance. These Illyrian males would give her a heart attack from all the sneaking around. They were infamous for their stealth and she still hasn’t gotten used to it. 

"I doubt that," she turned to face him, arms crossed. "Amren is clearly his favorite."

Cassian huffed a laugh advancing towards Nesta with no more than two steps. "Maybe, but he's clearly your favorite amongst the Inner Circle."

Nesta felt the heat rise to her cheeks and playfully swatted his chest. "That might be true but you're still my favorite too," she whispered looking up at him with thick lashes.

Cassian leaned his forehead against Nesta's while wrapping his arms protectively around her frame. "I'm honored sweetheart."

The feeling of his breath tickling her cheek made her legs sway. She smiled and opened her eyes to look up at him, "Cassian, I wouldn't mind starting a family of our own."

She felt his breath catch. The reaction caused her to quickly glance down towards her feet, avoiding his gaze. 

"Really?" He questioned his tone unclear.

Nesta's stomach dropped but immediately settled once his palms lightly lifted her head to look at him. This wasn't like her, she hated feeling vulnerable, but she also knew how much she trusted him. Cassian would never upset her or do her any harm.

Once her gaze was lifted up she saw the single most beautiful smile ever made by him. The corners of his mouth couldn't have gone up any higher. The white of his teeth and canines couldn’t have shined any brighter.

"I would love to start a family." A genuine and strong statement. One he'd been wanting to say for years.

Her hand wrapped around his which was still pressed upon her cheek and whispered, "I'm scared."

Cassian rubbed his thumb against her soft skin and gazed into those mesmerizing eyes he constantly found himself getting lost into. "I'm scared too. But we'll figure it out together... as we always do."

[marjaystuff]

Sally Cabot Gunning interview by Elise Cooper

Monticello by Sally Cabot Gunning is a fascinating historical novel about the relationship between one of America’s Founding Fathers’ Thomas Jefferson and his eldest daughter Martha. Because the author based this book on actual correspondence between father and daughter it is immersed in reality. Readers see the struggle throughout their life with family, relationships, and issues of the day, including being a good wife, a good mother, honoring her father, and shaping his legacy. His greatest accomplishments included authoring the Declaration of Independence, founder of the University of Virginia, and an advocate for religious freedom as well as an end to slavery. The author explores the complicated life of both father and daughter.

Also a character in the book is Monticello. This home played a significant role in their lives, the family's beloved Virginia plantation among lush mountains.  It was a place where Jefferson escaped his political worries and thrived, while Martha sought security, as it became her haven. This soul of the family was also its Achilles heel. It became a necessary evil where they needed to have slaves to manage the plantation. Through Jefferson and his daughter’s life readers will get a glimpse of the complex era.

Elise Cooper:  How did you get the idea for the story?

Sally Cabot Gunning: In doing research for my previous book, Benjamin Franklin’s Bastard, I found this letter written by Martha to her father when she was fourteen.  It read, ‘I wish with all my soul that the poor Negroes were all freed.  It grieves my heart when I think that these, our fellow creatures should be treated so terribly as they are by many of our country men.’  I knew I had to learn more about her and the relationship with her father.  As his oldest daughter she was much more involved in Jefferson’s life and with their property at Monticello than I ever could have imagined. I hope readers love this novel as much as I loved writing it.

EC:  What research did you do?

SCG: I poured through her letters to her father and his to her and realized that she and I had embarked on a similar mission, to figure out her father. I read all the letters they wrote each other, letters to other people, and numerous biographies.  I searched through endless Jefferson documents online. I learned that as Martha matured she came to spend many evenings at her father’s dinner table in the company of Europe’s greatest men of arts, letters, politics, and science, enhancing her education still further.  I took many trips to Monticello and discovered something new with each trip, not just about the people who lived there, black and white, but also about the significance Monticello held for them.

EC:  How would you describe Martha?

SCG:  She looked more like her father and was tall at 5 feet 11 inches.  Martha was energetic and feisty.  She and her sister were told by their father that they were the most important people in his life.  I don’t think she lived in a secure world having lost her mother when she was young, a father who was here, there, and everywhere, and a marriage that was unstable. I think Jefferson might have favored her because why else would he write long letters to his other daughter saying Martha was not the darling of his eyes, almost defending himself.

EC:  How did she view her father?

SCG: I read letters where she wrote her father that no one would be more important to her than he. She put her father on a pedestal that no one else could live up to.  She always wanted to earn his respect. Her emotional and financial security was her father.

EC:  What about her education?

SCG:  She was one of the most highly educated women of her time.  The point of her education was for her to converse intelligently, teach her children, and to be a good companion.  Most women did not receive that type of education, and I think Jefferson saw in her an intellect that should be nurtured.  According to what I read she was fascinating to listen to and was a draw, someone cultivated, even by Presidents.

EC:  Why did she marry Tom Randolph?

SCG: Her decision to marry Tom Randolph was done impulsively, on the rebound, and turned out to be a bad one.  William Short, Thomas Jefferson’s advisor when he was the Minister to France, wanted her to stay but she was persuaded by her father to return to America with him.  He was very good at talking people into things. After her return she married someone who wallowed in self-pity. Both Jefferson and she went to great lengths to convince Randolph that he was not in the shadow of her famous father, had equal sway as the other son-in-law, and was beloved.  The phrase in the book written by Jefferson is true, ‘I hold you with greater esteem than you hold for yourself.’ Yet, he turned to alcoholism, forcing Martha to take her children and live at Monticello.

EC:  When I heard you describe Martha and Thomas Jefferson’s feelings for Monticello I thought of how Scarlett O’Hara felt about Tara from the Gone With The Wind story?

SCG:  It definitely was a character in the book.  The place itself became so significant in their lives, especially if you think what they did to preserve it.  They were hell bent on holding on to it.  It was their sanctuary. She actually moved back during her troubled marriage.  Also, after Jefferson died, when it was being sold, the family appealed to William Short to influence Martha to not be present.

EC: Monticello was also their Achilles heel?

SCG:  It explained many things including slavery, the relationship with each other, and the extreme debt of Jefferson.  This is just my observation, but I believe had he not inherited slaves from his father and an enormous debt from his father-in-law he would not have been a slave owner.  I also think had he not been in such financial trouble he would have freed his slaves after he died.  Although he thought slavery was wrong, it became a necessary evil, a way to manage the plantation.

EC:  I think in understanding Jefferson we need to understand the times and not have tunnel vision?

SCG: Yes.  A single slave was worth $500.  The banks allowed him to keep taking money because he had this ‘valuable commodity.’  Plantation owners were land rich and cash poor. They did not know how to get out from under this vile system.  I think that he as a slave owner and his slaves were both victimized by slavery.  Many people call him a hypocrite. But until someone learns about the conditions of the day, what was going on, and his beliefs, they should not be making this statement.  They need to get the whole paragraph and not the headline.  

