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draumstafir-blog · 1 year ago

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1.03 | vikings rewrite

episode summary: ragnar embarks on his first venture into leadership, though he might not trust himself as much as others do.

on a foggy, dreary morning at sea, gyda awoke to muffled groans and murmurs of low morale amongst her raiding party. her father, who was usually right by her side, was nowhere to be found. although, because of the quaint size of the ship, she soon spotted him at the head, leaning against the serpent carving.

ragnar’s eyes were scanning at lightspeed. he could barely see anything through the grey fog that engulfed the ship, but he was looking for answers and he needed them now.

“brother!” ragnar nearly jumped out of his skin when rollo placed a hand on his shoulder, seeming to be the only person onboard in good spirits. “what troubles you?”

ragnar let out an annoyed sigh, “i released the ravens yesterday. they did not return within the day, but i fear that they might do so soon.”

“wow, ragnar loðbrók fears something. this might be serious.” rollo half-joked. no one wanted to admit it, but sailing to a new location was nerve-wracking, and tensions were running high as crew members became antsy.

ragnar was running out of reassuring things to say, as he simply turned his head away from his brother instead of attempting to carry on with this conversation.

suddenly, a caw was heard in the distance. ragnar perked up, unsure of whether to be excited or terrified.

“that was no raven.” rollo offered, his brows furrowing.

a few moments of utter silence passed, as everyone became focused on listening for more bird sounds. soon enough, another caw was heard, this time seemingly closer to the ship. then another. then two more in succession, until finally a seagull flew overhead.

“hark,” helga excitedly but gently shook gyda, as the young girl was still barely awake, “we are near land!”

everyone aboard was smiling and cheering, though this was only the first victory among a long list of logistical obstacles in ragnar’s mind.

“tell me your plan, brother,” rollo whispered lowly to ragnar as flóki joined them in a huddle, “and what did that wanderer tell you of the place we are headed?”

“when the norwegians started our tradition of raiding, they happened upon an island in the northeast of the region, and they slowly discovered that despite having many holy sites near the sea, the saxons lack any naval prowess.” ragnar explained.

“so we shall beach upon the seashore and search for a holy site?” asked flóki.

“the christian saxons keep many treasures in their temples, as a tribute to their so-called ‘god’.” ragnar rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, eliciting a giggle from flóki.

with a grin lingering on his face, rollo chimed in, “and you mentioned that this wanderer instructed you to sail south of where the norwegians used to go. why?”

“to be truthful, i am not sure,” ragnar let out a deep breath, “but the nornir goddesses have woven our fate. and when we find what we are looking for, we will strike.”

“yes,” flóki grumbled, staring menacingly yet blankly into the grey mist, “we must strike without hesitation, but we must remain cautious. i have heard my mother, who hails from vestfold, speak of loathsome and treacherous kings in the region. some of them and their vile deeds are well-known even in norway.”

“are all christians not loathsome and treacherous?” rollo chuckled through a smirk.

ragnar turned his attention back to the murky waters ahead. he almost wished that the waves would ripple large enough to fracture his reflection; finding it hard to look at himself with the knowledge that - win or fail - the fate of the whole crew would be woven by him.

lagertha exhaled, her sigh perhaps lengthened by the excruciating tension of the muscles in her lower back. this was the first of many hours in the day she’d spend hunched over a boiling cauldron, stirring around onion peels and cloth. what started as an innocent idea to surprise her husband and daughter with freshly dyed garments upon their return, soon became a tedious project. and the next batch, she thought, would look marvelous with the addition of fresh laurel leaves.

lagertha stared unblinkingly into the dark, bubbling waters, a disgusted scowl manifesting on her lips. she immediately cursed herself for allowing her mind to become so thoroughly consumed by these lowly housewife duties. but then again, perhaps it was a habit she’d picked up from ragnar, who was always simply thinking. it was a mystery to most what he even thought about, or to what conclusions he arrived. although, lagertha had no doubt that her husband was a brilliant mind, and through his raids would prove himself so. but if lagertha was going to brood similarly, she couldn’t help but contemplate what kind of man would marry a shieldmaiden, only to replace her armors with aprons.

the sounds of children laughing came from outside the covered windows. björn was sparring with a few of the neighborhood boys, most of which he was bigger and stronger than, even at his young age. while being a víking was a common occupation, it was not as much so to see young people training for the job. it was more or less a last resort for most men, when their lives in trades or agriculture inevitably proved exhausting and unrewarding.

björn was determined to be different. he knew he was a warrior by birth and by lineage, and soon he would have the prowess to prove it.

gyda clutched her axe with both hands, the shield her father had bought for her was slung over her shoulder. she couldn’t even tell herself trembling until the vibrations from the wood against her back caused a dull pain in her head.

“are you alright, my dear?” the comforting lilt of helga’s voice came from beside her on the rowing bench.

the shoreline was close. they would be beached within a matter of minutes.

“what do you think they will say to us?” gyda murmured, her eyes especially wide and glued to the pebble beach.

“who, my dear?” as helga’s brows furrowed, the lack of kohl around her eyes made her look a bit more kind, if gyda would face her. she reached a hand out and gently placed it upon the girl’s shoulder.

“the christian priests,” gyda’s lips trembled slightly, “father and the others say they are from saxony, so won’t they understand us? won’t they speak in tongues so close to ours, yet so corrupted by blasphemy? what if that is all i can hear before i...”

she stopped herself. ragnar had his own troubles, still stood in the center of a group of men, deeply engrossed in a discussion of strategy. gyda tried to compose herself so as not to bother him, lowering her volume even further.

helga began rubbing patterns across gyda’s upper back, “you are afraid to die. perhaps it is wise to carry a healthy fear with you, as even valhöll can be quite lonely without a familiar face.”

helga tapped at gyda’s shield, prompting her to lift it off over her head, and subsequently beckoned the girl’s head onto her lap. helga’s fingernails were a bit long, but very hygienic. she lightly scratched soothing circles into gyda’s hairline.

“would it console you to tell you a story of life,” helga whispered melodically, “people can be so interesting - their turmoils and triumphs. the saxons of saxony were once attacked by karl, the barbaric king of franks. he killed their old gods. he forced them to worship the christ god. and now there are many saxons who live on this isle, on which we are about to land. they worship the christ god here. they devote temples to him, and fill them with gold and jewels.”

as helga felt gyda’s body loosen up, she continued absentmindedly massaging her scalp, “but they are foolish to do so. and now the duty rests upon us, to take those treasures from their feeble hands, and instill into them the true glory of óðinn. i will not allow you to perish until that is done.”

the small waves began to splash more loudly as the ship drew closer to the shore. flóki was gathering a team of the strongest men to help push the vessel once it was beached, but his ear twitched, and he found himself looking over his shoulder at helga. although her back was turned to him, he feasted so decadently on what tidbits of her speech he could pick out, suddenly more in love than ever.

with the sun almost about to set in the unfamiliar sky, the raiders made camp in a nearby forest, the ship attended by two men though left at a secluded part of the beach. flóki, rollo, and some of the other men made haste digging a ditch around the camp, which would later be disguised with twigs and foliage. helga, gyda, and the one other woman in the raiding party all busied themselves preparing dinner; a lackluster stew of crushed hardtack, rehydrated fish jerky, and some chopped up acorns, if anyone had foraged enough. ragnar sat on a tree stump beside his daughter, sharpening his sword for seemingly no reason, as it had not seen battle since last year’s raids.

“now gyda,” helga said, her tone becoming almost a coo, “i’m certain this will not taste as nice as your mother’s cooking, but it will surely ease your hunger more than having the individual ingredients cold.”

“worry not, helga. my mother is not much of a cook. if she is in the kitchen, she can most often be found gazing out the window, for she reminisces about her shieldmaiden days quite longingly.” gyda giggled.

“a decent shieldmaiden is few and far between. but so is a good mother.” ragnar interjected, prompting both gyda and helga to look back at him. gyda was smiling, perhaps finally feeling comfortable with the presence of another woman to confide in. and helga embraced this role enthusiastically.

“when you have children, helga, are you going to give up raiding? father says i will have to do so.” gyda huffed, pouting her lips exaggeratedly as she began doling out portions of the soup.

“i suppose, in contrast to your mother, raiding is not much for me to give up. i have only decided to embark this one time, for the experience of combat, and for a memory to share with my beloved.” helga grinned, her smile becoming a thin line across her cheeks as she handed ragnar his supper. he placed his sword and whetstone across his lap, nodding subtly to her in thanks.

“why is it that you’ve not yet married boatbuilder flóki?” gyda inquired innocently, now tending to the cauldron as helga found a seat next to ragnar.

“gyda,” he reprimanded her nonchalantly, “that is not a very polite thing to ask.”

“it’s no trouble, ragnar,” helga gently placed a hand on his forearm in protest, “the inconvenient truth is merely that my family had arranged for our betrothal, but before any ceremony could be performed, my parents and elder brother all succumbed to illness. my surviving brother is not much older than gyda and has barely started a blacksmith apprenticeship. i only wish to send him whatever gold i may find on this raid, so that he may find a bride of his own, with whom to live on our family property. after this burden is lifted, flóki and i shall wed, so that i may officially depart from my maiden’s dwelling with confidence.”

“these are very unfortunate circumstances. thus, i can only suggest you return to this land with us, and raid again another day.” ragnar suggested.

gyda erupted into a smile, “yes, father, what a great idea! helga should come raiding with us each time we do so!”

helga looked to ragnar for confirmation, though his expression was distant as ever, if not amplified by his inhalation of soup.

“i am beyond honored by the invitation, but i am amateurish, possibly even oafish with the sword.” helga shrunk into herself a bit.

“your betrothed sings your praises, helga, rest assured.” ragnar felt the two girls’ eyes land on him. he drew out the silence as he finished his meal, perhaps relishing in the authority he so scarcely held.

“if you should prove yourself on this trip, you are more than welcome to return with us, if you so choose.” ragnar wiped his hands on his tunic, his head held high as he looked to helga, who sat on the ground. her blue eyes became wide with adoration, almost looking like gyda’s, or perhaps lagertha’s. although, lagertha had never let the balance of power in the marriage tilt toward her husband. she was decidedly more ruthless - a trait which helga and gyda may need to acquire quickly.

“heiðvör, the miller’s wife is looking a bit... underprepared.” rollo remarked to flóki, the two dusting dirt off of their hands and wiping sweat from their brows.

“you don’t mean álfkell, the miller, do you? then it’s no shock the woman can nary afford a chainmail strong enough to cover her colossal bosom!” they both burst into laughter at flóki’s retort.

“the bakers of kattegat all claim the man has insufficient funds for even a mug of seawater with supper!” rollo added.

“ah, but, the couple do have a young daughter,” flóki leaned in, his eyebrows raising as his volume lowered, “if she should inherit her mother’s figure, she will undoubtedly secure a great dowry. perhaps from you too, if by that time you can finally entertain the idea of taking a wife of your own.”

“flóki, my dear friend, i have yet to live thirty summers on midgard. once my brother reached that age, he had already been living most of his life for his children. when i think of fatherhood, i simply cannot imagine giving my children a name which means nothing. sigurðarson means nothing to me, for i possess not one memory of his face; no stories to tell, no reputation amongst the townsfolk. my brother, perhaps foolishly, believes that he is actually descended from óðinn. and i will not deny him that possibility - if that is what allows him to justify raising his children in anonymous poverty. for me, i cannot subject my lineage to that fate. my children will know their father to be a famous man; a great man. it may be that my brother and i shall both achieve that on this trip.”

“rollo, be calm yet and ponder not this plight, for many others and myself will know you and ragnar always as triumphant vikings.”

rollo placed a hand gently on flóki’s shoulder, “that eases my mind. though, at ease, it cannot remain. for my brother may be content to live and die as a farmer, but i intend to live for glory, or die in shame.”

the summer’s evening air seemed to hang low and thick, almost like a stone block, pummeling the faces of all who dared disturb it. jarl haraldson wiped beads of sweat as they dripped from his temples. though this was a trip he could not bear to reschedule. stopping before a magnificent pine tree, the jarl gently dropped to his knees, careful not to apply all of his weight to one joint or the other.

once comfortable in his position though, any sense of mindfulness was flooded with salty tears.

“my sweet erik, my lovely agnar, have you slept well tonight?” the jarl asked through fleeting breaths, tempered by runny sniffles.

the thought crossed his mind, that perhaps he should look around and make certain he was alone. but the chance that he should accidentally make eye contact with his bodyguard - who was stood a few hundred paces away - was too great and too humiliating.

“i have received word that a raiding party has left for the english isle. that slippery peasant ragnar loðbrók has defied my word and gone straight into the viper’s nest of those saxon kings. but rest easy, my beloved sons, i will not let our enemies prevail.”

jarl haraldson patted the earth beneath him, almost as tenderly as one would pat the chest of a slumbering child. and with one final swipe of his mucus-laiden nostrils, the jarl backed up and vanished into the night, his cloak disguising the sorrow on his face just as the humid darkness concealed him.

the orange twilight somehow managed to turn the previous night’s midnight heat into frigid mist. although the summer season was settling in, it was still almost frosty so far up north, as the morning dew clung to men’s boots with a vengeance.

even boys’ boots, too, felt its cold wrath, as a freckly young servant boy was sent into the nearby forest on the king’s orders.

with one careless step in the wrong place, the boy quickly discovered that the ground beneath him began sounding hollow. and mustering all of his might, he lifted some kind of metal trap door, half-revealing something close to a nightmare. but, half was all he needed to see in order to get the job done. picking up the sack he’d brought with him, the boy fulfilled his orders by emptying the thing of its contents: live rats. and the wretched creatures in the pit below dined lavishly, hissing with grotesque contentment.

the doe-eyed boy then began his trek back to the king’s castle.

“see, brother, the walk is not very far. i’m a lot of things, but i’m not the sort of man who’d see his own nephew hurt.” king ælle of northumbria pointed out one of the large grated windows in his dining hall, where a messy head of strawberry blond hair could be seen emerging from the treeline.

a comically long dining table separated him and his brother as they ate completely different morning meals.

“for heaven’s sake, osburt,” ælle paused in the middle of chewing his blood sausages and rye loaf, “there’s no point in your silent seething. the boy eats well, dresses well, and when he’s of age, he’ll be my squire. quite a noble upbringing if ever there was one.”

osburt stirred his spoon around in his porridge, which seemed to contain oats, barley grains, and chunks of something brown. “he was meant to be a prince, not a mere noble.”

“well, as i’m sure you’ve noticed by now, there’s no controlling the will of the wisemen council,” ælle pointed across the table with his meat knife, “and the both of you are, frankly, quite lucky that said will has allowed you to remain in my court.”

“but, while we remain here, i take it you’d have no problem finding any other common servant to perform animal maintenance for you. why is it that my son was so delicately hand-selected to deal with those monstrous serpents, whose use in your employ seem to be riding the line of savagery?” osburt spat as if he were reciting a tongue twister, all without lifting his gaze once to meet his brother’s.

ælle’s grip around the knife tightened.

he clutched a chalice of cider in his other hand, opting to look into the distance instead of at his poor excuse for a brother, “you remember what our father was like, perhaps more so than i, as the elder son. the only way to defeat your enemies for all time, is to earn their respect. that is what he so arduously believed, and mostly about the northmen, who still have yet to revel in the genius of his philosophy. and merely a generation before his time, we, the enlightened men of the godly kingdom of northumbria, were no better than those pagans. father knew their tactics, and he was keen on serving them right back. men would whisper stories of him capturing northmen even as they retreated, and punishing their cowardice by pulling gray brain bits out from their nose holes.”

osburt pushed his porridge away.

“the snake pit was only another facet of his plan, brother,” osburt’s posture betrayed the stoic front he tried to maintain, as even looking into his brother’s eyes felt sickeningly foreign in this moment, “a plan which you were not competent enough to complete. but in my reign, i will see to it that the scourge be eliminated from our pastures forever.”

“no one actually believed those distorted rumors.” osburt quipped.

“no one has to believe anything,” ælle returned, the usual boisterous quality back in his voice as it boomed through the hall, “when facing decent, christian opponents, of course there is an unspoken code to be followed. but northmen have no codes, they know no rules nor limits to their cruelty. so, who’s to say they can’t be responded to accordingly? father believed it’s simply the price that comes with choosing not to believe in the lord almighty, jesus christ.”

ælle finished his rhapsodizing by leaning smugly back in his seat, the fur cushions behind him like clouds on his back. osburt simply grabbed at his bowl, his stomach finally ready to pick at that gruel once more.

suddenly, a frantic knock on the large wooden doors cut through the atmosphere.

“not now, wigstan, your father and i are speaking.” ælle roared.

the doors opened regardless, as the two armed guards stationed in front of them had let in whoever was outside.

“your grace,” an out-of-breath soldier came bustling into the room, removing his helmet and bowing to the king, “i come bearing news from my scouting duties in bamburgh.”

“what is it then?” ælle seemed quite unbothered, for a man just rambling about his hatred of northmen.

