#i mean i can but its not bery sustainable

[juuria]

first break at my minimum wage job guys!!!

[seeraplimau]

subs

Olla! As usual, I am wasting my time. I was scrolling over my youtube subs, and like damn I forgot these people exist. So this is a go through of list youtube channel I subs to;

Part 1: 'Educational'

I think I have grown to believe I could be a better person by watching shaitz. Since it's hard for me to get back to reading hence.

Adam Ragusea - his video not a obscure educational kind of video. He cooks! but he also rungkai-kan some science for reason why certain ingredients give this and that. Very interesting! He make a video about history of beer/cider something like that, and it very interesting. Idk i think the making of that involve a lot of food chemical, since alcohol itself is basic chemistry. So yeah. Kinda suck that this probably field that hard for me to get into lol.

Answer in Progress - very good! one of the host is very good at coding. I am very inspired to be like her lol. which ha ha...we'll see. I like when she make a programme to help her problem. which is very smart. like, we can do that??

AntsCanada - Ive been subscribe to this guy long time ago,,BUT varely concentrated in his video. think he's a very interesting guy, it just me. will find the time to understand. its like a documentary, but for ants. which sounds v kewl

Applied Science - the title say it all. honestly i just hope i watch them more lol

AsapScience - jarang tengok sudah, but i listen to their podcast often. interestinggg

Be Smart - lol same reason

Casually Explained - I forgot exactly why i subs to him

Climate Town - Sustainability kind of shitz! interesting

Curious Tangent - John Green recommend this to me. YES Specifically to ME. he whatsapp me one day, said, hey u, dila, watch this. haha joke, he rekomen kat video dia lah

Dad, how do I? - might be useful to me one day.....you know

Flavor Lab - they experiment with food! super interesting. wish im this smart.

Mental Floss

Philip DeFranco - news outlet. i can say i watch almost all his video since 2018-ish

sexplanation - AHHH she helps me a LOTT. kinda sad they have stop posting now. but i think their video is very evergreen for educational content

The Art Assignment - very interesting. she touch on the art history sometimes, which something very neww to me

Part 2: Leisure

Agung Hapsah - This GUY!! his video now like once in awhile. I guess he is bery busyy... which is GOOD!! But man I like his style of content. Just very beautiful and bonus point for his indo accent

Alex Ernst - He was very extreme in david dobrik's vlog. I dont think they talk anymore, which honestly i think thats good. or maybe they just dont show it to the internet. which make sense. his latest series was vlogmas lol. yeah sounds very simple, but he make a skit out of it. which is very good! the joke give 2012's kinda vibe. great one

Anna Akana - I think her content is very above young adult kind of video. very matured, might be very helpful once i turn 25 lol. I mean, I understand her point of view ad all, but man this is a lot of problem. I hope im dead lol

Arden Rose - Once in awhile kind of vlog content

Babish - I just...like watching people cook. and i like his style, also cute guy.

Bertie Gilbert - A vlog kind of style. I like it. also bonus point for english accent lol

brian david - He is the MEME guyy. but chiill one. i just like monotone kind of people lol

Drew Gooden - sort of same rzn with above guy lol

Evan Edinger - vlog kind of stuff. I can say I watch him quite regularly. helps that he post weekly on same day

Faline San - just love her

Fathia Izzati - also love her

jacksfilms - he have been posting so muchhh~~ which is good, but nak cari masa to finish it all grrr, make me left behind sometimes.

Nathan Zed - really love his passion and interest on pop culture, expecially music

Safiya Nygard

SNL - I didnt follow their vid, sometimes. usually i watch old one, the one got guy from Barry

vlogbrothers - well im just a fan doh

wheezywaiter - very interesting and i like how he make video with his family. i like his parents. i think i find out about him from anwar hadi. yes anwar also whasapp me and send me the link. lol joke he told everyone on his podcast.

thats itt

[emmaekay]

Kotonari V - Train, Part Two

Read on AO3, if you’re into that. 

