Loki (
throneenvy) wrote in
fossilised2017-05-15 01:29 pm
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I come from a land of ice and snow
Asgard sat atop the branches of Yggdrasil since time began, and little had changed in their society in the years since. Each Asgardian was long-lived into the millennia, their lands were fertile, their people brave and strong. They had their vassals, their allies, and their enemies. Yet even those who opposed them respected the might of the Golden Dias, and the royalty who sat upon it. Currently that was Odin Borson, though he grew weary more easily now and had begun to consider passing the throne to his eldest son.
He had been blessed with many children, but only two that he considered worthy of his lineage and status. His firstborn, Thor, strong and honourable and everything an Asgardian warrior should be. His second son, Loki, was not natural born, though none knew that but his wife. He was different, a creature of magic and mayhem, of sharp intelligence. Both were worthy, but together they would take Asgard to a new prosperity, he was certain of it.
Midgard, where the mortals dwelt, was a land raided every few centuries for stock. It was seen as a breeding ground, much like a corral for cattle. Mortals were lesser, short-lived and weak, they were fit only as slaves. The last raid had taken place when Loki had been but a baby, nearly a thousand years ago, but the mortals that had been taken had been bred and cared for so that a healthy slave population still thrived. Slaves were given a weakened mixture of Idunn's crop with their food, to extend their natural lives to at least a few centuries in order to make them worth the effort to train. They had no rights, but they were taught well that this was their natural position.
All slave children were raised in a central pen and taught the same when small, those that then displayed talent at cooking, riding, hunting, housework, artisan skills, or singing were then measured off to be specially trained for higher masters. Every five years those who could afford to buy a slave, or those of high enough status to simply demand them, came to the corral and chose. Those who were chosen were special, were envied, and those who were not ended up working the fields out in the far reaches of Asgard, the most menial of work.
Anthony and Steven had been friends since they were little and being raised in the large pens together. Both had excelled, Anthony at crafting and Steven at warrior's skills, but neither were chosen when they were five, nor ten, nor even fifteen. Now, at twenty, it was their final chance to be chosen before they would be assigned to one of the meanest farmers beyond the borders of the great capital. Steven woke Anthony as the dawn rose, mingled excitement and nerves on his face.
"Anthony! Wake up, I've got news! I heard the overseer talking to one of the passing guards, and Princes Thor and Loki are coming to the corral today."
He had been blessed with many children, but only two that he considered worthy of his lineage and status. His firstborn, Thor, strong and honourable and everything an Asgardian warrior should be. His second son, Loki, was not natural born, though none knew that but his wife. He was different, a creature of magic and mayhem, of sharp intelligence. Both were worthy, but together they would take Asgard to a new prosperity, he was certain of it.
Midgard, where the mortals dwelt, was a land raided every few centuries for stock. It was seen as a breeding ground, much like a corral for cattle. Mortals were lesser, short-lived and weak, they were fit only as slaves. The last raid had taken place when Loki had been but a baby, nearly a thousand years ago, but the mortals that had been taken had been bred and cared for so that a healthy slave population still thrived. Slaves were given a weakened mixture of Idunn's crop with their food, to extend their natural lives to at least a few centuries in order to make them worth the effort to train. They had no rights, but they were taught well that this was their natural position.
All slave children were raised in a central pen and taught the same when small, those that then displayed talent at cooking, riding, hunting, housework, artisan skills, or singing were then measured off to be specially trained for higher masters. Every five years those who could afford to buy a slave, or those of high enough status to simply demand them, came to the corral and chose. Those who were chosen were special, were envied, and those who were not ended up working the fields out in the far reaches of Asgard, the most menial of work.
Anthony and Steven had been friends since they were little and being raised in the large pens together. Both had excelled, Anthony at crafting and Steven at warrior's skills, but neither were chosen when they were five, nor ten, nor even fifteen. Now, at twenty, it was their final chance to be chosen before they would be assigned to one of the meanest farmers beyond the borders of the great capital. Steven woke Anthony as the dawn rose, mingled excitement and nerves on his face.