“a peculiar vessel has been sited on the seashore. it looks to be the mark of the northmen, but it is beached in a location quite far from any monasteries.” the scout reported.

“ha! looks like we’re dealing with a particularly dim group of them. how long might it take you to lead a battalion of men up to handle the matter?” ælle chuckled out.

“departing from your grace’s court, it will take about half of one day to arrive in bamburgh.”

“excellent. then, be on your way, and if the barbarians can be dispatched in a timely manner, you’ll be home in time for a hot sunday supper.”

with a dismissive wave of the king’s hand, the scout bowed again and was ushered out of the dining hall. ælle leaned into his plush furs once more, as if to pat himself on the back, the next sip of cider tasting even sweeter somehow.

the sunday church bells rang incessantly, but served almost as a beacon, drawing ragnar and his band to their source. a small village not far from where the raiding party made camp, was particularly empty. men’s voices singing alien songs were heard echoing throughout the dirt streets. and upon finding the epicenter of all these noises, arne tapped ragnar on the shoulder.

“loðbrók,” he whispered sharply, “this building must be their temple, and look what they have left outside of it.”

he gestured to the front doors of a modest yet decorated structure, leaning upon which were at least 20 swords.

“you will pack up our campsite and return everything to the ship.” ragnar doled out an order to his friend, naturally garnering the attention of everyone else. and to them, he merely placed a finger before his lips.

torstein, rollo, and flóki all cleared the swords from the doorway as quietly as possible. the church bells rang out once more, prompting ragnar to roll his eyes and ready his sword.

a loud thud interrupted the church service as people gasped, fainted, and screamed. the faces of the intruding vikings were barely visible as the sun shone brightly behind them in the narrow opening. raiders ran inside, killing, mutilating, fighting any of the defenseless townsfolk they saw fit, while others busied themselves clearing anything valuable off of the tables and altars. rollo ran straight for the man at the center of the room. he wore such fanciful attire, his robes woven with red and white fabrics, while beads and crosses adorned his neck. the man was older and trembled as he pleaded for his life, though rollo simply responded by allowing him to gently remove his beaded necklace, before the neck was sliced through with a dagger.

ragnar sent a breakaway group to roam the rest of the village in search of gold elsewhere, as the people inside the church who offered no opposition were lined up and patted down. at times, some of the saxon men would work up enough courage to tussle with their captors, but to no avail.

in all the confusion, gyda had been off to the sidelines, preferring to watch instead of fight, though she was certain she could take on an unarmed saxon. but something compelled her to turn around and look behind her, and as she did, she heard movement coming from behind a tall covered table.

moving the table slightly away from the wall, she found three boys huddled together, each wearing similar robes to the main priest, but perhaps less of an eyesore. the one closest to her was definitely older than björn, but arguably not much older than her. he had big blue eyes that begged for mercy, with long eyelashes, and similarly dark brown beard stubble that almost made him look like a man. the other two boys hid behind his back, far younger and scared into oblivion. gyda was perhaps equally as startled, her eyes widening in their signature fashion, though she held out her axe in front of her in an attempt to look menacing.

“please!” the oldest boy cried out in a desperate whisper. and gyda could understand him perfectly.

it was her worst fears being realized; so much so that she nearly forgot to take note of the bizarreness of his haircut, which left a complete bald patch in the middle of his head.

“i beg of you, spare these two boys! do with me whatever you please!” the boy with the strange haircut was growing frenzied, the sides of his nose crinkling as he pleaded. gyda studied him, finding it handsome in a way she couldn’t have fathomed mere minutes earlier. although she was still unnerved by the fact that the saxon tongue was indeed so similar to her own.

“i have been to norway, i speak your tongue!”

now gyda was utterly baffled. her eyebrows furrowed in shock, as she tried her best not to stammer, though her lips couldn’t round up enough words to choke out a reply.

“we have barrels of ale in the cellar! i would give you all of them to let my brothers go!”

“brothers…” gyda found herself repeating the boy absentmindedly. though, feeling as if she’d shown too much leniency already, she grabbed the boy by the collar of his robe and pressed her axe against his throat.

“take me to the ale!” she demanded loudly, so that all of her fellow pillagers heard.

but with her free hand, she quietly pushed the table back up against the wall, and beckoned the two younger boys underneath the table cloth.

“good ferocity, girl!” her uncle rollo cheered. he was a bit preoccupied examining a group of about four saxon women, each sobbing silently before him. gyda looked away, pretending not to know what his intentions were.

she focused herself on seeming threatening to the boy in front of her, pushing him around with her axe still raised until he led her behind a closed door and down a short flight of steps.

“she is a real shieldmaiden in the making.” helga looked on proudly, carrying a sack full of golden candlesticks that once stood on the stone church altars.

“she appears to be a shieldmaiden yet.” ragnar muttered in return, not mirroring helga’s expression of adoration, as his face exposed his concern. eventually his raider’s - or perhaps father’s - intuition urged him to follow gyda.

the young shieldmaiden found herself in a cool, dry room lined with barrels. closing the door behind her and her hostage, gyda finally lowered her axe.

“i will make certain that no harm befall your brothers.” she spoke lowly, but with authority, causing the priest boy to nod timidly.

“and what of me?” he croaked.

“are you trying to torment me?” gyda barked, though the remorse behind her eyes was palpable.

the boy only shuffled backwards, his hands trying to grip the wall, perhaps for comfort.

“father said anyone captured alive should be taken into slavery,” her eyes drifted to the ground, “but what kind of northman would want a slave like you? who can understand our every word, and reply back with praises of the christ god? i know what christians like you are meant to do, when the men in expensive dresses send you off to places like my home.”

“if you should spare my life, i would do nothing of the sort.”

“this is a heavy burden to place upon me, right after saving your brothers too.” gyda pouted, still incapable of looking him in the eye.

“well, those are not my blood brothers. that is just what men of the clergy call each other.” the boy’s tone became more calm and soft, probably sensing that there was a way to reason his captor.

but, gyda’s expression contorted, “so you lied to me?”

the boy’s eyes darted to her axe, which was now hanging facing the ground, and with a mixture of cockiness and desperation, he lunged for it. gyda caught his initial movement in her peripheral view, swinging the axe behind her body and using one of her feet to sweep his shins. falling backwards onto the hard stone floor, the boy put his forearms up to block his face, one of which gyda skillfully grabbed and pressed behind his back. hearing screams of pain, she picked up the boy’s body weight and nudged him forward until his front side was flush against a wall, his other arm helplessly flailing about.

once gyda had done this full rotation of the room, she was met with her father’s figure where the closed door had once been.

“any broken bones will make him far less valuable.” ragnar snapped jokingly, sending his daughter a quick smirk of approval before returning to the others.

gyda leaned into him, applying her full weight to increase his discomfort, “what is your name, priest?”

“æthelstan!” he cried, between uncontrollable gasping breaths.

“well then, aðalsteinn, as that is what your new owners will be calling you,” feeling a newfound confidence, gyda used the wooden end of her axe to brush the stray hairs out of her face, “make your good arm useful and fetch me a mug of ale.”

she released him forcefully, elbowing his kidney area one last time for good measure. peering through the now open door into the other room, gyda scurried over to the tall table and discreetly checked to see that the two boys were still safely hidden under it.

by the end of their time at the church, ragnar’s raiding party had taken away at least 10 sacks of gold and jewels, three slaves, and countless skins full of dark ale. the three captives walked in a single-file line, their wrists all tied with one rope. ragnar carried on not far behind them, trailing close enough to even touch the shaved circle on æthelstan’s head.

“you and i have much to discuss, aðalsteinn.” æthelstan could feel the beams coming off ragnar’s unforgiving, icy glare, even from behind him. the boy silently gulped as he was shepherded away from his home.

the late afternoon sun shone blistering yellow beams, distorting the image of the ocean from the cliffs just behind the beach. ælle’s men had only arrived in time to witness their marks departing triumphantly, their shrinking silhouettes seemingly raising their arms, as if toasting one another.

the scout’s brow trembled at the thought of having to report this to his short-tempered liege.

“helga,” ragnar reached over to poke the woman in question, who was no longer sitting with gyda and was instead being cradled by her betrothed, her face a poignant red from the ale, “when we arrive in kattegat, make haste and tell your brother that i shall fund his first project.”

he pulled two ornate rosaries out from his pocket, dusting off the crosses before giving them to her. helga and flóki giggled at the sight of them, the inebriation causing her to bury her face into his chest, with the chainmail still on.

gyda sat alone near the front of the ship, where the three captives were huddled on the floor. æthelstan sat with his legs folded against his chest, along with two other saxon men that ragnar deemed strong enough for farm work.

“do not sit there sulking so loudly,” gyda remarked, herself holding a half-empty mug of ale, “your hot, disdainful breaths are getting on me.”

æthelstan let out an annoyed sigh, “you northmen are going to desecrate the sanctity of so many holy items. you condemn yourself to an eternity of flaming torture, yet display such apathy toward it.”

ragnar suddenly appeared, looming over gyda, his own face displaying what could be perceived as apathy. although, the expressions of a man whose mind ponders so many emotions at once would be rather difficult to interpret; at least for those around him, it was.

“tell me then, what do these things mean to you?” the pirate asked so calmly, æthelstan found it chilling in a whole new way.

“they represent penitence and forgiveness…” æthelstan fumbled his way through his own words, “such were the teachings of our lord, jesus christ.”

“so, your god is not a god? he was simply a man who taught his own beliefs.” ragnar sat on the bench next to his daughter, his tone of voice perhaps denoting that he was stern in his beliefs, though he hoped to egg the priest on to keep talking.

“he was, at one point, a man like you and i, yes. but he was born as the son of god, and would later rejoin his holy father in the kingdom of heaven.”

ragnar put his forearms on his knees and twiddled his thumbs, “but, what if some have said i was the son of a god?”

“mother has said something similar.” gyda’s lips formed a shy smile, perhaps simply relieved to be in her father’s company and done with the fighting.

“why would anyone say that?” æthelstan asked, too intimated to let on just how aggravated that notion made him.

“some said it after i slew the serpent. for which, i wore a pair of shaggy breeches, thus i am called ragnar loðbrók. to win the hand of my wife, i slew a bear and a great hound which both guarded her abode. and now… some may say it after we return from this voyage: that i have truly proven myself the son of allfather óðinn.”

“then, to prove you are a god, your allfather will have to choose you to return from death and join him in heaven.”

“heaven is not something i have heard of before,” ragnar rubbed his temples, giving the impression that this conversation bored him, “but if it is anything like valhöll, then it is not a fate to be dreaded. i could go on for hours about it.”

gyda snickered to herself, as even with her slight disorientation, she knew her father well enough to understand what a rare occurrence it was when he enjoyed speaking to someone. the remnants of a smile remaining on her face, gyda accidentally locked eyes with æthelstan, whose expression softened. she turned away before her father noticed, but she couldn’t stop the pink blush that made her drunken cheeks even warmer.

if ragnar was so certain things would never be the same, perhaps he would be the first domino to fall.

#vrp tag #vikings #vikings fanfic #vikings headcanons #vikings imagine

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v-spicata · 11 months ago

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Here's some choice quotes from the article: "A document sent to members of the Sellafield board in November 2022 and seen by the Guardian raised widespread concerns about a degradation of safety across the site, warning of the “cumulative risk” from failings ranging from nuclear safety to asbestos and fire standards." Fuck me, if you can't trust a place to deal with asbestos problems, why are they being trusted with nuclear waste? "A scientist on an expert panel that advises the UK government on the health impact of radiation told the Guardian that the risks posed by the leak and other chemical leaks at Sellafield have been “shoved firmly under the rug”." 👍👍👍

Oh hey, that sounds totally reasonable and not at all worrying. "A senior Norwegian diplomat told the Guardian that they believed Oslo should offer to help fund the site so that it can be run more safely, rather than “run something so dangerous on a shoestring budget and without transparency”. Jesus Christ, the Norwegians are so scared of our incompetence they're offering to stuff the cracks with cash. "Inspectors said that it is not possible to work out how many cracks have formed in the silo so are using guesswork and modelling based on leaks from the facility to work out the risk posed to the public and workers at the site." I mean guesswork's a pretty valid part of my own work but then I'm fixing farmyard fences and not managing a nuclear waste silo. Sliiiiiightly different risk factors involved there. "The ONR warned in its latest review of the Sellafield site, published in March this year, that “regulatory intelligence indicates that improvements are required in conventional safety, fire safety, cybersecurity and progressing high-hazard risk reduction”." Apparently this is all came to light during an investigation on how they've let malware sit in their computers since 2015. And the pièce de résistance:

"A Sellafield spokesperson said: “We are proud of our safety record at Sellafield and we are always striving to improve."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Final thoughts: This is why I don't trust nuclear power over renewables, because cutting corners and "sweeping issues under the rug" is all part of the game in this hellhole. The stakes involved in nuclear power mean that corruption is so much more serious with radioactive material when things do go wrong. Even if Sellafield does somehow get their shit together, the longetivity of nuclear waste means that the custodians of it have to stay reliable and trustworthy for hundreds of years and I just don't see that happening. Near me there's a place called Parys Mountain, an old copper mine from the 1700s. It's a bizarre and barren landscape of red, green and sulphur-yellow rocks that would look more at home on Mars than Anglesey. The reason it is that way is because of the dumped spoil and disposed chemicals from the copper works. The ground is so polluted that even three hundred years later, plants still cannot grow there. The actions we take now will echo far into the future and plutonium's one hell of a riskier toy to play with than copper.

#uk politics #sellafield #nuclear power #environmentalism

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indefenseofkara · 1 year ago

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My (mostly silly) thoughts while playing the MWIII Campaign

spoilers under the cut, obviously

Operation 627

was this man wearing a suit in prison?

Cutscene

wonder what the 141 was about to do before learning about Makarov

RIP Dena, first named side character to die this game

Precious Cargo

if Graves was serious about helping Urzikstan he'd pronounce Farah's name right

I tried to be stealthy. it never works 😢

omg Graves is so annoying and won't stfu. he even interrupts himself

Cutscene

RIP Ivan, you were just trying to do the right thing

i don't think patches really tear and attach that easily

Gaz's headshot is really so much better than everyone else's lmao

Reactor

once again i tried to stealth and failed

"I'm going loud" yes?? of course??? i just blew up a helicopter! is there a way to stealthily blow up a helicopter????

gave Price lung cancer oops

Cutscene

ghost is so proud of his joke lol

finally Farah learns about what Shadow Company did in Las Almas (kinda i guess Price didn't mention all the innocent people killed lmao)

aw but Price trusts Farah

Payload

i kept pressing the button for exiting recon drones in MP/WZ but it's different in the campaign 💀

my left joystick keeps drifting and idk whyyyy

the bunker dining room is set up so nice. table cloths and flowers!

Cutscene

damn Farah really gets everything done, the other 141 boys didn't stop their missiles

Nikolai! Rocking out to metal! I love it!

is Kastovia in Russia? I thought it was a country

Yuri!

Deep Cover

i'm Laswell!

for like 2 minutes lmao damn that was short af

Cutscene

oh god No Russian coming up

do i have to shoot civilians this time?

Passenger

bruh wtf is this?

why was Makarov even on the plane?

could/should have been a cutscene

Cutscene

Farah is my badass motorcycle gf

"Yes, ma'am" Alex knows what's up.

Crash Site

ooooh i found a crossbow!

goddamnit Alex i just took down like 30 men and you got caught by 3?! get it together man

the game wouldn't let me dramatically zipline in to save alex, rude.

Cutscene

Farah continues to be the most capable person in the series

Aww Gaz and Nik being bros

Flashpoint

this post is supposed to be silly thoughts but what is going on with this timeline? Price and Soap and Ghost are together but not part of the 141 because that hasn't been made yet. Also they're all British SAS why are they reporting to Shepard? (that's a question for all the games but especially in this pre-141 scenario) (ok back to silly thoughts)

i shoved Makarov so much lmao (i also shot him but that made me fail the mission)

everyone is gloating so much get it together

Cutscene

Herschel lol

he clearly has a plan and they're all like "what are you talking about Makarov we totally got you"

oh look i was right

oh look it's my least favorite people

"Ghost that is not nice" ok that got me i cackled

Gaz is distractingly pretty rn

Oligarch

listen i swear i'm trying really hard to be stealthy i don't know why i'm so bad at this i'm on recruit ffs

Cutscene

good cop bad cop

"to hide my face" he has a point

i have strong doubts that Milena actually worked for that money lol

Makarov talking about a "Shadow" and i am shocked. Shocked, I tell you! (i am not shocked)

Highrise

this was a fun level

Nolan's talking shit after i shot him, but i didn't even know i got him - i downed him while blinded by a flash grenade lmao

when did Price hook into the skyhook? nearly had a heart attack when we took off

Cutscene

oh its the high fashion mission coming up

Frozen Tundra

godammit another mission where i want to shoot the guy we have to keep safe for some dumb reason

Gaz is the voice of reason again

soap keeps running away when i try to get ammo from him 😭

Cutscene

lmao gotta love these scenes where everyone is part of an intimidating conversation

Gora Dam

i didn't even try to go stealthy this time, immediately stole a truck with a sentry turret on the back

Cutscene

Graves ugh

Gaz not shaking his hand, ICONIC

Danger Close

not really a fan of these types of missions

accidentally used a missile to take out one person but that's ok because i got an achievement for it called "your tax dollars at work" 🤣

Cutscene

yeah he's not dead

huh Shepard telling the truth, shocker

lol jk still lying too

lmao where was Alex in that little scene. "Nik take Farah back to Urzikstan" and Alex? where'd he go??? weren't you in Urzikstan? You left just to talk about this with Farah but not Alex? WHAT IS GOING ON? DID YOU THINK I WOULDN'T NOTICE DETAILS LIKE THIS

Trojan Horse/Countdown

doggo!!!

actually liked the CCTV bit, it's realistic

got runover by a train because my joystick keeps drifting 💀

playthrough interrupted for cat snuggles

"chunnel" lol i forgot some people call it that

RIP Soap, that was a pretty definite death

"one KIA" you mean one task force member... all the police with you are KIA too damn way to be insensitive Price

Cutscene

Uh does Soap not have a family?