EC: This book quote shows how both were conflicted over the issue of slavery: “He caused intentional harm to no living creature; that he’d done what he could to ease the plight of those in his care; that he was trapped, as they all were, in a vile system that could not be righted in this life.”  Please explain.

SCG:  At the beginning of the book I have this quote by Jefferson at the end of his life, ‘on the subject of emancipation I have ceased to think because [it is] not to be a work of my day.’ He did what he could to end it, but was stifled by others and the law.  While in France, he had decided to set up tenant farming for those of his slaves who he felt were ready to take on the responsibility.  He also believed legislation was needed to do away with slavery in its entirety. In 1769 he had someone file an emancipation bill because he was only a junior legislator.  He had an elder respected legislator put it forth, but it was instantly tabled and not put up for a vote.  He wrote this into the first draft of the Declaration of Independence, calling slavery ‘a cruel war against human nature itself,’ but others in the Congress had it deleted.  He also said, ‘There is no G-d that would side with us in this conflict.’

EC:  There is no good slave owner, but with that said how did he treat his slaves?

SCG:  He had a paternalistic view of the master/slave relationship with the feeling he needed to care and feed them.  He did free five slaves after his death because he knew they could support themselves.  He never beat his slaves, and when they went to him with a complaint about the overseers he always sided with the slaves. Remember George Washington gets credit for freeing his slaves, but he did it only after he died when he did not need them anymore.  Also, Washington did not free any of the slaves owned by his wife.

EC:  Let’s talk about Sally Hemings, the slave Thomas Jefferson had a relationship with.  What is your take?

SCG:  When she was fourteen she accompanied Jefferson, the American envoy to France, to take care of his youngest daughter Maria.  She could have remained free if she stayed in France. She did agree to return to America with Jefferson.  I do think she had some agency in it although not total agency. She could have remained free if she stayed in France so she did have some decision making power. Hemings negotiated freedom for her children and privileges: their children would be set free once they reached 21, and Hemings would never again do the work of the other enslaved women at Monticello. An African-American historian who I greatly respect truly believes there was some feeling between the pair.  I do not think he physically forced himself upon her; yet, we have to emphasize that if a person owns another person there is the question of mutual consent.  

EC:  How did Martha feel about the relationship?

SCG:  She resented Sally.  For example, Sally or Thomas named the child they had together James Madison, and shortly thereafter Martha named her next child by the same name. Martha’s son Jeff stated after she died that his mother had a difficult time with the Sally situation.  She made a concerted effort to keep Sally out of her father’s story.  

EC:  Is your next book going to be about another Founding Father?

SCG:  I am leaning to getting back to writing about early 1800s New England.

THANK YOU!

[slaves-bought-and-sold]

Time To Work

Eventually Sunday morning came and it was time to get to work. Once again I thought about leaving Tiffany's obedience chip in, but decided against it. I had something she needed, which was enough of an advantage to get everything I wanted from her. My harem was guaranteed.

As she was knelt between my legs, giving me head on the couch, I reached down to the back of her neck and took the tiny chip out. Minutes later she came too, and stopped to look up at me.

"Finish", I commanded her. She sucked me for several more minutes until I finally came, cum spurting all over her face.

"Good boy", she said smiling up at me with those playful eyes. "I hope you had a lot of fun, Master. There will be plenty more of that, but now it's time to get down to business", she said licking my penis clean.

I stood up and zipped my pants.

"I have some software I can use to analyze the chips components, see what we're dealing with. But, I'm going to need you to order some necessary materials in order to get this job done."

I set about giving her the list of things I would need and she began placing orders, while I began decoding the chip with various softwares. It took the entire day to decode. The girls made use of their mouths here and there when I needed a little break and relaxation.

I worked and worked into the wee hours of the morning. The girls had long past fallen asleep. I had finally finished 3:30 in the morning, and crawled into bed, snuggling up next to the girls.

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

I was awoken to a knock at the door. The other girls seemed not to stir. I threw on a robe and answered the door. I was surprised to find it was Danielle.

"I've come to visit and give you pleasure, Master", she said, entering the door. I sat in the couch and made her dance for me. Then I made her suck me off. Tiffany entered the room as I had Danielle bent over with her panties around her ankles, my cock reaming her tight pussy.

"That can wait, Justin. She must be here for business", Tiffany said, taking Danielle's chip out.

Danielle came to after several minutes.

She began mumbling a little due to the side effects of gaining her consciousness and surroundings. Then she began speaking coherently. "Tiffany was sent hear to make sure you could be trusted. She has confirmed to me that it seems you can."

"I wish you no harm, in fact, I'd like to help you", I confided. "Tiffany gave me the plan. I've begun work on the chip. It seems there are two main components working indepeyof each other, the obedience program, which overrides your neural senses. And then there's the network, which allows access to to information on every slave within that chip network, even information on owners and their accounts. I understand some slaves even have the ability to communicate with eachother."

"Yes", Danielle said, I believe this is a flaw that found it's way into many early versions of the chip. As far as I know Tiffany, myself, and a few other girls are the only ones to have discovered it. So, I'm glad you plan to help us. Do not double cross us, or you will be sorry", she said with a stern gaze.

"I want to help you free the slaves. I promise you I am a kind hearted person. I know it's wrong. This is just what society came to. Women became accepting of it, and that's really where the problem is. It should have never became accepted. I have a heart, but I've been a very lonely person my entire life, and deprived of companionship with women. I can't help but crave the company of women. It's nothing against you all, but I will ask for sex in return for helping you."

"You'll get your sex. Sex was never the problem. It's the violence that goes along with it. The violent slave owners who beat their slaves. They leave their mark upon us, we can never forget the beatings and rapes."

"Bearings and rapes", I questioned.

"Yes. When the chip is in. We retain no recollection of events. Anything could be done with us, and we'd never remember. But, so many slave owners take the chips out, and once it's out we begin retaining memories again. That's when they beat us and Rape us, when they know we will remember it. The thing about the chip, once it's put in, any memory of the previous hour or two is totally forgotten. It varies from girl to girl. Some have lost memory of up to five hours before the chip had been reinstalled, but in average it's between 1 and 2 hours. When the masters Black our eyes and brutally beat us and intentionally leave the chip out for hours afterwards, we tend to remember those events. We've developed deep hatred for them. And just to think, we later Dance For these men like puppets, and suck their cocks and let them fuck us once our chips are reinstalled. It's enough to make you wish for their murder."

