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spectrumed · 3 years

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1. piano

The brain is a musical instrument. How it sounds all depends on who is playing it. The keys, the strings, the tubes, the circuits, none of them make noise on their own. Some may argue (some very aggressively) that every instrument has one exact way that it should be played. That there is one correct way to play the piano, and then there’s several incorrect (deviant!) ways to play the piano. But a classically trained pianist will not play the piano in quite the same way as a self-taught jazz pianist will play the piano. Sure, the latter does employ some stylings unique to them. They have an idiosyncratic way of playing that makes their sound highly notable, possibly even sought after. While the former, the classically trained musician, they’ve been taught to minimise many of those quirky individual traits that could, potentially, distract from the classical compositions that they will be playing. In jazz, music is carried by unique characters and a strong sense of individualism. In classical, music is carried by tradition, norm, and history.

It should not be understood that the classically trained musician plays without soul or passion. While we, in the western world, have become more and more infatuated with the idea of the self-made artist, the amateur who makes their way to success and stardom solely through will, and quite often a manic compulsion to create, there is no wrong way to play an instrument. However you make it work, whatever sounds you are able to produce, you are playing that instrument. You are channeling your inner essence into the music you are performing, no matter what genre you belong to. No-one plays their instrument the exact same way, for certain, but everyone is playing with what they’ve got.

How do you think? You’re used to being asked “what do you think?” But how do you think? Do you see pictures in your head? Do you experience an inner monologue? Are you riddled with anxiety? Have you ever hallucinated? Do you think that you think good, or do you think that you think bad? If we return to our metaphor of the brain as a musical instrument, what sort of music do you think you’d play? Sure, there’s the classical world, and the jazz world, but of course, that’s hardly the music most people will listen to nowadays. Do you think in pop songs? Or do you think in big heavy metal epics? Or maybe what you are is a maniac for dance music. You may find like-minded friends who like the same kind of music as you do. I think that there is a correlation between what music we like and how we perceive the world. Does listening to a certain song send you back? Does a certain tune evoke memories that you may have thought were long since gone? I know that there are some folks out there who say that they do not care much for music, and while I don’t doubt that they absolutely do feel that way, I can personally not imagine where I’d be without my trusty set of headphones and my phone loaded up with a wide library of music I like. It seems to me that music is primal. Almost as if only by understanding music, can one come to understand consciousness. To nab a song title from Jethro Tull (the band, not the agriculturalist,) life is a long song.

But I do admit that I come from a biased perspective. Music means much to me. I’m no musician, but I think that partly stems from a desire to not see “how the sausage is made.” I’d like to be able to listen to a composition without feeling compelled to analyse it, or to study it. I’d rather eat the sausage without having to wonder what bits of the animals this meat came from. Is that the taste of a spleen or a testicle? There are plenty of other things in life to dissect and tear apart just to examine. Perhaps what I wish is to maintain an arcane approach to music. Perhaps I am too enamoured by the idea of the musician as a mystic able to tap into an elevated state of being, some spiritual realm divorced from our own. That look on the guitarist’s face when they successfully manages to convey just the right emotional tone perfectly with that solo. The frisson you feel when the song reaches its climax. That thing we call the sublime. To explain it, well, it simply feels like you are making something splendid mundane. It seems to rob it of its power. Or… Well, maybe that’s not it all. Maybe all I want is just a moment or two when I can relax and avoid thinking about things. For a moment, I’d just like to forget that I’m a person.

The world is so loud. Really, I can guarantee you that if you didn’t have those natural mental filters that we all have, you’d go insane. Every little sound. Every little bit of stimuli. It would all overwhelm you. It would burrow deep into your consciousness, and it would refuse to leave. Ever tried to fall asleep while hearing the dripping water from a leaky tap? Drip, drip, drip. Know how impossible that feels? Well, imagine if you had that feeling always, imagine if all noise felt that visceral and in-your-face. Lucky you’ve got those filters. Turns out, not everyone has them. I don’t. It fucking sucks.

Music is lovely, because music is organised. It has structure. You can listen to a song, remember it, and then follow along as you’re listening to it a second time. Music follows a pattern. There is a logic to patterns. But the everyday noises that surround us do not follow a pattern. Let me tell you, birds are infuriating animals. Sure, their individual little songs can be nice to listen to, but when all the birds of the forest come together, they don’t perform as an orchestra. No, they’re all just doing their own solo piece, completely oblivious to the sounds going on around them. I’m thinking that nature could have done well with a conductor. Someone competent to create order. To make it all just that bit more peaceful. I don’t have those filters others take for granted. I can’t ignore sounds. And that makes the world feel so loud.

It is neat to imagine the human brain as a musical instrument. You can imagine that seasoned player, that old session stalwart who’s played on all the most famous pop hits throughout the decades, and you want to imagine them playing with grace and finesse and showcasing all the amazing sounds that the instrument can produce. But the brain isn’t really some marvel of biological engineering. It’s not intelligently designed. It’s actually just a piece of meat hiding underneath layers of bone, skin, and hair. It’s a complex bit of meat, admittedly. It’s hard to understand exactly how the brain does work. But if you were to open up a person’s cranium, rather than feeling awe, you’d most likely feel grossed out. This thing that we’re supposed to think of as a miraculous product of millennia of evolutionary progress, it looks… Well, it looks awfully pinkish, and wrinkly, and frankly unpleasant.

We’re all mortal beings, made from squishy flesh and blood, scraped together from all that was available at the time. Sure, we may dream and fantasise about one day achieving those heights we aspire towards, to become that perfect superman, whose cognitive abilities put them on par with the mythological titans of the past. But really, we’re all just trying to do our best with what we’ve got. You may not be able to play the finest of Mozart’s many symphonies, the instrument that you’ve been given just simply isn’t up to snuff. Even if all you can play is Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, that shouldn’t weigh on your value as a human being. And besides, that’s still Mozart you’re playing.

I will undoubtedly get back to discussing music in later instalments of this blog. It is truly a major part of my world, and without the joys I associate with it, I would be in a far worse place. But I think that, ultimately, what I wish to arrive at, is the fact that our sensory perceptions have a significant impact on how we piece together our sense of self. While it may be an unnerving thought to consider, what would happen to our understanding of ourselves if we one day were to lose one of our major senses? I am sure that many people could go without their sense of smell. Humans have long since abandoned smell as a dominant sense. To a dog, on the other hand, to lose its sense of smell would be devastating. It would lose part of what it means to be a dog. For humans, we enjoy the scent of freshly baked bread, the whiff of somebody’s perfume, or the bouquet of some pricey bottle of wine. But that’s nothing to what dogs get out of their sense of smell. To a dog, its sense of smell is its world. Is a dog even a dog if it can’t sniff around? Do you think dogs ever take their sense of smell for granted?

I do not think that humans are what we eat, but I suspect that we may be what we perceive. Our consciousness does not exist independently of the world that surrounds it, but rather, it is formed by the outside stimuli it receives on a constant basis. The fury of noises, lights, smells, all kinds of impressions, it shapes you. It is what our memories are built on. I am not at all certain that there exists anything more to the mind beyond that. I doubt that we’ve got some immutable soul hidden underneath it all. Humans are the collection of thoughts and ideas that we’ve attached ourselves to throughout our lives, and naturally, if you’re neurodivergent, that process is going to happen differently to most. At times those differences will be large enough that it can create real conflicts with those others around you. Effectively, to be neurodivergent is to suffer constantly from culture shocks. To me, it is natural to loathe the cacophony of birds in the summer. Their screams feel like piercing needles embedding themselves into my skin. But I try telling that to others, and I’ve yet to find anybody who agrees with me.

So, am I just wrong? Am I mistaken? Am I a freak? Why can’t I just be like everybody else? Why must I be such a buzzkill? I can’t even enjoy birdsong, I really must be a pain to be around. How did it come about that I just can’t be normal? Normal. I want to be normal. It is and it will likely always be grossly underrated to just be normal. Normal people don’t know how good they have it. They’re just too normal to be able to perceive it. When you’ve never been without it, you don’t know what it is to miss it. Normalcy. Having a normal brain. Having others see you as a normal person. Only if you didn’t have it, would you know how great it is. Do you sometimes wonder if dogs know how much they’d miss their sense of smell if they ever were to lose it?

Then again, there is no such thing as normal, is there? If you were to take the world’s most average person, then that person would be abnormal. To be a person is to be unique. We’re all special snowflakes. Aren’t we?

You may not play your instrument in a conventional manner, but who’s to say what manner counts as conventional? It’s all just so arbitrary. Who’s to say you can’t play an acoustic guitar as a drum? Who’s to say you can’t treat your piano as a percussion instrument? Smack your cello with a flute, if you’d like. Isn’t it just delightful when you see a unique performer who is able to play their instrument in a way you could never before have conceived it being played? The novelty of it all. The absolute joy of being exposed to something different. Of seeing something that can barely be believed. You love things that are unusual, and you think people who are different should delight in being different. Surely, it is better than being normal and boring?

But is it all that bad to be boring? And you may love what’s different, but when it comes down to it, despite your positive inclination, you still perceive it as being the other. It is not you. It is not mainstream, it is underground. Secluded. Deviant. Those who truly do struggle to fit in with society, to be just like everybody else, they are constantly faced with these little reminders that they just don’t belong. They are humans (at least they think they are humans,) but they’re not like other humans they know. For as much as they get told that they should embrace their quirky nature as simply being who they are, it is hard to know what it is like to be not normal, when all you’ve ever been is normal. Sure, for a performance or two, it’s fun. It’s fun to get the attention, to be seen as having something others don’t have. But then, at the end of the day, all you want is to be able to fall asleep, without the birdsong outside your window keeping you awake.

#neurodiversity #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health

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chooseyouovereveryone · 3 years

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Brittana Analysis Part 1: Musical Choices (Main Songs)

So anyone who knows me will know I love Brittana a crazy amount, and I spend way too much time breaking down every tiny detail about them. I’ve written a fair few analyses about them on Reddit which people seem to enjoy, and the lovely @hopefulobjectmiracle suggested I posted them on here for people to read. I’ll no doubt add more as time goes on, but going to post up what I have for now. If anyone has any requests for analysis, my ask box is always open because I love doing these :) Happy reading! & congrats for making it through my essays.

Part 1 covers a music analysis of all their main songs and the meaning behind them. Part 2 will cover their smaller parts in group songs etc.

Me Against The Music

This one is less a lyrical analysis, because I don't think the song explicitly relates so much, more a contextual one. The Me Against The Music scene is a shared fantasy that Brittany and Santana have while under anaesthesia. What's telling is that the fantasy they have is an exact replica of the original music video between Madonna and Britney Spears, which is well known for it's heavy undertones of a same-sex relationship. The plot shows Britney chasing Madonna, with Madonna becoming increasingly more susceptible as the video goes on, until right at the end when Britney catches her and goes to kiss Madonna, who then disappears. It's a cat and mouse chase, a fight for power. With Brittany playing Britney, and Santana Madonna, this fantasy represents to me the way that Brittany is chasing Santana trying to break down her walls, and she gets close but just as she does so, Santana pulls back. In the original video Madonna disappears into thin air when Britney tries to kiss her, in the Glee version Santana is switched out for Britney, but the symbolism is the same and foreshadows the Brittana arc that we get in S2. Brittany always gets close to having Santana, but then Santana pulls away and at times she loses her. So for me, the significance in this is 1) the fact they both have a same-sex fantasy about each other and 2) how Brittany's subconscious is filled with the idea of feeling like she is chasing Santana but that every time she gets close, Santana is ripped away.

Landslide

This was a song chosen by Santana to tell Brittany how she feels about her. It may not be the most "obvious love song" choice to everyone but that works for two reasons. The first being that Santana was scared. This was a big move for her, so she certainly wasn't going to go all out and sing an obvious love song. She wanted something with subtlety, something with meaning for her and Brittany rather than for the whole Glee Club to pick up on. The second being that Santana "has the perfect song" instantaneously. From the way she doesn't need to think about it, it's clear that Landslide is already a song she associates with Brittany, and it's probably something she laid alone in her room listening to. Now she's ready to share that. It was a song that had meaning for them, but I do think lyrically it makes sense also. For me it's about Santana realising life is passing her by and that she needs to just be herself. Time makes you bolder is one of the most poignant statements in the song. The whole bit about "building my life around you" could be a double meaning. The first being she's built her life around this friendship she has with Brittany and she's afraid to tap into the relationship dynamic because doing so would inevitably alter the platonic side of things. The second being that she's built her life around this idea that she's straight and she's "normal" but she's now realising as time goes by she needs to be true to herself. I tend to think it's the latter, and that the meaning is around Santana realising she needs to let go now and just be true to herself and to Brittany before she wastes any more time. It's ironic that the next scene shows Brittany choosing Artie, which shows that Santana was already too late and the time had already passed her by. (thankfully that all worked out tho)

Songbird

In contrast to Landslide, Songbird is a very obvious love song. The song explicitly says "I love you" and you can tell by Santana's delivery how much she genuinely means that. Since this is a private performance for only Brittany, Santana is able to choose a song that overtly expresses her feelings. She doesn't have to mask it with subtlety because of the Glee Club, like she did with Landslide. While Landslide was about Santana to giving into her feelings and accepting a change within her, Songbird was the next step from that in freely expressing her love to Brittany. Santana says this in her own words before singing it. Some key lyrics beside the obvious "I love you's" that stick out are "for you, there'll be no more crying" which could relate to all the backwards and forwards Santana has done over the years (telling Britt she loves her, taking it back etc.) and times she possibly made Brittany cry, as well as the fact she has probably spent many years crying over this herself and wishing these feelings could go away, but now she's putting a stop to all of that. Following on from that "I feel that when I'm with you, it's alright, I know it's right" relates to Santana giving into all of those feelings that she's spent years pushing down about the love she has for Brittany being wrong, and really taking hold of her own self acceptance. "To you, I'll give the world. To you, I'll never be cold" is also very fitting for Brittana because it's well noted in the fandom how soft Santana is for Brittany, and how she's the one person she's not cold around. Lastly "I wish you all the love in the world, but most of all I wish it from myself" could relate to Artie in that she wants Brittany to be happy but mostly, she wants to be the one that gets to love her. I think we can all agree the lyrics, the meaning, the performance itself, the delivery from Naya were all *chefs kiss* in this song.