Lol Gaz is the only one who took off his hat/hood

Tbh i was expecting a tragic military funeral with bagpipes

this was too short i didn't even have time to process before it was over. didn't cry.

Bonus scene

thank fuck he's dead. now let's get Graves.

Credits

lol what is this music? (oh it's 21 Savage)

production babies!

someone is named Amish.

I know some of these people!!!! I sat through over 10 minutes of credits to cheer for my pals suffering under the evil overlords at Activison!

there wasn't a "thanks for playing" picture at the end what

#this isn't that interesting but i don't have irl people to share my silly little thoughts with #COD #call of duty #modern warfare iii #mwiii #spoilers #i don't think anyone cares about spoilers anymore but still i'll tag it #my COD posts

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speed-seo · 1 year ago

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The Key to Online Success: My Top 9 SEO Content Writing Services

Hey there! Jesus here, founder of Speed Agency. Is your website content failing to attract search traffic and convert visitors? Quality content is crucial, but creating it takes serious effort. The good news is you can outsource content creation to dedicated SEO writing services. These services connect you with pro writers who create optimized, engaging content tailored for your brand and audience. This guide shares my top 9 favorite SEO content writing services that deliver incredible results across the board. I've used many of these services myself and seen their success firsthand. Keep reading to discover my recommendations, see the benefits of using a pro content service, and find the perfect match for your business needs. With an SEO content partner, you can drive more traffic, leads, and sales through your website content. Let's jump in! The Power of Great Content - By the Numbers Before we get started, let's look at a few stats that show why SEO content is so critical: - Content marketing generates about 3x more leads than paid search advertising (Search Engine Journal) - 61% of online consumers make a purchase after reading a blog recommendation (Upinc) - Sites that publish 16+ blog posts per month get over 3.5x more traffic than those with 0-4 posts (HubSpot) So yeah, SEO content brings the results! Now let's explore services to create that content for you... An Introduction to SEO Content Writing Services In a nutshell, SEO content writing services connect you to experienced writers who create optimized content tailored to boost your search rankings and engage your audience. The writers research keywords, structure content so search engines can easily index it, and make the writing compelling for readers too. These services handle writer management, payments, and more so you can focus on bigger business goals while they handle content creation. My Top 9 Recommended SEO Content Writing Services After years in digital marketing, these are my go-to content services right now: - Article writing company Speed Agency Yep, I had to include my own agency here! We offer SEO content writing and so much more - from technical SEO audits to link building and beyond. I'm really proud of the work we do. Plans start at €800 per month with 8 SEO optimised articles per month. - Article writing company Compose.ly A powerhouse for professional SEO content. They offer blog writing, E-E-A-T support (Though you don't buy E-E-A-T, because its points authorship and page reputation), and SEO content strategy. Pricing starts at $700 per month. - Article writing company Article-Writing.co Perfect when you need content fast and in different formats. Get SEO articles, blogs, emails, and more delivered on time. - Article writing company ContentWriters Forbes and Expedia trust them, so you can too. Connect with copywriters for original, quality content. Starts at $99 per piece. - Article writing company Draft Want diverse, fast content like blogs, social updates, and email copy? Draft delivers starting at an affordable $100 per month for 1,000 words. - Article writing company Scribly.io Let Scribly.io boost your traffic and leads with comprehensive services starting at $495 per month. - Article writing company The Urban Writers From books to blogs, this service offers versatility. Packages start at just $2.9 per 100 words. - Article writing company Crowd Content Get pre-written or custom pieces in every format imaginable. Their flexible pricing starts at 3.5¢ per word. - Article writing company Animalz A premium service trusted by Google and Amazon for high-quality, long-form content. Contact them for custom quotes. Why Choose a Pro SEO Content Service? So why hire one of these professional SEO content writing services? Here are some of the biggest benefits: - Access to experienced SEO writers familiar with best practices - Cost-effective way to churn out regular, optimized content - Don't need to hire a full-time in-house writer - Saves you time finding, vetting, and managing freelance writers - Get to focus energy on high-level business goals - Consistent, high-quality content creation you can rely on The Bottom Line In today's digital landscape, SEO content is indispensable for organic growth. Partnering with a pro service lets you reap the benefits without the hard work. I hope this list of my top recommended SEO content writing services gives you a great starting point to find the perfect match for your brand! Let me know if you have any other questions. Read the full article

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the-velvet-worm · 4 years ago

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In defense of Amber...

Honestly, I’m really glad I had absolutely zero contact with the Invincible fandom outside of little interactions on this site while season one was airing, because that way I got to develop my own opinions of the characters outside what the general populace thinks.

Which of course, leads me to my thoughts on Amber. From what little I know of her in the comics, there isn’t really much to know. She just kind of exists to be Mark’s filler girlfriend before he inevitably gets with Eve. In my head, she kind of functions as the Gwen Stacy precursor girlfriend, which makes it really hard for me as a fan of show Amber to not get too invested in her knowing she’s not the endgame romantic partner.

But, I simply cannot help but love her. For me, it’s a combination of watching (mostly male) fans of the comics absolutely seethe with rage over the fact that her character exists and deviates so much from the source material, and the fact that I just really, really enjoy her. As much as I love Eve and the friendship that she’s developing with Mark, I find myself increasingly frustrated that the writers won’t just let Mark and Amber figure things out in a healthy way.

On the one hand, I sympathize with Mark a lot. He never asked to have superpowers, and where the season ended, he doesn’t really have much of a choice to be a superhero or not. At this point, he’s too deeply invested and Earth would be too vulnerable if he didn’t step up and protect it. Every time he blew Amber off or showed up late to a previously scheduled date or hangout, the circumstances absolutely were out of his control. However, I have a huge issue with the amount he lied to her and the way he lied to her. Empty promises, lame cover stories, lies that she can clearly see right through. Amber is not stupid. She’s incredibly perceptive and intuitive. So for him to treat her like she’s oblivious and gullible comes off really shitty to me. Throughout the whole first season there were so many indicators of parallels between Mark/Amber and Nolan/Debbie that apparently went right over peoples’ heads. I’m not saying that anything Mark has said or done is even close to the same level as what Nolan has done, but lying is lying... and Mark wasn’t even doing it for a good reason.

To me, if Mark had true feelings for Amber and had intentions to make a lasting bond with her, he would’ve confessed the truth after the first couple times he stood her up. That, or he would’ve just spared her all the disappointment and heartache he put her through, and told her, “Hey, I have a lot going on in my life right now, and I care about you, but there just isn’t any room in my life for a serious relationship at the present.” That way, he wouldn’t have been stringing her along as much as he did, and he would’ve been making a commitment, which is what he’s needed to do all along - make that choice to commit to her fully, sharing the truth with her, so that when he does inevitably stand her up again, she at least understands why he’s doing it, or make the choice to commit to being a superhero and all the things that that encompasses. Nothing that’s happening to Mark is fair - but it’s also not fair to Amber for him to string her along.

When they had their confrontation in episode 7, I literally shot up from my seat and started cheering for her. There is nothing I love to see more than a woman who knows what she wants and how she wants to be treated making her feelings known to the person who isn’t considerate of them. She never once gave Mark a reason to doubt her or his ability to trust her in all the time they’ve known each other; that much is evident in how many times he promised he’d make things up to her, to make things right, and how many times she believed him and then found herself disappointed by him again.

The thing I’m truthfully most perplexed about is the fact that so many people are salty that she didn’t tell him that she knew he was a superhero. I mean, like I said, she is not a stupid person. I can’t get behind those claiming that she was “gaslighting” him by not telling him that she knew and getting upset that he ditched them during the attack at the college. She gave him an opportunity to come clean, and he didn’t do that. She was testing him and his ability to be honest, and he failed. Could she have been more subtle about it when they had that altercation? I mean, I guess, but given everything she’d put up with up until that point? I cannot find it in myself to blame her for being absolutely done with Mark’s shit.

So, I guess that brings me to my final thoughts on her character and Amber’s relationship with Mark in the season finale. I’m... wary. I really hope there’s some genuine payoff and good development with their relationship. I’ve liked them together from the beginning, even though I do also like Mark and Eve’s dynamic and the friendship they’re building. I just want Amber to be done justice and I hope now that everything is out in the open with her and Mark, they can find a way to be happy and make their relationship stronger. I just want good things for them both.

#invincible #invincible spoilers #invincible finale #hi pls accept my word vomit #amber bennett #mark grayson #atom eve #eve wilkins #debbie grayson #nolan grayson #omni man #amber bennett defense squad #!!!

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lunaastoir · 3 years ago

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fluff/relationships w the mondstadt crew

characters included: diluc, kaeya, and jean

gn! reader as always <3

tw: fluff??? domesticity??? crack??? ideal relationships w people who will never be real??? also mentions of alcohol!

an: so i’m back w a sequel to my “fluff/relationships w the liyue crew” since you guys seemed to really like it <3 thank you my heart is literally melting 😩 this post was getting too long so i excluded some of the characters but expect a part. 2 (more like part 3 but part 2 to the mondstadt version)!

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

diluc

man. this MAN.

that’s it, that’s the headcanon.

he would literally be the most doting lover in the softest ways

SUCH a soft romantic like you thought you knew love??? nah this man will show you what love is

will constantly leave you things around the winery to convey his silent thank you’s and appreciation for you putting up with him being busy for most of the day

it’s always the most thoughtful things ever too like-

you mentioned how nice it would be to have some fresh lemonade with the hotter weather outside but it was too late in the day to actually go to the market in search of fresh lemons

the next day you walked downstairs only to be greeted with a pitcher of cool lemonade with a side of lemon bars

there was a note attached to the handle of the pitcher <3

“i recall you mentioning how lemonade would be perfect for the warmer weather so i decided to make some for you this morning. i hope it’s still cool by the time you drink it. love, d”

pls sir your hand in marriage

he secretly loves it when you usher him to bed after waking up in the dead of night to see him working by candlelight on reports

soft hands on his cheeks gently whispering about how, it’s been far too long and come to bed, darling and there will be time for this in the morning

his protests are light given the dark purple hues under his crimson eyes but he’ll still make a little fuss

don’t let this man fool you tho he’s so so touched that you care enough to check up on him and drag him to bed!!

sometimes on the days he has a bit more free time, the two of you will quickly grab your dinners and race to the highest spot in the winery to watch the setting sun

these moments are always filled with laughter, something you’ve found you’re easily able to pull out of diluc, simply because it’s you

uncontrollable sobbing

he would let you paint his nails black like the angsty man he is

frankly he would let you do anything to him if it makes you happy <3

ok but wait diluc w bLACK NAILS?? AND RINGS??? i would die on the spot ⚰️

on the topic of makeup, this man is surprisingly really good w it

i like to think he learned after practicing on kaeya when they were younger bc kaeya was really into makeup

you found out after babysitting klee one day and trying failing to draw eyeliner on the sweet girl after her “big brother ‘bedo!”

you hastily grabbed some wipes, gently wiping off the messed up design before attempting to dive back in

diluc however, had some down time so he decided to check up on his favorite chaotic duo

only to be met with a pile of dirtied makeup wipes, your frustrated expression, and klee’s growing jitteriness

swiftly moving to your side, he quietly asked if you needed help

you glanced up quizzically before handing him the eyeliner, already looking around to find more makeup wipes when this inevitably goes wrong

to your utter surprise tho the eyeliner is perfect??? two perfect winged lines??? in less than a minute??? WHAT

you just stood there like 😦 before diluc got back up and handed you the eyeliner

you were short-circuiting, klee was ecstatic, diluc was worried about you

ok last thing abt diluc

crack! warning but the both of you like lowkey pranking kaeya

for diluc it’s revenge on his annoying brother; for you it’s good - natured sibling rivalry fun

every time the two of you see kaeya, one of you always swipes something of his

small things really, it could be a pen or a handkerchief

one time, diluc swiped kaeya’s spare eyepatch and from the looks of it, kaeya’s only spare black eyepatch bc he was frantically looking for it yk he’s desperate when he even asked diluc if he saw it

the two of you spent an hour nearly laughing your asses off

all in all, life w him is so sweet

kaeya

pretty boy? pretty boy.

while i can’t guarantee stability, life would never be boring w this man that’s for sure

piggy back rides 🗣 piggy back rides 🗣 piggy back rides

he LOVES it, the feel of you on his back while he’s walking around mondstadt most likely carrying you to your commission

he finds it comforting especially since he can hear the rumble of your voice against him while you recount stories, or just babble on about everything under the sun

he is SO dramatic so obviously when y’all reach the site of the commission he has to kill all the monsters even tho the both of you agreed to split it up evenly

he makes quick work of his set before stealing some of yours much to your chagrin

you scold him but can you really be mad at him when he looks drop dead gorgeous freezing the hilichurls the answer is no, no you cannot be

oh my god ok wait-

he does this thing where he tries to spook you in public

so say you’re getting groceries at the mondstadt general store

you round the corner just minding your own business, looking around, taking in the sunshine

and suddenly you just hear someone drop in behind you but before you can register anything you hear a soft “boo” and hands circle your waist

you jump SIKE let’s be honest you shrieked

meanwhile kaeya’s just laughing his ass off

you can hear his rich peals of laughter while you attempt to regain your bearings

he does this so often you SHOULD be used to it but you really aren’t bc mans is SNEAKY-

he cards his fingers in your hair whenever you’re speaking

he doesn’t know why, it’s just a cute habit and he finds the feel of his fingers in your hair soothing

oH on the topic of comfort, kaeya really likes resting two fingers on the back of your neck???

ik he seems like the type to throw his arm around your shoulder which yes he totally is but during more serious conversations his hand automatically seeks out the warmth of your neck

your neck feels amazing especially during the warmer months due to his chilly fingers contrasting with your warm skin

he likes that he’s able to access such a vulnerable part of you and you would willingly let him

HE GETS YOU MATCHING OUTFITS

no i will NOT take criticism on this i just kNOW he’s that type of guy

it would be those stupid “i’m his” and “they’re mine” sweatshirts like BYE

it’s so cringy but for some reason it’s oddly adorable and you truly despise it but you can’t seem to say no whenever he asks

you pretend to ignore the look of pity diluc throws your way whenever he sees you like this

kaeya really loves accessories so i think he would be the type to give you a promise ring or something similar to show that he truly does care for you

he would brush it off, flirting a little like usual before handing you the ring

with the way his cheeks softly darken though, you know he’s being genuine

TICKLE FIGHTS ik i mentioned this for childe but shhhh

he has tickle fingers??? his hands just loOK like they’re itching to tickle someone so you’ll most likely be the unfortunate victim

he will not show you mercy. at all. he’ll tickle you until there are tears streaming from your eyes, your face is hot, and your voice is hoarse from laughing so damn hard

it gives him such a rush of serotonin its SO CUTE

i feel like this goes without saying but he’s super into pda,,, anything and everything is on the table

hand holding? duh. ass grabs? ofc. carrying you bridal style around mondstadt? why not

ik he’s typically very playful but once the relationship reaches a certain stage, he’ll slowly start to let down the walls that surround his facade

very very slowly show you the more realistic parts of him

the real, damaged pieces of his soul

he’ll be carefully monitoring your reaction though, any sign of fear or disgust will have him recoiling within himself again and you most likely will never see his true nature ever again