"Anthony! Wake up, I've got news! I heard the overseer talking to one of the passing guards, and Princes Thor and Loki are coming to the corral today."
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Come the following evening, Thor made himself known in full armour, shining like the sun though it had long since hidden. Heimdall had arrived to gift Loki with the ability to guide their ship and those chosen for the task were already on board and looking out at those that would bid them a safe and successful journey.
Loki and his two slaves were joined by a regal looking crowned Prince, whose eyes did not stay to Steven, stood just behind the shorter Anthony.
"Bring me home someone strong and beautiful," Thor said, hand clasping Loki's forearm. "And someone clever for yourself." The Aesir on board hit their weapons against their shields and called their captain and commander onto the deck so that they could shove off. Only when Thor was away enough that his gaze might not be registered did he finally gaze upon his heartbroken lover.
And, selfishly, he hoped that Steven looked upon him too. Fondly. And without hate. He wished for understanding.
As the ship broke free from the ground, Thor lifted his hand. All of Asgard cheered that night with him and all would wait for Loki's return as well, already guessing the sorts of wonders that will be brought to them when next they saw the ship.
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He had gone through the night as if in a dream, performing his duties swiftly and obediently but without passion. He wore Loki's colours and they startled him each time he passed a reflective surface, the green making his skin crawl. It was not the younger prince's fault; Steven did not hate Loki, he was even fond of him partially because of how much his master loved his brother. But he was not Thor, and that made him an undesirable master.
He watched his prince fade away as the boat began to sail into the Void, even the amazing sight of the branches of Yggdrasil laid out before him not garnering much more than a passing glance.
Anthony stood in pride of place at Loki's right shoulder as he commanded the fleet away from Asgard, his battle regalia shining and perfect. He glanced down, words soft. "Take Steven and advise him of his future, he must not look so sorrowful or talk will begin. My slave for long or not, I will not have it said that my property despises working for me."
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And perhaps he would again. If Loki didn't harm him for moping around. "With me."
Below deck, Loki had sprawling chambers for a vessel of this size, three rooms strung together. His things were not yet unpacked and so Anthony used this as pretense for a discussion with his oldest friend.
"The tale Loki is telling is that Thor gifted you to him for this mission. It is evidently not unheard of. Oft times he would gift Loki James whenever Thor felt he was in need of protection. Our Master," he paused then because he did not like the word 'our' to describe Loki, "will return you to Prince Thor if his brother proves he can withstand temptation. This is temporary. Stop looking so heart sick. The crew already talks about the Prince's.... Uh. There's no other way to describe it, Steven. They think the crowned prince has an illness. His fixation on you might cost him everything. So this is just a little trip to keep that from happening. Stop being so charming and likable. You can learn a little something from me. No one likes me at the palace. Except you. Which is your problem again, see?"
He didn't include Bruce for a reason. He was still hurt by the rejection, even if it had simply been words.
"Besides. I've been reading up on how these raids go. You're going to have a lot of reaponsibility with initial breeding. You're beautiful and strong and Loki will likely name you to the task. So cheer up and shape up and you'll be back to wearing reds in a few years."
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He knew, of course, that he was here to stop Thor pining for him. And he knew that this was how it had to be, he wanted to serve his master and he didn't want to ruin things, and so he would bear this. He would take this on as though this had been the task actually given to him, standing up straighter.
"I will protect Prince Loki to my last breath, then. He will not come to harm under my guard and watch."
Steven didn't think about how this might usurp a little of Anthony's position or make him jealous. Personal slave he might be, but Anthony wasn't the warrior of the pair of them, surely he would see that protection rights should go to Steven.
"I will sire as many new babes as he wants me to, and I will return to my master with honour."
Treasonous talk, especially as Loki was his master now. To say otherwise was such an insult.