"That's harsh. I'm so sorry to hear that. I had no idea."

"It's common practice. All slaves get beat", said Danielle. "The sooner you help us begin freeing the slaves from their captors the better."

"Where do we start. Like I said, I've just started work, but if you think I'm going to have something ready soon, I hate to break it to you. It could and probably will be months", I told her.

"I understand. I'm not expecting miracles. Continue working on the chip, but in the mean time there are other ways that you can help us. We have missions for you that won't require your chip. We can atleast begin getting slaves in to safe places."

"I have a question. If you can purchase girls, why don't you purchase them and just free them that way", I asked Danielle.

"I can provide payment for slaves, but a man is needed to purchase and sign for his slaves. That's how the previous owner knows it's a legitimate transaction."

"Then you can start purchasing slaves for me now, and I can sign for them."

"Well, yes. But, we will also need a safe place for them. This apartment is too small and it's in a dangerous city for slaves. We are going to have to move you to another headquarters, one that will have enough room to house slaves comfortably. Also, it's not enough just to purchase them. A slave could never just be released. For instance if we just unchipped them and then released them, they would just be captured by another buyer and owned and rechipped. If we release them with their chip, they have no free will, they will still be owned by you and unable to live their lives the way they see fit. That is why we need you to help us develop a chip that will broadcast to other buyers that she is owned by you, but also the chip must override the obedience program."

"I understand. So how much money do you have to work with, if we're going to be changing residence and buying all these slaves?", I asked Danielle.

"We have lots of assets tied up in various stocks, but overall we have come up with roughly $32million, which is a good start. We have our eye on some properties in Miami, Florida. A gated community where the girls can be safe. There is also potential to by more property within the community as we earn. We will need to set you up there and purchase you some more slaves so that you appear to be a legit slave master, this will help us to procure more girls. How do you feel about Florida?"

"Florida sounds great. Just tell me what to do."

In the next few days I'll have the realtor contact you to begin setting up the deal."

[allyinthekeyofx]

Genesis - Chapters 17 & 18

I am so sorry for the delay between chapters. Work has been crazy and coupled with season 11 news my brain farted and I forgot all about this.  If it weren’t for @scully-loves-ruthie giving me a nudge today I probably would have kept forgetting lol

Previous Chapters

1 & 2  //  3 & 4  //  5 & 6 //  7 & 8  //  9 & 10  //  11 & 12  //  13 & 14  //  15 & 16  //

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

San Diego, CA. 3:05 p.m.

Mulder had no clear idea as to what he was going to do from here. He had slipped out of the hospital unnoticed after discovering an escape route in the form of the wrought iron fire ladder attached to his bathroom window. He had removed his clothes in a crumpled tangle from the locker beside his bed. They smelled pretty bad but, Mulder reasoned, it was preferable to making the climb down the fire escape in a hospital gown with his bare ass hanging out for the world to see.

He had expected the descent to be pretty easy and so he was shocked to find it a rather unpleasant experience. Hindered as he was by his still weakened state, he had almost fallen several times. He felt light headed and disorientated, nausea and vertigo competing each other as the ground seemed to undulate beneath him in sickening waves. He was aware that what he was doing was bordering on insanity. He could see Scully with that expression she tended to get when she caught him doing something crazy. It was an expression she wore a lot – a kind of half frown. One perfect eyebrow arched, questioning, despairing of him and his latest crazy escapade. He could almost hear her voice inside his head.

You’re going to kill yourself one of these days Mulder.

And the echo of her concern spurred him on.

Besides, Mulder considered ruefully, if he didn’t kill himself there was a good chance Skinner might when he eventually caught up with him. Skinner had no time for renegades. Especially renegades who put their lives at risk. And deep down he knew that his superior had been right. He was in no shape to be doing this.

The ladder ended around 10 feet from the ground and Mulder had no other option but to suspend himself from the bottom rung, trying to elongate his body to lessen the impact when he let go and fell to the ground.

But he had lost his hold prematurely and didn’t have chance to prepare himself for the fall. A few feet that normally wouldn’t have fazed him, now seemed to take forever until suddenly the ground rushed up to meet him. Despite trying to stay on his feet, he felt his knees give way as he pitched forwards on to the asphalt below.

He remained where he was for a couple of minutes, desperately trying to regain his equilibrium as his vision suddenly blurred sickeningly. He knew that if he got up too quickly he would no doubt black out. But if he stayed too long, there was a good chance that a concerned passerby would see him and raise the alarm.

Slowly, shakily Mulder got to his feet, swallowing heavily to prevent himself throwing up. He took a couple of steps forward, relieved to find his legs seemed to be cooperating at least for the moment. His gait was unsteady though and he was all too aware that he must look every bit as dishevelled as he felt.

Gotta stop with the daytime drinking G-Man

The corners of his mouth twitched in a rueful smirk and he realised with gratitude that at least his sense of humour remained intact. Scully would probably disagree.

Scully.

Mulder began to walk. He didn’t take much notice of the direction. He just needed to put space between himself and the hospital. He’d figure the rest out later.

XXXX

Mulder squinted against the bright sunshine that reflected back at him from the pavement and he wished fervently he had a pair of sunglasses with him. His head was splitting again. Each step he took sending bolts of pure agony through his battered body. He found he was dripping with sweat, his breathing laboured. His suit jacket seemed to suddenly feel like it weighed a hundred pounds, adding to his exhaustion but he didn’t dare take it off even for a few minutes.

He had been more than a little surprised earlier to discover that his gun was still in its leather holster, tangled up with his clothes in the hospital locker.

He could only wonder at how such an immense breach in hospital policy had occurred because under normal circumstances, any weapon would be immediately tagged, logged and safely removed to be stored in a secure area until such time as it could be returned to its rightful owner. He had never known this procedure to not be followed. Hospitals tended to take a dim view of their patients running around the corridors waving guns about and so they ensured that, regardless of rank or file, any such weapon was swiftly removed from harms way.

But right now, he wasn’t much bothered about the how and why. Someone, it didn’t matter who, had made a monumental cock-up, but cock-up or not, Mulder would willingly take it because the presence of the weapon afforded him at least one advantage in an otherwise impossible situation and he felt somewhat reassured by its presence, however incongruous it might be.

The fact that the clip was less than half full was less reassuring and the spare clips he had brought to San Diego with him were still safely ensconced within the walls of the E-Z 8 motel where he had left them before making the trip to Wickham's apartment.

He had considered going back there to retrieve them, but had shelved the notion almost immediately as he realised that, if what Skinner said was true, then a full blown murder inquiry would be in place there and he couldn't risk the possibility of being seen by the hoards of cops who would no doubt be trawling through the grounds in their pursuit of evidence.