SO BE CAREFUL 👹

once you’ve seen the parts of him he’s offered to you, the hushed whispers of his past, and the uncertain lines of his future, he will take off his eyepatch

pretends like he’s not super nervous but he’s SWEATING-

the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen though hands down

you can understand why he covers it up but you would like it if he felt comfortable enough to take off the eyepatch occasionally when he’s with you

also!!! sleeps with his eyepatch side facing you (in the event he wears it to bed)

if this happens you KNOW he trusts you bc it’s his blindside <3

anyways life w kaeya will never be boring but he is a very complicated man

stay with him though, i promise it’ll be worth it

jean

the key to jean’s heart is coffee and food

GET HER COFFEE AND FOOD

i am begging you she deserves it 😭

the poor woman works so hard bc the knights are so mf understaffed, this is literally the best way you can ever show her your love and appreciation when she has work

she will MELT if you have a hot shower and dinner waiting for her when she inevitably returns later than she promised

will completely refuse at first with, “you did not have to do this, it’s too much” but shush her as you shOULD bc she deserves the entire world

she’s the definition of “you do something for me, i’ll return the favor ten times grander”

you leave a flower on her desk bc it reminded you of her??? you’ll wake up to find a whole bouquet of the prettiest windwheel asters you’ve ever seen the next morning along with a thank you note

she’s so sweet BYE

she gets flustered extremely easily so you obviously use this as an opportunity to tease her

when you’re in public rest your hand on her waist and inch it higher until your hand is underneath her shirt and in contact with her warm skin

she’ll actually short-circuit its quite adorable

sometimes y’all will be cuddling and you’ll hear whispers of her insecurities

“am i a good grand master? will i ever be as valiant as vanessa?”

reassure her!!! tell her that she doesn’t need to be like vanessa, she’s already amazing as jean

if you haven’t seen her in awhile, track her down and schedule a lunch date

she never misses appointments and if it’s for you, she’ll gladly make time to see you even if she has to stay up even later than usual

OH-

GIVE HER MASSAGES

she has so much tension and the sorest muscles from hunching over papers and running around on errands

if you sneak into her office and quietly stand behind her before gently pushing down on the sore tendons of her neck, she’ll genuinely fall over on her desk

so make sure you steady her 😀

after you feel how tight her muscles are though, you drag her to barbara bc she needs a healer asap 😭

while most of your time is spent in her office - you helping out in the ways you can while jean is overseeing knight duties - you still have your fair share of life outside of the favonius headquarters

jean never likes to sit still so whenever you have free time, the both of you head off looking for monsters to clear

bouken da bouken???

adventuring w jean is seriously the funnest thing you could ever do

it’s just non-stop you accidentally getting into trouble and her having to come help you

even tho the both of you are dead tired after fighting, what? 20 hilichurl camps now??? the laughter and joy in your eyes shows how you both truly loved every minute of it

it’s both a stress reliever, good fun, and a work-out <3

you’re definitely prone to getting dragged to angel’s share w kaeya

kaeya and jean sometimes hang out after work at the tavern so inevitably you’re dragged along too

all three of you are drunk out of your minds which just makes everything a MILLION times funnier

kaeya slurring over his words makes the two of you start cackling endlessly while diluc just shakes his head making sure to not give you more wine despite your pleas

angel’s share ft. kaeya and bartender diluc are always the best times fr fr

life with her literally feels like y’all are married

so much domesticity it’s so NICE ALJDKSFH

your house is always so clean and the color scheme is impeccable bc jean has such a good eye

you have a chore schedule 😎 but it almost never works out bc jean ends up doing everything without you knowing-

you always confront her abt it and she’s like 😁 “i had some time so i did them! no worries tho” like i- time??? where bitc-

oH- she has amazing style so you can bet shopping w her is literally the best experience

she takes you to all of the hidden gems some places lisa recommended and helps you pick out things

will 100% get really blushy if you come out in something and ask her for her opinion tho she’s literally the cutest

basically jean is a sweet girl who deserves the entirety of teyvat that is all.

thanks for reading! if you have any requests don’t hesitate to send them in <3

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neko-rogers · 4 years ago

Text

All I Ever Need

Peter warned you about the dangers of online dating.

words: 4,007

tags: dark!peter parker, strong and explicit non-consensual elements, manipulation, implications of sex-pollen or drugging, lowkey breeding kink

a/n: please forgive me! i’m still new to writing dark!versed fics <3 but this was a request and i couldn’t resist (: if you liked this then you are free to help me out and improve my writing by leaving feedback or suggesting prompts that i could write about

It was emotionally crushing.

The moment you decided to create a Tinder account led you to all sorts of feelings.

As someone who had been busy with your final year of college, you never thought of engaging much in the relationships territory. With all these, you could only focus on finally graduating and obtaining a stable job. The idea that you were providing for yourself, without having to depend on a significant other, was fulfilling.

It did not help further considering that most of your group of friends were just as hardworking as you. Peter Parker was one the closest and much more than just a good influence. Truly too good to be true.

Nonetheless, you finally tried out those infamous dating applications you have been hearing. Despite warnings from your friends about how dangerous it can be, you were confident that you were smart enough to handle it.

“You're still hung up on that app?” Peter interrupts alongside.

The professor dismissed the class moments ago, and at least half of the people already exited the room. As always, Peter waited for you before heading for next subject.

Admittedly, you were a bit caught up with your phone. Swiping left and right sounded boring, but for some reason you found it amusing how convenient it can be – the interaction and messages was a bonus. “So what if I am?”

You lock your phone before Peter got to snoop further. Both your reflections could be seen amongst the black screen as you placed it on top of your other textbooks to be carried.

“Any interaction online is dangerous,” he explains. “I thought you out of all people should know that, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes at his remark. “You’re only a year older than me yet you sound like my dad. You know I’m already twenty-two, right?”

“I’d hate to be the one to say I told you so when your world comes crashing down,” he consoles.

“Oh thats bullshit, Parker.” You could almost laugh at his sense of ridicule. “Like you said, I’m smart. I’m sure I’ll be able to handle online dating. Have faith in me, yeah?”

“Yeah, whatever. It’s fine.” Peter nods, still beside as you walked along the hallway. “It’s not like you’re already going on a date with one of them, right.” His assumption comes off as a statement rather than a question.

However, you stay quiet seeming as it was best to leave it unanswered.

“Oh no, please don’t tell me you’re seeing someone already.” Peter looks back when you decided to stay a meter behind him to save you from the guilt.

“It’s just a second date, it won’t harm me,” you defended. “Plus, he goes to the community college nearby.” “What?! You two are already on your second date before you told me, or anyone of your friends?” You could understand where his temper was coming from, but in the end, it was none of their business.

“I know, but I just thought it wasn’t a big deal. Besides this is about me and Jacob.”

Fortunately enough, you and Peter have the same subject which was BioChemistry. This time, he followed you behind while you avoided his gaze. He waited until you took a seat along the second to the last row, and then taking his seat next to you.

You look straight, facing the chalkboard displayed at the farther side of the room. Though you could not see Peter entirely, you could see his glowering look by the corner of your eye. “So his name his Jacob, huh, tell me more about him.”

This was the reason why you could not update him, or any of your friends. You knew this would happen. They begin getting so nosy around your life before they even realize it.

Surely, you did love your friends, much more the boy sitting next to you. They have been with you since freshman year, and you were more than grateful for one another’s support.

“Peter, I don’t think that whatever I tell you would concern you,” you state clearly to avoid a dragging conversation.

“But we care about you, I care about you, Y/N.” He pouts, “The moment he tries to hurt you, you’ll run back to us and cry about it. I just want to skip seeing that part knowing I can’t see you heartbroken.”

You furrow your eyebrows. His statement comes off as a bit acquisitive, but you knew that it was just his concern caught up in the moment. “That’s the problem. We all need to eventually fail or feel pain. It’s normal, especially for young adults like us, Peter!”

There was a lot of things you wanted to say now. He trigged you somehow and now you’re at the edge of becoming a rambling mess. The worst part of it was that you were scared that you might say something that you would not be able to take back.

“Okay then I’ll–”

“No look, I apologize for raising my voice.” You sighed to calm yourself down and compose your thoughts better. “You know I adore you so much, Peter. And I appreciate you looking out for me. But this can’t be forever, I’ll eventually have to learn how to deal with these kinds of stuff.”

You got through barely half of your day yet you could already feel the emotional turn of having an argument with one of your best friends.

And eventually, your professor entered the room. Barely giving the two of you a moment to continue the heated conversation just seconds ago. The displeased look on Peter’s face remained as he looked in front, acknowledging that both of you took lectures seriously. He wanted to pick up this argument at another setting.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

"Congrats to your first ever anniversary!” Your friends applaud just as Jacob was seated next to you.

“We’re so proud of you.”

“You two look so happy together!”

“Both of you look amazing, practically perfect for each other.”

“Can’t believe it’s already been a year.”

A year has passed, your group of friends remained even so with Peter. In addition, they learned to accept your boyfriend despite their doubts on online dating sites and applications.

Just as they learned to trust your decisions more, you also learned way more about your significant other. Though despite your differences in fields, you learned to love him more than you thought you could.

All of you have freshly graduated from college. Most of your friends did not have much planned so far; however, as your friendship with Peter remained, he grew to understand your feelings more and handled it sensitively.

After your argument during your early days of dating Jacob, he eventually apologized for his behavior too. Though that was not the only time your friendship with him was put to a test. After the succeeding months, Peter still gave feint warnings and acted a bit overprotective when you tried telling him how you wanted to take your relationship to another level and get more serious.

Nonetheless, you did not let any of your peers affect your view upon your relationship. Seeing that you were now at your first anniversary, you were happy that you followed what your heart and gut believed in.

“To be honest we didn’t expect our Y/N to be getting into a relationship before we graduate, let alone celebrating her first anniversary!” Liz joked. “But in the end, just know that we love you and we’re here for you.”

You smiled, looking at your friends who seemed to share the same feeling. After graduation, everything feels too good. It feels as if your life was falling into place.

Not only have you gotten into a relationship with a kind guy. You also attained high ranks among the other students in your program, which led to companies offering you internships right off the bat. Rather than you worrying about where you’re heading to after college, you got the privilege to pick what you wanted to do.

Surprisingly, you got an offer from the Stark Industries to become an internship on being their analytical chemist. It was the most tempting offer you got. Who would not accept an opportunity like that, right?

When you learned that Peter also got an offer, you were more than happy for him. You knew he was one of the smartest persons in class and he deserved it just as you did.

Both your contracts agreed that the internship starts a month from now which was just perfect, considering that you also have a few things to do prior to it.

“Well, this girl also has a lot planned ahead,” you announce while catching the attention of your friends that were circled around you. “Me and Jacob were talking about moving in probably in his apartment by the end of the month.”

Your intention was not to brag. Everyone could see how genuinely excited you were with such a big event. You were just so happy that despite what every one thought your relationship would end, you accepted whether the outcome would be good or bad.

Your friends cheered at you for taking a big step into your relationship. Looking back, you were so scared to accept the second date, but little by little you could not notice how much progress has been done.

“I am so thankful for you guys.” You smiled and nodded at them before looking to your side where Jacob happily watched you interact with your friends. You slung your arm over his chest and planted a kiss directly at his lips.

“We’re always here for you, Y/N,” Peter added along with a smile.

Unbeknownst to you, just as your friends had left the celebration, you had big news yet to hear.

As you drape your purse over one shoulder, your boyfriend assisted you out. He held one side of the door for you and walked after you. He held onto the side of your waist until both of you reached his car.

Like the gentleman he is, he went over to the passenger side to open the car door for you before doing the same for himself at the driver’s side.

When both of you were finally inside the car, Jacob had not started the car immediately. He paused with fingers gripping around the edges of the steering wheel.

His sigh was just as evident, hearing it echo around the car which left chills across your skin as you looked at him. “You seem bothered. What’s wrong?”

He avoided to look at you just as both of your hands reach for one of his. He lets you toy with his fingers yet his gaze still directs straight at the gas pedal. You lean further to catch a glimpse of him, moving one hand to cup his cheek. “Hey, what’s bugging you, babe? I’m here to listen.”

“I’m sorry,” he starts off. The puzzled look on your face apparent as to what he’s trying to apologize for.

“What do you mean?”

“I just don’t think you deserve to stay with someone like me.”

His self-loathing was not settling your confusion in any way at all. “I still don’t get it.” You did have an assumption in mind, but you chose not to jump into it as it might flare up on what’s happening now.

“I think we need to break up,” Jacob swiftly drops.

Slowly, you pull back and rest your back against the window. You bring a hand up to brush the little fringes in front of your face. You were trying to comprehend everything that’s happening. “I don’t understand. Why so sudden?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea, Y/N–”

“Then what should I get?” Your voice starts to crack as you hold back the tears. “I don’t understand anything at all! You seemed so happy a couple of hours ago.”

“That’s why I’m apologizing,” he softly explains. “You don’t deserve me, I’ve been so horrible to you–”

“You have been so nice to me. I don’t know where you’re getting all of this, at all!” Eventually, tears could not help but form around the corners of your eyes.

Jacob sighs, finally looking at you. “You deserve so much more than this, I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Finally, the tears began to spill. You covered both your eyes with your palms, trying to both hide and wipe them away. “Y-you can’t just break up with me after celebrating our first anniversary.”

“I’m sorry–” “Stop saying that,” you sniffed. You did not know what annoyed you more, hearing him apologize like a broken record or hearing him imply the ‘its not you, it’s me and you deserve more’ bullshit. “You’re too cruel.”

“I’ll drive you to your house,” he offers. The look on his face seemed very guilty. You did not know what was behind these sudden turn of events, but either way you were heartbroken for how

“No,” you stated. “Uhm, I have a friend who lives nearby. You can drop me off there.”

“Okay.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

“That’s pretty much my night in a nutshell,” you sighed as Peter entered his room with a blanket and some clothes in hand.

Your legs were cross-seated over his bed as your hid your face with your hands. Peter frowned as he walked over to the edge of his bed where you were positioned. “I just don’t understand why he dumped me all of a sudden, might I add, dumped me on our first anniversary!”

You felt a hand over your back, rubbing slow and comforting strokes as you continued to cry. “Just as I thought I was getting to know him better.”

It was emotionally crushing.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Well.” You look up at him despite knowing your nose eyes eyelids became swollen, “You can finally tell me that you told me so.”

“That doesn’t matter right now.” His hands move to the ends of your hair, toying with the strands before turning half of his body aside. He reaches for a mug that situated on top of his nightstand, “Here. I brought you a cup of tea.”

“Thanks, but I’m not really thirsty–”

“Drink,” he calmly says. “You need to get hydrated after crying.”

You could not argue with that. You’ve definitely lost a lot of water in your body after hours of just crying, without drinking anything. “You know me so well.” you told him and added, “I should’ve just listened to you when you warned me about strangers online.”

“I guess I owe you an apology.”

Peter chuckled at your statement and watched you as your lips slowly sipped at the heated tea he had just prepared. “No need to be sorry about anything now, I’m just glad you’re safe. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Don’t worry he didn’t physically touch me,” you assure as he nods.

The adorable boy in front of you slyly looked down as he called for your name. “Y/N? Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Peter.”

“Why’d you choose to stop by my place amongst our other friends.”

You finally finish the entire drink he had prepared. Before you could answer him, you extended your arm in order to set the fragile mug back on top of his bed side drawer.

“Well for one, I still know where your place was, and it was closest from the restaurant,” you answered. “And conveniently enough, you were the first person I could think of after Jacob hurt my feelings.”

“I could vividly remember your warnings just as I realized he was breaking up with me already. I didn’t know whether to feel sad or ashamed. What I do know was that you knew me too well, even before I became fully aware of it.”

He smiled at your answer, and you gave the same look at him. “Well I’m glad you thought of me.” His hands reach over to yours and places them on top, feeling the warmth of his body over yours. “I would never want to hurt you, nor let you feel the pain Jacob gave you.”

“You’re too sweet.” You smile.

Your hands rubbed circles around your eyes first. Then you tried to lean in front, opening your arms wide signaling for a hug. Peter did not hesitate to hug you back, enveloping his arms while both of you rest your chins on top of each other’s shoulders.

From this angle, you could strongly scent his cologne. However, that was not the only thing you could observe.

As each second passes, you were not sure if you were the only one who could notice how hot the room was getting. Either that or that your skin was starting to burn up. “Peter?”

“Don’t you think it’s getting hot–”

As you were just about to react, you felt a pair of lips against yours. Peter had pulled back, and even when you could have realized it, he was pinning you down as your back presses against his bed.

And as much as this was entirely contradicting your morals, you did not feel an ounce of guilt as one of your best friends continued to leave kisses down your neck. You were not entirely sure why your mind was doubting this, but your body was suddenly, badly craving for touch – and Peter was conveniently doing you the favor.

“Don’t I think it’s getting what?” Peter sits up and teases just as he pulls his shirt over his shoulders.

“Nothing,” you groan. “But I don’t think this is a good idea–”

He shushes you, “Relax. Let me take care of you, yeah?

His hands gently released heir grip around your wrists. He was confident enough that you wouldn’t fight back after finishing the drink he exclusively brewed for you.

Your state of mind was perfectly right where he expected it to be. Just conscious enough to feel him against you, but incapable of thinking rationally.

He just hated how smart you were when it came to his friends and school; however, just as he expects, you were not as quick-witted when it came to relationships.

And hiring Jacob was definitely one of his greatest achievements so far. He lost a part of his savings along the way, but nothing could ever become as valuable as you. Now that you were in his room, let alone under his touch, he had the upper hand.

Peter was not letting you go that easy afterwards.