AN: So, if you’ve been following my side rants, you know that while I was working on this segment of the chapter, I wrote myself into a corner because I changed a plot point significantly. I had an outline, I had a planned story... and then it changed. What that means is that I have to reoutline the rest of the story, so part three of this chapter might take a little longer than usual. Comments and reblogs, especially questions are really helpful, so please feel free to ask anything - it will actually help me unfuck this story. Without further ado:

Train - Part Two

The Dark Prince snarled to himself, furious that his assault on the castle had failed so miserably. After seeing those reinforcements arrive, the darkness inside Vegeta knew the whole operation was a bust – but how? How had the castle guard assembled the Crown’s Battalion so quickly? Why had the King been on top of the castle? Why did he have those two, Nappa and Daiku, with him?

From all the memories that the malevolent force had stolen from Vegeta, it knew that the King should have been asleep. It knew that the King did not associate with Nappa. It knew that Daiku was, essentially, a celebrity brawler. Why this motley crew?

And most of all, The Dark Prince wondered: who was the purple haired boy who lead those elite Saiyans into battle?

He trudged along the ground, having extinguished his ki to disappear into the blackness created by the stormy night. So far, he had not been followed. The Dark Prince walked and walked, seeking answers in Prince Vegeta’s memory about The Boy who screamed his name.

Vegeta.

Fuck you. Get out of my head. Get out of my body.

Vegeta.

Fuck you.

Vegeta.

Fuck you.

Vegeta.

Fuck you.

Miles passed under the Prince’s feet as the darkness that drove him argued with his soul mired in the miasma. This, they had done before. The miasma, that malevolent intelligence spreading from an asteroid as it hurtled through the galaxy – engendering hate, fear, death and discord wherever it passed – it knew Vegeta well. It had wormed its way into his soul for years, but never had it been so thoroughly rebuked than when that woman came.

That woman.

That woman almost ruined everything. The brightness of her light forcing out all the shadows in Vegeta’s heart had almost ruined everything. The Dark Prince was glad she was dead.

Fuck you. Get out of my head.

Vegeta… who was that man?

 Tch. Just a boy. Also: fuck you. Get out of my head.

 Vegeta… Bulma is dead.

 Fuck you.

Vegeta, the true Vegeta, from the prison of his mind had realized many things in the days of his captivity. First, Bulma was not dead. He found himself… remembering? More than remembering, like reliving, like living for the first time, his favorite memories with his woman. The taste of the wine on the night he first realized he loved her. The sight of those celebratory explosives – fireworks – on his birthday. The terrible sound of Bulma falling down the stairs that day, how he surprised himself by singing to her to soothe her pain. The sweat and sunshine and honey smell of her hair on the night of the antefasting battle.  In every memory, he felt the Keiyaku opening more and more. If he thought it were safe – that this miasma wouldn’t spread – he would reach through their bond right now to see her face.

He wondered if his mother was doing that on purpose – binding Bulma’s soul to this world with memories that would bind his own. Mothers are terrifying. Pea was truly a master tactician… unless this was all by chance.

The second thing Vegeta realized was that the miasma needed a steady stream of reinforcement to maintain its hold on him. His rage, his insecurity, his feelings of inadequacy, his fear… it fed the miasma. The destruction that darkness wrought using him – the murder of that Namekian, the attack on his father – fed its appetites. As the Keiyaku opened again, Vegeta’s soul grew calmer, more determined. He spent hours just meditating, stuck inside himself, calming himself, focusing himself, while his body choked his father and murdered his friends.

However. Vegeta was certain now. Now that its plan to kill the King had gone wrong, cracks were starting to form in the dark hold it had over him. Without further acts of carnage, Vegeta’s true soul would become the stronger force, and he would expel it.

He would.

He just had to stop it from doing anything else in the meantime.

Vegeta.

Fuck you.

Who is the boy?

Fuck you.