Cherish/Cherish

The song that Santana pays the God Squad to sing for Brittany. We don't actually see Santana choosing the song, but I think it's more likely that Santana picked it since she was paying for it, rather than the God Squad randomly picking one. If it was that kind of scenario where they picked for her, I feel Quinn would have picked the song, on the basis that it was meaningful for Brittany and Santana's relationship. I also imagine this is a song that Santana listened to back in the dark days when she was too afraid to be with Brittany in the way she desired. The lyrics talk a lot about wishing in the past tense. "you don't know how many times I've wished that I had told you, you don't know how many times I've wished that I could hold you" etc. These are likely all the kind of thoughts that Santana had back in the past, and there are also a lot of references to hidden love and hidden feelings within the song.

If I Can't Have You

Okay so Santana might say that this song was about her love for fame, but I'm sorry, I don't believe her. I'm not discounting her wanting fame, but there's no way at least some of that song wasn't aimed at Brittany, just by the way she kept turning to her and gesturing at her. She was pretty much transfixed on her throughout the majority of the performance. But Brittana (Santana in particular) are generally very private with their relationship and in their declarations, so my theory? It was predominantly for Brittany but Santana got embarrassed around all the focus on them, so she gave the excuse about fame and told Brittany later who it was really for. No deeper analysis needed. If that song was Brittany, the lyrics apply to them easily, as they could with most relationships.

I Wanna Dance With Somebody

This one is simple. It's all in the lyrics. Mr Schue sets the assignment not only as a tribute to Whitney, but for the New Directions to express and explore what's going on with them. For Brittany, she just wants to dance with somebody who loves her, that person obviously being Santana. It's highlighted in the performance and how she pulls everyone up before Santana, and finally gets to Santana for the "with somebody who loves me" line, then at the end where she says Santana is her favourite to dance with. It could be that dancing and being happy with Santana is really her only concern at the moment, or it could be deeper than that. It could be that she is deflecting her deeper issues (the fact she is failing which she'd surely know by now) and as a result only wants to focus on dancing with Santana. The two loves in her life (the third being LT) meshed together and combined.

Mine

I did a whole deep analysis on the meaning behind this, because unlike the other songs this really doesn't fit contextually at all. It's a love song based around staying and holding on, and Santana chooses to sing this right before breaking up with Brittany. I never really understood that song choice, until I looked deeper into it. You can read that here if anyone wants to read it in more detail. If you don't want to read that though, in short, I think that Santana chose that song because when she made that choice to break up with Brittany, I think she can almost picture the future ahead of them and how eventually they are going to make it, they are going to be together, but right now she needs to break up with Brittany so that they actually get that happy ending that she can see. And that fits the whole last verse of the song where she's like "we're gonna make it now, I can see it now" etc, which otherwise doesn't make sense contextually when you're about to break up with someone. It's similar to what happens in the original video for Mine, where Taylor meets the love of her life in a cafe and she "sees" the whole future ahead of them (arguments included) as soon as they meet.

Make No Mistake (She's Mine)

Pretty self explanatory with this one because it's all in the lyrics (and the amazing delivery from Naya). She still loves Brittany and in her eyes Brittany belongs with her. It kind of links back to what I just said about Mine, in that I don't think Santana truly expected Brittany to move on. She told her she could because essentially she had to say that, but did she actually think Brittany would move on? I don't think so. I think she always thought breaking up with Brittany was needed to cement their future and that they'd end up better because of it, but then Sam put a spanner in the works which sent her straight back to Lima to fight for Brittany and stake her claim. Of course saying someone can move on and seeing it are two very different things. I really wish they would have kept the parallel version of that with Brittany/Santana/Elaine and that they kept Dancing On My Own in.

Valerie

This one is definitely more contextual than lyrical. Santana picked this number because it was meaningful to Brittany. It was the first number she choreographed, and so Santana learning Brittany's part of that routine and dancing it with Mike, was a way for her to spark something in Brittany that she was currently lacking and reignite her love for dance to remind her of herself. Clearly she chose to do a dance duet because it's Brittany, but it's poignant that she picked the first song that Brittany choreographed, and it was obviously meaningful to Santana too as her first solo. Although more contextual, the lyrics do carry meaning too. "Stop making a fool out of me, why don't you come on over Valerie" could refer to Santana wanting Brittany to get up and dance with her, while "I miss your ginger hair, and the way you like to dress" could relate to A) Santana missing Brittany in general and B) Santana missing the old care-free Brittany who loved to dance and wasn't consumed by MIT and math equations.

Hand In My Pocket/I Feel The Earth Move

Obviously this song was chosen for mash up purposes in line with artists they had to stick to, but I do think the song choice (chosen by Santana) were relevant to her proposal. The lyric "one hand in my pocket" is indicative of her hiding a ring. I really liked how Santana kept getting down on one knee mid performance (I feel like she was doing this teasingly to foreshadow what was to come rather than she was gonna propose mid song since clearly she had a big speech planned- but I love how every time she did it Brittany would get down as well ) and then all the further foreshadowing with the dragging of the chair that she wanted Brittany to sit in. It's not the most "romantic" of duets, but Brittany and Santana are very private so I feel like it made more sense for them to do a fun duet when it was in front of everyone. I do adore the bit where they're singing the "ooh baby when I see your face" etc. and they only have eyes for each other and look so utterly and adorably in love and happy. That bit really has my heart.

Wishin' and Hoping'

A song about Santana from Brittany's perspective which makes a welcome change. The performance itself is obviously a dream sequence when Brittany is thinking about heaven (because being with Santana makes her feel like she's in heaven and angel wings remind her of her ), but I think the lyrics fit well with the whole narrative we see in S6 of Brittany doing a heavy bulk of the wedding planning and trying to make sure everything is perfect for Santana. This is something we later see as causing her stress in the wedding episode, when she is so nervous and obsessed with it being perfect that she becomes a bit of a bridezilla obsessed with superstition. There were also cut lines from Brittany about everything having to be perfect, and though they weren't canon in the end, it's clearly the angle they were going with. This song links to that because it's all about how ultimately just being yourself and showing the person you love that you care is enough, and it almost foreshadows the conversation that Santana later has with Brittany where she says they don't need any of the traditions or the perfect planning because they create their own luck. They love each other, and that's enough. The performance has Brittany singing about wishing and hoping and planning, but it's Blaine, Artie and Sam who sing "all you gotta do is hold her and kiss her and love her and show her that you care", so it's almost as if they are assuring Brittany. Also pointing out the part of the performance where they sing about planning, and Brittany points at her stomach, one of many S6 clues put in there to hint that Brittana will have a family together in the future ❤️

Our Day Will Come

It's another straight forward one that doesn't really take much analysis. It symbolises how the day has finally come for them to get married and start the rest of their lives together, after such a long, hard journey getting there. One of the key lyrics is "no one can tell me that I'm too young to know", which indicates that someone has tried to tell them they're too young to get married. We know that Kurt said this to them, but since Kurt is singing in this duet with them and he apologised, it may be someone else. Santana's dad maybe? Either way, whoever said it to them, they show in this duet that they are certain about their commitment and the future ahead of them. The song also has the lyrics "I love you so, and you love me" which is repetitive of what Santana said to Brittany earlier in the day before they got married when she saw Brittany in her wedding dress. It symbolises what the ending of their whole arc is about. That after a whole lot of doubt, pain and a long road to get there, they are both finally happy together and content in the love they have in each other, and very proud of that love. Santana in particular I feel always doubted Brittany's love for her. Even when Brittany said yes to marrying her, Santana couldn't believe it. On their wedding day, all those doubts are finally gone, and it's actually Brittany who's doing the worrying. The worrying that Brittany does takes us right back to the beginning of Brittana, when Brittany had her own doubts and fears in the relationship because Santana just seemed like something out of reach for her, that she'd never fully get to have. It's like she has a moment of panic, that something could mess this up the way it used to get messed up all those years ago. Our Day Will Come symbolises the end of all of those doubts, and the start of their new lives together.

#brittana #brittany and santana #brittanalysis #brittana analysis #glee analysis #santana and brittany #santana lopez #brittany pierce #glee santana #glee brittana #glee brittany #brittanypierce #santanalopez #brittany s. pierce #glee songs #brittana songs

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mayfriend-archive · 3 years

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Totally understand if you're not up for it and fully recognize the ronald mcdonald dom/sub anon vibes which is an AMAZING post btw but like...now i'm curious, what the hell did Lord of the Flies anon DO that got him blocked for the discourse? like...i just can't wrap my head around high school lit being...uh...that inflammatory i guess?

Okay so, I'll start by saying I've had a new anon from apparently the same anon saying they are NOT the person I blocked, just a rando making the same points, but I'll answer your question anyway just to set out why this person in particular got blocked, out of the several thousand who reblogged/commented on that very successful addition to the LoTF post I made.

First off, I added the 'real life Lord of the Flies' story because I thought it was a good story. I had read about it only a couple days beforehand in Humankind and, after reading out the entire chapter to my parents who weren't very interested, I was excited that there was not only a post where it would be relevant to post, but that I wouldn't be hijacking it, as it was already rejecting the widespread interpretation taught in many schools, that humanity is inherently savage.

When making the addition, I a) did not think it would get more than a couple reblogs, because the post was already at 50k notes and I figured anyone that might be interested would already have seen it, and b) I did not know the very specific context that prompted William Golding to write the book; all I knew was that he had been a teacher at a public school (basically, the poshest schools in the country - think Eton, Harrow, very 'old money' places that pump out Conservative politicians by the bucket-load 🤢) who hated his job and the boys he taught (which, valid), and new information I'd been given in Humankind - that Golding had said to his wife one day, "Wouldn't it be a good idea to write a story about some boys on an island, showing how they would really behave?" - which had no mention of The Coral Island by R. M. Ballantyne, which I have since learned was the text that Golding loathed enough to write an entire novel in refutation of - and included what I considered a very telling letter from Golding to his publisher, in which Golding wrote of his belief that 'even if we start with a clean slate, our nature compels us to make a muck of it.' Another Golding quote that I believe portrays his belief in humanity's 'innate savagery' is that "man produces evil as a bee produces honey."

Obviously, the author of a book putting forward the case for humanity's inherent goodness was going to oppose Golding's hypothesis; Bregman not only noted Golding's literary accomplishments and beliefs, but his personal life.

When I began delving into the author's life, I learned what an unhappy individual he'd been. An alcoholic. Prone to depression. A man who, as a teacher, once divided his pupils into gangs and encouraged them to attack each other. "I have always understood the Nazis," Golding confessed, "because I am of that sort by nature." (Humankind by Rutger Bregman, p. 24-25)

I have bolded the part about him as a teacher, because it is incredibly relevant to the original post that I commented on, which begins with a comic of a teacher locking her class in to see them 'recreate' Lord of the Flies, something which the follow up comments before mine staunchly reject as both misunderstanding the point of the book, and the fact that it took the kids in Lord of the Flies a significant amount of time without adult supervision to go 'savage'. This misreading of the text is widespread enough that when Golding won the Nobel Prize for Lord of the Flies, the Swedish Nobel committee wrote that his book 'illuminate[s] the human condition in the world of today'. Whether or not they misread it is beyond my expertise - they do at least mention the factors of the outside world neglected by many when analysing the book, but still seem to believe it says something about human nature as a whole rather than just, to quote thedarkbutbeige 'British kids being rat bastards' - but Golding quite happily took his Nobel prize on this basis. Which, in fairness, I would too. It's a fucking Nobel prize.

It was with this knowledge, and this knowledge alone, that I stated in my now very, very widely read comment that Golding 'wrote the book to be a dick', in response to the tags of the person I reblogged from. As I said, I now know that Golding did not write the book (solely) because he hated the kids he taught, but as a response to The Coral Island and the general idea that clearly the British were inherently civilsed, whilst the people they colonised and enslaved were inherently savage. So. That's the background.

The anon - or rather, the person I thought was anon - was the sole exception out of dozens of replies, who instead of telling me about The Coral Island politely decided it was time to go ALL CAPS and regurgitate points already made by thespaceshipoftheseus, and implied that the only reason that the real life Tongan castaways didn't go all Lord of the Flies was because they weren't British. Not because they weren't surrounded by violence like the boys in Lord of the Flies, or there wasn't a World War ongoing, or that they weren't the upper, upper, upper crust of a class-obsessed society like Britain - but because they weren't British. A complete inversion of the concept that Golding was trying to get across - now, instead of all of humanity being equally prone to savagery in the right conditions, it was solely nationality that determined it. As in, the British were inherently savage, but nobody else was.

I, trying for humour, made the terrible mistake of replying to them.

I won't lie, I was absolutely blown away that this was real life. What I think they were trying to do was be that Cool Tumblr Person who, after somebody's been shitty on a post, goes to their blog and sees something Damning in their about/description. In an ideal world, I imagine I'd have gone nuts or done something Unforgiveable. In what I can only call the rant that followed, they stated several times that I needed to go back to high school to get some 'proper literary analysis' skills and that the story of the Tongan castaways was completely unrelated to the point at hand which. I mean, I disagree, considering that I made the addition, but I couldn't get my head around how commenting on a post that was already rejecting the thesis that the 'point' of Lord of the Flies was that humanity was inherently savage and was, in fact, about how kids - British or otherwise - learn how to function from the adults around them, and that traumatised, terrified children aren't going to create a mini-Utopia, and put forward a real life example of how without the key additions of an ongoing world war, a colonial Empire and the subsequent mindset of thinking you are 'inherently civilised' and therefore can't do anything wrong, actually, people just want to take care of each other.

A friend has since asked me why I even have 'england' in my description. To be honest, it's a timezone thing - I talk to a lot of people online who don't share my timezone, and it generally makes me feel like if I don't reply immediately because it's 3am, they have the tools to see that I'm not in their timezone and not just ignoring them. I did consider changing it to 'british' or 'uk' after it was... 'used against me', I guess, simply because I didn't want to deal with it, but you know what. No. Not gonna do that. I am from England, and I have never hid that fact. I have a tag called 'uk politics', during Eurovision I refer to the UK's act as 'us' (even if I really, really don't want to. Because James Newman slaughtered that song and it was downright embarrassing), I regularly post stuff in my personal tag about where I live (and mostly complain about this piece of shit government). If people really think my nationality makes every point I make null and void, then they don't have to follow me or interact with my posts; tumblr is big, and I am one medium-small blog very easily passed over.