For now, he continues to leave kisses under your jaw while your hands lazily combs through the locks of his hair. He proudly hums against your skin after leaving gentle nibbles that started to leave evident love marks.

One of his hands creep under your shirt, reaching to unhook your bra. As he successfully does, he moves to adjust your shirt over your breasts. He gets a good view of them even without having to pull it over your head, smirking to himself as this has been a fantasy he has been dreading for.

“Fuck you’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” he murmurs. With one hand, he gently squeezes around one of your breasts just as he descends at your body.

“Peter,” your moan comes from above his head just as he was ready to spread your legs.

“Yeah, babe?”

“C-condom,” you mumbled with eyelids partially open.

He chuckled as a response, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

Peter tried to test the waters first to make sure he was completely in control of this situation. He drags the tip of his fingers across your stomach, further narrowing the path down as it reached at the entrance of your cunt.

He could instantly sense how wet you have become throughout his teasing. Both his middle and ring finger grew damper as he inserted them inch by inch, slowly seeing them reappear.

The warmth radiating around your walls excites him more, assuming how good you would be while his cock was wrapped around it. He instinctively curls his fingers out of excitement, forgetting that he was trying to handle you gently.

You react by tightening around it, along with a whine.

“Sorry, babe.”

Moreover, he continues it up until he felt his erection grow harden than before. He made sure he was completely hard before finally dropping both your pants down, attending to yours first until you were completely naked – excluding the shirt he did not haul over your head.

Next was his turn. He undid his shorts and threw them away ever so quickly. Then rushed to welcome himself between the space of your legs. “You ready for me, babe?” He did not leave a choice despite asking that either way. You remained helpless under him.

“Hmm,” was your only response.

Peter did not hesitate as he glides into you. He groans at your heat, grasping that you feel better now compared to when he was using his fingers. “Oh shit,” he groans while speeding up the pace of his thrusts, “you feel so good.”

“That’s it, holy fuck.” He was surprised at how responsive your body was still. Despite drugging you to the extent of being mentally incapable, your body was contracting all over him as if it was enjoying itself.

He continued to praise your body even if you could not understand what he was saying. The entire event revolved around him fucking you and leaving sweet remarks as if he was your boyfriend – and not, at all, a friend who laced your drink and made you believe you were somewhere safe.

Though Peter did say he was going to care for you. Ironically, it was obvious that all he can think about now is chasing his orgasm and nutting inside you. After all, it was one of his dark and twisted fantasies – to have full control over you, at least.

There were few moans coming from you, but the happy noises being created by Peter overpowers. With all of this, sexual, tension he finally got to release, it was expected that he was going to cum sooner.

“Fuck,” and other swears came from him. “Didn’t expect to cum so soon.”

As he did not care about your take on this, he also did not give a fuck when he was planning to cum inside you. Since he purposely avoided to wear any kind of protection, let alone learn if you were in any kind of birth control, anyone in their right mind would know what could happen the morning after.

Willfully, he made sure to go deeper inside you until he could feel the tip of his cock twitch as a sign that he was going to cum. “Gonna fill you up with my cum, yeah,” he grunts as if you were going to reply. “And you’re gonna take it like the good girl you are.”

Even so, when Peter finally felt his release, he took a good look at you beneath. You seemed hot and bothered, but not as him. Your chest was heaving all the while he could feel the speed of the beating of his heart.

When he steadily pulls out, the awaited moment of his deep, dark fantasies finally arise. He could clearly see his own cum beautifully spilling out of your cunt like a cream pie. He could almost feel himself get turned on just at the sigh of it, but he considered that round two’s with you would be saved for next time.

“Peter?” “Hmm?”

“I still feel hot,” you purr.

Peter extends his arm to gently place the back of his hand over your forehead, feeling how feverish your body still was. There were few hints of sweat streaming from your forehead. “Let me take care of you, I’ll just run you a bath, okay?”

You childishly smile and agree with him, “O-okay.” He pulls back to be able to properly stand and proceeds to head to his shower with a huge smile from his face.

You were his.

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somethingironicallycool · 4 years ago

Text

Let’s talk about cults- a letter to witchblr

You probably know me from this blog or perhaps from @desertandstorm or maybe you just never heard of me. The point is, I used to consider myself magically inclined. Unfortunately, it’s been ruined for me. People always say that you never expect to join one and honestly that is incredibly true! These people were my friends and my mentors, I never knew it would blow up in my face like that. When we think of spiritual safety, people on this site most often bring up spirits or herb safety, never fully touching on the topic of the overlap of covens vs. cults. I don’t blame them, it is truly a messy subject to properly handle without convincing someone all covens are cults (which is absolutely not true) So here’s my go at it based off of my experiences RED FLAGS

They’re pushy about their beliefs

They try and separate you from the “others”

Slander other groups

proclaim they’re the only right

“nobody else knows what they’re doing”

Something about them just always has to be one step ahead

The head of the coven can’t accept criticism

Denial of problems

Conflicting info and logical fallacies

This is iffy but casual godphoning of several gods and goddesses especially ones that they just started working with

Invasive actions such as unwanted readings and spells

(goes with the last one) refusal to take responsibility

Gaslighting and other forms of emotional manipulation

treat you special when you first join

leave you in the dust after you lose your novelty

(please feel free to add more in reblogs)

you feel like you’re failing them somehow

your mental health worsens because of them

COMMON MISCONCEPTIONS

This list is based off of my own struggles I’m still trying to come to grips with

Cults are only physical!

I got snagged by a Discord server. They can be anywhere where you are vulnerable.

Cult leaders are creepy old dudes

The ring leader was a dude in college. They can also start off as your friends. Cults exist to take advantage, there is no set way for them to appear

Aren’t cults like devil worshippers?

No, we were a diverse group who all didn’t share practices. (I’m a pop pagan and no one else was)

It’s so obvious

While I knew something was wrong, it wasn’t until after I left and someone pointed it out I realized what I was in.

Isn’t the damage physical? like brandings and shit

No, the damage was very much psychological and spiritual. While I believe someone did carve their arm under the influence of a leader, nothing physical happened to me. However, I can’t touch Aphrodite, Lilith, or Loki related things given their current associations. I can’t even worship Set now because I feel... dirty, like I was such a fool.

WHAT TO DO

once more based off of my experiences if someone would like to add advice for physical situations please do

Assess your situation

if they hit a good amount of red flags, they’re probably a cult

if they hit a few red flags, they’re a toxic group

Leave

Cult or toxic group it doesn’t matter. They showed red flags, it isn’t worth it.

You’re going to feel alone, it’s ok. It’s ok to feel alone after all that time. You aren’t alone in that.

Cut ties

Delete all related social media you used pertaining to the group

Make sure to work backwards so they can’t trace you

Delete everything that could’ve touched your tumblr or discord or however else you were in contact.

If you can’t delete certain accounts, change the username/ profile pic/ description and lock it down to private

Pick a new internet handle to go under for awhile and don’t tell people your old name. fae rules.

Lay low around the spiritual community and don’t try and interact unless it’s with people you trust

Breathe

It’s ok.

I’m serious we’ll get over this

To those struggling right now, you are strong you are brave

I know it’s so hard to feel like you’re so small that everything you did was lies, but please don’t let your work go to waste. Your first reaction will probably be to destroy your previous alters or delete all your journal posts, but just hold on to them. Save them for later you might be surprised.

Your pain is valid

Closing thoughts

Quite frankly, I miss spirituality. I miss the community it brought. I miss the Dolorosa and working with Sutekh. I am beyond pissed that was forcibly taken from me, and even now, slowly but surely, I am trying to make my way back to where I was. Before making this post, I was ashamed. So horribly ashamed of myself and just filled with disgust and hatred. I also used to worship Aphrodite and to see her have been made a mockery of just breaks my heart

and its ok.

I accept my normal now wasn’t the normal before. To expect my mind to just ignore everything that happened is stupid. That isn’t what healing is. Healing is... acceptance. Not of what happened, but of yourself. I will honor those that I used to by honoring myself and striving to create my own future free from those that wish me harm.

#witchblr #pop culture pagan #kemetic pagan #hellenic pagan #paganism #magic #metaphysics #spirituality #religion #spirit work #divination #heathenry #norse pagan #polytheism

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aggressive-positivity-network · 3 years ago

Note

Tf2 headcanons? Aw yeah! So let's say a new merc joins the team. They're a total asshole: Cocky, sarcastic, overconfident, refuse help. But both Spy and Scout see right through that, it's a defense mechanism. How do they go about making this person comfortable enough to not be an asshole?

*chanting* HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMF

Okay, jokes aside, this is one of my favorite tropes. Maybe I’m too naïve to believe that some people are just mean to be mean, or maybe it’s a sort of comfort to know that even the worst people can be understood, but either way, WOOOOOOOOO!

*****************

An Ass For An Ass

Headcanons

Scout:

To be honest, Scout’s threshold for asshole-ery is pretty high. Growing up with eight brothers will do that to you.

But when the new recruit came around, something immediately rubbed him the wrong way.

Recruit always stole his thunder with the crass jokes and over-the-top displays. Every battle turned into a competition, which messed with Scout’s system of fighting. He never had to focus much on his own team before, and now he had to worry about keeping his own reputation upheld while trying not to get stabbed, shot, or blown up.

Recruit also kept hitting on Miss Pauling - even after reminding them again and again that she was lesbian, and was not and never will be into dudes.

“Come on…you just haven’t been with a real man yet…”

“No, no, I’ve been with a lot of men. Real men. I just wasn’t into any of them. After a while, it was kind of obvious.”

But what really pissed a lot of people off was Recruit’s fighting style.

They were an absolute monster on the field - that’s why they were chosen - but every interaction was treated as some sort of survival scenario.

One would think that would be a good thing, but Recruit was ridiculous.

No matter what the situation was, he was fine, he was okay, he could take it, he could fix it.

He could be killed only inches away from a Medic because he would never yell for one. Sometimes Recruit would even show visible anger at being healed. It got to the point where Medic didn’t heal him at all, and just allowed him to die as to not waste time he could give too more grateful patients.

Missions were even worse.

He followed orders to a T, but Pauling had to beg him to leave a failed mission, or to leave without completely destroying the site.

Everyone just took it as Recruit showing off, or having something to prove as a rookie.

It was annoying, but ultimately harmless in most circumstances.

However, it all came to a head when Recruit tried disengage a sentry by himself and was severely injured.

Both Engineer and Medic, who had had to fix most of Recruit’s past and current recklessness, ripped him a new one, one chewing out after the other.

“What we’re you thinkin’, son?! One crossed wire and you woulda blown the whole base!”

“Zhe only reason you are allowed in my lab at all is because it’s in my contract. Personally, I vould have rather left nature to it…”

Since then, Recruit did exactly as he was told, and nothing else. And most of the team liked it that way.

But Scout recognized some warning signs immediately. Fatigue, near silence except for missions, self-isolation, snapping when people got too close…it all paved the way for a pretty nasty (and, for Scout, very familiar) result.

One night, Recruit was sitting on the balcony, and Scout came out with two bottles - a beer for Recruit and a root beer for himself.

(Scout can only drink on the weekends because one, unlike most, he can’t go to work hung over because his job requires a lot of movement, and two, he has no restraint and can’t stop once he starts.)

“What do you want?”

Scout shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?!”

“What are ya willin’ to tell me?”

Recruit just looked at the beer and sneered.

“Can’t we just skip this?” Scout said. “Maybe get to the part where you tell me what kinda Sally Sob Story we’re dealin’ with here?”

Recruit looked away.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t tell me you don’t got one. ‘Cause you do. I can see it a mile away. So what happened? Pop leave? Somebody died? Lotta brothers and sisters? Ma had a few too many and smacked ya around?”

Recruit didn’t turn around, but Scout could tell he was crying. He had hit a sore spot. Hard.

“Hey, pal, listen…”

Scout trailed off, then slowly began again.

“…the only reason I know is ‘cause I’ve been through it, ‘kay? Outta everybody I knew, I only trusted me. And that was great when I did a good job, ‘cause I knew I put me there.”

Scout opened his bottle of root beer and took a long swig.

“But when I screwed somethin’ up, it’s like everybody I ever knew just let me down. The one thing I could count on was gone.”

Recruit looked at Scout with tears in his eyes.

“But ya can’t do everything by yourself,” Scout continued. “Believe me. I learned that the hard way.”

Scout laughed, but it was mostly to clear the air. He didn’t get serious very often.

Recruit hadn’t touched his beer, but was leaned over the balcony with his head in his hands.

Scout sighed and looked up at the stars.

“But here’s somethin’ that nobody told me - it gets easier, y’know that? You just gotta relax and cut yourself some slack.”

Recruit shifted uncomfortably. “But the Administrator said…”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I know what she said. Gave ya that whole speech about how bein’ part of the team means discipline and focus and whatever. It’s all bull crap. She don’t know the first thing about bein’ on the field. If she did, why’d she hire us?”

“Sh-she said my perseverance was an asset to the team.”

“Perseverance, my ass. You know what would be an asset to the team? Stayin’ alive for more than fifteen minutes!”

Recruit looked at his feet. He had blinked away his tears, but he still looked on the verge of falling apart.

Scout put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it a little.

“You’re a great fighter, Recruit. You’re one of the best…that’s why you’re here. You got nothin’ to prove to nobody. Not to me, not to the team, not to the Administrator…not even to yourself. You’ve made it, kid. You’ve made it.”

Scout slid his hand off Recruit and started to walk away.

“Hey.”

Scout turned to see Recruit in the process of opening his beer.

“Thanks.”

Scout smiled. “No problem, pal. Plenty more under Demo’s mattress.”

“No, I mean…for that. I needed that tonight.”

“Oh…yeah! Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

Scout went back inside and to his room - but not before checking the cameras on the balcony a few times. Just in case.

Over the next few months, Scout kept helping Recruit break some old bad habits.

Recruit learned to take criticism without getting angry, to leave tanked missions, and to take care of himself.

He still occasionally flirted with Miss Pauling, but it was now more of an inside joke than anything.

Recruit still isn’t perfect - he still cringes a little when he’s healed, and falls back into survival mode when times are stressful - but he is now a much happier, much healthier person.

Spy:

Spy’s asshole wasn’t a merc, per se.

They were more of an informant, usually giving out important facts about locations, missions, and a target’s history.

Sometimes they would even use the Administrator’s PA system to announce new rules and reminders.

This would be perfectly fine - after all, you get kind of tired of hearing the Administrator all the time - except for the fact that Informant was the most sarcastic, most nasally, most apathetic, most matter-of-fact person on earth.

Even outside of a work setting, which was rare because they stayed in their office most of the time, Informant would go out of their way to be as condescending as possible.

Especially to whoever they considered to be in the “less intelligent” category: Heavy, Pyro, Scout, Demo, and Soldier.

To all the “others,” he turned every briefing into a contest to see who knew more at any given time…which, of course, usually meant he won.

“Now, does anyone know where his address is? Come on, any takers? Yeah, I thought so.”

Unlike Recruit, which would only warrant a few grumbles here and there from the team, Informant was the subject of a lot of hissed complaints and terrible rants from even the calmest of members.

Informant was the only one who could get under Heavy’s skin - a personal pet peeve of his was being considered less intelligent or less of a human being because English wasn’t his first language, which Informant chose to remind him of constantly.

It began with a few simple jabs at his grammar or word structure, but once Informant figured out that Heavy wouldn’t hurt a fly outside of battle, the taunts grew more and more daring.

Heavy would usually ignore Informant, which would only exacerbate their need to be noticed. This led to some pretty nasty interactions - from spouting the statistics of Russia’s average intelligence to even saying Heavy was a disgrace to his country by being a literature major.

“How’s that Russian literature major treating you? You know - in America.”

Sniper and Medic had tried to set Informant straight, but Heavy refused to accept any help. This was something that was his to bear, and his alone. He knew that they both took their own helping of harassment.

But one day, Informant went a little to far.

He did the one thing you should never do: insult Heavy’s family.

“You mother and sisters can’t do anything more than wait for you. No wonder you’re the only source of income.”

Before he knew it, Informant was against a wall, struggling to breathe, blood running into his eyes.

Heavy walked away after the incident, and told Medic about it, but he refused to heal him. Informant had called Medic a Nazi on more than one occasion.

This, finally, is where Spy comes in.

Spy was walking by Informant’s office, when he heard a strange sound - barely suppressed hiccups and sobs.

Despite his aversion to displays of emotion, the promise of seeing one of his greatest enemies as their lowest was too amusing to resist.

He knocked lightly on the door, then slowly opened it - always the master of drama.

Informant was under their desk, bloodied and bruised, sobbing into their knees.

Spy entered noiselessly, sitting in Informant’s office chair and lighting a cigarette.

It was only when Spy made a dramatic exhale of the smoke that Informant looked up, tears streaking their face.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Spy finally spoke.

“Oh, how the mighty fall. Flown too close to the sun, have we?”

Informant couldn’t do much more than snivel and retreat farther below the desk.

“Who did it?” Spy asked. “I want to give them my regards…and maybe a bottle of wine.”