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The pair of them were idiots. Anthony stared at Steven as if he had grown two heads and one was mustached and shouting obscenities in a long dead language. Since he could, and since he was angry at Steven for the liberties he was taking and the disrespect he was showing to Prince Loki, Anthony grabbed hold of Steven’s tunic and hauled him down. “Listen to me carefully here or you’re going to find yourself abandoned on Midgard no matter how many pretty blond and blue eyed babies you produce for Asgard. Loki is your master. Loki is the one you will devote yourself entirely to. Anything he wishes, you’re going to do. You’re going to learn to anticipate everything he wants…. You’re going to be perfect or you’ll dishonor him. I can’t have that, do you understand me?”
He refrained from boxing the blond’s ears, though he really wanted to.
“And I’m the Prince’s primary. I know you’ve gotten used to ruling your little clan and I know Thor’s shown you favor that’s gotten him in more trouble than he ought to be in right now, and you and I both know that we love each other intensely, Steven, but I come first. Understand? I come first and you take direction only from me.”
He was nipping this traitorous talk in the bud. Now.
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He half bristled in return, because he would never be Loki's, not truly. He was Prince Thor's in his heart and he always would be, even if he were forced to wear another's colours and call another master verbally. He scowled up at Anthony.
"I know that you come first, and I'll take direction from you, but surely even you can see that I'm a better choice of bodyguard than you."
Perhaps his time with Thor had given him just a touch of arrogance.
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He didn’t want to go prematurely to Valhalla. Those few nights with the bandits where he surely thought he would die in disgrace left him clinging ever more tightly to life. Steven’s prowess didn’t affect him…mostly because he knew that Loki did not need a bodyguard. He was formidable, especially now that he possessed the casket.
Anthony had seen what he had been able to do and he didn’t fear for him in the slightest.
“Take a vow of silence if you need it, Steven. Because the next time you say that Thor is your master, I’ll have your lips sewn shut.” Anthony gave him a little shove, which didn’t do much, and then pointed at the chests. “All of Prince Loki’s books are in order. They’re to go on the shelves in the same order they’re laid out in the trunk. Don’t open any of them. He hates fingerprints on the pages.”
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"Odin's ravens, Anthony," he murmured, immediately heading over to open up the first chest and see the stacks of books inside the carefully enchanted interior. This would take hours!
He took out the first ones and carefully put them onto the low shelves running around the cabin, each with a small lip to keep anything on them from falling off should the ship begin to rock.
"So tell me what I need to know about serving our master."
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As discussing Loki was by far one of Anthony’s favorite pastimes, he found himself absolutely falling into his long-term discussion of what Loki did not like. He figured that would give Steven a good base for how to deal with Thor’s brother. It was not going to be easy, since Steven was used to a lot of personal freedom in public…and though Anthony had a lot of personal freedom in private, he wasn’t sure how that would work now that there would be an audience.
As they put things away, Anthony’s words became less heartfelt, less frequent. It could simply be that he was running out of Don’ts for Steve, but it was just as likely that he was starting to worry again about how his life with change now that Steven was in it. The blond always found a way to garner the most favor and sure, Loki liked the clever and the cunning….but he also liked being worshiped.
And Steven would be better at that.
Anthony left the main chamber and found the single room where he and Steven would sleep. It was a matchbox, two pairs of bunks sunken into the wall on either side of the door. “Reminds me a little of the village,” Anthony said as he fingered the fine fabric curtain that could be drawn across the coffin-like space where he would sleep. It was their only privacy. He chose the lower bunk on the right hand side, sitting on the fine mattress with his head ducked so he wouldn’t hit his head. He couldn’t straighten up on the sleep shelf so Steven would feel even more claustrophobic, surely.