I did reply to them, trying to explain the above, but their next response really just doubled down. Because I used the word British instead of English - foolishly because the posts above mine focused on Britishness, and also because although Golding was English and taught English kids, the pro-Imperialism author of The Coral Island, R. M. Bannatyne was actually Scottish so, ding ding ding, falls into the 'British' category - they then decided that I was somehow trying to pretend I wasn't English and made all the same points, before ending with this doozy:

At this point, I knew there was nothing to be gained from replying, because if we're whipping out conditions like they're pokemon cards then there's no actual conversation anymore, and I'm not going to start mudslinging like an identity politician. They made up their mind, and I figured there could be no harm in letting them think that they 'won' by blocking them instead of replying.

Until the ask. INNATE ENGLISH SAVAGERY did, I'll admit, make me think it was them, back again. I even thought up a really good response approximately 12 hours after I replied, I was that sure. Until the second message came in, and said they were just someone who came from the post and made the same point by chance. So the saga draws to a close... for now.

It may have been them, it may not have been - the anon feature makes it impossible to be sure, but as the second message I got said, we're in a heatwave. It's too hot to argue. And I've just written a goddamn essay about a book I dislike anyway.

My pasty English ass is going to go melt. If there's Disk Horse, do not tell me. I am Done™

#emily speaks #asks #anon #lord of the flies #this is long. this is so long. why is this so long #i literally got out humankind so i could quote directly. how is this my life

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politicaltheatre · 3 years

Text

Depraved Indifference

"I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody, and I wouldn't lose any voters, OK? It's, like, incredible."

- Donald Trump, at a campaign stop at Dordt College, Sioux Center, Iowa, January 23, 2016

This quote didn’t find its way into the second impeachment trial of the now-former President, but it should have. In a better world it would have, but in that better world a man such Donald Trump would not ever have been elected to any office, let alone one as powerful as president. And yet, somehow he was.

Donald Trump is no longer president, something his defenders, standing before the Senate and sitting among the trial’s jury, have taken great pains to try to focus our attention on.

Note how they talk about the importance of “moving on” and getting over it, thereby distancing us and, far more importantly, themselves from what was done.

Note how they try to frame the charge against Trump - “inciting violence against the government of the United States” - as merely “partisan” and “political”, something devoid of any legal justification or standing, as if the crimes were not witnessed by billions around the world in real time.

Note how, when faced with having to face the morally depraved actions they either encouraged or enabled in Trump and those who followed him, and having to defend their own complicity in the indefensible result, they turn to not even a little bit thinly veiled threats against those daring to accuse. Any retribution, they do declare, any continuation of violence against Trump’s declared enemies, that will be on you.

This has all the subtlety and predictability of a trial in the Jim Crow South, and, given the number of Confederate flags waving inside the Capitol on January 6th, that really isn’t too strong a comparison.

Trump, as anyone anywhere in the world even casually paying attention should know, is entirely guilty of inciting that riot. He spent years cultivating doubt in the electoral system, months casting doubt on the 2020 mail-in voting results, and, finally, weeks spreading blatant lies about voting fraud, ones that he continues to tell to this day.

He did all of this while encouraging and enabling exactly the kind of violence done on his behalf that we all saw on the 6th and, as the House impeachment managers have helpfully shown at length, in the days, weeks, months, and years leading up to it.

“Stand back and stand by”, right? The Proud Boys stuck that on t-shirts.

If the videos the House managers have played have failed to persuade, we tell ourselves, perhaps the evidence of Trump’s Defense and Justice departments undermining the Capitol police and National Guard’s response will. How about a timeline of Trump’s fiddling while the Capitol burned and his own Vice President quite literally ran for his life? No? Really?

You don’t need a lot of time to prepare a case when the defendant has been caught, figuratively, thousands of times in the middle of Fifth Avenue with a smoking gun. Trump’s thumbs offered up hundreds of smoking guns to choose from. Videos of his post-election rallies do, too. The ones he posted that day, hours after the breach, calling the men and women hunting “traitors” of both parties and battering Capitol police with American flags “patriots”, well, that’s a prosecutor’s dream. Or should be.

So, yes, he is guilty. Very, very, very guilty.

Ah, but so are at least three of his jury members: Josh Hawley, James Lankford, and Ted Cruz. They all gave credence to Trump’s lies, they all gave weight to those lies by demanding that the Senate investigate them once more and yet again before confirming the election, and that day they all cynically and repeatedly called for the rejection of President-elect Joe Biden’s victory. Well, Hawley and Cruz did; Lankford was trying to when he was evacuated.

They were no less guilty of trying to profit from the misplaced and misguided rage of those storming the Senate chamber than Trump, and, if the rioters’ own social media accounts are to be believed, Hawley and Cruz at the very least were no less accountable for them being there. Lankford, it seems, needs to up his social media game.

Those three senators, of course, are not on trial. They are merely jurors charged with deciding the guilt or innocence of Donald Trump for doing what they did themselves. They will be joined in their guaranteed “No” votes by at least 41 other Republican senators who, like them, once again voted to claim that, despite over 200 years of clear legal precedent, this impeachment trial is “unconstitutional”.

It’s no shock that the House managers’ detailed legal history lesson fell on deaf ears, nor is it that those three and other Trump Republicans were caught “reading” during the presentation of evidence. Rand Paul, whose own ridiculous claims about the election and trial have been followed by threats of retaliation, was caught doodling like teen stuck in detention.

This, not anything said by Trump’s crack legal team, is the argument for the defense: they know what Trump did, they know it was wrong, they know what they’re doing, and they know that’s wrong, too. And they do not care. They do not care.

These aren’t stupid people, they’re just dishonest. More specifically, they’re corrupt. What they believe, what they take as a matter of faith, is that they’ll face no real consequences for anything they’re doing or anything they’ve done.

And who’s to tell them they’re wrong? What’s the worse Hawley or Cruz will face? Censure? You can’t shame the shameless. They’ll wear their censures the same way Trump would, as a badge of courage on which they can raise campaign money and, they hope, draw out votes from Trump’s millions of rabidly loyal supporters.

For Hawley, Cruz, and others already campaigning for 2024, that’s all that matters. For them, this is just an opportunity, a means to an end, as they pursue their highly profitable careers in politics. It’s just business. For them, Trump, and every other one in Congress, on TV, and on social media who chose to ignore what people might do if they lied to them and wound them up, and for all of those choosing to ignore the consequences of it now, that’s all this is: just business.

And that’s the problem.

Politics shouldn’t be a business. We know that without even having to be told. When we talk about it, we do so in terms of “service” and “doing one’s duty”, words and phrases that romanticize the selfless nature we want to see in our politics and our politicians. We don’t just do that because that’s how we’ve always heard it spoken of, we do that because we know that the ones who embody that ideal are rare. There’s just too much evidence to deny it.

Go back far as you want, there have been men and women seeking power for the purpose of defending themselves and their friends from accountability. Back in the day, they sought appointments through connections or simply joined the clergy. These days, they run for office.

The political party in this country that currently stands against accountability is the Republican Party. Sure, the Democratic Party has its own sizable share of complicity for allowing the country’s drift into right-wing aggressive selfishness, but, lucky for us, it hasn’t been able to rid itself of its accountable members the way the Republican Party has. Of course, that’s only natural, given the importance of accountability to the political Left.

The last two Republican presidents were elected in no small part because they had a background in business. Yes, they each ran their businesses into the ground, but they ran them.

George W. Bush came into office as a “corporate” president, one who would, we were assured, delegate to those more experienced and skilled in areas where he was…lacking. We waved away his inadequacies and were somehow shocked when he failed in exactly every one of those areas. Still, he and his friends made money hand over fist, so the corporate presidency was good for business, big business, in particular, which got a big bailout.

Donald Trump should have inspired even less confidence, but confidence man that he is, he played enough suckers to get him in the White House. As much pain, suffering, and death as he has caused in four excruciatingly long years, he and his cronies have made out like gangbusters, too. The government they were hired to manage, not so much.

From the start, he and his cabinet secretaries lived by the old rule, “it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to get permission”. Not that they asked for forgiveness. That’s for losers. They broke laws, fleeced taxpayers, and resigned knowing that whatever penalty they might face would pale compared to the profits they took with them.

This is the mentality that drives corporate decision making around the world. For them, the adage is a bit more like, “better to settle a lawsuit than risk profits”. They, too, avoid apologies whenever possible. That keeps the damages paid to to victims and their families lower.

Currently, there are companies selling cars, drugs, baby food, and other products that they know are defective and a threat to the people using them. They know this. They know there’s a high risk that people will die, and they do it anyway. Instead of recognizing the threat and stopping, they do cost-benefit analyses to determine the number of deaths from their products they can afford.

This, it’s worth stating, is not capitalism. We may tell ourselves that it is, but that’s just us looking for an easy answer, a scapegoat for our own failures. In fact, this pattern was just as common under communism, too; just ask anybody who used to live near Chernobyl. Mistakes are hidden, a given number of deaths are accepted, and the perception of success and prestige is maintained.

This is corruption, and deaths and suffering caused by a lack of accountability are what corruption does. A death is a symptom, a great, big red flag, something to tell you that something is very, very, very wrong, but how many of those red flags do we see and ignore before we finally stop to ask what it is we’ve been seeing?

How many smaller red flags, such as poverty, racism, anti-semitism, police brutality, injustice, and sexual abuse, do we pass because we’ve just become so used to seeing them? Do we tell ourselves that there is nothing we can do? Do we even ask if there is anything we can do? Or do we, as so many senators are now preparing to do, instead embrace corruption as a virtue.

This is the real threat, a system that accepts this and holds no one accountable, and a culture that pushes back against demands for accountability, embracing the very worst of who we are and what we can do to others just to prove that we can. The result is a flood of childish acting out and a loss of trust in products and services that we must be able to trust because they are supposed to keep us safe.

Is this as great a threat to our society as the January 6th attack on the Capitol? This is that attack. The product failures that led to the attack were political. We have watched as our political and government institutions have failed. We have watched as those entrusted to deliver a product that works and keeps us safe have, again and again, deliberately or not, betrayed that trust. As with any other product sold, each breach of trust carries over into the next, accumulating and compounding, eroding not just our ability to trust those products but all products like them.

Think of the doubts Americans have about the safety of vaccines? Sure, we can chalk that down to internet conspiracy theories and echo chambers if we like, but would they have gained the traction they have in a world in which we weren’t inundated with ads featuring paid-non-attorney-spokespersons asking us if we or a loved one took this drug or that and had experienced one or more life threatening side effects? How many of us heard about the Covid-19 vaccines and asked, How long before we see the ads for that?

For decades, we have allowed ourselves to become a nation of beta-testers, taking on the cost and burden of quality control that the companies releasing and profiting from these products, and these class action lawsuits have become big business as a result. Every new pharmaceutical product that hits the shelves, part of us is just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Time and the success of these vaccines should put an end to that, at least for this pandemic, but that we have to do so should tell us about the work we have to do to repair our society, or to build one that can exist without absolving us from being accountable to each other.

Until then, we have other kinds of corruption to face, including one that may be more destructive than anything we’re seeing in the Senate this week.

The Reddit-GameStop insurrection might have been fun to watch from the sidelines, a bit of schadenfreude for those of us on the outside of Wall Street, looking in, but the truth is the hedge fund villains still made their money, and the systemic fault lines this episode exposed should have us all scared and paying attention.

Our economy is overly concentrated in Wall Street’s product and therefore overly dependent on its success and stability. A loss of faith in its product has been underway for years. That’s how you get to day traders trying to take on hedge funds the way they did. This wasn’t David vs Goliath, this was guerrilla warfare over who gets to make the quick and easy profits.

The upside of that is that some of the “little guys” seem to win something; the downside of that is that it does nothing to fix the problems we have with Wall Street. Rather, it only makes them worse, by highlighting how easy it is to manipulate stocks and commodities and how few get to do it and get away with it.

What happens, then, when no one has any faith left in Wall Street? What happens when everyone believes it is nothing more than a casino designed to take money rather than make it?

Well, we’re almost there. We have a massive, growing online gambling industry, and with it an online gambling problem. Sports leagues, some with their own recent histories of cheaters (and worse) getting away with it, have turned their own fans onto gambling as part of the sport. How many of these people, blowing their money on bad beats, think of it as no different than investing on Wall Street stocks?

A better question: What happens to all of those stock prices when everyone, including the crooks on Wall Street, lose faith in that system, take their profits, and leave? An even better question: What happens if they do that all at once?

The answer is: Lost jobs, pensions, food and housing security, and hope.

In other words, 2020 on steroids. That’s what you get with corruption, an environment in which politicians like Donald Trump, companies willing to harm consumers, and right wing domestic terrorists thrive. As long as they aren’t held accountable, they will.

“Bad for the country”, indeed.

- Daniel Ward

#impeachment #corruption #politics #depraved indifference #aggressive selfishness #Donald Trump #josh hawley #ted cruz #james lankford #mitch mcconnell #lindsey graham #republicans #democrats #january 6th #insurrection #long reads #long read

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birdwonder · 4 years

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Hey, I was just wondering could you do a Phantom Blood Dio x female reader where they sneak around everyone's backs to be together and pretend they don't get along when with others? Thank you and have a wonderful day.

|| Love the request ! This is going to be set before Dio puts on the stone mask and George’s death, but both he, Joseph and the reader are young adults.

Phantom Blood Dio | Behind Closed Doors

“Come now, Dio, certainly Lady [L/N] isn’t as irksome as you claim her to be,” the calm yet mildly concerned voice of George Joestar spoke, a heavy sigh following his speech as the stubborn frown upon Dio Brando’s lips refused to falter or leave.

The blond crossed his arms tightly around his chest, refusing to directly face the man that he had taken in him despite his need to show him the upmost respect. “I have told you repeatedly father, that ... impudent girl has no tact nor manners to her high end name! She is a thorn in my side no matter how pretty her petals may be.” He spoke with such disdain and venom in his voice that he would believe the older man to be brain dead to not understand how he felt about you.