“H-Heavy…”

“Oh? Well, if anyone can bring him to blows, it’s you.”

Spy put his feet on the desk and continued to blow smoke out of his nose, thinking.

“It’s strange,” he said. “Most offices have at least a few pictures of family. A trip to the beach, perhaps the zoo…?”

He took a quick glance around.

“No children. No army mates. No graduation photos or a large catch at a local lake. The only personal item you have is this…”

Spy picked up a Rubik’s Cube. The plastic still around it crinkled.

“Unused.”

Informant looked at the floor.

“I like to keep my personal and professional life separate.”

Spy pursed his lips and squinted.

“How noble of you. But I don’t think that’s the case. You know what I think, Informant?”

Spy took his feet of the desk and bent down, looking Informant in the eyes.

“I don’t think you have a life.”

Informant’s eyes went wide for a moment, then his face immediately crumpled. Bullseye.

Spy smirked and got up from the chair, starting to leave.

Informant’s sniffling turned into sobbing, and before Spy could put his hand on the doorknob, muffled wailing filled the office.

Spy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He was trying not to remember something. But the imagery was too strong.

He remembered hiding under a table, like Informant was. People screaming and cursing at each other in French. His knees all scarred and his nose runny from a cold that should have resolved weeks ago. Waltz music coming from next door, trying to drown out the fighting. Glass breaking. Biting his knuckles so he wouldn’t whimper or cry.

Spy’s hand closed into fist. He took a deep breath, and turned to face Informant again.

“But to be fair…”

He walked towards the desk, putting his hand in his suit pocket. He got on his knees and pulled out a pink handkerchief.

“…I don’t have one either.”

He offered the handkerchief to Informant, who put it to his face, still staring at Spy through red eyes.

The pair were silent for a moment, with Spy putting out his cigarette and lighting a new one while Informant cleaned themselves up.

“But the difference between you and I,” Spy said, his voice wavering a bit, “is that I am a Spy. If my information got into the wrong hands, it could be the end of me and my team.”

He tapped his cigarette on a nearby trash can, letting the ashes fall into it.

“But what are you hiding from?”

Informant took a shaky inhale, the handkerchief still covering his nose and mouth.

“W-what?”

“Why do you feel the need to be, as Scout puts it, a tier five jerkazoid?”

Informant sniffled. “I…I didn’t think I took it that far.”

“Took what that far?”

“I just…snrk…I thought that’s what I had to do to get them to take me seriously.”

Informant laughed, but their heart wasn’t in it.

“I’m five foot four with red hair and freckles. I look more like someone’s Andy doll than a contract killer. I thought maybe if I knew everything…I’d be worth it.”

They shrugged.

“At best, they’d be impressed. At worst, they would never get close enough to me to know the truth: the only reason why I’m here is because I can rattle off a few names and that I had good grades in school because I had nothing better to do.”

Spy’s chest ached. He didn’t know why, but it was a strange feeling to him.

“Mon ami…”

He cleared his throat.

“If half of the team is any indication, you don’t need to be Nikola Tesla to be hired. Hell, the fact you can read is an anomaly in itself. But there is something you must understand…”

Spy cleared his throat again. His voice had gotten quite unstable all of a sudden.

“Intelligence is measured in different ways. Scout could never read even the simplest of children’s books, but his physical intelligence - reflexes, spatial awareness, aim - is phenomenal. Medic would have to put my spine back together if I even attempted to do what he does on the field.”

Informant snickered at the joke, or perhaps the image it conjured.

“And me,” Spy continued. “I can speak almost any language, adjust to any social setting, charm anyone, fool anyone…kill anyone. Just like you, I can remember, and I use the information I absorb mostly to show how superior I am to all my lowly colleagues.”

Spy furrowed his brow and looked away.

“But I know less about myself than even my enemies. I have hidden it so deep within my mind that I can hardly remember…or perhaps would rather not remember…who I was before this mask of mine.”

Informant hesitated. “I…I’m sorry, Spy.”

Spy sneered and puffed a few smoke rings.

“I don’t want your sympathy. I want you to have some self-respect - and respect for my teammates. Because next time you are beaten within an inch of your life, you might catch me in a less generous mood.”

With that, Spy got up, reached into his suit pocket and presented a small MediKit, which he tossed to Informant.

“I’d suggest freshening up before going to any more briefings.”

Informant nodded, and set to work healing himself.

Spy started to leave, then stuck his head back in.

“And hang a few posters, would you? Your office looks like a prison cell.”

Finally, the Frenchman took his leave, adjusting his suit and nodding solemnly to the team members he happened to pass - or scowling at them, depending.

He glanced over the security feed, and once he was satisfied, made his way to his smoking room.

Spy closed the heavy oak door, poured himself a small glass of scotch, and sat down in his chair next to the fireplace.

He put a magazine on his knee and began to flip through the pages, but his gaze soon started to wander.

He closed the magazine, tossed it into the fire, leaned into his hand, and wept.

…So what became of Informant?

Well, after a reluctant heal from Medic and a few well-deserved apologies, Informant began to try and break the cycle of self-sabotage.

The process took a lot longer than Recruit’s did - especially since Informant’s transgressions were a lot more egregious - but, little by little, they began to heal.

A lot of the time, the other mercs would have to tell them to tone it down a bit, or to cut him off completely if necessary.

Informant still almost has a panic attack if he doesn’t have the right papers, and his office is still pretty bare, but he took Spy’s advice - a few AC/DC posters hang on the leftmost wall.

As for Spy, well…he needs to have a talk with Medic.

******************

I am so sorry…this is all so messy and weird. One is so much longer than the other, and I’m not even sure half the dialogue sounds right.

The two headcanons were just typed out at different times, the first where I had less motivation and the second when I had more motivation. This wasn’t on purpose, it just happened.

I hope you still like it, though!

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itisannak · 4 years ago

Text

Rose-Colored Glasses (A Harry Styles Fic) / Part 1: New York City

Summary: (Y/N) is a 21-year-old student at the New York Institute of Fine Arts. When money becomes tight, she signs up to Seeking Arrangement, where she meets Harry Styles, a 30-year-old executive, who just wants a normal friend. Or, maybe more... (For @harrysleftchelseaboot Writer’s Appreciation Writing Challenge) (This part does not contain smut scenes. But future parts of this fic do.) (Words: 10k) (Part 2: New York City & Aspen, Part 3: New York City, Amalfi Coast, & Rome, Part 4: Epilogue) (Rose Colored Glasses Vol. 2, Part 1: New York, Part 2: New York, Upper East Side , Part 3: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City / Part 4: Upper East Side, New York City & Low Manhattan, New York City / Part 5: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City, Winter Wonderland / Part 6: New York, Zurich, London) / Epilogue; Hawaii

I sigh as I lock my phone, leaving it on the arm of the couch as my friend takes her seat back, looking at me in confusion. "(Y/N), bub... Are you ok? You seem a little..." "Out of my mind? Anxious? Petrified?" I ask her back and she chuckles softly, nodding her head. "All of the above. What's going on? Is Pete bothering you again? You were fine before I went to the kitchen." She asks me back, passing me the bowl of popcorn. "No, I think he is with someone else now. He hasn't bothered me in a while. And thank God for that. He is the last person I want to deal with right now. My electricity bill just came in my email. I swear, it feels like I had just paid the last one..." I whine, stuffing my mouth with a handful of popcorn. "I mean, ever since my roommate decided to move in with her boyfriend, I can barely afford the apartment by myself. I don't want to go back to living in the dorm, it feels like a step back." I complain, making my friend look at me with a frown. "Oh, honey. The 'looking for roommate' flyers didn't do anything?" She asks me softly. "Nothing. Plus, it is really weird looking for a roommate in the senior year. Not to mention having to worry about the new roommate being a creep..." I groan, just at the thought of going through the whole process of building trust with a new person. "Well, if everything fails, you can always find a sugar daddy. New York is rid of them." She nudges my shoulder, chuckling softly. I roll my eyes playfully, shaking my head at her. "Yeah, right... Maybe I will pick extra shifts at the cafe, I'll be fine, no need to worry right now." I try to be breezy and sound optimistic, brushing the matter off. "I am serious, though. There is this site... Seeking Arrangement or Arrangements. It is easy to join in and they run checks on the daddies and some of them don't even want sex." She suggests, cocking an eyebrow playfully at me. "I don't think I would fit in there... Plus, old white rich men are kinda making my stomach turn, so... It's fine, I will find a way to make extra cash..." I assure her, already feeling my stomach upset at the thought of actually doing that. My moral axis is on the opposite end of that, and I can't even picture myself not getting furious at the very first message some random dude is going to send me. "Shall we start the movie? You could use something to distract you, right?" She asks me, grabbing the remote control. "Sure..." I smile politely, relaxing back on the couch.

I fidget my pen with my fingers as I hover over my budget for the month. There is no way I can afford rent, electricity, and food this month, even if I work double-hours. Fuck, I have been taking pride in myself for being able to survive in New York without asking for help from my parents so far and now I am about to call for money, in the middle of the night. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes to try and calm myself. I have been chanting repeatedly that everything is going to be alright, but honestly, this is not working. And what makes things worse is that the idea of signing up to that site my friend suggested has been seeping through my brain since I picked up my diary and pen to calculate my expenses. I bring my laptop closer, sighing as I type the keywords into Google. The site is at the top of the results; Seeking Arrangement dot com. This feels wrong, but I am just researching. My forefinger hovers over my touchpad, trying to find the courage to go against what I thought my moral compass has been opposed to. My face morphs as I press the link, fixing my posture to take a better look at the information before me. The couple on the homepage seems like they have definitely been hired for the promotional shoot, I could bet my money that they are not a couple but honestly is not much. I dig the site more, reading and re-reading the terms, browsing the members, and trying to talk myself out of signing up. But the idea is rooted deep in my head and I find myself clicking the sign-up tile. They are running background checks and I can set my terms about the type of relationship I wish for. And hey, there is a sea of women and men on this site, I will probably not find someone interested to 'invest' and 'mentor' me. My profile will be lost in the sea of people looking for a sugar daddy. I decide to just close the laptop and go to bed early, not hover over my screen for messages I might never receive either way. I cover myself with the duvet up to my ears, craving warmth and safety to lull myself and fall asleep. I am having a hard time not feeling guilty for signing up to the site; I know that there is no reason to, that there is nothing shameful in utilizing an opportunity like this, and that on my profile I have stated my boundaries, but my stomach is tight at the thought of people actually finding my profile. And I honestly don't know which scenario would be worse; having messages from the men on this site in the morning, or logging in to an empty inbox.

I have a hard time starting my day this morning. Not that is ever easy for me to part from my beloved comforter, but today the New York weather begs for me to stay in bed, cocoon, and drink cup after cup of tea. But if I want to keep the slightest hope of keeping this apartment, I have to get up and head to work. I suppress my urge to log in to the site and check if there are any messages; I will end up spiraling or digging too deep, so I leave it for when night comes, to pair my research with my cup of noodles. I wear my work outfit; a simple pair of black jeans, a blunt black t-shirt, and a beige apron that will complete the look once I reach the coffee shop. It is the most boring color scheme, but the owner is all about ~calm colors that are easy on the eye~. As if black is easy on the eye. I grab my backpack and stuff my laptop in it; hopefully, I will get some surge of will to write more on my dissertation.

I walk to the announcement board of the library, looking at the huge display for my looking for a roommate ad. Still, all the fringes with my phone number are hanging below the paper, which means that no one was interested in it. I'll give it by the end of the week; either way, that's the time I have before I lose the payment deadline. "No luck yet?" My best friend startles me, tapping my shoulder. "No. No one even picked my number up." I sigh, my shoulders dropping as I love hope gradually. "Maybe they just saved it on their contacts straight away. Or took a pic of the ad. Don't stress over it. Come on, we have a class with Chimera... We don't want to be late." She pulls me by my arm, dragging me away from the board.

I unlock the door to my apartment well past the time I was supposed to be back. My body is already sore from the day and I am not anywhere close to calling it a day. I set my backpack by my bed before I strip to take a shower and wash away the day. I pour boiling water in my cup of noddles and sprinkle the seasonings before crossing my legs on top of each other and pulling my laptop on top of my lap as I stir my dinner for the noodles to soften faster; my belly has been rumbling ever since I stepped out of my class. I open my dissertation files, sighing at the thought of how much work I have left for this to be done and ready for submission. And then I decide to take a look at my Seeking Arrangement profile. I tap my nails against the keyboard softly as I wait for the login to be completed. I take a bite from my noodles as my profile appears on my screen and I see the little red dot over my message icon. "Holy fuck." I choke on my food as I see I have already been messaged 5 times but various men. Huh... Would you look at that... I open the messages one by one, a different tab for each message.

The first one is by a 50-year-old dude, who seems way too forward from the first message. No, thanks. The second one looks gross; I know I should not judge a book by each cover, but my stomach twitches at the sight of his picture. The third one started with a dick pic, so big no and block. The fourth one looks no older than 28, lives in New York, has a pretty face. That could work...

'Hello. Your profile seems quite interesting. And I noticed you live in New York. What a coincidence? How is the city treating you?' His message is completely different from the others' messages, he seems a bit awkward, in contrast to the confidence the other men showed. I bite my lip and leave the cup next to me before I fix my posture to reply to his message. 'Hi. Thank you for your compliment. New York has been quite the experience thus far. I can't wait to see what adventure it brings me next. How is the city treating you?' I send the message, waiting already for his response. I know better than expecting him to reply straight away, but this seems a bit fun. 'It has been amazing this far. Are you a student here?' He asks; there hasn't even been a minute since I sent my message. 'I study History of Art. I am in my senior year, with only one semester left to get my degree. What about you?' 'I am working in the city. Wow, art history... Impressive. Are you an artist as well, or just an art lover?' 'Just an art lover. My drawing skills are limited to drawing smiley faces.' 'Ah, like myself. Have you been on this site for a long time?' 'I signed up last night, you are the first person I talk to in here. What about you?' 'Just a couple of weeks. This is all new to me, can't imagine how strange it must seem to you.' 'It is a strange experience, yes. I am still trying to find out how all this works.' 'Well, allow me to welcome you in here. To my understanding, you need to set your boundaries, talk about what you want to get out of a relationship.' 'And what are you looking for in a relationship, Harry?' 'Well, I don't know. I guess I am seeking some normalcy in my life. A friend who is outside my circle. Not specifically for anything sexual. What are you looking for, (Y/N)?' 'I am not sure. I guess a taste of a different lifestyle...' 'That sounds good to me. I can give a taste of that.' 'And I am sure I can give you the normalcy you are looking for. It doesn't get more normal than this, I can assure you.' 'Look at you, already making your first arrangement. See, it wasn't that hard, was it?' 'I think you are the one who made it easy for me.' 'Ah, that is untrue. Your honesty did. Would you be comfortable if we met in person? Getting to know someone through a screen only lets you find out little about them.' 'You are not wasting time, I see.' 'I promise, it is nothing sexual. Nor anything creepy. I just want to see you face to face, know the real you. You can pick the time, date, and place. Anything that makes you comfortable.'

And just like that, I am dressed in my nicest dress, walking to the lobby of Plaza Hotel to ask for Harry. I am under-dressed to fit the place, the luxury of the hotel almost making it seem tacky. I walk to the front desk, clearing my throat nervously as the man behind looks at me in a poss way, almost despiteful. "How may I help you, Miss?" He asks me, arching an eyebrow at me. "Hi. I am looking for Mr. Harry Styles." I announce, making the man turn to the computer and punch in his name. "And who is asking for him?" He asks, picking up the landline phone and looking at me questioningly. "Ms. (Y/N) (Y/L/N)." I reply; on one hand, it is a good thing I gave my real name, they keep a record here, I am sure, and if anything happens to me... Well, at least they will have clues to look for me. But at the same time, I am so nervous about it, a bit shameful about revealing my name to someone. Until the man announced my name on the phone, Harry only knew my first name; and he only gave me his full name to ask for him in the lobby. I wish we could just stick to knowing only each other's first name. "Mr. Styles will now accept you in the Junior King Suite, on the 19th floor." The man states, smiling patronizingly before letting me go my way.

I walk in the elevator, pressing the button for the floor before I walk to the very back of the cabin, leaning against the wall. What the fuck am I doing here? Do I really want this? There is still time for me to leave... I can just get out of the elevator the next time the doors open and run. He knows I am here, but that won't be a problem, I assume. Fuck. Maybe he won't be that bad. Maybe he really wants a companion who lives a normal life. And I do need the money. 2 days until rent is due and I don't have any other options now. I close my eyes, trying to get to my happy place to relax. I try to regulate my breathing, along with air for my lungs dragging in the warm aroma of the elevator's air refresher The elevator makes a ping sound as it reaches the 19th floor, and while bracing myself, I walk out of the cabin and down the hall, looking for the suite.