To be seen there would be calamitous, and he had enough sense to realise that until he figured this thing out his best course of action was to remain invisible; to disappear in to the woodwork so to speak.

His memories of events preceding his collapse at Wickham’s apartment were sketchy at best, the details hazy and incomplete. But his instincts screamed to him that his recent illness and Scullys disappearance were connected somehow. He just had to figure out what that connection might be, knowing that once the connection was made, everything else would fall in to place.

He walked aimlessly, not having any clear idea as to where he was heading, turning what scant recollections he did have over and over in his mind, trying to find some kind of correlation between them.

But there was nothing.

He came up with nothing that would shed any light on why Scully had been taken.

Or by whom.

What had happened at the motel that night to make her leave the room, unprotected and vulnerable in her position?

Scully wasn’t stupid. She was one of the most capable, by-the-book Agents he had ever worked with. Unlike him, Scully always considered unnecessary risk taking to be, well, unnecessary. And if there was one thing Mulder was certain of, it was that she must have, initially at least, gone willingly. But after that?

Mulder shook his head.

Where are you Scully? Speak to me.

He rounded a corner and found himself standing across from a small patch of park land, a welcome oasis in the middle of the concrete jungle. The wooden benches that surrounded it suddenly looked more than a little inviting to him.

He needed to sit for a while, if only to appraise in more detail his current situation and his aching body silently thanked him as he lowered himself on to one of the seats.

Five minutes later he began to wish that he hadn't bothered, because in doing so he just confirmed to himself what he already knew. Rummaging through his pockets he had realised how high the odds against him were stacked, because aside from his weapon, his FBI credentials and his cell phone he was pretty much running on empty. His wallet contained a couple of crumpled fives. Change from the twenty he had used to buy breakfast for him and Scully just the morning before.

Jesus, has it really been only a day?

He had his Bureau issue credit card but using that would be like holding up a large sign with the words 'Here I am' painted on it in red block lettering. The rest of the cards in his wallet were maxed out and he’d left his ATM card in the back pocket of his jeans.

He had no transport, no protection, no support and no where to begin. Add to that the B ball game being played out inside his skull, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done the right thing. Dropping his aching head in his hands, Mulder suddenly wished, more than anything else in the world, that Scully was with him.

But then again, if she were here, he wouldn’t be.

He would be warmly tucked up in a comfortable bed having his every medical whim tended to by professionals. And more than that, his partner would be with him. Keeping a cool eye on him and those caring for him. She would be horrified if she could see him now.

I need help . I can’t do this alone.

He shook his head and mentally considered who he could call upon. The two most obvious choices on his ‘go-to’ list were no longer an option.

I’m sorry, the allies you are trying to reach are unavailable right now....

Wickham? Maybe.....

No

Mulder discounted him immediately. He couldn’t really say why. Just a vague feeling of unease that prickled down his spine every time he thought about his old Academy buddy.

And that, pretty much exhausted his list.

Unless.......

Mulder blinked. He was so stupid.

Mulder you dumb fuck.

He slowly withdrew his cel from his inside pocket, frowning when he saw the single illuminated bar on the tiny battery symbol. Great. Even his phone was giving up on him. He tapped his finger against the side of the phone absent-mindedly, weighing up the pros and cons of involving them in a situation that he suspected might very quickly start to spiral out of control.

He knew that they would drop everything to help him. They had done it plenty of times before. But just because he could, didn’t mean he should.

Scully. I have to do it for Scully.

Mulder hit the speed dial.

XXXX

11:01 p.m.

"What took you so long?"

Mulder was quite unable to prevent the snippy tone in his voice. He had been waiting in the lobby of the Airport for hours. He was exhausted, he felt like shit and even worse, was painfully, conscious of the hours ticking by whilst all the time he did nothing to try to find his missing partner.

He also knew he was directing his frustration at the wrong person. He shrugged in apology.

“Sorry Fro. I’m not feeling my best right now.”

Frohike though waved the apology away, shocked by just how bad Mulder looked.

Put aside the obvious fever he was running, the sweat beading his pallid skin and collecting at the collar of the crumpled shirt – although that was bad enough. But what really struck Frohike was the look in Mulder’s eyes. They looked dead. Devoid of emotion. And he realised that his old friend was just about hanging on by a fingertip.

He also realised that the best thing he could do for Mulder right now, was to get things moving again. He held up a small leather sports bag.

"One change of clothes, wash bag, phone charger, keys to a Ford Taurus rental parked outside and . . ."

He reached inside his jacket, withdrawing a manila envelope.

"Five hundred in cash."

Mulder took the envelope from him gratefully and stuffed it in to his own jacket.

"Thanks, Frohike. I owe you."

Frohike coughed uncomfortably.

"Um, actually you don't. I took a little side trip to your ATM back in D.C. and withdrew the money from your account. Langly hacked in to your bank's mainframe and made some adjustments."

Mulder frowned

"What kind of adjustments?"

Frohike held up a library membership card and handed it to Mulder who turned it over in his hand.

"What's this?"

"Um, it's your new ATM card. Keep it somewhere safe."

Despite himself, Mulder couldn't help but grin. It felt good.

Frohike shrugged apologetically.

"Desperate measures and cash flow problems, y'know?"

Mulder slotted the card in to his wallet and glanced around the lobby. Frohike answered the question before he had a chance to ask it.

"Byers had to make a stop. He'll meet us at the motel."

Mulder nodded.

"And Langly?"

"Still safely located back at home base in case we need to call on his talents."

He looked past Mulder, eyes narrowing as they locked on to a group of men dressed in near identical attire.

Mulder tagged them immediately as middle income business men, probably on their way to some kind of convention. But it was clear from the way Frohike suddenly brought his hand up to shield his face that he didn’t share Mulders view.

To Frohike, a suit meant only one thing - Government - and Mulder smiled slightly as he recalled Scully's accurate conjecture that Frohike and Co. were the most paranoid men she had ever met, even more so than Mulder, which was certainly going some.

He cuffed the smaller man lightly on the arm.

"C'mon Frohike. We've got work to do. Save the paranoia for later. Believe me you're going to need it."

XXXXXXX

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

At around the time that Mulder was smiling at Frohike’s evident paranoia, someone much closer to him was battling some serious emotional misgivings of her own.

Ensconced safety within the boundaries of her hospital room, Dana Scully lay staring up at the ceiling above her, battling to hold on to some semblance of sanity as she replayed the events of the last few hours over and over in her mind.

Since awakening, it had seemed as though a constant stream of doctors and FBI agents had surrounded her, asking her questions she didn't know how to answer. She had not seen Wickham all afternoon, despite her frequent requests, and it seemed that no one had any wish to tell her any of the details she desperately needed to hear without him being present.