---

“OKAY!” The Boy snapped his eyes open, met with morning light streaming through the curtains. “That’s enough of that memory!” His father had been lowering his mother to the bed, and as glad as he was to see them together and in love – that was far enough for any son. The storm clouds from the previous night had cleared – the sky was blue and clear, like his mother’s eyes.

Queen Pea snorted from her chair. “Quite the pair, aren’t they?” She had one brow raised and pointed a finger down her throat in an exaggerated gesture of sickness. “Sweet enough to gag you.”

The Boy laughed, smoothing his ki back over his sleeping mother after it had retracted in his haste to abandon the memory. “Are they always like that?”

“Depends. What did you see?”

The Boy repeated the memory, and the Queen laughed loudly, “Oh DID they! That was my room, you know.”

“Rude.” The Boy continued to chuckle.

“Quite.” The Queen studied The Boy’s face. “Are you… terribly angry with me?”

“Why would I be angry?”

“I…” the Queen trailed off, her guilt weighing down on her like stone. She looked down at Bulma’s peaceful face. “I abandoned her.”

“Queen Pea,” The Boy met her gaze. “Did the King survive?”

“I did,” boomed the King, opening the door and dawdling the twin babies in his huge arms.

The Boy grinned. “Then everyone is alive!” He reached up to take himself from the King, who dangled the babe down. “Everyone is alive.” He looked around, from himself – little babe, so light and chubby, to his baby sister, his grandfather King and grandmother Queen, his mother sleeping peacefully. The morning light streaming through the window. “Everyone is alive. So, no, Queen Pea, I’m not angry at all. We did what we had to do – all of us.”

Queen Pea smiled at that, and the King crossed over to put one arm around her. “See. His mother’s son. If he took after Vegeta, he’d hold that grudge until the day he died.”

Everyone’s alive, thought The Boy. Everyone survived last night. Maybe the future has already changed. He imagined what it would be like when he got home. Would everyone still be dead? Would he disappear? Would the rift close before he could get home? Would he have to relive his life in order to see how it all turned out? His brows knit together and he tried to puzzle out what he was doing, what he had done. What if the rift moved? What if he couldn’t find his way back?

“Now you look like your father,” the King said, clapping The Boy on the back. “Brows all knit together, scowling.”

“Sorry… I was just thinking. About the rift I came through, and how I really should have marked it or something… I was just wondering if I’m ever going to get home.”

“Too big a thought,” came a voice from just outside the bedroom door frame, “for an empty stomach.” Nappa pushed a cart heaped with fruit and rice and salted fish. “Everybody in this room needs to eat.”

Beri pushed in behind him, knocking him brusquely out of the way. “Including those babies, so give them here, my King. Prince.” Both grown men surrendered the little babes, and Beri hustled them off into the adjacent nursery to have their bottles. They needed mother’s milk, but the rich g’ge milk would sustain them until they could eat more solid foods in a few months.

The King, Nappa, Queen and The Boy descended upon the cart of food like a pack of wolves, each starving. Queen Pea had been awake for days when the King had been injured – she looked a bit more rested, so she must’ve stolen a few hours sleep after the King was stable last night. The King and Nappa were both recovering from near-death injuries, though. The Boy wondered how they could be up and so energized already.

Around a mouthful of rice, he asked, “How come you guys aren’t,” he swallowed, “like… dead?”

Nappa laughed, sputtering fish bits. “Takes more than that to keep me down! I love almost dyin’.”

“You what?” The Boy dropped his bowl in shock.

“Sure, I’ll eat my wife out of house and home for the next week, but the benefits are unreal. I already feel like I could take that dummy by myself.”

“What.”

The King drained a glass of water. “We get an enormous boost to our strength after a near death experience. It’s in our genetics.”

“We?”

“Saiyans.”

“So, I..?”

Nappa burped. “Should be the same, or about. Want me to kick the shit out of you?”

Daiku stepped into the room, smacking Nappa upside the head making way for Dende next to him all in the same fluid motion. Dende greeted the room. “Hello! Good morning!”

The Boy smiled at the little green stranger. “Good morning."

“How’s your mother?” Dende asked.