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Prince Thor commanded respect in public, of course, but his was a mostly straightforward temperament, it was easy to tell what would be acceptable with him and what wouldn't. But Anthony was listing different scenarios to tell whether Prince Loki would find certain behaviour welcome or completely unacceptable, and he listed them all as if they were obvious and completely without care to navigate.
He was glad for the thin curtain of privacy, it allowed him to sink his head down into his hands and cry silently.
Not that Anthony would be allowed much solitude. The little rudimentary communicators that he had rugged up so that Loki could command him from a distance lit up twice, then vibraed twice in case he had not been within visual range, to alert him that his master would be returning imminently and wished for both a bath and food to be prepared.
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It would get Steven out of the cabin, and also let him clean himself up a little since that was the most important thing. Anthony would draw the bath in the chamber next door and by the time that Steven returned with his food, they could serve him in the water or once he had cleansed himself, whatever he wished.
The water was steaming when Loki returned, looking commanding with his hair braided and green eyes flashing. It didn't matter if Thor was the favored son. Anthony thought his master was the best.
“He understands. A little weepy but he’s been perfect since we were children together and he’ll get over it,” Anthony reported. “I threatened to sew his mouth up,” he added with a little grin.
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This was a structure often used, but usually in large households with many slaves where it would make sense to not have to bother the master with every single one of them. There the personal slave was risen above the others, given access and given the orders and then the authority to dish those orders out. It would be highly unusual to do that in a two slave system, but Loki did not care. He would keep Steven for his brother, but Anthony was his personal slave and he had desire for no other.
This should also keep Anthony from becoming insecure of his position or favour.
Loki peeled off his clothing rather than allowing it to vanish, a silent sign that he wished them washed and polished. He must be perfect for his armies the whole campaign, it was his first in command. Naked, he stepped into the steaming water and allowed himself to relax.
"Join me, wash and rebraid my hair."
A highly personal task, a gift of sorts to reward Anthony for his handling of the situation and discretion so far.
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“It shouldn’t come to that,” Anthony said, setting about his task, obviously soothed. He unbraided Loki’s hair with care, noting the plaits that he would put back in once the shining locks of unruly black were washed and dried. “He’s sad. If I was separated from you…whenever I have been separated from you…I’ve never really been myself. But he’s strong. He’ll fall in line. I don’t think I’ll need to bust out the needle and thread after all.”
Bathing was relaxing. In the water, he couldn’t feel the slight vibrations of the ship through the Void. He couldn’t hear the low hum of the crew moving about as they prepared themselves for landfall sometime in the next few days.
“I set the tales of the last culling out on your desk if you wanted to review them, but it looks like it was written by a kid. Mostly pictures and stories of valor,” Anthony laughed. “There’s really not that much on current Midgardian culture, though. I can’t wait to see it.”
He imagined a society a little like what the tale mentioned…a little like what Asgard or Vanaheim was. Just more rustic. People huddled around fires, no knowledge of magic or technology, of other worlds and races… This felt like they were bringing a revelation to his people.
He was proud of that.
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He had not seen much of it, not nearly enough to understand how the culture had grown and changed, but enough to have seen a few buildings and know that it had changed. He wasn't surprised, such was the mercurial nature of mortals, an interesting and yet flawed way to live.
"Their buildings have changed, their technology has grown more advanced, yet they are still as mayflies. Such short lives, unable to change anything of their own, trapped in an endless cycle of war between their own kind. They lack leadership, they lack purpose. It is for us to provide that purpose."
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“I know why Midgard exists, I know it is important to allow for a wild cultivation of genetic diversity, but I feel a little sad for them,” Anthony said. “They’re as much my people as they aren’t. Not all Midgardians on Asgard get the benefit to serve like I do, but at least they had a chance at something meaningful. The wild ones we’re going to take our pick from… The ones we’re going to leave behind… I just feel bad for them.” Anthony almost never made mention of anyone other than himself. He was a selfish creature and the plight of others didn’t concern him. And yet, he made great, sweeping outreaches too, making sure every Midgardian in the bandit camp had a job at the palace, for instance, or protecting those that worked in the kitchen from a wrath they did not deserve. It showed more forethought than most thought Midgardians capable of.