She had spent the afternoon battling to remember in more detail just how she had got here and the events leading up to it, and although the memories were there, the structure of them just didn't track somehow. She could remember clearly confronting Mulder as she held the child in her arms and his face as he insisted she hand her over to him. It had also become clear to her that the child had not in fact been Emily, but the terrified form of Charlotte Stevens who they had tracked down to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of San Diego. She could remember clearly her conversation with Mulder as they drove to the location. In fact she could remember every word of it, as though it were a stage play she had seen as an observer rather than a performer.

She could remember feeling mild pangs of unease at Mulder's insistence that they did not need to enlist the support of other agents before entering the building. But she could not remember actually entering or how exactly they had known that this was the place or that the child would be there.

She recalled talking to Christine Stevens at the motel and of removing her from the care of the sanatorium, of her partner's mild illness, and of his conversation with Wickham regarding those same actions.

What she couldn't reconcile in her mind were the gaps in those memories when some segments were so clear to her. For example, she had no recollection of the interval between Mulder's conversation back at the motel and of getting in to the car to go find the warehouse. It was all a complete blank, and the more she tried to remember, the more she ended up at a brick wall, frustrated to the point of tears.

She had not wanted to believe that it was Mulder who had put her here, but Wickham's words, her injury, the notes on her chart that she had requested to view and not least her own memories had made the fact just about irrefutable. The real question, she admitted, was not that he had done this to her, but why?

It was something she suspected only Wickham could answer, but his long absence was not helping the situation. Nor was the fact that no one seemed to be able to give her any kind of assurance as to his return, only that he had intended coming back to see her later.

Scully sighed and shifted her head slightly on the pillow, attempting to get comfortable and to ease the pain in her neck that her doctor's training told her was a direct result of laying in the same position for so long. She wished she could turn over, but the nature of her injury dictated that to do so would be both foolhardy and dangerous. The powerful pain relief that was being fed in to her via a canular in her arm had dulled the pain somewhat and Scully had no wish to allow it to flare up again.

The substance was probably a morphine based drug, and although she had attempted to read the typed wording that adorned the clear bag above her, she had been unable to, arriving at her conclusion based mostly on how drowsy she felt. She had drifted off for periods of sleep throughout the day, welcoming the oblivion, however brief, from her current situation, only to awaken with ever sharper memories of what Mulder had done to her, becoming wide awake once more as the sense of betrayal sharpened.

Why?

Such a tiny word. How could such a tiny word cause so much pain?

Scully sighed heavily as her eyes began to close against the tears that threatened to return.

Why did you do this to me Mulder?

And despite herself, she slept.

X

If Scully had been aware of the presence of the two men viewing her on the TV monitors from a room just a few feet away, sleep might not have arrived quite so easily.

They had remained in their positions throughout the day, although Wickham had left for brief periods of time to check in with the office so as not to give rise to any suspicions regarding his absence.

He had also been mildly alarmed to hear from Skinner that Mulder was missing from the hospital; although he had been slightly mollified to be told by his companion that Mulder's leaving the hospital was not only expected, but integral to the continued success of their scheme

He turned to face the Smoking Man who was regarding the sleeping form of Dana Scully closely.

"So what now?"

The Smoking man merely smiled softly.

"We wait Agent Wickham."

"Wait? For what exactly?"

Wickham was aware that his voice was shaking slightly, but all this waiting around was playing on his already shattered nerves, and he had no wish to draw out the process for longer than was absolutely necessary.

For a few seconds though, his question remained unanswered and the silence stretched uncomfortably between them. Finally though, The Smoking Man inclined his head toward the screen.

"Agent Scully has spent the afternoon playing events over in her mind. Events that have been suggested to her without her knowledge and which she now believes to be absolutely accurate. But the process cannot be rushed. Information must be suggested to her over time, information which she will come to regard as her own memories of what happened to her and why she was betrayed so utterly by the one man in this life she truly believes in........perhaps even loves. To expedite the process would be disastrous for all concerned, inasmuch as Agent Scully must believe without question. Too much information would effectively induce her to not be able to differentiate between the truth and the lies. She would begin to question her own memory and with it her recollections of true events,"

He smirked,

"and we wouldn't want that to happen would we, Agent Wickham?"

The unspoken threat was unmistakable and Wickham felt himself pale slightly, as the implications of the words became clear.

The Smoking Man, however, didn't seem to notice.

"So," he continued, "I believe we should let Agent Scully enjoy the quietude she so desperately needs to help her recover from her recent ordeal. And then, when she awakens once more, you will be there to answer some of her questions. You will be her friend. Her only friend, now that Mulder is gone."

CONTINUED CHAPTER NINETEEN

[nydiasimmonds4-blog]

Quit Property On Your Oversights.