The Boy’s soft lilac ki still flowed over her like mist, tying the two of them together. “I think she’s okay.”

“Let’s have a look.” The little Namekian set his hands aglow and seemed to scan the woman on the bed. “Oh! Four tethers! That’s a relief, we should be able to get it from here.” “We? It?” The Boy frowned.

“You gotta start getting up earlier, kid.” Daiku ruffled The Boy’s hair. “We decided some stuff hours ago while you were in dreamland with your mom.”

“What stuff?”

“The King and Queen sent the Crown’s Battalion to find Vegeta. They’ll send scouts ahead, communicate by hawkers, and tell us where to find him. In the meantime, you and I, and these two,” he jerked his thumb up over his shoulder to point at the King and Nappa, “are heading in for as much training as we can get in.”

“Training? That’s not going to make a difference, they’ll find him in a few hours.”

“Yeah, gives us maybe three months? Six if he got pretty far ahead.”

“Did the lack of oxygen give you brain damage, Sensei? What are you talking about? Hours are hours, not months!”

Daiku laughed, joined by Nappa and even the Queen. “Kid, you aren’t the only one who likes to screw around with time.”

---

They finished their meal, and in hustled four absolutely enormous Namekians. Easily as tall as Daiku and the King, they wore clothes like Dendes. This one in purple, this one in red, this one in blue, the last in orange.

“Is this the woman?” “Yes,” Queen Pea said. “So you understand our trouble now.”

“Yes. And how did your son come to be infected with this miasma?” the Namekian in purple demanded. “He could have killed me! What will we do if the miasma spreads, if it escapes him? This whole planet could be in an uproar!”

“Now, now, brother!” Dende pulled at the older – or perhaps just larger – Namekian’s cape. ���Can’t you see their sorrows are enough without you yelling at everyone. You didn’t die, so that’s all well now. We are here to help, are we not?”

Piccolo gritted his teeth but said no more on the subject. “Nail and I are here to guard this estate while you three,” he indicated Dende and the two Namekians wearing red and orange, “stabilize this woman’s soul and bring her back.”

“Correct! And thanks for coming.” He grinned up at his hulking counterpart. “Now. If everyone who isn’t stuck in the veil of the dead or a Namekian would please leave the room. We have our own way of doing this, and it must stay our own.”

The room, packed with four full grown Saiyans, plus The Boy and Beri and the babies was stuffy and cramped. Nappa and Daiku were itching to get out and train, so they didn’t wait to be told twice. The King grabbed The Boy by the shoulders and wheeled him to the door next. “The Namekians know what they’re doing. We can trust them with your mother.”

Dende covered Bulma up with his own ki as The Boy’s receded. “I will take care of her,” Dende reassured him.

The Queen left next, exhausted from days of effort spent trying to save Bulma. She stole a glance back at Bulma’s pale porcelain face, and at the little babies Beri was laying on Bulma’s chest for a few moments. Then, the Queen padded through the hallway, ready to plunge headfirst into her own bed.

Beri lingered longest of all, staring down at her lady Princess and the babies. They should have a little time together, even if she isn’t awake yet. The little Namekian cleared his throat after a few minutes, and Beri knew she could delay it no longer. She collected the babies and tucked Bulma into bed again. Sexless or not, Beri hated to leave the Princess alone in the room with all these unfamiliar faces.

Two of the Namekians followed her out of the room, closing the door behind them. One remained at the door, and the purple clad one removed himself to the front of the house to keep a lookout for trouble.

---

All four men were falling down tired by the time they reached the training grounds. Each carried a heavy pack filled with gallons of water in addition to a massive trunk filled with food. “Sensei, where are we going?” The Boy asked.

The had arrived at the massive, gleaming black marble that was the training ground. It was uncovered, outdoors, with four black pillars, one in each corner of the square “stage” and one white tower in the dead center. The marble stage was not level with the ground beneath it, but elevated about three feet from it. The King stepped up onto the obsidian surface first, making directly for the center tower.