Then again, Loki did too, now that it was known who was his genetic kin, even if he was still considered to have the blood of the Aesir with his lineage being that of his adopted parents.
Anthony took his time in the bath. He gave Loki everything he might want, always waiting for him to initiate anything no matter his current feelings or wishes. He didn’t care if Steven was fast or slow with his own task. He wanted every moment alone with Loki that he could get.
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Even though Anthony was a Midgardian and knew how little mortals lived without an infusion of apples, it must seem very bizarre and disgustingly lax to forget so soon. He had spent his time being taught lessons from books many hundreds of thousands of years old.
Loki waited patiently while Anthony finished washing, drying, and braiding his hair once more, before pulling him down into his lap in the bath and taking him in a leisurely way. Only just finishing when Steven appeared with food on a tray, more than Loki would eat, though much less than Thor would, and a variety for he hadn't yet learned which foods Loki liked the most.
"There is too much here," said Loki, disapproving. "You and Anthony may assist in eating it today, but bring wasteful amounts again and I will have you punished."
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"He'll learn, my prince," Anthony said as he lazily lifted himself from Loki's lap and then cleaned himself a bit before stepped out of the tub. He dried quickly and helped Steven set the table (for Loki alone, though he and Loki often took meals together at the table, but none knew that). After that, he helped Loki out of the bath, carefully and affectionately drying his skin. "He's a faster learner than he looks."
Steven would not be used to being treated so formally but Anthony often was when any other happened to be around. He knew hi place and he proved his place in public. Steven had to learn this. Under Thor's privacy he could enjoy his master as he wished but it was all about appearance otherwise.
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They did not need grand gestures and words.
The tiniest upturn to Loki's lips as he took his seat said how pleased he was with Anthony's current performance. He gestured to the trays after he had taken his choice, fish and vegetables with wine, and left the majority of meats behind.
"Both of you eat, and then I have new daily duties to assign you. You may take the tray into your cabin and speak privately if you wish, I want to read as I eat and will appreciate the solitude."
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"That is how you prove your love to your Master when any is around to see," Anthony said, being overt just this once. "Don't you remember your lessons? Or what Bruce taught us all the those year ago? What happens when you are alone with your master is for your master to dictate. But when any other watch, that is when you need to dictate yourself."
He knew the despair Steven felt for he had felt it too. Only then, he'd tended an empty room for a year with very few other duties and had not known if Loki would ever return. At least Steven had some hope.
He picked at the poultry, delicately eating as Loki did because it pleased his master not to have a mess.
"But back to task... Loki ate a whole lot more than he usually does, so that should give you an example of how much to bring next time. Or if he lets me, I'll go with you and show you. So what's the ship like? I know you helped outfit it but I haven't had the chance to see it. It looks pretty cool."
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But maybe that was just Steven's bias talking.
He ate much less delicately, ravenously tearing through the beautifully cooked food, almost tempted to bring too much each time so that he continued to be allowed food fit for the prince rather than slave fare, but he knew that would result in punishment so it was only idle.
"We're the flagship and carry four thousand warriors, as well as a complement of five hundred slaves of varying positions. There are sixteen ships following us, some with higher quantities of slaves, some with warriors, three with healers. There are weapons rooms on the higher decks, and space marked out for training on the upper deck."
He sighed, wiping some grease from his mouth.
"What duties do you think Prince Loki has for us?"
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That was unfortunate for Steven. Anthony could do nothing about it. His relationship with Loki was his and he wanted to keep it that way, without any gossip fouling it all up.
He focused on the size of the fleet, on the amount of ships, instead, and commented on the amount of slaves that they would be training on the journey back to Asgard with a few stops at other realms to drop off and sell slaves that proved to be too unruly. They weren't all equal in the eyes of the Asgardians but their hardest critics would be the Midgardian slaves that had been bred for this sort of thing.