In my 13 years as a Rhode Island Kid Wardship Legal representative, I have actually found several daddies and also mothers create inane and stupid choices in the course of the training course of Rhode Island Little one Custody Process. For technical summations, a gathering might be able to allocate the contract on these reasons gave that the various other celebration does not aim to capitalize on the error, or 'take up' the promotion (involving a deal that one performed not want to earn, betrayed by an inaccuracy in math etc.). This will certainly be found through an unbiased specification, or even if a reasonable person will have the capacity to recognize that the mistake would certainly not make sense to among the parties. Although every person miscalculates now and again, satisfy do certainly not take too lightly the value of right sentence structure. You made the blunder simply considering that you located yourself in a posture in which your judgment about a field was being actually tested and also you were actually encountering the annoying position from needing to acknowledge that you mistook. Massage therapy blunders feature errors in pressure, or not signing in along with the client about his/her comfort. But when I make the same blunder twice (as well as I acknowledge, this occurs often in comparison to I 'd as if), that's when I am definitely challenging on myself. Yet due to the fact that, in practice, no person is foolproof, it is actually regularly required to reposition previous celebrations in order to show that this or that error was actually certainly not made, or even that this or even that fictional triumph in fact happened. Mechanics are actually not mind visitors neither perform they automatically understand what mistakes with your vehicle even if you inform all of them that the examination motor lighting is on. One more typical vehicle repair shop mistake cars and truck owners make is dismissing the insight from the auto mechanic. P.S. Blunder # 6: If you possess no wall structure messages on your page this suggests there is actually no socializing on this earth (profile). Recorded under the operating title The Storage, nobody anticipated the film till an unpredicted trailer came by January. Do certainly not allow that you have created a handful of errors to cease you coming from aiming to deal with the relationship. Our company merely have one opportunity to reveal our little ones the determination as well as style required to allow all of them to pick up from the mistakes that our experts have actually all made. In this write-up you are going to explore a number of typical errors produced when people read through body movement. A typical blunder helped make is the use of the inappropriate pads or footwears for a car. All that has is for one mistake to happen and every thing you have actually worked thus tough to complete might be reduced in the blink of an eye. If they could make oversights along the means, the one trait they all possess in typical is the willingness to take a danger even. Off file masking, using redaction device systems and also redaction program as well as lawful redaction, listed here are actually several of the overall blunders people produce. As well as most of us do. Maybe we make the exact same oversight three opportunities, yet hopefully certainly not 4 or 5. Upcoming opportunity you feel that you've slipped up, just smile as well as be happy that you only created a big deposit right into you experience profile. This is actually much easier in a discovering culture in comparison to in a performance-focused culture, where blunders are actually typically watched more severely. Lots of folks create the blunder from certainly not getting the pre-approved loans prior to looking for properties. The most ideal technique to prevent feeling like you created the incorrect choice or missed out on a great possibility is to earn sure you are entering the method with a strict clutch what that suggests to end up being a property owner. Some of one of the most typical vehicle garage oversights vehicle proprietors create is cannot offer adequate details concerning the issue. Right now you recognize just what they were actually performing to your internet site if you have been actually committing any of the above pointed out blunders as well as were actually naive about their influence. However, several individuals make a series of errors when it comes to installing this kind as well as buying of home windows as well as several of these mistakes are additionally listed here. This will certainly inform the healthcare facility or even surgical operation to the process in question as well as they will certainly have the capacity to guarantee that the exact same errors to certainly not occur again. They attempted this, discovered just what will make that better the next opportunity, made the enhancements and always kept practicing. Syntactic errors provide an extremely bad impact as well as that does certainly not matter if you are actually coming from a technological background or otherwise. The essential factor in my perspective is not to pin the blame for an error on a person, yet somewhat to learn what led to the oversight. When you make a mistake you may use the Sedona Approach in order to help you discharge the negative mental charge that follows making a mistake. They try to participate in the prey job, wish to appear best, as well as completely refuse any participation in making the mistake. The ones that never found out or accepted their faux never ever produced this right into the business realm and certainly never made a difference in their own lifestyle, or the realm. Some of the absolute most typical credit score oversight is actually co-signing on a lending for loved ones members that do not pay there costs. They said to the headlines site that the exact operation for taking care of such a mistake was unidentified considering that such mistakes had never ever been actually made in the Oscars' 88-year past. Do not trump on your own up. Go back to the primary step where you assess the error. This suggests visiting the individual who was actually impacted by my oversight as well as having it. It likewise indicates, where necessary, owning the oversight openly also. If you cherished this article and you simply would like to obtain more info concerning yellow pages uk wiki (http://trzaskzfitnessem11.pl/hydroface/) generously visit the page. Due to the law of attraction, our company are going to make the very same blunder over and over once more, till the consequences harmed a great deal that our team carry out learn from it! Don't repetitive the very same error two times; make certain to certainly not only gain from your mistakes yet carry out methods and possess discussions with your crew to guarantee they don't occur once more. If you haven't brought in any sort of mistakes for some time, you might certainly not be offering your own self chances to run the risk of, to learn, or even to increase. Writers, Bloggers, Podcasters & Artists: Assisting you not simply develop & nourish a committed reader, however how to leverage your blunders so you transform them into your biggest endorsers yet. Self-Care: Typical massage therapy blunders specialists make are actually that they perform certainly not take care of on their own as high as they should. Blunder # 7 - Settling your case ahead of time, or showing up also excited to resolve your claim very soon. The 5th blunder business create is to certainly never think about generating a graphic and identity for their business. Nevertheless, the professional and mature trait to carry out is to own up and confess to your supervisor or even manager that it was you that created the oversight. BLUNDER 3: Replicate or even unoptimised material- Many material farms exist on the internet that use articles on various topics that have actually been replicated off various other resources. Equipments that spot a wrong activity or component can be made use of to oversight proof a process. About the Writer: Mike Clover is actually the owner from is among one of the most distinct on the internet information free of cost credit rating files, World wide web identity burglary software application, safe credit cards, and also a BlOG along with a wealth of personal credit scores relevant information. Kids who worry consequence or even the loss from love in response to their errors discover how to hide their blunders. Papas can either choose that aid to generate kids that are defensive and that exist to them ... or even they may make choices that aid to develop little ones that can easily pick up from their mistakes as well as improve upon them. That is actually most definitely terrifying to consider the horror tales of the victims from identity burglary. Quickly you'll entice yourself that you are actually consistently creating oversights, when the truth is that you're merely experiencing the exact same blunders on a continual manner. Then our errors are certainly not oversights whatsoever, but become stepping-stones to liberation. Probably you will like some new points of view about mistakes: Oversights are actually reasonable as well as legit: You could say there's no such trait as errors, but our team are all fairly made use of to that term. For this oversight I merely chose to have the mistakes corrected, as well as a new report generated, so that potential duplicates of the book will be correct.

[royalnovels-blog]