Nappa and Daiku popped up next, followed by The Boy. Instantly, he felt a difference in the pressure around him. It was hard to stand, hard to breathe. He locked his knees and wobbled, trying not to fall.

Daiku lifted the water pack off of The Boy’s shoulders while Nappa took his food trunk. The Boy felt lighter, but the pressure around him was still crushing the air from his lungs. He found himself hyperventilating, just trying to stay conscious. Daiku started to put an arm under The Boy to support him, but Nappa swatted his hand away. “Don’t. He must do this on his own.”

Daiku and Nappa made for the center tower to join the King, leaving The Boy in his agony.

“Nappa.” Daiku shot a deadly look at the bald Saiyan. “If you ever try to stand between me and that cub again, I will kill you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nappa waved him off, striding over to the King. “Are we ready here?” The King had his hand on flat stone of the white center column. “That depends.” The King looked to Daiku. “Will that boy survive this? Once I shut the way, we’ll be in here until Beri or the Queen comes to shut it down from the outside.”

Daiku grit his teeth. “He will survive this. He has survived worse.”

The King agreed, and slid his hand vertically up the smooth surface of the white column. The column glowed green and from its pinnacle, a hexahedronical dome began to sprout and spread out to each of the four black pillars in the corners of the training ground. The green glow went up, up through the center column and gathered itself into a green bulb at the top of the pillar, outside the dome.

The walls from the dome transitioned from translucent like glass to opaque, impenetrable walls. They were closed in until someone broke the green ki bulb at the top of the tower. Now, time would move at a snail’s pace inside the structure but continue on unchanged outside. A day outside would be a year within, each hour would give them 15 days to train. If it took the Crown’s Battalion five hours to locate Vegeta, they would have nearly three months inside.

“How shall we pair?” The King asked as the dome solidified.

“By strength. I will go with the King,” Nappa asserted, “You go with the cub, Daiku.”

“Interesting that you think yourself the stronger, Nappa.” Daiku squared up for a fight, but the King tapped his boot and interrupted.

“Test that later,” the King interjected. “It’s best that you go with the boy now.”

The Boy was still at the far edge, having dropped to his knees, struggling to remain conscious. Daiku strode over to him – the King was right. Daiku had been sealed in the training grounds many times before in preparation and conditioning for his fights. He remembered tasting blood for a month after he left the first time – the first time, he had lasted only seconds inside before his own master broke the bulb from the outside.

“Boy.” The Boy looked up at Daiku from the floor. “Sen – sei – I – can’t – breathe.” He could feel the blood pooling in his legs, his heart straining against the force around him. His lungs struggled to pull air.

“You’re going to die if you lay there.” Daiku was blunt. “The gravitational field in the training grounds has always been more powerful, and sealing the dome intensifies the effects tenfold. You’re experiencing gravity at 30 times Vegetasei’s normal.”

The Boy gasped and wheezed.

“If you don’t start to manually pump your heart, you’re going to die.”

“H-o-www?” The Boy rasped.

“The same way you manually breathe. You’re thinking about your breathing right now, forcing yourself to inhale and exhale. You need to override the part of your brain controlling your heart, and you need to pump it manually until you’re stronger. It’ll take about a week.”

The Boy’s eyes widened with fear. How the hell was he supposed to do that? Override his brain? Manually control his heart?

“I’m serious. I had to do it. Nappa had to do it. The King had to do it. The Queen had to do it. You have to do it.”

The Boy’s vision began to tunnel, blackening around pinpricks of vision. His world spun, his vision swam, Daiku’s voice sounded tinny and far away. He balled his hand into a fist and SLAM – punched himself in the chest, hard – hard enough to force the blood through the chambers of his heart. The chambers refilled with blood once more, squeezed in by the extraordinary pressure around him.

He thought of his sister’s face, eyes hollow as she died on the floor before him. SLAM.

He thought of her bones, disgraced and dishonored, hung like a horror house prop outside the castle. SLAM.

He thought of his father, his real father, the one who sung to his mother and loved her so deeply. SLAM.