The ageing father of both Joseph Joestar and Dio Brando pinched the bridge of his nose slightly, a hand gripping his cane as he tried to recall exactly when the feud between [F/N] and Dio had came to be.

“But father! I don’t want to be betrothed to some girl I’ve never met,” a younger, yet still just as well mannered as now, Dio complained, internally retching at the idea that George was attempting to have him marry some unacquainted, noble child who was probably as juvenile and pretentious as all the other high standing sons and daughters he had met through his adopted father’s parties.

“Dio I am only doing this so that finding someone to wed won’t be a concern in the future,” his father attempted to explain, placing a gentle hand on the teenager’s shoulder, “you have shown no interest in any other young females that you have met, or in finding someone to love at all!”

With a huff, Dio continued to desperately convey why an arranged marriage was out of the question, “what if I wholeheartedly dislike her, hm? What if she talks too loud or flirts with other men behind my back or doesn’t even like me?”

“None of which will happen, Dio. Lady [F/N] is a polite, upstanding girl who is always happy to greet me when I visit her family’s home. Imagine coming home from work to a beautiful, welcoming smile? I’m sure that’s any man’s dream.”

The blond quietly scoffed, as to not insult his father directly, and refused to listen to any more reasoning. George did nothing to pester him further however, a bright smile on his mouth as he gestured towards the door of their home where a butler was approaching and starting to open. “No matter, she should be here now! Look smart now, Dio, and do try to smile a little.”

Dio was not ready to be meeting her right now. Or at any point in time for that matter, but especially not now. With slightly widened, golden eyes he glanced over to see that the doors were now open and two figures were entering. A woman who was definitely close to George’s age, if not a few years younger, and a man around the same age too, both dressed as fine as aristocrats as if they were attending a meeting with the queen. ‘Rich people. Too much money for their own good,’ Dio thought, looking the presumed couple with a hidden disgust.

“Ah, if it isn’t the great [L/N]’s! Looking as dashing as ever,” George greeted with open arms, only to then shake the man’s hand with a hearty laugh and ‘good day’ , afterwards politely kissing the woman’s gloved hand.

“I’m sorry if we have kept you long, our little flower was a little difficult to convince to come, I think it’s just a young woman’s time where she’s too bashful to talk to a man face to face,” the woman joked, a light-hearted look and sound to her as she side stepped from her husband, hands moved to gently push a third person in front of her.

There, stood in a neutral pink frock, was a fairly beautiful girl, hair pinned, neatly teased and brushed back to be styled into a perfect bun, with the small exception of a few strands purposefully let loose to carefully frame the delicate face of a young lady. Her eyes seemed to travel anywhere but somebody’s face, as her hands laced in front of her fiddled tenuously.

Even with an averted gaze, Dio could tell that her eyes had a pretty look to them, though he couldn’t tell if it was the colour or how long her lashes were, or if it was even something as trivial as her eye shape altogether. No. It couldn’t be any of it! She was just some girl, nothing about her was special at all!

“This is [F/N], our little diamond girl, she is so enthusiastic to be meeting your son, Dio. I can already tell the two of them will be make for a great pair!” The man introduced, something Dio was quick to disagree with in his head. He hadn’t so much as made eye contact with the girl yet and they assume they would be perfect, how stupid.

After some encouraging from her parents to say hello, she finally looked directly at the other teenager, eyes scanning him from his shoes all to way to the top of his head. It made him feel a little awkward. It was like she was judging him in her head, or analysing every detail of him, while most women he knew just threw themselves at him in an instant.

“He’s nothing special. I don’t see why I have to marry him,” she finally said, monotone and blunt, eyes dull and general expression no different. Dio almost choked in response, gawking momentarily at your words.

“Young lady! You should not speak about your future husband in such a manner,” her father scolded while the mother gasped and looked down at her with disappointment.

Similar to Dio’s attitude earlier, [F/N] huffed and continued to speak tersely, “future husband or no, he’s just some child. I don’t even want to be here!”

Something in her had seemed to snap as in the next second, she had spun on her heel and made a bee-line for the front door, dashing outside to who knows where.

Instantly, both of the parents began to apologise on behalf of their daughter, even bowing their heads in shame to which George reassured them that it was no problem. Dio was only standing there, staring at the ghost of where the girl once was near the door and hummed to himself with thought. It didn’t take him long to ponder over his decision since he quickly knew that he wanted to find out what could possibly drive a woman to not only go against her own parents, but a man too, something that was frowned upon by everyone.

“It’s alright, I’m sure it is just the nerves,” Dio added in, sending the three elders a warm yet faux smile before he started to head out the door. “I’ll go find her and talk to her! After all,” he paused at the entrance, turning his head with a closed eyes, “is it not a husband’s duty to support his wife?”

That was as much as George was able to remember of your first meeting, never truly understanding what had brought upon your reaction unlike Dio, who knew a lot more than what he did.

After five minutes maximum of searching, Dio had finally spotted a pink blob in the distance and knew it could only be you. You were under a tree, knees hugged to your chest which caused you skirt to ride up slightly and crease in the most un-lady like fashion, head buried into your arms as small sobs came from your balled up figure.

Now Dio wasn’t the best at comfort. In fact, he hadn’t been able to recall a single moment where he had tried to ease anyone side from his crying mother once upon a time. Nonetheless, he knew that if he couldn’t get to you, he’d never find out what brought one such a display earlier.

“Oi, woman. Stop your crying,” he demanded, realising a little too late that wasn’t exactly the most or at all comforting thing to say, but it did cause you to raise your head and look at him with watery eyes and tear stained cheeks. A pitiful show, and still Dio thought of it as an oddly precious look. He’ll just pretend that’s the pity talking.

“What...What do you want? If you’ve come to convince me to marry you, forget it! I won’t marry a man I don’t love, know or need, ever!” You yelled, unafraid of the consequences that would come from being a woman with such an outspoken voice.

Clicking his tongue against his cheek to make a ‘tsk’ sound, Dio placed his hands onto his hips and looked down at you with a stoic expression. “Who said I wanted to marry you, girl? I’m only here because your parents are causing an unnecessary ruckus and I’m here to understand why you’re being so damn difficult.”

You blinked up at him. A tear rolling down because of your fluttering lashes, even if you were no longer crying. Sighing, you gazed ahead of you at a serene scenery that captivated you well enough to soothe your inner troubles. A lake weaved before you, water glistening underneath a setting sun which was slowly painting the sky different hues of pinks, oranges and yellows; even a purple was blended in somewhere in the mix. It was so beautiful, and all you could really come back to was the issue at hand.

“I... Don’t take this personally, Dio was it?” You checked, to which he affirmed by nodding once, “I don’t hate you directly, and it’s not that I loathe my parents either. It’s just that I don’t want to live the rest of my life under another man’s roof who I hardly know, and love, while being expected to sit around all day until he comes home so that we can try to have a child I probably won’t care for because all I’ll see is the product of an unhappy life.” Your longwinded rant paused briefly, as you inhaled quickly to continue.

“I want to live on my own! Under my own rules and start my own business where I can provide for myself and work hard for what I need and want, not have it boringly handed to me on a silver platter.”

After you were done, Dio blinked a few times in amazement. Were you really telling him all this? Something so controversial and so strangely endearing? Fascinating. He was actually quite hooked on your story, and understood where you were coming from. Dio would feel identically to you had he been in your position.

“I see. Well, there’s only one way to go about this then.” He piped up, kneeling down beside you with slight cringe as he sort of wanted to avoid dirtying his trousers. Giving him a curious look, you tilted you head to ask ‘how’ when he suddenly placed a hand on your cheek.

“From now on, we’ll show those stupid old people that we have no other relationship than one filled with hate, and if we’re successful enough then they’ll have to release us of our burden to marry.” His plan sounded fool proof, at least it did when he said it in such a confident and certain way, though you still had doubts.

“What if they get angry and disown us? Or worse...” You trailed off, cringing at the harsh hands that could come into play if things went south.

“Then you’ll just have to be Mrs Brando and live only to bear my children,” he returned, smirking in a way that reminded you of a smug cat that had caught the canary. Shuddering, you shook your head.

“No, that sound horrible!”

“Oh? Does [F/N] Brando not have a ring to it? I think it’s quite fitting.”

“Don’t joke like that!”

The memory faded there as the rest wasn’t important to Dio. From that day, for at least two years the two of you have yelled, bickered, insulted, chastised, teased and even lightly hit each other to send across the message that there was no romantic interest between you and still, the both of you were pressured into marrying. It was like the message wasn’t going through their thick skulls!

Some things had changed since then as well. The two of you had slowly grown closer, away from your parents’ eyes of course, and even found comfort in each other’s company. Dio had somehow ended up confessing his backstory to you and his dislike for Jonathan, in which you assured him that he wasn’t any less of a man for coming from a poor family, and you had even given him a comforting kiss on the cheek. The rest of your time together was in embarrassing silence, mainly for Dio as you were contently resting your head on his shoulder after you had teased his denied blush,

Honestly, even some of your fake arguments were like flirting, but just ten times more attractive and it made Dio genuinely want to see you again every time you left.

Snapping back into reality, Dio realised that George had resumed conversing with him and to his luck, it was to remind him that you would be shortly arriving for another one of your ‘arranged dates.’

Acting disgusted, the trickster scowled. “Does she have to come? She’s better off a thousand feet from me and then some.”

“Dio, please. It’s been years, surely you have warmed up to her enough to at least not talk about her in that way!” George scolded, raising his cane to gently tap his son’s head with it.

“You could stretch my life span to an infinite amount of years, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

No more was said then as a butler had entered the room, announcing your arrival in which you entered on cue, cold as ever and not even greeting your supposed fiancé, just a ‘hello’ to George who sighed and greeted you in return, shortly excusing himself to his study to leave you two to do your own thing, expecting the both of you to carry out your arranged date though he doubted it.

As soon as he was gone, you smiled at Dio and giggled, slowly walking up to him once the door was closed by the exiting butler. “My, Mr Brando, don’t you look god awful today,” you noted, a joking flirt in your tone as you hooded your eyes and pinched your skirt to raise it a little.

Dio had managed to both scoff and smirk at the same time as he slightly opened his arms out, allowing you to approach him ever closer and press your blouse covered chest against his broader one, one hand slowly mimicking a walking motion up from his chest to his neck so you could wrap your arms around him. “Not as wretched and hideous as you, Mrs Brando. Did you just roll out of a sewer or is this your usual afternoon attire?” He teased, loosely holding your waist and staring down into the eyes that he had noticed so well when you first met. Still as perfect as ever.

“Oh love, you know all of this is for you. If you’re good, I’ll let you see what’s under all this sewer gunk,” the purr in your tone and the feeling of your breasts pressing onto him made his mouth dry and you only laughed at his reaction to your unabashed tease. “I’m only joking, Dio, I can’t very well go sleeping with you just yet if I want to prove to my family I can be independent!”

He cleared his throat slightly and nodded with agreement, “of course, of course, we can do no such thing,” he recited, coquettishly grinning at you before he repeated one of your words, “yet.”

You gasped and stuttered, slapping his arm gently. “Oh hush! You know what I was going for.” You really didn’t know where your relationship with Dio was heading, if the two of you really were going to marry due to your parents or your own free will, or if it would all be over once you had your business plan approved, but you made an effort enjoy what strange intimacy you had now.

“Do I, love? Perhaps you should explain it to me in further detail,” he hummed, moving his head down a little to brush his nose against your own.

“No! Now be quiet, shouldn’t you be taking me somewhere?” You reminded, quickly changing the subject and taking a step back. Tittering, Dio starved for the feeling of you against him once more, moving to walk beside you with a hand on your lower back, guiding you to the door. It was arranged that he would take you to a restaurant in a carriage and spend until the evening at least socialising and perhaps touring the town. You both knew that you could actually talk until tomorrow’s sunrise, but for the sake of the message you wanted to send, it was better to cut it off sooner than that.

The two of you continued to silently banter all the way to the carriage.

Dio, in all his years, had never been more happier to spend time with a woman, as sharp tongued and stubborn as you were. He knew that once he had gotten rid of George and Jonathan Joestar, that he would appoint you head of his household and name you his wife and let you do as you wish, provided you swear to love him until death do you part.

#dio brando #dio x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #x reader #george joestar #dio brando x reader #phantom blood

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taelme · 4 years

Text

Disneyland actor!Hendery

genre: disneyland actor!au, kind of workplace!au? (fluff)

pairing/s: Hendery / Reader, (ft. KunTen)

word count: 8k+

tw: none!! hehe

a/n: saw all those posts about Hendery as Prince Eric n I knew .... had to take matters into my own hands .....

"Hello Prince Eric!" Hendery was nudged aside roughly, almost causing him to choke on what was left of his churro in his mouth. He recognized the voice to be his friend Kun, who glanced sideways before lowering his voice to a mutter, "you know you're not supposed to be snacking on the job right," his harsh tone emphasized by his frown.

Hendery pat his chest firmly, shooting a (very defensive) wide-eyed look at his friend, "I can't help it when all these little mermaids," he waved at the two girl toddlers dressed in mermaid costumes who waddled past the princes with a smile, "keep giving me free food, can I, prince charming?"

Hendery sighed, licking the excess sugar and cinnamon off his lips, "What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked his brown haired friend, who was busy greeting the children and park-goers that strolled past them.

"Had to entertain myself cause all the princesses are gone for that performance thing," he shrugged, turning and placing his hands on his hips as he analysed Hendery's area ( or lagoon, he figured ). "I see Ariel's sisters don't seem to be very busy," Kun smiled, waving at one of the girls he'd seen beckoning him to the pool area.

"Sure, go wild."

Hendery waved him off distractedly, not without giving Kun an uncomfortable look as he approached one of the mermaid actresses. Contemplating on whether to buy himself a drink, he was approached by one of the park rangers, “You guys can go for your break now,” he said, repeating the same thing to Kun and the other actors there, leaving Hendery to go by himself to the breakroom, desperate for actual food after just surviving on a churro since the time he woke up.

Upon reaching the break room he’d spotted his co-worker Ten, who didn’t waste any time in latching onto Hendery, practically following him around the breakroom like a little puppy ( or in this case a little puppy that really wanted to ask Hendery for a favour )

“Bro...Hendery....you know I love you right?” he murmured, earning a hum of acknowledgement from Hendery as the latter was more focused on picking which bento set looked more appetising to him. “And you know I would do anything for you if you asked....right?”