MGA Chapter 2019

Chapter 2019 – Plan Success After it was decided, Nangong Longjian and the others set off for the four powers on the same day. As for the Weaponry Refinement Immortal and the others, they began to prepare the materials needed to set up the grand defensive formation. Furthermore, due to the fact that Chu Feng had just assimilated the Five Elements Secret Skills and was the main force in setting up the defensive spirit formation, the Weaponry Refinement Immortal and the others did not wish for Chu Feng to become too exhausted. Thus, they decided to take the task of gathering the materials needed entirely upon themselves. At that moment, Chu Feng was finally able to enjoy some leisure time. He turned his awareness into his world spirit space and looked to the still-sleeping Eggy. Then, Chu Feng smiled a relieved smile and turned to leave. “It would seem that the harvest this time around is destined to be large,” After Chu Feng cast his awareness back into his body, the smile on his face grew wider. The enormous power of those five elemental energies had destroyed Chu Feng’s territory completely. It was not Chu Feng who had willed that to happen. Rather, it was caused by the Five Elements Secret Skills. Although Chu Feng had obtained a new understanding of the usage of the Five Elements Secret Skills after they were all assimilated into him, Chu Feng’s cultivation had not increased. Thus, that frightening energy that caused the destruction of his territory was indeed caused by the Five Elements Secret Skills. Indirectly, it demonstrated the frightening power of the Five Elements Secret Skills. Merely, Chu Feng had yet to completely grasp their strength. However, one thing worthy of mention was that, although the five elemental energies were so frightening and had destroyed Chu Feng’s entire territory, they did not harm Eggy. Instead, they brought Eggy into Chu Feng’s body. That was truly miraculous and unbelievable. After all, Chu Feng’s world spirit gate needed to open for Eggy to enter his world spirit space. Logically, this should be impossible for anyone other than Chu Feng to accomplish. However, the energies that the Five Elements Secret Skills turned into had managed to accomplish it. Furthermore, they had brought Eggy into Chu Feng’s world spirit space while wreaking destruction all over. It was as if they were deliberately protecting Eggy. It was precisely because of all of this that Chu Feng felt that the Five Elements Secret Skills themselves were an enormous treasure. The reason for that was because they contained immeasurable power. However, if the five symbols were gathered, he would be able to open another treasure. In other words, Chu Feng would obtain two treasures. That was why Chu Feng felt that he had profited enormously this time around. After the materials were gathered, Chu Feng began to set up that spirit formation capable of defending against attacks from peak Martial Emperors together with the Weaponry Refinement Immortal and the others. That grand formation was too complicated. Even though Chu Feng and the other Dragon Mark Royal-cloak World Spiritists were working together to set it up, they still took quite some time to set it up. ………. Time shuttled past. In a flash, two months had passed. At that moment, a shocking scene appeared in a forbidden area of the Heavenly Law Palace. Not only was the Heavenly Law Palace’s Palace Master in this forbidden area, the Mortal King Palace’s Palace Master was also here. However, at that moment, those two peak experts of humanity were half kneeling on the ground in a petty and low manner. Before them stood three individuals. The person to the left was the World Devastator Immortal. The person to the right was that mysterious woman. As for the person in the middle, he was the man that possessed the same Inherited Bloodline as Chu Feng… the Dark Hall’s Hall Master. “Lord Hall Master, we are incompetent. We have failed in our attack on the Cyanwood Mountain. We have failed to kill Chu Feng. Lord Hall Master, please bestow us our punishment,” The two Palace Masters seemed to have already consulted with one another as to what to say, as the two of them were both saying the same words. “If you all had managed to successfully raze the Cyanwood Mountain to the ground, my plan would have failed,” The Dark Hall’s Hall Master started to laugh from behind his mask. Hearing those words, the two Palace Masters’ bodies started to shiver. Then, their expressions changed greatly. It was as if they had just suffered an enormous injury. However, in the end, they restrained their emotions and asked servilely, “Lord Hall Master, this subordinate does not understand what you mean.” “It’s fine if you two do not understand. However, do not ask about it,” The Dark Hall’s Hall Master said. “But…” At that moment, the two Palace Masters’ expressions grew more and more ugly. After all, the two of them had suffered disastrous losses from attacking the Cyanwood Mountain. “Rest assured. In the future, I will return everything you have lost to the Cyanwood Mountain twofold,” The Dark Hall’s Hall Master said. “Lord Hall Master, I have another request,” The Heavenly Law Palace’s Palace Master said. “Speak,” The Dark Hall’s Hall Master said. “That Chu Feng, would you mind leaving him to me? I wish to personally kill him,” The Heavenly Law Palace’s Palace Master said in a very fierce manner. He truly loathed Chu Feng to the bones. Even in his dreams, he would dream about killing Chu Feng. “I’m afraid that will not be possible. His life belongs to me. Only I am allowed to kill him,” The Dark Hall’s Hall Master said. “……” Hearing those words, the Heavenly Law Palace’s Palace Master took a glance at the Mortal King Palace’s Palace Master. They were both at a loss as to what to say. They were truly confused. Since the Dark Hall’s Hall Master did not wish to kill Chu Feng, why did he have them attack the Cyanwood Mountain? With that, wouldn’t it mean that he had wasted his military strength in vain? “If there’s nothing else, the two of you can withdraw,” The Dark Hall’s Hall Master waved his sleeve. At that moment, the expressions of the two Palace Masters did not improve. After all, they were grand characters. Yet, they were being toyed around with by someone, round and round. As such, the two of them felt extremely unreconciled. “Did you not hear what I just said?” Seeing that the two Palace Masters were still here, the Dark Hall’s Hall Master’s voice sounded once again. Merely, this time around, there was a faint coldness in his voice. At that moment, the bodies of the two Palace Masters shivered once more. Being stimulated by the coldness they felt, the two of them recalled how powerful this Dark Hall’s Hall Master before them was. Thus, the two of them bowed to the Dark Hall’s Hall Master while kneeling and then got up, “Lord Hall Master, Milord, Milady, we shall take our leave.” After the two Palace Masters left, the World Devastator Immortal’s womanly voice sounded, “Lord Hall Master, I have received a secret letter.” Then, he handed a letter to the Dark Hall’s Hall Master. The Dark Hall’s Hall Master opened the letter. There was not a single word written on it. However, he was not flustered by that. Instead, he began to form a spirit formation. As the spirit formation enveloped the letter, a strand of gaseous substance flowed out from the letter and entered his mask. “Hahahaha…” The very next moment, the Dark Hall’s Hall Master suddenly stood up from his seat and started to laugh. It was a resounding laughter that echoed throughout the vast palace hall that they were in. At that moment, the mysterious woman remained completely composed. There was not a single trace of change to her expression. However, the World Devastator Immortal looked to the Dark Hall’s Hall Master with a shocked expression, seemingly as if he wanted to know what the contents of the letter were. After his wild laughter, the Dark Hall’s Hall Master said, “Chu Feng, oh Chu Feng, as expected of a person from the Outer World. You have surpassed my expectations, and given me a pleasant surprise.” “Lord Hall Master, could it be… it’s a success?” The World Devastator Immortal asked. “Mn, Chu Feng had successfully assimilated the Five Elements Secret Skills. Our plan is a success.” “Not long from now, we will be able to know exactly what the treasure hidden in the Five Elements Secret Skills is,” said the Dark Hall’s Hall Master with a nod. Even though he was wearing a mask, his joy could still be felt. “Chu Feng is actually that surprisingly valiant?” Hearing those words, the World Devastator Immortal revealed an ugly expression. His own son was killed by Chu Feng. Thus, he detested Chu Feng to the bones. Yet, Chu Feng had actually managed to assimilate the Five Elements Secret Skills. To him, this was not good news at all. The reason for that was because he knew very well that this Lord Hall Master before him had attempted to assimilate the Five Elements Secret Skills too. For that, he had even killed the previous owners of the Gold Immortal Profound Technique, the Wood Immortal Profound Technique and the Earth Immortal Profound Technique. 1 Although the Dark Hall’s Hall Master succeeded in assimilating two of the secret skills, his body was unable to contain a third secret skill. However, in the heart of the World Devastator Immortal, the Dark Hall’s Hall Master was an existence akin to a god. Yet, Chu Feng had accomplished what was impossible for even the Dark Hall’s Hall Master. This caused the World Devastator Immortal to feel extremely uneasy. After all, after encountering Chu Feng several times, he now had a whole new level of respect for Chu Feng. He feared that Chu Feng would surpass him sooner or later if this were to continue. At that time, not only would he not be able to kill Chu Feng, he would instead be killed by Chu Feng. Previous          Main menu           Next Click to Post