He thought of Beri, dead in his time. SLAM.

Mother. SLAM

Father. SLAM

Sister. SLAM

Friends. SLAM

SLAM

SLAM

SLAM

The Boy struggled to his feet, still hyperventilating to keep his lungs working, face turning fiery with the effort.

SLAM

SLAM

SLAM

Daiku grinned as The Boy perspired and punched, and heaved one leaden foot after the other, again and again until he was walking. “That’s right. Just walk the perimeter for now.”

SLAM

Step

SLAM

Step

SLAM

Step

I didn’t come here to die. The Boy was determined to survive.

[unconventional-hero]

Chapter 17-- [Untitled]

Written by “The Countess”

(In which Mr. McClure confronts his daughter’s husband.)

[Editor’s note: the original chapter did not have a title.]

* * * * *

“Clyde! My darling! How came you here? I saw you enter, half an hour ago and thought you were ministering to some poor, wretched invalid. I came over to find you and have been stumbling through dingy halls and turning rusty knobs ever since, and here--”

For the first time Mr. McClure’s eyes fall on Jim Paxton. He starts forward, his eyes riveted on the dark, handsome face, his hands clinched.

“You here!”

“Yes, father!” The younger man turns with an easy nonchalance surprising under the circumstances. “I had an engagement with my wife--”

“Your wife! And what is my child doing here? Clyde, what does this mean?”

With an exclamation born of the most intense suffering Clyde throws herself at her father’s feet and implores his forgiveness.

My forgiveness?” Mr. McClure passes a hand over his forehead and looks at her, bewildered, half-conscious of approaching evil. “Explain yourself, girl! But leave this man first and come home with me!”

“That’s it! Oh, that’s it, papa! I can’t leave him! I can never-leave-him-again!” The words are the essence of despairing frenzy. “He is my husband!”

McClure started and would have fallen had it not been for Clyde’s arms now thrown around his neck. The golden head with its tiny bonnet slipping away from it, lay on his shoulder. She seemed years older than the girl he had treasured as his one idol for eighteen years.

He gasped. “Morningstar-- Paxton, you villain, is this true?”

“It is! She does not seem particularly happy, does she? But she’s a brick and I admire her spunk.”

“Insolence!”

The gold-glinted head is raised. Two eyes, like summer skies dripping with sunny showers, gaze into the ruined man’s face.

“Papa! I loved him! Don’t blame him alone!”

“When-- when were you married?”

“Over a year ago! It was a love match, I assure you!” and Paxton smiles grimly.

McClure pushes Clyde from him and confronts the man, his brain reeling, his strong frame trembling with passionate anger.

“You fiend! Not content with the bold-faced bank robbery-- not satisfied with dragging one of the pillars of Wall Street into the gutter of bankruptcy-- longing to break me down more than you have already-- you must needs marry my daughter! You must carry away my idol! My one sustaining prop! You have taught her to deceive me-- her father! Scoundrel! The rest counted as naught compared to this!

He raises his arm as though he would crush, with one blow, all life from the craftily smiling man before him.

A wild, despairing shriek from Clyde stops him.

Paxton turns to his beautiful victim. “Clyde, do you want me rearrested? Is this your wifely obedience and love?” he whispers imploringly, looking into her face with eyes as large with pleading and anger as those of a wild beast brought to bay. “Think of the notoriety-- the position you will place yourself in--”

“Clyde, come home immediately! Yes, you villain, that smile will soon be forever lost to view! You shall suffer as I alone can make you! Clyde, darling-- don’t look so wild! You have done wrong but I love you still! When he is justly punished, we may resume our old place in the world-- we--”

“You forget, sir,” begins Paxton, with blanched face and trembling lips-- all such men are cowards when tested-- “You forget that, as my wife, Clyde owes her first obedience to me. Aside from that, Mr. McClure, do you want to make her wretched-- do you want to bring her into unenviable notoriety-- do you--”

“Make her wretched, you devil? Who would more successfully accomplish that end than you? Clyde was married without my consent when she was under your influence-- she was a mere child--”

“She is of age now. Let us ask her to decide the case!”