Hendery turned to give Ten a knowing look, waving his packet drink in front of Ten’s face, “And you know that you might as well just tell me what you want from me now,” Hendery sighed, walking back to his usual table in the break room and placing his things onto the table.

Ten let out an offended gasp, hand to his chest to emphasize his offence, “I don’t want anything from you!”

Hendery quirked an eyebrow at his co-worker, just wondering how he’d managed to become friends with someone as annoying as the person seated before him. “Okay, then we’re done he-“

“Okay, fine, maybe I do want something. But it’s nothing big I swear! I just need you,” he pointed a finger at Hendery, a small sheepish smile appearing on Ten’s face as he continued, “to figure out something for me,”

“Is he asking you for another favour again?” Kun flopped with a tired sigh onto the seat next to

Hendery, Ten simply sticking his tongue out at Kun in response.  

“Okay, so before I was rudely interrupted, I was saying. Okay, let’s say I’m supposed to have this work thing tonight. And for this work thing, it’s you know that thing where they book out the whole park and we can just do whatever we want and use the rides and all, you know?”

“Yes, Ten, I work here, I know.”

Ten narrowed his eyes only momentarily at Hendery before continuing, a big smile plastered on his face in the hope that it would increase his chances of Hendery saying yes, “so, I was supposed to bring one of my friends here because I got to invite one person and she really wanted to come see the park in the evening, but! But, okay, this is the part you gotta help me out,” Kun shot a look at Ten as if asking why he was beating around the bush so much.

“Ten just get to the point already,” Kun snapped, his eyebrows furrowing slightly and a slight scowl on his face.  

“Can you...perhaps....accompany her?”

Hendery shrugged, he already knew he was going to say okay to Ten’s request he just felt like he needed to make Ten work a little for his ‘yes’.

“What’s in it for me?” he asked Ten, making Ten purse his lips, raising an eyebrow at the younger boy.

“A burden,” Kun snickered, shaking his head and patting Hendery on the back.

Ten rolled his eyes, “First of all, she’s a girl, and this is not a burden- in fact, it’s a blessing for Hendery.”

“In what way?” Hendery laughed, enjoying the exchange even more than he was letting on.

“I’m helping him land a date! It’s no news that Hendery over here hasn’t dated in like what ten years-“

“2 years,” Hendery cut in with a proud grin on his face, holding up two fingers for emphasis.

“Yeah, same thing. I’m just saying man, it’s a blessing in disguise that I couldn’t make it tonight, ‘cause I’m literally giving you a great romantic evening in the park with a pretty decent girl and no one’s gonna give you shit for it because literally everyone will be with their own people!” Ten grinned, holding a thumbs up next to his face, nodding excitedly.

Hendery had to agree, the prospect didn’t even sound all that bad, giving Ten an affirmative nod, finally letting himself smile widely after Ten’s whole monologue.   “Yes!” Ten whipped out his ticket and slammed it onto the table before him, “Thank you, or you’re welcome in advance? Whatever, you’ll have fun even if it’s not fun,” Kun nodded in agreement at Ten’s last comment, giving Hendery a nod as he pointed at Ten.

“Hate to say it but it’s true.”

Hendery glanced at his watch, it was at least 4 more hours till the park would close for Ten’s work event. That’s gonna really feel like 10 years, Hendery thought. Little did he know 5 hours later he’d be rushing to change into his casual clothes ( which in this case was his green white and black motif hoodie and his black jeans that were a little more ripped ) and meet you at the fountain near the old themed theatre. You didn’t recognize him at first, you doubted you’d be able to from the shitty description Ten had given you.

“Tall, kind of handsome when you look past the donkey features, long hair,” was all he’d told you, and that wasn’t what you were expecting when a boy who looked way too handsome to have fit Ten’s description had come up to you a little out of breath asking if you were Ten’s friend with a hopeful look on his face.

Momentarily distracted by how much he smelt like a tropical lagoon and his gaze that was intently fixed on you, you’d almost forgot to reply him until you realized he was waiting for your answer.

“Oh, yes. Yep, that’s me,” your nervous laugh did nothing to hide the awkwardness you felt. You were thankful that they’d chosen that time to start the event, meaning you and Hendery had to make your way to the big communal area, standing at the far back since you two were already late.

You fixed your gaze on what was going on at the main stage, admiring the display of lights and the way they’d lit the street lamps within the park, making you feel as though you were actually outdoors.

“Hey, man, what are you doing here still?” you saw somebody sling an arm over Ten’s friend’s shoulder.

“Oh, I’m here for the event,” he said simply, sparing you the introduction which you greatly appreciated, and you were busy navigating the map to see where you’d wanted to go to first, but that was proving to be a little difficult since you’d never been to the park before ( even despite your best friend working in the park ).

“Where should we go first? the map says that the lagoon’s pretty popular-“

“Forget the map,” Ten’s friend snatched the map from your hands, “I’ll be your map tonight,” he smiled at you, his styled hair falling over his eyes slightly, making him shake his head to move his hair away.

“You know this place well?” he nodded at your question, “like the back of my hand.”

Hendery figured he shouldn’t have promised that when you’d asked if he could bring you to the Jurassic area of the park and you’d both ended up at the canoe ride instead.

“Like the back of your hand, huh?” you laughed, but didn’t stop him when he gave you an unapologetic shrug, stepping into the boat and offering you a hand to help you in anyway.

“Ladies and-I mean lady, please keep your arms and legs within the vehicle at all times,” you smiled, nodding as you did as you were told. You heard the muffled speakers of the park start to play different songs, Hendery and yourself unconsciously mouthing the lyrics or humming the tune to the song playing.

You saw somebody wave at him while he adjusted the paddles of the boat, sitting before you with a smile. “Another friend of yours?” you referred to the person he’d just greeted, making him glance back at the person who was already almost out of sight, turning back to you with an amused expression.

“If I’m being honest, I see him almost every day but I just can’t seem to remember his name,” he confessed, making you let out an amused huff, shaking your head.

“I’m just not that great with names,” he followed your gaze to see how you were staring at the lights decorating the bridge you were about to pass under. “Speaking of which,” he spoke again, directing your attention away from the lights to him instead, “sorry I’m only asking now but what’s your name?”

“What’s to say you won’t forget an hour after I tell you?” he scrunched his nose up, shaking his head.

“I promise, I won’t forget. My name’s Hendery,” he told you, tucking the paddles in a way that you were pretty sure was meant to make the boat move slower.

“I’m Y/N,” you told him, seeing him nod.

The conversation dulled momentarily, which you didn't mind, of course. You knew it was all part and parcel of a first meeting with someone. So you'd let yourself get distracted by the pretty lights and the way the decor of the streets in the park that you passed by in the boat seemed so pretty in the evening light.

“This is so nice,” you muttered to no one in particular, earning a sound of agreement from Hendery. “So, I’m guessing you work here with Ten?” he nodded.

“I’m part-time, unlike Ten. I heard from him it was your first time coming here?” You enjoyed the way his eyebrows would raise ever so slightly when he asked you questions, the light from the street lamps and the fairy lights casting this glow you couldn’t describe but made him look absolutely...princely.

Nodding in response for your sudden lack of the ability to form words, he replied you quickly, “Well you’re free to come as many times as you want, I could get you a free pass.”

“Is that allowed?” you laughed, wanting to slap yourself for that reply, earning a shake of the head from him, grinning at you mischievously. as if you didn’t know it wasn’t allowed, please.

“Well...there are a few other options I guess, you know, if you don’t want to go down the illegal route,” he hummed in thought, before his eyes lit up, “okay, so, you could work here part-time when you’re free, or you could come visit whenever you have time using Ten’s pass and I could properly show you around when it’s uh...you know, less...dark,” he waved his hands in gesture to your relatively dim environment, “and stuff.”

“And plus! more of the rides will be open, if you’re into that,” he added quickly, earning an enthusiastic nod from you.

Your hesitation got the better of you, though, expression faltering slightly, which Hendery hadn’t missed, tilting his head at you as a prompt for you to share what was stopping you. “I don’t know, though...Ten’s been asking me if I wanted to work part time since they needed staff, and I’m technically free for the holidays now, but I guess I was just putting it off for lack of a better reason...and also 'cause it's been a while since I had to talk to new people,” you laughed.

“Trust me, working here isn’t as bad as Ten makes it sound, it’s actually pretty chill. You could try out as a park ranger, you won’t have to do much most of the time other than occasionally helping park-goers, and it pays pretty good, and plus, I’ll be there too!” he told you, tone raising with his excitement, the both of you having reached the end of the river.

Hendery stepped out from the boat, holding a hand out for you to take, “so how ‘bout it, Y/N, you gonna take up the offer?”

You scrunched your nose up, nodding decisively as you took his hand, letting him help you out from the boat, feeling as though you’d taken him up on more than just getting a job here.

In other words, that was how you ended up in your customer service uniform, standing in the admin office waiting for instructions.

“Guess what,” Ten came into the room and led you out of the admin office, earning a grimace from you, “should I be afraid?”

Ten rolled his eyes, “why do you always think it’s something bad?”

You scoffed, “I only think it’s something bad when it’s you,” you huffed.

“Well, for starters, that’s no way to talk to your mentor,” he smirked, making you groan, “also, since I’m in charge now. First order of business is: tell me exactly what happened that day I bailed on you for the park event.”

You thought back to that evening, almost letting a smile slip when you recalled the way Hendery had asked for your phone number, how he’d promised you another day where he would have more time to show you around the park, but “only if you were okay with it.” Which, let’s be honest, you were more than okay with it.

“Firstly, why didn’t you tell me he was so good-looking! He looked like...like a prince!” Ten snickered at your choice of words.

“Well, I mean, close enough, if you think about it, but go on,” he prompted, shoving one hand into his pocket and swinging his other hand freely as he walked.

“He was very nice, it’s amazing you have friends like this, really. And single too! Which was even more amazing. Someone as nice and funny as him that’s available is so hard to find these days,” Ten scoffed at your last statement.

“Yeah, if you could just tell him that. He keeps saying he’s waiting for the right one,” Ten rolled his eyes, “I basically hooked him up on a blind date, what more is there to ask for?”

You gasped, “Hey,” you whined, but sensed some truth to Ten’s words nonetheless, “who is he, prince Eric?” you joked, said prince being the first one you’d thought of when Ten said he was ‘looking for the right one’.

“Uh....well you’re not wrong,” You heard the sound of splashing and children cheering, locating the source of the sound when you saw Hendery there, dressed in what you recognized to be Prince Eric’s trademark outfit, white billowy shirt and black pants, red sash tied around his waist, you barely noticed the boots with how hard you were staring at his face, and his hair especially.

He was busy taking pictures with the park goers with the actress dressed as Ariel, and you weren’t interested in getting involved in the crowd but you were thankful that there was a single big group of them who were already starting to disperse after taking their photos.

“Hendery!” Ten called out, making you wince, nudging him, Ten giggled, practically pulling you towards Hendery with a big smile on his face.

“Hey, man, also it's Prince Eric to you, I’m working,” he scolded Ten. Hendery looked at you, eyes widening, “hey! First day today?” you nodded with a smile, noticing from the corner of your eye that Ten had started to leave to talk to the actress playing Ariel.

“Yeah,” you cursed yourself for your voice coming out softer than you’d intended for it to, earning a tiny giggle from him.

“Hello, my lady,” he smiled, bowing deeply, making you let out a strangled sound of protest, moving over to get him to straighten up quickly, “..lemme try to remember...Mildred right?” he kept his expression serious, a hand placed thoughtfully on his chin.

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, “No? Okay...Diana? Rachel?” a tiny pout formed on your lips, your hands raising to cross your arms over your chest, seeing Hendery’s expression change into one of amusement, “I’m kidding! I’m kidding. I remember, Y/N.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you. “How could I forget,” he murmured softly, but before the tension could grow he raised his voice back to a normal tone and volume, “I see Ten has escorted Ariel to take pictures, so I’m guessing you will be accompanying me today?”

Your eyes widened, turning quickly to see that Ten indeed was starting to bring Ariel to other parts of the park, and you turned back to Hendery, having to look away and nod quickly in fear that you would blush if you maintained eye contact with him a little bit longer.

“It seems like it,” you nodded, starting to walk into whatever direction you felt like walking in, Hendery only stopping whenever children were there, choosing to simply wave and smile and greet the park goers otherwise.

“How’re you finding your first day so far?” he asked you, clasping his wrist behind his back as you walked.

You nodded, “I guess it’s pretty chill? Nothing out of the ordinary, other than the fact that Ten’s my mentor,” you laughed at how Hendery’s eyes had widened, pulling a face.

“Yikes,” he joked, suddenly stopping you and leading you to a small snack stand selling churros.

“You know what would be really good right now?” he told you, looking elsewhere but pointing towards the churro stand desperately.

“What are you doing? Can’t you just buy one-”

Hendery shook his head, “I brought you here so you can try it! Since we didn’t get to buy any the last time you were here, they’re great, I swear.”

You raised an eyebrow at his insistence, but bought a churro anyway, handing it to Hendery, who took a bite quickly after glancing left and right to see if anyone was looking, thrusting the churro back into your hands quickly, covering his mouth as he licked off the remnants of the sugar on his lips and smiled at you, leaning down to mutter a small ‘thank you’ to you.

“Go on, take a bite,” he urged you, watching your reaction intently as you did so, the widening of your eyes making him cheer, having to refrain from pumping his fist in the air, trying to stay in character for the families that walked past him.

“So...uh..I’m guessing you’re not allowed to snack while on the job?” he nodded at you, making you laugh.

“Well if you’re ever in need of a churro text me, I’d be glad to not spend my entire day with Ten,” you laughed.

“What do you do on an average day as…Prince Eric?” you asked, taking a small bite out of the churro. You glanced at the time on your phone, seeing that it was almost time for you to report to the customer service counter.

“I dunno, play with kids, walk around like this take pictures with people, occasionally have to pose and stuff with Ariel, that's pretty much it,” he shrugged, making you purse your lips.

“Well, I’m sorry but I’m supposed to report to the customer service counter pretty soon, so you might have to find someone else to accompany you.”