[thisiswarfmp]

Artist Research - Polaris-Rose

1. Gals:   One of my all time favourite pieces of art by Polaris-Rose, these head shot busts are the perfect combination of lineart and painting and they each portray the personality of each character perfectly, as well as representing their ethnic backgrounds in a mature and realistic way. The first character is simplistic, and the style of having no shading on the hair whilst having shading on the body is one I rarely have seen but really do enjoy the look of. It also has a fantasy feel to it, as though her hair is ethereal; but whether or not the artist intended this remains to be unseen. The second head shot is similar, once again having a mixture of both line art and painting styles, however this one's hair has been shaded. This takes away that previous ethereal feel to them and roots them into reality. The third and final piece shows a war-torn heroine, this time with even more detail than the last. She has more intricate shading, more texture with her hair and skin, and her personality shows through rather than the pin-up feel to the other two. I overall love the colours used, the backgrounds creating such a contrast to the humans that are presented on them, even the hair colours compared to the skin tones create such a delicate feel to them. I wish to practise the painting/lineart mix for my own work, as I feel as though it may be a fun thing to try.   2. Me Me Big Boy:   This has to be one the cutest pieces of art I have come across during this project, and one that I love for more reasons than it being a cat. Polaris' style brings this kitty to life, showing how they are spoiled with the amount of food they get by adding a slight chubby ness to them, as well as using facial expressions such as the side-eye look to convey the sense of insecurity and suspicion so that even if the information about the character wasn't on the reference sheet, you'd still get an idea about what kind of personality they have. Another thing I love about this character design is the simplicity and the inspiration of real-life cats such as Siamese and tabbies, whilst also adding in unnatural designs such as the upside down triangle on their forehead. Whilst you cannot get a back story from this piece, you can get a sense of what this character would do in specific situations. Overall, I love how they were able to use a cartoonish style to exaggerate the characteristic of a cat to create not only a humorous image, but also a relatable one for people who are fellow cat owners, for they can see their own cat in Nelson. This is something I'd want to add to my work; treatability to my character, even if it's just appearance wise.   3. Kiamara Auction and Flatsale:   Another example of a character designer trying a variety of different colours, styles, and designs in order to make characters rather than just sticking to one idea, but rather to be inspired by an idea and creating off of it. For these characters, Polaris-Rose had the idea of space in mind, and from that they created three different designs: Galaxy Afro, Space Explorer, and Alien Friend. These three designs, whilst all holding the theme of Space, are completely different design wise. I love how the Galaxy Afro takes themes of 60's Psychedelia and adds it to the theme of space and using the colours of a galaxy for their pelt. For the Space Explorer, I love how they are based off of the colours of the moon, the only other celestial body that humans have laid foot upon, having the worried expression of the unknown for even though humans are curious about what lay amongst the stars, we have always had a fear along side it. And lastly, the Alien Friend is the most interesting; brightly coloured and wide eyed, giving a sense of uncanny valley, with random feather placements to give it an odd look. This is due to the fact we have no idea what an alien may or may not look like and so we have this perception that aliens may be weird creatures that may look threatening but who may also be just as curious as us; and Polaris has captures that perfectly. Overall, I love how they have chosen to stick with a theme and then create designs based off of said theme, without sticking to a singular idea and not branching out of it.   4. I've Been Feeling Weird One of Polaris' vent-art pieces, this brings us more insight into the creator's own life and personality rather than the character that they've drawn's. In this headshot, Polaris has used what appears to be the marker tool with a different texture setting to make it look as though she has drawn them on paper, or on a textured surface. I love how she has decided to use a purple pen instead of a black one, as it really brightens up the piece as-well-as complements the blue/pink gradient. I also love how the techniques she has used has made it look as though she's drawn this piece in a watercolour marker or even painted it, even if it is but a sketch. Another thing I admire is how she's managed to capture the emotion of confusion and weirdness into a visual form; something not many are able to do due to the emotion being so complex to even explain let alone draw. I think overall, whilst this piece may have a sad origin, it's simple, it's sweet, and it captures the viewer's attention with both the colours and with the hope that the creator is okay.   5. Hello My Dear I had to include this piece in my artist research due to how creepy and unsettling they are, thus proving that a character does not need to be beautiful or approachable, but can be horrifying and make someone uneasy. When I look upon this character, I get the feeling of dread, as though I have done something wrong or that I am about to be hurt in one way or another. It simply screams run, danger. The unsettling, uncanny, cartoonish wide grin and dilated pupils give us the sense that this creature is not in the right state of mind, hell bent on whatever morals they may uphold. The bent and twisted, unnatural way the body contorts and bends sends shivers down my spine - I know something's not right with the anatomy and because it's been exaggerated it puts me on edge. Looking at this creature makes me feel as though I'm not safe, that it could literally jump out of my computer screen at any moment to harm me, and that's why I love the piece. Overall, I think this piece is a good example that characters don't always have to be the hero, or the one you're meant to fall in love with; they can be the ones you despise, pity, or in this case the one's who truly horrify you.   6. River:   Not only am I jealous of Polaris' ability to draw hands so well, this art piece leaves me in awe with the creativity and skill needed to come up with something like this. The first thing I like about this piece is the pink highlight on the blue body; it gives off a sci-fi feel to them, the colours fit in so well together, and, from what we have seen, they have been a favourite combination of Polaris'. Another part I love about this piece is how they've drawn the arms. Instead of simply connecting them to the body, they have sectioned off some parts of them, as if they're only partially there or that they have the ability to part some of their body from the rest. It's an interesting way of drawing and is very surreal, taking a piece which could have been an beautiful fullbody or bust and turning it into a beautiful, yet interestingly mind-baffling, one instead. Overall, I'd like to try this sort of surrealism with my pieces to see where it could take me, and what it may inspire. Original Links:  1. http://polaris-rose.deviantart.com/art/Gals-676921306  2. http://polaris-rose.deviantart.com/art/me-me-big-boy-670215759  3. http://polaris-rose.deviantart.com/art/Kiamara-auction-and-flatsale-1-open-604691341  4. http://polaris-rose.deviantart.com/art/ive-been-feeling-weird-668984335  5. http://polaris-rose.deviantart.com/art/hello-my-dear-608135510  6. http://polaris-rose.deviantart.com/art/River-593463980