I knock on the door, fixing my posture a bit; I might feel like wreckage inside, but at least I have to look a bit of the opposite. The door opens and reveals the same man that was pictured on the profile. What a relief. "(Y/N), I am so glad to finally meet you in person. Come on in." He invites me, moving from the door and gesturing to the room. "Hi, Harry. It is good to meet you in person." I say gleefully, extending my hand for the tall, charming man to shake. "I am quite soothed you are like your pictures. Don't get me wrong, please, but I was kinda worried about being catfished." He states as we walk to the spacious sitting area. The gold-detailed furniture fails to give the room the renaissance air they aimed for, instead, making it seem heavy and tacky, the nouveau riche tasteless aesthetic making me nearly laugh. "Oh, I feel the same, no need to worry about how you sound. I am glad I am seeing you and not some imposer." I giggle, taking a seat in the armchair. "So, can I offer you a drink?" He asks, walking to the fully-equipped bar across from where I am seated. "Just plain soda water, please." I reply. "Not a drinker?" He asks as he reaches for the can. "Not really, if I am being honest. I never understood drinking until passing out, so I truly cannot hold my liquor. I limit myself to a glass of wine or two, now and then." I chuckle, earning a laugh from Harry. "Favorite type of wine?" He asks while I watch him bring me the closed can and a chilled tall glass. He opens and pours the drink in front of me, making relief and gratitude course through my body. "Will it sound cliche if I say rosé?" I ask and he hands me the drink. "Not at all. Rosé has a unique grace. No wonder why you like it." He states, smiling at me as he lounges on the armchair. I feel my face heating up, making me press my hand against my cheek. "You are cute when you are trying not to blush." Harry comments, picking up his drink. "I am not used to being called graceful. I am quite clumsy and inept at all times, my friends tease me that I am all thumbs." I laugh, earning a chuckle. "Well, you look very elegant, way too sophisticated for your age. Maybe you lack acting like it, but I cannot picture you being clumsy." He compliments. "You flutter me, Harry. Thank you." I cling my glass with his glass as he extends it towards me. "So, there is no easy way to initiate this conversation, so I will take away the awkwardness and bring up the terms of our arrangement." He cuts straight to the point, sitting comfortably on the armchair. "Of course." I mumble, taking a sip from my soda. "I told you I am looking for normalcy. And you are looking for a different lifestyle. I can provide you with that. I can give you all you are asking me for, in exchange for being my friend, some who will help me stay grounded. I need you to be there for me, be a listener, keep me company whenever I need you. We will meet here, once a week. We can also go out for dinners sometimes, and some trips I guess, but for now, let's ease into it. I want to make it clear that nothing sexual will happen between me and you. I don't need a fuck buddy. We will be friends, good friends. And I will make sure you have a nice life. I will transfer money to your account weekly, so, give me your account details, please." He explains, passing me a piece of paper and a pen. I look at him for a moment, biting the inside of my cheek as I weigh the situation. "Everything alright?" He asks me, pushing his eyebrows together to look at me. "Yeah, I just... Can you explain to me what do you mean by trips?" I ask and he nods. "Occasionally, I have to take business trips, which frankly stress me out, so I will need my buddy with me. Of course, that is if you are comfortable with traveling, I am not going to force you to come with me from day one, obviously, I am not going to force you at all, to be honest." He explains; he sounds soft, assuring, so my heart feels at ease as I open the bank up to pull up my information. I scribble down the info, checking it twice to make sure things are ok. "Alright then. I don't want to drain you from our first meeting. I will see you on Tuesday, around 8. We can have dinner together. You can come straight to the suite, I will leave an order to allow you here at all times." He pats his thighs before getting up, signaling me subconsciously to do the same. "That sounds great. I will make sure to be here on time." I grin at him. "The room is already paid for. You can stay if you want, order from room service, or take whatever from the minibar if you wish. I can't wait to see you again on Tuesday. I am really glad I met you, (Y/N). Have a great night." He extends his hand towards me, making me cheese as I shake his hand. "It was great meeting you, Harry. Can't wait until Tuesday." I say before he turns to leave with a wave goodbye.

I wander around the giant suite, lips pursed as I tap my fingers on my thigh. It doesn't seem a bad place to spend the night if you look past the tacky decoration. I flop on top of the giant bed, the skirt of my dress rising to my thighs from the impact. I kick off my ballerina pumps and slide back on the bed until my head is propped against the million pillows. I turn to my side and reach for the nightstand, fumbling around in the drawer of it to find the room service catalog. Maybe I will get a burger, a nice juicy burger, with fries and extra cheddar cheese. I finally find it, picking it up and looking at it. Holy fuck, room service is expensive as fuck. But Harry said the room is paid for, so I assume further expenses are going to be charged in his card. Should I feel bad for charging the guy's card with a whopping 30 dollars for just a burger? Ah, screw it... He will be fine. My phone pings before I could pick up the landline and order my burger, making me reach for it at the end of the bed. '$2,500.00 transfer to your account for 'WEEKLY ALLOWANCE'.' The notification displays on my lock screen, making me blink to make sure I read right. Fuck, shit, ok... Gotta make sure there were no mistakes done during transfer. I look through my contacts, trying to find Harry's; he gave me it the day we confirmed our meeting, just in case I needed anything, but I can't remember so the life of me to remember how I saved it. Oh, H*... Sure. I press call and bring the phone to my ear, biting on my nail as I wait. "Hello, Harry's speaking." He sounds a bit cheery; I can hear the busy city street in the background of the call. "Hi, Harry. It's (Y/N)... I just got a notification from my bank..." "Yes, I made the transfer. Is everything alright?" He asks. "I was wondering if there was a mistake. Maybe you meant to transfer 250 dollars and the extra zero was an accident." "No, it is your weekly allowance. I didn't tell you about the amount?" He asks in confusion. "It is a lot of money." I point out. "It is not, love. I told you I can give you a better lifestyle. Enjoy it." I can hear the smile in his voice. "Thank you. Ok then, I guess..." "Listen, love. I have to go, I am driving. I will see you on Tuesday again. Take care." He says charmingly, making me chuckle. "You too." I reply before the line goes dead. Fuck me... I don't have to worry about rent for the next 3 months at least, and Harry is a decent guy. Maybe it is not as bad as I thought it would be.

This might as well be the first time I paid rent before it was even due - well, by a couple of days, but still, it counts. I even went grocery shopping and filled my fucking fridge with food. Not canned goods or ramen noodle packets, but actual food, and had no guilt whatsoever about all the money I spent in a single day. "Are you coming to the karaoke party tonight?" Chrissy asks me, tapping my shoulder as I pick up my stuff after class dismissal. "Sure, let me get into my time machine and transfer to 1992 when karaoke parties were cool." I sass, rolling my eyes at her. "Oh, come on... When was the last time you came to a party? We will start thinking you are avoiding us..." She pouts at me, making me shake my head at her. "I am working an extra shift today. But I might be free on Thursday. We can go for drinks, at that fancy cocktail place if you'd like." "Fancy cocktail place, huh? Your penny-pinching boss decided to give you a raise or something? Last week you didn't know whether or not you would be able to pay rent and now you are talking about fancy cocktail places?" She asks confused, cocking an eyebrow at me. "I found my childhood piggy bank..." I mock and she chuckles. "Ok then. I am going to keep you true to your words and Thursday, you and I are going for a cocktail." She eyes me, making me nod. "Thursday it is then." I assure her, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

I decide, for the first time since I moved to New York for college, to splurge on a nice dress. Of course, not too nice, since rent, bills, and grocery shopping have already taken off a considerable part of my budget. But still, I can afford a dress in the 3-figure range, which is something I have never been able to. So, on Tuesday, at 8, I make my way out of the elevator once it reaches the floor the suite is on, clad in my burgundy red dress that stops a bit below my knee, with short sleeves and a neckline that elongates my neck. I am sure Harry will not mind the dress much; I could have worn any other dress in my closet and I bet it would be the same. I knock on the door of the room, waiting for Harry to open and let me in. I fidget with my fingers; it has been nearly a minute since I knocked, but no response, not even a sound coming from behind the door. Maybe he forgot we would be meeting tonight, or he was caught up in his office. My spiral soon comes to an end as Harry opens the door, smiling at me before moving. "Are you always this precise at your appointments?" He asks me with a chuckle. "I try to. I have to admit that I am not always successful at it, though." I giggle as he closes the door. "Hope you brought an appetite." Harry points to the carefully made table in the place a lounging chair was the last time I was over. "What are we having?" I ask, taking a seat as Harry pulls my chair for me, in true gentleman fashion. "I thought of ordering a 12-course meal..." "Oh, God..." I rasp, just at the thought of it. "But I figured it would be a lot. So, I settled for something more mundane. Italian. The first course is bruschetta with eggplant and parmesan. Second, Calamari, stuffed, and fried. For main, linguini alle vongole. And an Italian green salad for the side, I guess. Then we finish with tiramisu cake and classic gelato. Paired with rosé, to please the lady's taste." Harry explains, opening the first bell to reveal the bruschettas. "This looks lovely, Harry." I am in a state of awe, looking at the delicate, yet hearty-looking pieces of crispy bread with diced tomato and eggplant garnish on top.

Harry pours the wine on our glasses, his movement, and mannerism revealing that he has been in the high society for quite a long time. "How was your day?" I ask Harry, who rests back on his chair. He is dressed in a loose white shirt, the top button undone to show off his ink-covered sternum, paired with flannel trousers and a set of pristine loafers, that look like they have ever touched gravel. "Very boring. Nothing dramatic happens in my world if I am honest. How was your day?" He asks me back, picking up the bruschetta on his plate. I notice the ring wrapping around his fingers, silver or white gold, I don't know, I was never good at telling the difference. "I had classes in the morning. Then a meeting with my supervisor for my dissertation. And then my friend begged me to join her karaoke party, so I had to bribe her with drinks at a fancy rooftop cocktail place in 12th Street on Thursday. It wasn't very eventful, to be frank." I reply, taking a sip from my wine. "I never asked you... Why art history? Why study it?" He asks me, looking at me in full focus. "Ok... I was 4 when my parents took me to a museum. Kids had a free pass and either way, it was the first Sunday of the month, so people could just get in museums for free. My parents took me there, and we went through the artifacts until we reached a small expo about Renaissance paintings and I got enamored. I was a child in my little candy store. I milked the kids' free pass for as long as I could and then I saved every dollar from my pocket-money to visit the museum. I had seen every single one of the special expos by the time I was 16, and I went to the museum manager, knocked on her door, and begged her for a job. She found it sweet that I was so obsessed with art, but she couldn't offer me a job. She helped me apply to the best art history programs, gave me a letter of recommendation even. I still see her every time I visit home for the holidays. You see, I knew from 4 years old that I would be following this career path. There was no other option for me." I explain. "You never changed your mind on it?" He asks, staring at me in awe. "Never, not even for a second... Well, that's kind of a lie... I did change my mind for about 5 minutes when I saw that my supervisor would be Chimera, but I snapped out of it." "Chimera?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow. "There is this lecturer, toughest of them all. We call her Chimera. Chimera was this monster in Greek mythology, a lion-goat hybrid with a snake tail that breathed fire. My lecturer has this despotic, authoritarian physique, she is pretty terrifying if I am honest." I explain. "You know your mythology, I see..." He comments, swirling the liquid in his wine glass. "I had to. A huge proportion of art is inspired by mythology." I reply. He is looking at me with a piercing, invested gaze, prompting me to talk more. "I never asked you what you do for a living..." I point out, the information gap leaving me with an inch on my insides. "I run some business, a cluster of corporations. Some family business, others my own or purchased." He replies. Even though he did answer my question, the void is still there, intriguing more as to why he chose to not give me a clear answer. "Does it fulfill you? I mean, your job, does it make you happy?" I ask, pushing my plate a bit away from me. I fix my posture, aligning my back with the chair's back. Harry stays quiet for a moment, looking at me in a brooding, almost reflecting way, before chuckling and taking a sip from his wine. "No one is truly happy nowadays, (Y/N). Happiness is an illusion, all of it is but a bubble, on the verge of bursting with every decision you make. Tell me, are you happy?" He asks me back. I shrug my shoulders softly, biting my tongue as I think about it. "I consider myself happy, yes." I reply, making Harry shake his head along with his finger in a rejecting way. "See, this is utter bullshit. You are not happy, you are lying to yourself. If you were happy, if you were truly happy, you wouldn't have signed up on that site. You can lie all you want, but you know as well as I do that we only met because misery pushed us together. So, I will drink to misery, since she is the reason I met you." He leans in, bringing his glass to the middle of the rotunda table. I gulp awkwardly, following his lead and clinging my glass with his, the sharp, pitched sound produced filling the silence coating the room.

"Did I bring you down with my realism?" He asks me, noticing that I awkwardly go back to munching on my bruschetta, who is now cold and more solid than before. "No... Well, maybe a little, if you want honesty. I choose to believe that happiness exists, and while it may be fragile, we all deserve to taste it. If you want to credit misery for our meeting, fine. But I choose to believe that something else brought us together. Loneliness, maybe. But not misery. I was happy when I signed up to the site, and I am not going to take away the happiness because I was stressed at that point of my life." I state, trying my best to keep my voice calm. "Maybe I am the miserable bastard of the story. Time will show. Come on now, love. Let's ditch the long faces and serve the next dish." Harry cheers, standing up and walking to the door to let the people who are here to serve our next dish in. The man takes away the plates, while a much younger man, close to my age replaces the cutlery and places the bells before us. Harry thanks the men while I smile politely at them before they walk out. "Were they waiting behind the door to bring the next plate?" I ask Harry, who is pouring more wine into a fresh glass. I guess I didn't realize they took away the glasses too. "No... They are serving us based on a timeline. I realized it was time for our next meal when I took a look at my watch." He explains, tapping his finger against the watch that must have cost half my tuition if not more. "I see. I would feel kinda bad if they were standing behind the door throughout the meal." I state, causing Harry to scoff. "Don't worry, I am not that big of a tyrant." He muses, raising his bell. "I don't think you are a tyrant. On the contrary, I think you use the tough, bossy profile as a defense." I slouch my shoulders a little, relaxing my posture as I open the bell before me. "I didn't realize the weekly allowance covered the psychoanalysis fees as well..." He comments, cutting a piece of his calamari with his knife. I know that is my cue to shut up, so I just stuff my face with food or wine for the rest of the meal.

"The suite is prepaid for the night. If you feel like it, you can stay." Harry comments, slipping in his jacket. "I have an early class in the morning, so I will catch a taxi home now." I reply, fixing any creases on my dress from sitting that many hours during our dinner. "Nonsense, my driver can take you home." He offers but I shake my head. "I don't want to put you out of your way... I will be fine with a taxi." I try to assure him but he scoffs and brushes me off. "I am not hearing another word. My driver will take you." He almost commands, opening the door for me, placing his hand on my back as we walk out in the hall. "Vinny, you are taking the lady home. I will be having a drink at the bar here, pick me up after she makes it home." Harry announces to his driver as we reach his car. The man opens the door of the majestic Rover for me, letting me climb inside and make myself comfortable on the leather seats. "And (Y/N)... Make sure to text me on Thursday morning about the time you and your friend will be going to that fancy rooftop cocktail place. Be safe, see you on Saturday." Harry states, patting the hood of the car as his driver starts the engine. I am not sure if he did it on purpose, signal the driver to take off before I could talk, and neither will I have the chance to talk about it next time we meet. I pull my phone out, scrolling through my socials to pass time. "Where to, miss?" The driver asks me, looking at me through the driver's mirror.

'Good morning, Harry. You requested I text you about my going out tonight, so here it is I guess. My friend and I will be heading to the bar at around 9. If you want to meet afterward, I assume that by midnight I will be free. Have a great day. x' I am not sure if we will be meeting tonight with Harry, to be honest, but I had to follow his order and text him. I stared at my phone throughout the day, waiting for at least a reply out of courtesy, but nothing so far. My friend insisted we have a kick out of our night out, so we had a little dress up, with her nearly forcing me into one of her fancy little dresses. I did her makeup and we took turns doing each other's hair, so it felt like having an adult dress party.