Hendery frowned, making an unamused expression. “That’s alright, can I walk you to the customer service counter, then?” you nodded and he smiled. Hendery cursed mentally that you were a park ranger and that you were both out in the open so he couldn’t link arms with you like how he wanted to, figuring he would have to use his amazing (his words) brain to formulate a plan to spend more time with you.

Though you were thinking along the lines of the same thing he was, that didn’t mean you weren’t surprised when you’d seen Hendery bringing a child that looked about 5 years old into the customer service area.

Hendery waved to you, soft smile on his face as he urged the child to walk towards you, pointing towards you, murmuring to the kid to walk over to the 'kind looking older sister'. The child went over to you, staring at your shoelaces as they nibbled on their ice cream.

“Kid over here came to me crying really hard just now, said he couldn’t find his parents,” Hendery told you, the both of you standing there and staring at the occupied child for a while, figuring the ice cream in his hands had served to calm him down a little.

“Does he know what his parents’ names are?” Hendery nodded, “I can make the announcement for you if you want, since I already know their names.”

You nodded, stepping back and gesturing to the mic, letting him step forward and work the functions smoothly, as if he’d been in there a thousand times.

You had to admit there was something attractive about Hendery’s demeanour as he handled this situation, calm as ever, and he seemed to be on pretty good terms with the child as well.

“Did Prince Eric find you just now?” you asked the boy, seeing him nod vigorously, practically slurping his ice cream from the cup.

“He said he can find my mom and dad for me!” you nodded.

“Uh-huh, I’m doing that right now! You wait, sooner or later your parents are gonna come here to get you.” Hendery told the child, earning a grin from the small boy. Hendery sat on one of the chairs, the boy climbing up onto Hendery’s lap, ice cream finished and discarded away, he’d reached over to play with Hendery’s red sash, making the older boy grab the boy’s wrists quickly before the ice cream could stain his costume.

You chuckled, reaching into your bag underneath the table and pulling out a packet of wet wipes, handing Hendery a few to clean the child’s hands with.

“Gross,” Hendery drew out the word, playing with the boy by scrunching up his nose in distaste as he sniffed the child’s hand, which seemed to entertain the child very much, waving his hands towards Hendery’s face to get a reaction, watching the interaction being enough to put a smile on your face.

It hadn’t been 15 minutes after the announcement was made that you saw a young-ish couple briskly walking ( or running, you couldn’t tell ) over to the counter, baby in a stroller and that whole thing going on.

“Where was he when you found him?” the father asked while the mother carried the boy, planting kisses all over his face making him giggle, saying he was fine because he had Prince Eric.

“Thank you so much, man. We were a mess trying to find him. Really, you can’t even turn away for 3 seconds with this one,” the father smiled, pinching the boy’s cheek.

“It’s no problem, we’re just thankful he calmed down pretty quickly,” Hendery told the couple, the mother set the boy back on his feet, and to your surprise he’d ran over to Hendery, who squat down quickly to accept the child’s hug.

“Follow your parents next time, okay? See you next time!” you saw the boy shove Hendery away, waddling over to you next, and you’d gladly accepted the hug, a loud laugh leaving your lips when the child had bid the both of you good bye as ‘older brother prince Eric and older sister Ariel’, hearing his mother softly correct him that you were a park ranger and that they’d seen Ariel just now at the lagoon.

“First day at work and already climbing to Ariel’s spot? Powerful,” Hendery joked, resting his interlocked fingers on his outstretched legs as he leaned against the tall bar stool, giving you a cheeky smile.

Shooting him a look as you tidied up the table, you got ready to leave since your shift had ended already and the park was about to close soon. Hendery had gone to get his things from the break room and lockers, and changed into his casual clothes before meeting you at the park entrance. You let out a small laugh at the contrast in appearance, going from looking all fancy and charismatic in his Prince Eric costume to suddenly looking a lot more youthful (but no less attractive) in his soft dusty pink hoodie and black jeans.

“Do you have dinner at home?” he asked you, earning an affirmative hum from you, much to Hendery's dismay.

“Yeah, my mom cooked already,” you told him, fishing around in your bag for your phone, seeing a text from Ten saying that your pay would come in only at the end of the month.

Hendery tried not to sound too disappointed, "alright, then, how are you going back?" he asked, hooking his thumbs on the straps of his backpack, you both found yourself walking towards the train station as you gestured to it in response, only realizing then that you two took the same train home, having some unspoken agreement that you would both take the train together.

Hendery held onto one of the overhead handles, letting you hold onto his arm for stability in the crowded train. You prayed your stop would come quicker so you would have less of a chance to embarrass yourself in front of Hendery.

"How're you feeling after your first day, Y/N?" he asked, raising his eyebrows with a small smile on his face as he awaited your answer.

"Tiring," he huffed a tiny laugh at your response, "and I’m not even quite sure why, I barely did anything."

Hendery was about to frown but you continued, "but it was fun," you added, making him smile. "Thanks to me?"

You rolled your eyes, "You wish," you scoffed. Though if Ten were here he'd be able to see right through you.

“How’d you get him the ice cream, by the way? Thought you weren't allowed to bring your wallets out of the break room?”

“Technically it was a free gift,” Hendery shrugged, making you shoot him a look.

“Wow, pretty famous around here, huh, Prince Eric? All the park goers spending their fortunes on you," you joked, not noticing the way Hendery simply smiled lazily at you, fatigue from the day's activities having hit him already.

"Guanheng," he murmured softly.

"Huh?" you frowned, not sure if you'd heard him correctly. "My name," he smiled, "I want you to call me Guanheng."

Your eyes widened, taken aback by the sudden piece of information, not noticing the train was reaching your stop before Hendery tapped you, "It's your stop."

You'd let the crowd trying to get out push and navigate past you, feeling Hendery squeeze your shoulder, "Bye, Y/N. Get home safe," he told you softly, his voice down to a low murmur.

Already beginning to step out of the train carriage, you figured now was the best time to start saying it, "You too, bye, Guanheng," you waved.

The happiness on his face after was priceless.

===

“Y/N! Best friend! Ride or die!” you made a face at the sound of Ten who was running towards the customer service booth yelling gibberish directed towards you to get your attention.

Your co-worker’s eyes widened, unconsciously pushing his chair further from the counter when Ten had stopped his run by slamming his hands on the counter. You swivelled your chair around to face Ten with a concerned look.

“Should I be afraid?”

“Yes and no! I need your help,” Ten pouted and clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture, making you tilt your head at him, twirling your pen in your hand absentmindedly.

“No,” you stuck your tongue out at him, turning back to the folders of feedback you had to compile.

“Okay, fine. It’s actually not me that asked, Hendery specifically asked me to ask you,” Ten shrugged, making you raise an eyebrow at him.

Nodding your head slowly, you wondered why you didn’t get any message from him, before realising he probably didn’t have his phone with him now, “go on....I’m listening,” you muttered.

Ten grinned, not wasting any time, “The girl playing Ariel is having a major hangover and she can’t leave the house because she’s been puking her guts out,” you made a face at Ten’s choice of words, but that didn’t deter him from continuing, “so here’s the plan, you dress as Ariel and take pictures with the kids and their families later!”

“Why me? I don’t look anything like her?”

“I mean, think about Hendery, dude, it’d obviously be easier posing with someone he was comfortable with, wouldn’t it?” Ten shot you an unamused look, making you wince.

“I’m really bad at that stuff, though, Ten.”

“No, you’re not! Remember when we were volunteering at the kindergarten the other time and we did a little mermaid performance for them? you were great!”

"Ten, I was playing Flounder back then, it's different." You laughed, shaking your head.

Ten frowned, grabbing your hands and shaking them desperately, slumping down onto the counter for dramatic effect, “Please?? We need to find someone in time for the photo-taking and if we start now, by the time we get you into hair and makeup it’ll be time!”

“Ten, but there’s all this work left to do! I mean, does the boss even know about this?”

“Yes, he does! He’s fine with it, seriously, just come with me, I’ll explain to you everything you have to do,” you shot a nervous glance at your co-worker, who simply shrugged at you.

“What are you waiting for, just go! I’ll settle things here, don’t worry,” he told you.

“Perfect,” Ten smiled, yanking your hands to pull you into a standing position, dragging you to a room where they’d already had Ariel’s puffy wedding dress laid out there, as well as the red wig and a pair of ( very pretty ) heels to complete the outfit. You recognized the girl waiting for you to be the actress that played one of Ariel’s sisters. She’d beckoned you to sit in the chair next to her, and you did albeit hesitantly.

“Thanks for agreeing to this, by the way. I’m really sure Hendery will appreciate it loads.” She told you, which for some reason made you even more nervous about this situation.

“Well, I’m glad to help,” you smiled, letting her start by putting the wig on for you.

“What’s your name?” you asked her.

She gave you a warm smile, telling you her name, almost instinctively making you smile back.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you,” you greeted, even though you couldn’t look at her very well from her hands blocking your view as she put the wig onto your head.

She let out a soft laugh, “Feels like I’ve met you already with how much Hendery talks about you,” your eyes widened, eyebrows raising in shock, but you quickly shook it off, not wanting to think too much into it.

“Where’s Hendery, anyway?” you asked instead, her arms no longer blocking your vision as she secured the wig and made it look less obvious.

“He’s taking a nap in the breakroom, said he'd come by to get you when you were done," you nodded, for some reason not being able to withhold your excitement to meet him, the last time you saw him being that same morning when the both of you had taken the train together to work, and he'd gifted you a free drink to 'start the day right' as he'd told you. The gesture was enough to send you reeling, not sure if Hendery was just too kind to everyone or if he liked you that way. You wish, he's probably this nice to every other girl in the park.

Ten had stayed to help Crystal wherever he could, his constant utterances of “Hendery’s gonna lose his shit” or “you look really stupid like this” only serving to stir feelings of anxiousness for what was to come.

After what felt like years of refraining from scratching your face from the ticklish feeling of the brushes against your face, Crystal finally let out a firm “Okay,” giving you the greenlight that you could open your eyes. Seeing her and Ten grinning at you when you did.

“Has anybody run through with you what you have to do?” you shook your head, “I did!” Ten defended, scowling at you as if accusing you of not remembering. Crystal turned to him with a skeptical expression, “What did you tell her?”

Ten opened his mouth quickly to speak, before shaking his head, looking more sheepish as he gestured from her to you, “Never mind, you go ahead, I think your explanation would be clearer,” he giggled, earning an eye roll from you.

“It's like-" Crystal stopped herself quickly upon hearing the door open and seeing Hendery peek his head out through the small opening of the door, scanning the room for people before opening the door wider with a smile, "you know what, I’ll just let Prince Eric explain that to you." Crystal gestured with the eyeshadow brush over your shoulder, and you'd turned to make eye contact with Hendery.

You weren't sure if there was any reaction for you to base your judgement on, his smile was the same, and he let out a sound that seemed impressed with Crystal's work. You wished you could do the same, with him dressed in what you could only describe as Prince Eric's royal event clothes, he looked absolutely breath-taking, and you were glad he didn't notice when Ten was gesturing to your cheeks to mock your blushing.

"Who's this? You guys didn't get Y/N?" Hendery joked, making you roll your eyes.

"Very Funny, you owe me big time for this," you stuck your tongue out at him, both Ten and Crystal shooing the both of you out of the room.

"I know I do," he told you, leading you around some sort of secret pathway that leads to the castle where the princes and princesses would wait before the park go-ers could come in for photo-taking. The both of you stood at the back of the princesses, some of them turning to shoot surprised looks at Hendery before returning to gossip amongst themselves.

"Does this happen all the time?" You asked, referring to the whole gathering and photo-taking and whatnot.

Hendery shrugged "I would guess so? I've been here so long I stopped keeping track," he laughed, pretending to fiddle with the tassel on his outfit.

"But there's fireworks after that," he spoke up abruptly, scrunching up his nose at how un- smooth the execution was compared to how it was in his head.

"Really? It's been a while since I’ve seen a firework display," you confessed, seeing his eyes light up in excitement.

"We can watch it together then!" he said enthusiastically, before clearing his throat, mustering a calmer tone of voice, "you know….if you want," he shrugged.

He was instructed to line up together with the princes at the other entrance of the room, in line with you, as he looked at you expectantly for an answer, half expecting you to say you already had plans and had to leave but pleasantly surprised when you nodded at him, mouthing the words 'of course' to him.

When you’d joined him again later, you’d spotted Ten a few people in front of you ushering the princes and princesses to their respective spots, furrowing his eyebrows at you and vigorously gesturing to his arm, making you look at the other princes and princesses and notice that the prince had held his arm out for the princess to hold, making you return a look of understanding to Ten and turn to Hendery, who seemed to have been prompted by Ten as well, seeing him hold up an ‘okay’ sign at Ten and look at you, soft smile on his face as he held his arm out.

Silently grasping his arm, you continued walking, unconsciously walking slightly behind him as you were led to this area, where you took pictures with more children than you could keep count of, Hendery pretending to be upset when the children paid more attention to you than they did to him, but of course, you didn’t see the way he smiled watching you interact with the children.

“Stealing your spotlight already?” Ten nudged Hendery with a smug smirk on his face.

Hendery simply shrugged, “I honestly don’t mind, she looks like she’s having fun,” he shrugged, even leaning over to pose in some of the photos without you noticing, which the children seemed to get a kick out of.

“You’re so gross, I don’t know which I prefer, those 2 years where you refused to date or this,” Ten joked, before raising his arms slightly in a shrug, “but come to think of it both were pretty entertaining,” he told Hendery.

Hendery wanted to tell you it was alright and you didn’t have to kneel on the floor, that you could pick the kids up as well, but refrained when he saw how you did it anyway even after Ten had told you, assuming it was an unconscious thing.

You were talking to one kid in particular who was asking you how scary Ursula was when you fought her, almost jumping from the shock when you felt Hendery suddenly squat next to you to face the child as well, “she’s been going on and on about how brave you two were for fighting Ursula after she’d watched the movie,” her mother told you, making you laugh, but nodding at the child nonetheless.

“It was really scary, but I knew I had to be brave to save Ariel!” Hendery told her seriously, earning an equally serious nod from the child as well.

The child turned to you, waving a finger at you like a parent would, “he really loves you, you know,” she told you, making you have to stifle your laughter, nodding at her, yet refusing to look at Hendery who was nodding along with the child.