“With all my heart!-- Clyde, my dear little daughter! I forgive you, knowing how plausible this villain may be-- how I was betrayed myself-- I blame not you alone, my darling, for this misalliance. I am to blame for guarding my jewel too well. But we will forget the past-- you and I-- you can obtain a divorce easily from this fellow, who could only make you unhappy-- I could prosecute him, regain my old position in the world, and then-- Clyde, answer me! I have idolized you from babyhood-- come to me!”

She ran toward him, her bright hair falling from its Psyche knot and rippling over her somber gown like cloth-of-gold.

“Papa!”

“You see what her choice is!”

“I have not made my plea, sir!” With haughty grace and the assurance born of a long and careful study of Clyde’s vulnerable points, Paxton advanced and, laying his hand on Clyde’s arm-- seeming not to notice her recoil, began:

“Clyde, is it over a year since you and I promised to love, cherish, and honor one another. You told me you loved me. I offered to give you up to any one your guardian might select for your husband but you would not hear of it. You promised to obey me and serve me and all the service I have required was for you to keep my whereabouts secret for the last seven weeks-- weeks of peril to me--”

“Peril richly deserved,” interrupted Clyde’s father hotly. “Clyde, you have looked to this thief’s safety when your father, to whom you owe all, was struggling to right himself in the eyes of his creditors! I see now why you were so anxious to get the position at the World office! It was to keep all news of this villain from my friends and the detectives. Speak, girl, is this true?”

“Papa! Papa!”

Paxton, with the theatrical instinct so natural to him, seeing a chance for an effective scene, rushed to his wife as her father thrust her from his arms.

“Clyde, my darling! My wife! You have had no opportunity to test my love for you yet, but I swear, by my father’s honored name, that if you come to me we shall be happy!”

“Your father’s name?” sneered McClure, totally beside himself with rage. “What is it, pray?”

“Berys, Lord Paxton, of Cuthbertshire, England.”

“Another lie!”

“I can prove it in any way you ask.”

“That’s neither here nor there! I shall inquire into the matter later, perhaps, to recover my stolen money, but now we must decide on my child’s future. My child! I believed you pure as an angel and you have deceived me as basely as this rascal! More basely, Clyde. I trusted you as I do my God. But, false or true, I owe you a father’s protection. Will you come to me?”

“A wife’s first allegiance is to her husband,” murmured Paxton, in rich, full tones, adding, with his earnest, handsome eyes looking straight into Clyde’s, “My darling!”

“Your fascination is that of a snake, you dog!” and McClure placed his hand over his daughter’s eyes as though he would shield her from the fixed stare of the magnificent eyes.

“Speak, my wife!”

He had nothing more to do with McClure. He was shrewd enough to know that if he gained Clyde, her father, no matter how angry he might be, would dismiss all idea of prosecution, for her sake, so Paxton addressed all his words-- all his fascinating looks-- to Clyde. It was remarkable-- the influence this hawk had for the poor little dove. Even now, when sheltered in her father’s arms, knowing how that father had been betrayed, how she herself had been victimized-- even now, I say, she felt the wild, passionate, romantic love of last year come back to her in all its intensity.

“Speak, Clyde!”

“Papa,” she cried, casting aside his hand and looking shyly into Paxton’s eyes. “Papa, I love you! I’m sorry if I was false to you. I--”

“You will come back to me?”

“No. I will go with my husband!”

Paxton stretches out his arms and she falls, fainting, into them.

There is a sharp, quick oath, a moan, and poor broken-hearted McClure has left them alone together.