We make it to the rooftop bar at around 9:15, the night sky making the whole scenery even better. "Hi, can we have a table for two?" I ask the hostess who smiles at me. "Ms. (Y/L/N)?" The woman asks me and I nod, furrowing my eyebrows together as I look at her. "I am sorry, have we met?" I ask her and she shakes her head at me. "No, no. I was instructed to guide you and your friend to the VIP lounge." She explains, handing me an envelope. "Instructed by who?" My friend asks. I feel awkward, knowing I cannot explain to her. "Chrissy, it is fine..." I brush it off, following the hostess to the spot. We settle into the lounge, enjoying the view of the city for a moment before the waitress catches our attention. "Your waiter will be with you shortly. Enjoy your night." She smiles politely, walking away after making sure we are comfortable. Chrissy is looking at me in suspicion, but says nothing, opting to scan through the menu. I find the opportunity to open the envelope, revealing a note on a stationery card. 'Enjoy the night on me. -H.' Simple as that, even on my night out he chose to intervene. Money buys everything, even a way for him to control my day. "I was kinda hoping for a mojito tonight..." Chrissy groans and I chuckle. "If you ask for a mojito in here, I think they are going to throw us off the rooftop." I giggle, picking up my menu. "Everything is freaking expensive in here..." She whispers and I chuckle. "Don't worry much about it. It has been handled." I reply. She cocks an eyebrow at me, but before she could open her mouth, the waiter approaches as with a tray full of plates and 2 glasses. "Good evening, ladies. May I get you started with Apéritifs while your drinks are getting prepared?" He asks, lowering plate after plate before us. "We didn't order those." Chrissy points out. "We have been instruct to serve Ms. (Y/L/N) and company a variety of our catalog." The man replies, leaving two tall glasses of Aperol in front of us. Chrissy is looking at me surprised but doesn't comment, relaxing back on her seat. "Did you have a chance to look over our drinks catalog?" The man asks us. "Yes. May I have a Lavender Lake?" My friend asks, looking over the plates set before us. "Of course. And for the other lady?" He asks me, turning to face me. "I... Can I have a second, please?" I grab the menu, scanning over it quickly. "I am having a North Fork Royale," I reply, leaving the menu on the edge of the table. "Can you please tell us what we have before us?" Chrissy asks, twirling a strand of hair behind her ear. Her flirting mode is on, eyes sparkling as she stares at the guy, who chuckles. "Of course. Before you, there is Hummus and Pita, a Watermelon Salad with Feta Cheese, Guacamole with Crispy Tortilla, Spiced Chicken Empanadas with a light Minty Yogurt. And for your next course, you can pick between Dry Aged Beef Burger, Duck Carnitas Tacos, or Seared Ora King Salmon." He explains. "I will have the Salmon, please." I announce, biting the inside of my cheek. "What would you suggest?" She asks the waiter. "The duck is juicy and flavorful. The burger has an exquisite, rich taste. The salmon tastes fresh. For someone with your temperament, I would suggest the duck tacos." The man replies, making my eyes widen. Chrissy and her flirting, always getting whoever she has her eye on. "Alright then. I will have the juicy duck..." She says suggestively, making me choke on the sip o my Aperol. The man walks away and I scoff, looking at Chrissy in surprise. "Not wasting time I see..." I comment. "He looks like a tall glass of cold water and I am parched. You didn't seem interested, so why play around?" She asks with a shrug. "By all means, feel free to get it..." I giggle. "Besides, you don't seem in need of a man." She states, cocking an eyebrow before bringing her glass to sip from it. I feel like protesting the comment, asking her what she means by it, but I remain silent, knowing that if she brings up her past suggestion, I will be exposed.

My phone rings at 12:30 after I have undressed and taken off my make up. I pick up my phone from the top of the dresser and realize that Harry is calling me this late at night. I try to figure whether or not I want to talk to him right now. "Hi, Harry. Is everything ok?" I ask, sighing quietly as the line goes live. "Hi, doll. I wanted to invite you over on Saturday. We said we would meet, but didn't arrange anything. What would you like to do?" He asks me. I rub my temples and close my eyes, thinking about it for a moment. "You want normal, right?" I ask and he hums softly. "I want whatever you want, sweetheart." "Pizza and a movie. No formal clothes. How long has it been since you wore sweats, ate greasy pizza, and just chilled?" I ask. "Ok, then. Come up the room at 8. Sweats and pizza movie night." He chuckles. "I have to go. It is late and I am tired. Thank you for the treat tonight." "You are welcome. Hope you had fun. Sweet dreams, see you on Saturday." He cheers off before the line dies. He sounded a lot lighter than the last time we met, the broody tone giving place to a more positive one.

I knew I would potentially be kicked off the moment I stepped into Plaza's lobby, wearing sweats and a t-shirt, so I opted for dressing up and packing a change of clothes for when I reach the room. I knock on the door, looking around me to make sure no one is paying attention to me. "I thought you said the dress code for tonight is sweats... You look ready to go for drinking..." Harry states as he lets me in. He is already dressed in a pair of sweatshorts, resting just on his mid-thigh, and a grey muscle top, revealing many of his tattoos. "I brought a change of clothes with me. Did you get here like that?" I ask and he chuckles. "Of course." "And they didn't kick you out?" "Why would they?" "Because this place is posh. It has an unspoken dress code." "So?" "So..." I am speechless, his confusion over my words revealing the huge difference between me and him. He doesn't have to worry about how he looks; money buys you a place everywhere. "I will go change." I excuse myself, walking straight into the bathroom.

I walk out of the bathroom, looking around for Harry. "Harry?" I call out, trying to trace him. "I am in the bedroom..." He announces, making me furrow my eyebrows together. I walk towards the sliding doors, finding him sitting at the end of the bed. I feel a weird tightness in my stomach; this isn't part of our deal. "Don't worry, this isn't what you think it is. It is just the only room with a TV in the suite." He explains, patting the spot close to him on the bed for me to sit on. "I am sorry, I shouldn't have made assumptions..." I stutter, making him chuckle. "I told you, this is platonic. I just need a friend. I will not take advantage of you just because I give you money." He assures me. "Can we talk about something?" I ask him and hums in agreement. "Of course. What is it?" "I appreciate that you treated me and my friend to a night out, and we wouldn't have had such a great time as we did if you didn't surprise me, but it also put me in a tough spot with my friend. I didn't know what to tell her..." I explain. "Oh... I didn't think there would be a problem." He sounds shocked. "I know you didn't do it on purpose. I just... I want you to be a bit more... Considerate of my position..." I reply. "Your friend doesn't know about this?" "I haven't told anyone about this. It is not like I want to brag about being a sugar baby." I reply. Harry hums, drawing in a deep breath. "Why? Have you told anyone about this?" I ask. "No, but it isn't the same." "It is, Harry. I am not ashamed I am your friend. I am not ashamed of spending time with you. I just don't want to expose you, and I don't want people all over my business." I explain. "It's fine, you don't have to explain things to me. I appreciate that you don't kiss and tell." He chuckles. "Anyway, I loved what you did yesterday. It was very sweet of you. I just wish you would have told me earlier so I could come up with something to tell my friend." I try to lift him, not cause him to turn colder towards me. "Next time I will. Ok... So, which movie and what kind of pizza do you want?" He asks me, grabbing the TV remote from the nightstand and handing it to me.

I groan as I open my eyes, the light from the blinders hitting me right in my face. I find myself sleeping on top of Harry. My head is on his chest, and his hand is resting on my back. We are both clothed, the same outfits we had as last night still covering our bodies. If I remember correctly, we were just buzzing from the wine and decided to just lay for a bit. But the bit turned into sleeping through the night. I don't want to wake him up by moving, since his arm is still around my back. So, I just stay, closing my eyes and trying to pay no attention to the blinding light. "Hey... Are you awake?" He asks, in a groggy voice. "Oh, thank God. I didn't want to wake you up." I reply, moving from his chest. "I didn't want to wake you up." He chuckles. I sit upon the mattress, stretching my body, and making my joints pop. "You look cute in the morning..." He compliments me. "Stop messing with me." "I am not messing with you. You look cute." He shrugs. I mumble a 'Thanks', feeling warm inside over his compliment. "Should I order breakfast?" He asks me, and I hum as I think of it. "We should go out and get some." I suggest, making him morph his face in disapproval. "It is way easier to order and be served here." He replies. "Yes, but more fun going out to get some." I point out, getting up from the bed. "Plus, you want normal from me, and that is normal..." I sing and he groans. "Normal people opt for having breakfast in bed when they are staying at the Plaza." He mutters but I shrug. "Not when they check the fees for Room Service. Come on, get up, grandpa. The more you gripe over it, the more you suffer." I nearly have to drag him out of bed, making him groan at me.

"So, where are we going for breakfast?" Harry asks as we step out of the hotel. The quiet lobby floor gives place to New York's loud street life, which is quite honestly a whole lot more calming than the judgy crowd of the Plaza Hotel. "I don't know..." I reply, beginning to walk down the street. None of us bothered changing from our outfits, Harry still in his shorts and muscle top; thank God that spring weather has started kicking in. "What do you mean you don't know? Where are we going to have breakfast at?" He asks, walking by my side. "We are having breakfast on the street. We are walking down the street until we find a vendor we like, and we are having coffee and a bite from them. We can find a park to sit at and enjoy our morning, but I'd rather have it while walking..." I shrug. Harry sighs, but continues following me, mindlessly roaming while looking for a vendor. "You do that often?" He asks me, putting his hands in his pockets. "Not really. That's why I want to do it today. I don't get to enjoy a morning stroll, with a cup of coffee in hand... And I am willing to bet all that is under my name that you have never done that, ever before..." I state and he chuckles. "There is always a first time for everything..." He mumbles. "You would think that on a Sunday, New York would be a lot quieter, a lot less busy. But it feels like every other weekday in this city." I try to make small talk, avoid opening a heavy discussion, seeing how last week's happiness stunt went. "Well, most people go to church, bright and early in the morning, sporting their best Sunday's attires and worshiping God to make up for all the crimes they commit the rest of the days. And then they roll around in their expensive cars, to head to expensive lunches and back with their lives." He replies, pointing to the convoy of expensive city cars heading the same direction. "You don't believe in God?" I ask him; there goes not talking about heavy stuff. "I do, just not in worshiping them that way. I believe God exists within us, and the way to honor them is by being kind. I am not that good at honoring God." He chuckles "I think you are a better person than you credit yourself, Harry. You are nothing but kind to me." "You only see this part of me. You don't know how I am in real life." He replies. "True. But the part of you I see is kind, and that is enough for me to know you have the potential to be kind." I state. I spot a small food cart across the street, so I grab Harry by the bicep and drag him across the street.

The cart has the typical laminated paper that displays the options we have for breakfast, so I quickly scan the pictures to make up my mind. "A cup of coffee, black. And an egg and cheese sandwich, please. And whatever the gentleman gets." I state, handing the vendor a 20$ bill. "Oh, no." "Oh, yes. Keep the change." I instruct, looking at Harry as he makes up his mind. "Dark coffee too. And a cream cheese bagel." Harry sighs, rolling his eyes at me. The man hands me my cup first then puts our snacks in paper bags, before fixing Harry's coffee. We thank the man and move along, strolling as I take a sip of my coffee. "It tastes like crap." I cringe and he laughs. "We can get some from somewhere else." He offers and I shake my head. "No, that's the magic." I reply and he chuckles. "How do you do that?" He asks me. "How do I do what?" I ask him back, a little bit confused. "How do you find the best in all cases? How do you stay so positive?" He asks me. I sigh, shrugging my shoulders before giving him an answer. "I don't know. But I know I would be pretty miserable if I didn't. And I am not always like that. This is a pointless matter, one bad coffee won't kill me. When things get more serious... Well, you wouldn't think I am a positive person." I reply, trying to open the paper bag with my breakfast sandwich. "I hope I never have to see you lose your positivity." He comments, making me smile at him softly. "You never told me if you liked your necklace." Harry changes the subject as we stroll by some posh shop's window. "What necklace?" I ask, looking at him with a furrow. "I gave you the necklace last night, didn't I?" He asks me, making me even more confused. "No..." "Shit... I must have forgotten. I am so very sorry." "It is ok. You got me a necklace?" I ask and he nods. "You didn't have to, Harry. You are already doing a lot for me..." I state and he brushes me off, flicking his hand dismissively. "I like treating you. And I wanted to get you something that would go with that lovely dress you wore when we had that dinner together. It suits you well. You should wear it more often..." He compliments me, making me hum at him. "Thank you. I might follow your advice and wear it all the time." I state and he chuckles. "You will join me for a proper lunch, won't you? I will give you the necklace then. I have it in the hotel room." He asks me and I chuckle. "Of course I will. But not because you are giving me the necklace then." I reply.

Harry gifted me the most beautiful rose-gold platted dove necklace. The dainty necklace goes pretty much with everything, so I just wear it all the time. Chrissy is sprawled on my couch, her phone in hand and a bowl of popcorn on her lap. "Pizza is on the way." I announce, sitting comfortably on the couch and handing her her glass of wine. She locks her phone and leaves it on the side, taking the glass carefully. Before we could cling our glasses together, her phone pings loudly, signaling she has a text. "You are over the waiter from the cocktail place already?" I ask her jokingly. "That IS the waiter from the cocktail place." She muses in triumph, picking her phone up and snapping a picture of herself taking a sip of her wine. "I gotta admit, you are not killing time here." I state, impressed by how easy it is for her to get whoever she wants. She huffs and leaves her glass on the coffee table, turning to look at me fully. "What?" I ask her, making her roll her eyes and shake her head at me. "You totally have a Sugar Daddy... Stop complaining..." She giggles and I look at her in shock. "What are you talking about?" I stutter and she scoffs. "Your rent is paid, you sport new clothes, that necklace is probably worth 2 months of rent, we went to that amazing place and nearly had a tasting of the full menu. You have a Sugar Daddy." She cheers and I sigh defeated. "Ok, fine... Yes. I signed up on that site you suggested and I found someone... Are you happy now?" I ask. "Spill. Tell me everything..." She encourages me, paying her full attention to me and ignoring her phone pinging maniacally. "He is sweet, caring, in his 30s I guess. I never asked him how old he is, to be honest. He treats me more than well." I reply, trying not to reveal too much about Harry. I know he would want me to respect his privacy. "What about the sugar?" She asks, moving her eyebrows suggestively. "We are just friends. There is no sugar in the way you mean it." I reply and she groans. "Just friends? What? Is he fat? Married? Bald?" She asks, cringing more and more as she lists off. "No, nothing of that sort. He is actually hot. Like, model-hot. And he has a full head of luscious hair... We've just agreed on being friends." I shrug my shoulders. "So, your kind of sugar is friendship." "Yeah, I guess..." I sigh. "So, no hook-ups for you?" "Didn't I just say we are only friends?" I ask her and she scoffs. "I meant with others, idiot. What does your agreement say on the matter?" She asks me. "We haven't talked about it... I mean, I guess since we are only friends, it is fine to see other people..." I reply. "How would you feel if he started seeing someone?" She asks me. I contemplate for a second; we are just friends, after all... Why would it matter if he had a girlfriend or boyfriend? Or a partner or whatever? "I don't know. I have to be honest with you. I don't know how I would feel." I draw in a deep breath, before taking a big sip of my drink. "Well, I think this is something you should discuss with him. I might have someone for you if you get cleared for hook-ups..." She wiggles her eyebrows, finally picking her phone.

"You seem awfully quiet tonight, sweetheart. Is something bothering you?" Harry asks me as the waiter summons our desserts. I have been out of it throughout the dinner, trying to find a way to bring the subject up for conversation. "It is nothing. Don't worry about it." I brush it off; I don't want to ruin the night. We are having dinner at a terrace, privately booked for Harry and I, with a simple dinner of steak and salad, since last time we had a big dinner together, we both got a huge bloating in the morning. "If something is bothering you, you should talk to me. I would love to help if I can." He insists, reaching his hand to top mine. "I know we have said that this is platonic and we are just friends. And I am fine with that, I am. I am just wondering... Is it ok for me to have hook-ups with others? Our situation is kinda tangled and confusing, and I don't want to do something that is not ok with you." I explain; I am sure there won't be an issue. We are just friends, it would be irrational for him to not allow me to have other relationships. "Absolutely not." He suddenly becomes colder, taking his hand away. "What?" "No, you cannot hook up with people, you cannot get a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or whoever you want to be with." He states, making me cock an eyebrow. "You cannot be serious right now..." "I am serious." "Why?" I ask, trying to understand why he is so hellbent. "A hookup, or a boyfriend, would take time away from me. It would limit the time we spend together, it would take you away from me. Plus, explaining our situation to someone else would be such a big headache." He says coldly. "And what about you? Are you free to have a girlfriend or hook-ups with others?" I ask him and he scoffs. "Of course. If I choose to, I can hook up with whoever I want. I am a free man." He replies. "And I am not a free woman?" "It is not the same." "Why is it not the same?" I ask and see his face change, twist with anger. "I am spending money on you. I am spending money so you spend time with me. And I will not allow anyone to take the time we spend together from me. And I will not allow you to spend the money I give you on some low-life boyfriend." He slams his hand on the table, making me jolt back and look at him with wide eyes. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to startle you..." He is quick to apologize, but I am already too intimidated by him. "Can... May I leave? Please..." I stutter, not daring to look at him now. "Vincent can drive you home." He offers his voice now calmer. "I prefer going alone. Goodnight." I quickly gather my stuff, before rushing to the elevator. I have never been that scared of anyone in my life. His eyes were dark and his face was burning, I have never seen him like that before. I don't know if I ever want to be alone with him again.

My Masterlist / New York City & Aspen / New York City & Amalfi Coast & Rome / Epilogue / Rose Colored Glasses Vol. 2, Part 1: New York / Part 2: New York, Upper East Side / Part 3: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City / Part 4: Upper East Side, New York City & Low Manhattan, New York City / Part 5: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City, Winter Wonderland / Part 6: New York, Zurich, London / Epilogue; Hawaii

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