“I know,” you whispered, seeing the child erupt into a fit of giggles, her parents urging her that it was time to go.

“Come on, Prince Eric and Princess Ariel need to rest! They’re probably really tired already,” you heard the mother telling the little girl, who nodded, turning around with her hand still holding her mom’s to bid the both of you goodbye.

“Goodbye! See you next time!” Hendery and you had waved back at her, glancing at Ten who was looking at the both of you with an unreadable expression.

“What,” you snapped, a stark contrast from your ‘Ariel’ demeanour, making Ten huff as he walked over, glancing at the time on his phone.

“You guys can do whatever you want now, since the fireworks are gonna be starting after dinner time, you can take a break till then, I guess,” Ten said, leaving the both of you to go God knows where.

“Are you hungry? There’s some food in the break room for dinner if you want,” he suggested, bringing you to what looked like a lounge room with many tables and mostly actors inside, as well as some park rangers ( like in this case, Ten ).

Bringing you over to a table with who you recognized to be Prince Charming and Ten, “Kun this is Y/N, Y/N, this is my friend Kun,” Hendery blurted quickly, practically pulling you down into your seat as he went to get food for the both of you.

“Nice to meet you, you must be Ten’s friend, then?” Kun asked, he looked rather kind from what you could infer, so you nodded.

“Known him for like 5 years already I think?” you replied, and Ten nodded in affirmation which made Kun gasp.

“It’s a wonder how you put up with him.” You nodded in agreement, sighing dramatically.

“Tell me about it.” Hendery returned with your food, and you’d made small conversation with the 3 of them while you ate, Kun seemed to think the both of you were already dating, remembering what Hendery had told him about wanting to tell you how he felt since he knew he was too shy.

“So, when did you guys get together?” Hendery almost choked on his mouthful of food, practically shoving Kun with how quickly he’d reacted, making you frown in confusion.

“For this Ariel thing? I had no idea actually I only found out today,” you smiled, making Ten snicker, bringing his hand up in a poor attempt to stifle his laughs, nodding along with you making you think that was exactly what Kun was asking.

“Sorry, excuse me, I’m gonna go wash my hands,” you excused yourself, and almost immediately after you were away from the table Kun had turned to Hendery with an unamused expression.

“You haven’t told her yet?”

Hendery whined at Kun’s question, slumping down in his seat with a sigh. “It’s not as easy as you think, you know.”   Ten had shrugged, beginning to sing the lyrics of ‘kiss the girl’, swaying left and right as he sang, earning a glare from Hendery. “You know it’s true. It’s pretty damn obvious she likes you too, you know.”

Hendery frowned, turning to Kun for a more reliable affirmation, and his heart fell when Kun had nodded at him, “It’s true, from what I’ve heard from Ten, at least.”

“Also because I heard about the whole ‘Guanheng’ incident and have diagnosed the both of you as completely whipped for each other,” Ten giggled, enjoying the upper-hand he had over Hendery in this situation, especially because the blush on Hendery’s face was telling.

You’d returned from the washroom then, offering to dispose of the now-empty food packets, hearing Ten mumbling a faintly familiar song. “What song is that? I swear I’ve heard it somewhere I just can’t remember where,” you frowned, seeing Ten shrug, making eye contact with Hendery as he replied you sweetly.

“Kiss the girl.”

===

It was almost time for the fireworks, and Hendery had claimed there was a spot that you could see the fireworks super clearly and it was pretty away from the crowd, but you definitely weren’t expecting him to bring you to the bridge over the small river you’d rode the canoe on the first time you’d met him at the park.

Once again, the fairy lights decorated the bridge and he was right, you really did have a direct view of the castle from where the both of you stood, Hendery leaned on the wall of the bridge, resting his weight on his elbows as you did the same, eager to see the fireworks.

“How are you feeling?” you laughed at Hendery’s sudden question. “Excuse me, why are you laughing?” he gasped, a small pout forming on his lips.

“No, nothing, it’s just that you always ask me how I’m feeling, it’s such a you thing to do, feels like I’m being interviewed,” you grinned at him, seeing him huff dramatically, “fine if you don’t want me to ask, I won’t,” he shrugged, making you laugh.

“Guanheng,” you murmured to get his attention, and his head whipped around to face you the moment you’d said his name, a soft smile playing at his lips as though he was trying to conceal it, “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, I actually....quite like it, no one I’ve known has ever really done that,” you told him, finally seeing his smile grow bigger.

“So to answer your question, I’m feeling tired. But a good kind of tired,” you held a thumbs up to him, and he’d reached his hand out to grab your raised hand, pulling it down as he pressed and played with the pads of your fingers.

"Are your knees okay? You were kneeling talking to almost all the kids just now, and from experience I know the floor is pretty rough," he asked, concern laced in his tone, you nodded.

"It's fine, no big deal, I barely felt it," you assured him, watching the way he touched his hair, smoothing down the hair at the back of his head.

“Thanks, by the way, for helping me out with this whole Ariel thing today,” he told you, making you shake your head, dismissing his thanks. “No, seriously. I know you didn’t have to say yes but, you were the first like....person I could think of to call when I heard what happened to the other actress,” he told you, leaning his head down and pretending to be occupied with your fingers to avoid your gaze.

“And why is that?” you prompted, hearing the first sound of the fireworks going off, but something in you couldn’t care to look.

On the other hand, Hendery’s head shot up at the sound, tapping your hand and gesturing to the fireworks, “Look! It’s starting, you’re gonna miss it!” he told you urgently, practically bouncing in place.

You shook your head, “answer my question first,” you rest your elbow on the stone wall of the bridge, looking at him as if you had all the time in the world, because you really felt like you did.

Hendery stopped playing with your fingers, looking at you blankly, “because you’re cute,” he blurted out, wincing at himself.

“I mean like, yeah. I think you’re cute, and you were the first person I could think of to call because I trust you, and I trust you because you make me feel like I can trust you?” he furrowed his eyebrows, nodding,

“Yeah, that, and because you know, I like spending time with you, and I wanted to spend more time with you, and I don’t know where I’m going with this already so I think I should conclude it now.”

Hendery shifted his weight to look at you, glancing at the fireworks momentarily before letting out a deep breath, “okay, conclusion: I like you,” he said, eyes widening because you couldn’t help but smile and nod at him the whole time he was having that monologue, the sight of such a well-dressed prince awkwardly fumbling with his words being so endearing to you.

“Are you shocked? You don’t seem shocked,” he tilted his head at you, making you laugh, nodding.

“Shocked, but I can’t say I wasn’t hoping you would feel this way,” you admitted, hearing the speakers on the lake play the instrumental of that song Ten was humming just now, kiss the girl. And Hendery felt like he was transported into that very scene in the little mermaid, where everything was telling him that he should do that.

So he did, albeit suddenly, in the way he’d grasped the hand he was playing with more firmly, pulling you towards him and pressing his lips against yours, and you even felt him smile against your lips from how ridiculously fairy-tale like the scene was to him, with the fireworks display ending, the sound of the water rushing beneath the bridge down to how close you were to him and how happy he was that you returned the kiss, his hand cradling the side of your face, pulling away gently and laughing when his eyes widened.

“Wow this lipstick isn’t even smudged,” he blurted suddenly, making you shove him lightly, only to have him pull you back with your hand that was still in his, contemplating hugging you from behind but shaking the thought, figuring he preferred to look at your face.

“This is gonna be hard, can’t hold your hand when you’re a park ranger,” he told you, making you scoff.

“Should I apply to be Princess Ariel, then?” you joked, not expecting Hendery to look at you seriously, giving you a thoughtful look, his intense stare making your face heat up.

He leaned closer to you, narrowing his eyes before leaning back with a shake of his head, “Nah, I think you’d fit the role of Sebastian more.”

#hendery #huang guanheng #wayv #wayv hendery #wayv scenarios #wayv au #wayv fluff #hendery fluff #hendery au #hendery scenarios #weishenv #ten #wayv ten #qian kun #wayv kun #wayv qian kun #Disneyland actor!au #wong kunhang

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sserpente · 5 years

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A/N: Request from anon. I loved the concept… and then I couldn’t stop writing and it went so well with some other ideas I had and it escalated and ahhh, you guys were supposed to get this Imagine three days ago. Anyway… enjoy reading! ♥ Words: 4628 (oops) Warnings: gore/blood, fluff (the combination doesn’t sound right, now does it)

Here’s an extra warning: I got a bit inspired by “Coriolanus” so there will be a very bloody and graphic scene… stuff I usually don’t write myself. As I said though, I really got inspired by the play so I just went along with it, if anything to not repeat myself with this one scene we all hate so much. It thus also might rip open the wounds Infinity War caused. Therefore, the scene will be marked with “*” at the beginning and the end in case you prefer to skip it.

“It’s a myth.”

“It’s not a myth. They are omens of death.” Thor argued. Grinning smugly, he leaned back and took a sip of his beer.

Tony buried his face in his hands. “You know I started believing in many things when you fell out of the sky to help us fight aliens but… there’s a line. ‘Black angels’? With shimmering wings? Please, Point Break.”

“Well, you wouldn’t know. They say only those before their imminent death can see their wings.”

“Have you ever seen an angel then?”

“No! I told you, they are omens of death. Volstagg’s father… he saw one. He swore he did. One week after, he perished.”

“Coincidence.”

Loki rolled his eyes. He had known before that mortals were ignorant and refused to face reality, Stark’s stubbornness however surprised even him. Many creatures shared their stories in the Old Norse myths, stories which his mother had told him before bed when he was a child.

Angels… omens of death. Black, shimmering wings… they said whoever saw one before death, their soul would leave their body contently… that they were of such beauty it would not compare to any other being in the nine realms. As a young boy, Loki had told Frigga he wanted to see one for himself—and Frigga chided him for wishing for such an atrocious thing.

Shivering, you wrapped your black coat around yourself tighter. You had bought it from a street market for little money which you had stolen from a peasant. High up in the sky, you were never cold. You were free. Those human sensations were downright irksome.

Perhaps it was your own fault you had ended up on Midgard of all places. Stranded and stripped off most of your powers, they had cast you out and forced you to live a mortal life—knowing you would never find friends on a planet inhabited by beings that would not grow half as old as you.

Perhaps you should have joined your people when they swore their allegiance to the purple titan. But you knew you would have made the wrong decision. What Thanos wanted was impossible—and you sincerely hoped he would fail. His lackeys were already spreading dread, fear and death across the planet. You had seen them lurking about, watching his evil plans unfold and wreak havoc when it was fun.

A high-pitched scream ripped you from your thoughts. Turning straight on your heel to see what had caused it, your instincts kicked in. Altruistically saving humans wasn’t high on your priority list, kicking Thanos’ monkeys’ arse, however, was. It felt good to ram your poisoned dagger into their hearts… and it least gave you some satisfaction.

You frowned when you reached the dimly lit alley, scanning the area to analyse the situation. Somebody had beaten you to it. Clenching your fists, you recognised both Tony Stark and Captain America along with a raven-haired man with a sharp jawline and the most stunning blue eyes you had ever seen—Loki, God of Mischief.

Thanos’ lackeys were nowhere in sight. Instead, what part of the Avengers… and Loki put up with was a dirty burglar who seemed to have tried to rob a young woman who was currently shaking on the cold ground like autumn leaves in the wind.

“Are you alright, Miss?” You heard Steve Rogers ask her humbly, all the while the burglar—terrified for his life—scrambled to his feet, abandoning the knife he had held. Loki rolled his eyes. With but one effortless movement, he kicked him in the stomach the moment he attempted to run and proceeded to grab his collar to lift him off the ground.

“Please, please… please don’t kill me!” The burglar whimpered. You suppressed a chuckle.

“Let him go, Reindeer Games.”

“Let him go? What did we intervene for? Mercy? I disagree…”

“Nope. FRIDAY has already saved his fingerprints and appearance. The police will get him soon enough. Now let him go. I think he peed his pants.”

Loki’s face distorted when he spotted the wet spot between the burglar’s legs. Disgusted, he did as he was told and threw him back to the ground. He swallowed thickly before hurrying away clumsily. Then, he looked up—and his blue eyes locked with yours.

Paralysed, he captured you in his both scrutinising and fascinated gaze. Your lips parted when you realised that he could see your wings. Dark, shimmering and as soft as a crow’s feather dress they framed your form—petite compared to his—and complimented both your (Y/H/C) hair and (Y/E/C) eyes. You were beautiful.

Neither of you paid attention to the young woman who had stood again by now, approaching Loki timidly. Her ‘thank you’ went unnoticed even when Steve called his name.

“Who are you?” You blinked, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from Loki’s to face Tony Stark.

“(Y/N)… my name is (Y/N). I am what other beings would refer to as… a black angel.”

Tony snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

One heated discussion after your confession led to another and Captain America and Iron Man—for Loki had remained completely silent—decided to take you back to the compound to speak to Thor. You did not take kindly in spilling your secret to strangers. Hundreds of years ago, humans, Asgardians and other species had hunted you down for amusement, using poison to make your wings visible and cutting them off to sell them on the black market—an ironic name, really.

But this… was different. Loki—the Loki, God of Mischief and Lies, Trickster… son of Laufey and Farbauti and Prince of Asgard—he could see your wings. Legends had been told about connections alike. They said that every living black angel in this universe served a purpose, was meant to follow a path and fulfil its destiny—and to be with one person who loved them dearly for the rest of their existence. Only those that fate chose to be a black angel’s partner would be able to see their wings—to see all of them—in their full glory and true beauty. Loki’s blue eyes were practically glued on you; and if you were not mistaken, there was a hint of panic glistening in his irises too.

Did he feel the connection, perhaps? That you seemed to have found the man your heart would likely belong to for the rest of your life? Strangely enough, you felt… oddly exposed. Only other black angels had ever been able to see your gift, unwillingly sharing it with someone you had but heard of and never met made you vulnerable… and it made you self-conscious.

“How exactly did you end up here on Earth?” Thor leaned forward, crossing his arms on the vast glass table in the middle of the conference room. Around him, the remaining Avengers which you had not officially met yet, squinted suspiciously in a desperate attempt to spot your wings as well. One of them—you believed he was called Rhodey—had even examined your back but found nothing.

“I was… banished. My own people abandoned me because I refused to join the new force.”