[hollyrosemassage]

The uncommon mixture of magnificence with brains, the beautiful designer has taken Indian vogue to a distinct label. Her foray into French vogue has received many accolades has added yet one more first to her credentials by changing into the primary Indian designer to be invited to take part on the a lot awaited vogue soiree, The Debutant Ball held yearly at Paris. Discover the designer herself in dialog with Stylekandy.com, Even when not exhibiting elsewhere, why did you present on the Gitanjali Luxurious Fashion fest in Dec 08 in Mumbai, virtually a 12 months earlier than WIFW. Yeah…I did it, I felt that I ought to go forward with it and therefore simply did it. No methods concerned the day and time suited me and so did it. Your present at WIFW was like a comeback present for you, what preparations did it’s important to make it grand. I’ll by no means name my present at WIFW as my comeback present as a result of I by no means disappeared from the Indian vogue trade. I’ve no clues why everyone seems to be naming it as my comeback present? Since my assortment was inspiring and a great deal of exhausting work has gone in it, so over all of the present was effectively offered and by God’s grace it was successful. Bollywood incursion is usually frivolous, how do you justify Abhay Deol strolling the ramp with you? He was not my present stopper. He walked as a result of he is an efficient good friend. However there actually is nobody like Abhay – he’s so cool, so himself, completely relaxed, adventurous, younger and presents a contemporary India. There is not any one higher I may have introduced. With the peak and physique that you’re blessed with, why don’t you contemplate modelling your personal garments. By no means ever did that thought cross my thoughts…I at all times needed to be the creator and could also be not the presenter. My inclination was extra in the direction of designing so…and now, it is too late. What was the thought behind the launch of Beri Child assortment? After my daughter’s start, I noticed that in India children put on is barely constrained to ready-to-wear, so considered popping out with a line of occasional put on clothes for the toddlers. You had been the primary Asian designer to go the French vogue model, Scherrer and now once more you’re the first Indian designer to symbolize India at The Debutant ball, Le Ball held yearly at Paris. How was the journey like. My journey will be outlined as thrilling with a great deal of exhausting work. It is not like I had a easy path of success, even I noticed these unhealthy days which everybody tastes throughout their journey of life. I went by way of testing intervals…however since I actually needed to make it large and grand so made it. My work has at all times been appreciated in Paris, already retailing by way of couple of shops there…so could also be that why they selected me this 12 months to be part of Le Ball. Why did you select Kashmiri princess, Adishree Singh to symbolize the robe designed by you at Le Ball. My work at all times goals at presenting the Indian sensibility with a tint of modernity and urbaneness. I might be representing India and can make her look fashionable with some Indian contact. The only real focus is to retain modernity however nonetheless showcasing the actual Indian vogue. Adishree might be presenting India in all its glory sporting a dramatic skirt and shirt. What’s the design philosophy that you simply preserve whereas design? Style is everlasting. The roots of vogue go deep into the yester years. Style can by no means be projected by proscribing it to garments. as a substitute it ought to transcend garments to magnificence, hair, footwear and different equipment. It displays our persona, therefore must be very comfy and what you imagine in. How would you describe the expansion of the Indian vogue trade up to now decade. Right now, the Indian vogue trade has undergone a metamorphosis. Folks inside and outdoors the style trade has began taking it as a critical career. It has grown on a big scale and has achieved its recognition on the worldwide platform too earlier India hardly had any vogue faculties, however at this time mother and father are additionally eyeing this as a revered skilled and therefore encouraging their children. The style our bodies are additionally enjoying an amazing function, selling rising skills is a good job and on high of it, sustaining a consistency can be very pivotal. Do you assume that the Indian vogue trade can not work in response to the 6 months projection time not like the worldwide vogue world? Indian vogue is restricted to India and its seasonal cycles. We’ve an extended summer time and a really small interval of winters…so undoubtedly, six month projection doesn’t work that effectively with the Indian vogue trade. Future plans? In the intervening time it is solely Le Ball at Paris, relaxation you’ll get to find out about as issues will begin arising. Bradford Massage Therapy | Holly Rose Massage Swedish MassageSports MassageDeep Tissue MassagePrenatal MassageAromatherapyTrigger Point Therapy The post Luxury & Style Beauty Collection appeared first on Holly Rose Massage. http://ift.tt/2fBSloa