Anthony imagined that all of the slaved were buzzing happily about new duties or the thought of help as their trained new stock.
"Honestly, Loki's heart is fickle and it could be anything from polishing his boots to training with the warrior slaves. A good use for you, either task, with those muscles!" Anthony was hoping for more bedsport later but he could wait until his master was once more in the mood.
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"Anthony, when you are not required in service to me, you will join the slaves assigned to determine which of the new stock is viable for breeding, work, and sale. Steven, you will report to the warriors and ready yourself for capture." Anthony's work was a high profile job, but not a dangerous one. More honour went to the warriors, but Loki knew that Anthony, like him, was no fool ruled by his muscles.
He stood and stretched. "Steven, go now. Anthony, I have work for you to do here." Which meant that he desired some time alone to properly relax.
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Not only was it a great honor to be off in charge of the slave sorting but that meant that Anthony would get to work with Bruce. Considering that he was one of Odin's most trusted and longest lived slaves at the palace, he would of course be tapped for this honor and Anthony, despite the rejection, couldn't help but want to be around the older man. He made his heart sing in ways different from how Loki made it.
And speaking of Loki, all Anthony had wanted since Steven was brought into their world was to be alone with him. Anthony was more affectionate than usual as the ship sailed straight and true on the usual path towards Midgard.
He took some liberties too, undressing Loki without being bidden, eyes directed upwards to gauge that angular face of his for any signs of displeasure.
It went without saying that a personal slave usually loved or fell in love with their masters and that was for the best. Saying it outloud made the relationship even more dependent on the other. But Anthony wanted to remind Loki that he loved him anyway.
So he did so... On his knees and with his mouth without bothering to use so many words.
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The four days of travel went without much incident. Loki inspired his troops of both Aesir and slave alike. Bruce instructed Anthony on what to look for in slaves to be bred (strength, good bones, beauty, brains), to be kept or sold (children), or to be discarded (the infirm, the weak, or the elderly). Steven worked with the warriors to be ready to fight the armies of Midgard, though very little resistance was expected.
And then all of a sudden the Void was opening up and blue skies appeared, the waves of an ocean with a salt tang to them, and cities on the horizon made of steel and chrome and glass. And humans everywhere dressed in odd garb, screaming at the sight of the great flying fleet without even attempting to mobilise themselves to fight as any other realm under attack would.
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"Well this is disappointing," Anthony muttered as he stood with Steven above deck, arms crossed as he leaned on the banister to watch the people below.
"I thought you'd be interesting in how far their culture had progressed," Steve said, armor on and glinting in his eyes. He did not glance at his shorter friend. He was almost distant. Though Steven had been privy to three nights of witnessing Anthony curled up in Loki's arms, he had far more on his mind that putting two and two together about their relationship and, each night after training and planning, he'd gone straight to his alcove to dream about his master. His true master. The one he was going to fight to get back, somehow. If only he could find the way. He needed to do well in this raid to prove himself worthy again. Steven was too stubborn to see that there was an easier solution to all of this.
Anthony shrugged. "Maybe. It is interesting. Their technology is nothing like what Asgard has..." Or what the planets protected by the Nova Corp had either. Anthony had enjoyed visiting Xandar with Loki many, many times. And while the shiny buildings reminded him a little of that great city, these people still weren't that advanced. "But I don't know. They're so... Cowardly."
He turned to lean his elbows back against the banister.
"There was a strangeness to the current from Yggdrasil early this morning. Prince Loki couldn't detect any fissures or reverse currents but he seemed a little troubled. I guess it's noth--" Anthony paused as something red and gold flashed by him and he turned to shield his eyes from the sun as the golden full body armored flying thing paused midair over them. "What in Hel--?"
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oops fell asleep on my sofa for a bit there haha
Whoopps! Good nap?
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