“Does that force answer to the name of Thanos by any chance?” Tony tossed in. You nodded.

“You have heard of him. He means to wipe out half of the universe. We have to stop him whatever it takes.”

You could feel Loki’s presence behind you. He was still silent, pacing up and down the room like a cunning predator waiting to strike.

“How do we know we can trust you?”

“You don’t. I am merely warning you. I don’t have the powers to stop him but you might. And I certainly did not ask to be invited to your humble home.” You snapped. They were hostile towards you, you could tell. Something about you unsettled them. If only you knew what it was.

Be that as it may, the Avengers decided to let you stay for a while. They hadn’t locked you in a room but if you were to try and leave without anyone accompanying you… then the Norns beware.

You sighed. You should have never mentioned you were a black angel, pretended to be human instead… pretended that Loki was hallucinating. His eyes had made you forget all reason. The invisible force pulling you to him was destructive. You wanted to be close to him, be with him, be there for him… lay your life, soul and heart in his hands… all the while he seemed to painstakingly ignore you.

You barely knew but you could sense that Loki was everything you could ever wish for. An intelligent, powerful, cunning and charming man, tall, blue-eyed and so outrageously handsome he even outshone his brother Thor. You had never spoken to him personally and yet, you felt like you would die for him. Now what if he never reciprocated those feelings? Tragic stories were told about black angels who found love and yet had to live without it.

At the very least, so you figured, you had access to a fully furnished kitchen tonight. It was your first warm supper in two weeks and bit more nourishing than a mere apple or a handful of nuts. It was almost midnight now and hunger had gotten the better of you… or maybe it was the prosperity of food being available to you at any time without you having to steal hard-earned money for it first.

Passing through the hallway, your tread entirely mute, you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard two familiar voices talking in the living room.

“Big… imposing… no, I did not imagine it, Thor. They were there. A pair of shimmering black wings…” Loki sounded worried, yet you could tell he was trying hard not to let it show. He had already seemed to have panicked a little when he first laid his eyes upon you.

“So what do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

“How much time do you have left?”

“I don’t know, Thor.”

“Don’t you… worry, brother… I’m sure everything’s gonna work out fine.”

There was a moment of awfully painful silence. Then, somebody left.

Frowning, you knocked. You were unsure of what they had been talking about. Loki’s expression darkened when he spotted you entering the room shyly, his eyes focused on the wings on your back.

“You… seem to be avoiding me, Loki. Have I… done something?”

Loki smirked—it was bitter. Now that he had told Thor, by tomorrow… they would all know he was going to die soon.

“You have not, dear. It is not something you did. It is your purpose.” Your heart skipped a beat. You had not expected such an honest answer.

“My purpose? I don’t have a purpose here on Midgard.” His eyes were ice cold when he looked up to meet your gaze.

“You are an omen of death.”

Your lips parted. “I am… I am not.”

“No man who sees a black angel’s wings survives. I can see yours.”

“B-but… but that… you’re not going to die.”

His bitter smile returned. “We are facing Thanos. If I was doubtful about my fate before, I am no longer now.”

“Loki, that’s not what it means…” It felt like your heart was shattering, to a million tiny little pieces. He thought you were his death… no wonder he felt uneasy around you. Where had that stupid superstition come from? Why would you be an omen of death?

You longed to tell him what it really meant. Only right now, in this very moment, it did not feel right. Would he even believe you? Probably not.

“Good night, Loki.”

When you returned to your room, you sent your pillow flying through the air all the while suppressing a scream of anger.

The following days were equally frustrating. Loki seemed to be avoiding you at all cost and even Thor and the others only spoke to you when it was absolutely necessary. They were scared. All of them. Dreading that at some point, they might see your wings too. You had already given up attempting to explain it to them. There were much more important things to take care of.

Figuring out your own feelings, for example. It was impossible to love someone you had just met, even for black angels… right? The invisible force linking you to Loki’s body and mind was so strong it almost physically ached to not be near him. You were worried. Loki thought he was going to die. It was obvious he had a past with Thanos, one that was about to catch up with him.

You had your dagger—it was the least you could fight with to protect his life. After all, that one superstition was indeed true. Yet when you stood in front of him, the purple titan who had stolen away your people, and the black angels you had thought of as friends and family… you were terrified.

All of them were ready to fight. Man against man, woman against woman and you… somewhere in between. You had never agreed to destroy him, had never promised to help. It was not in your nature to intervene in such things; even though you would not exactly call yourself a pacifist, wars held a bitter connotation. All you cared about was Loki—even if he did not care about you.

Proudly and arrogantly, he lifted his chin in pure defiance. You could feel he was anxious. His heart was beating so fast your own almost stopped. Thanos wanted the Tesseract—and Loki was denying he was in its possession.

The whole Avengers compound had become a bloody battlefield. There was debris, there were screams and the sounds of metal clashing. Clutching your dagger tighter, you watched how Thor was hurled through the air and landed on the hard ground.

“We don’t have the Tesseract! It was destroyed on Asgard!” He growled, spitting a mouthful of blood into the grass before two of Thanos’ lackeys managed to restrain him.

Loki briefly closed his eyes, guiltily. One single moment of negligence—and enough for Thanos to grab his head forcefully and throw him on the ground before Ebony Maw’s feet.

Loki gasped in pain but the ugly sorcerer did not hesitate. He raised his hands, fingers crooked… only to send shockwaves of agony through his blood. As a Frost Giant… the heat pumping through his veins was pure torture.

“The Tesseract…” Thanos remarked, seemingly unimpressed. Your eyes widened. Loki really had it. Of course he had it.

“Please, stop…” You heard yourself whisper, the pain he felt cursing through your own body. Only yours wasn’t physical. “Stop it! The Tesseract is not here. Let him live. Whatever he has done in the past, he did it to survive, wouldn’t you do the same?”

“He disappointed me,” the titan argued. “He failed.”

“We all do. It was not his fault. Look around you. Look at your forces fighting against a bunch of mortals. If they are having difficulties defeating them now, then how would you expect Loki to do it all on his own?”

Loki’s stunning blue eyes widened upon hearing your words. He kept grunting, growling and panting as Maw intensified the spell, making you panic slightly.

“I am not merciful, little one. If I were, I wouldn’t be where I am standing now.”

“You… don’t have to be.” You swallowed. “His life in exchange for mine. I shall serve you if you let him live.”

“Why would I want your allegiance?”

“I am an angel, too.”

Thanos raised his eyebrows.

“You would give your freedom to save him? Him?”

“Yes.” Blinking frantically to scare away the tears in your eyes, you watched the titan nod slowly. With a start, Ebony Maw stopped, earning him another pant from Loki. In his ugly hands… he held the Tesseract.

“You have a good heart, little one. Unfortunately… I don’t like being lied to.”

*It happened fast, almost too fast for you to comprehend. Thanos’ sword slashed through the cold air and Loki’s neck, blood spurting from the freshly cut wound and staining his skin and armour. His blue eyes closed, the downright repulsive sounds of him choking on his own blood filling your ears.

Then, he stopped moving, the red liquid still pouring from his neck.*

You screamed, both in pain and indescribable grief when Loki’s heart stopped beating. He had been right. You had been his very personal omen of death.

You didn’t sleep. You didn’t eat. You didn’t speak. Thanos was gone, two Infinity stones along with him. And while the Avengers were busy figuring out a plan to stop him once and for all, you spent your time sulking away in your room, your eyes red and swollen from the many tears you shed for the man you had never had a chance to love.

You had meant to save him. Loki had trusted you to seal his fate and when you had attempted to lay down your own life so he would survive, you had caused the exact opposite. It wasn’t your fault, not really and yet… it felt like it.

It felt like your heart had been ripped in pieces, like Thor had driven his beloved hammer into your chest repeatedly and shattered all of your ribs.

Dead. You had found the one man your poor existence as a god damn black angel had made sense for, the one man who could have made you happy. And now he was dead.

You were ready to do anything to get him back. And so you were plotting.

Whether Thor was grieving, you did not know. But you had heard of Ragnarok, the destruction of his home world, of Asgard, the realm of the gods. Hela had wreaked havoc and claimed the throne. Hela, the goddess of death… Hela, who could resurrect the dead and bring them back to life.

“Tony.” Your voice carried only feinted politeness. You simply did not care how worn out he was, noodling around in his lab. Neither did you care that Thor did not even look up when you entered.

“Can I speak to Thor, please? In private?”

He was his brother. If anyone was going to help you bring Loki back, it was him. Thor had complained about having lost Loki before. That he had thought him dead before. Whether he could not accept he was truly gone this time or had simply moved on, you could not tell. But you sincerely hoped Loki was important enough for him, worthy of saving.

The God of Thunder looked up, his brows raised in surprise. Nodding mutely, he stood and left the room, allowing you to close the door to Tony’s lab behind you.

“There is a way to bring Loki back alive.” You stated straight away, swallowing thickly. Thor crossed his arms before his chest, a defensive posture.

“What do you mean?”

“Loki is not in Valhalla, his soul did not… ascend. He should have been… he would not give Thanos the Tesseract to Thanos, he was enduring torture, he… wanted to save you. All of you, stop the titan himself. That… that means…” Again, you swallowed, forcing back the tears forming in your eyes. “It means he is in Hel. I’ve been there before, black angels… we are immune to… well, it doesn’t matter. But… the goddess of death. Hela, she could…”

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” Thor repeated sternly. “Hela is my sister. She caused the destruction of Asgard, she killed my friends and hundreds of innocent Asgardians.”

“I have heard the stories… but Thor, Loki is your brother.”

“Do you truly think she will resurrect him without asking for something in return? We barely managed to banish her again, I will not risk the subjugation of the nine… the eight realms.”

Angrily, you narrowed your eyes at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“If Thanos gets a hold of the remaining Infinity Stones, say goodbye to the entire universe. He will be ten times worse than Hela. If anyone can help you defeat him, it’s your brother. Your brother, Thor.”

Why did he hesitate? As a black angel, you had never had brothers or sisters but if you did… if you did you would love and cherish them dearly. Did Thor not love Loki? Did he not love him as much as Loki loved Thor? You could see it in his eyes. Loki had a good heart, vulnerable and tainted but good.

“Why would you want to bring him back? You don’t know him. Loki’s been dead before, if it’s true this time… it is what it is.” Thor mumbled. “Look, (Y/N)… Loki is dead because of you. Your appearance… it was the sign… there is no way around that.”

“That’s bullshit, Thor,” you snapped. All of a sudden, the truth spilled from your lips uncontrollably. “I’m not an omen of death, who came up with this? Loki was the only one who can see my wings because he was meant to be my soul mate. I… I fell in love with him the moment I first looked him in the eye. I was going to sacrifice my life to save him, those were not empty words, you heard them!”

Thor paused. “That’s… impossible. All my life… I grew up believing black angels were deadly.”

“We can be. My blades of my daggers are drowned in poison but we do not promise death to those we show our wings to. It wasn’t my decision, Thor. Please… help me bring your brother back.” This time, you were unable to hold back your tears. Sobbing quietly, they ran over your reddened cheeks.

The God of Thunder took a deep breath.

“I can take you to the portal. The rest is up to you. But if you endanger this realm by setting Hela free, you will live with the consequences because we will kill you. I have to protect these people, (Y/N).”

Determined, you nodded. “I will make this right, Thor. I promise.”

The portal was a church. At least, it looked like a church. Home of the angels… you snorted. If only you could live in a richly decorated church. The more you approached, the more of the dead energy did you feel. Helheim was near.

You had a plan, of course. It was risky and bold and perhaps a bit reckless… but at least, it was a plan. Thor had held his promise and he made sure to stay until you returned—with or without Loki.

Then, with one final deep breath—for there was no reason to breathe in Helheim—you stepped over the threshold of Durham Cathedral and disappeared into nowhere, an invisible force sucking you into another realm.

The stench of death filled your nose before you had even opened your eyes again, corpses, skeletons and bloody soil staining the dark landscape. Like you had expected, your presence in the realm of the dead as a living being did not go unnoticed.

“I’ve met black angels before. But they were dead.” Hela’s voice echoed through the minging air, her blue eyes, complimented by dark coal, boring into yours.

“I came to warn you.”

“Warn me? Child… Look around you… this place is dead. What do I have to fear?”

“Thanos. He means to wipe out half of the universe. Killing half of every single living being.”

Hela raised her eyebrows, seemingly unimpressed.

“Where do you think will most of these souls go? Half the universe… crammed in one realm. Your realm.”

“The Gauntlet. He has it then.”

“And he is collecting the stones. There is a force on Midgard… across the universe to stop him. They need all the help they can get.”

It was then the goddess of death began to smile cruelly. “Who is it you want me to resurrect?”

“How familiar are you with the powers of black angels?”

Hela shrugged. “They are meant to find their soul mates, the only beings they unwillingly reveal their true nature to.” As the goddess of death, she knew a lot more than the rest of the Asgardians then.

You nodded. “My powers were taken from me when I was cast out. They will return once I am reunited with mine.” That was a lie. But if Hela was Thor’s sister, you could imagine she did not exactly take a liking into Loki. “I need you to return Loki to the living. We stop Thanos, we stop this realm from destruction. And we both know that even Helheim could not take the masses of murderers and villains once the titan snaps his fingers.”

Snarling, she turned her scrutinising gaze away from you. “Loki?” She snorted. “You know what? Take him. Take that little cockroach and leave. Hel will be better off without his smug remarks.”

You were almost surprised by how calm you managed to speak with her. The prosperity of seeing Loki again filled your broken heart with joy and love, even if the God of Mischief himself, so you imagined, would hardly feel the same.

Hela narrowed her eyes. With but a flick of his wrist, she summoned Loki like a demon. Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted him. He did not look harmed, the atrocious wound on his neck luckily gone completely.

“I was trying to sleep. Forewarn me before you—“ Loki stopped his mocking complaint mid-sentence. His lips parted when he saw you—that’s when you had already thrown yourself into his arms and buried your face in his neck, inhaling his wonderful scent and enjoying the touch of his body, beginning to heal you instantly.

“Husband…” You murmured, knowing that Hela was still watching you intently.

Loki froze. “What?”

“Just play along. Please… I’m gonna get you out of here.” You whispered mutely. Then, you timidly pressed your lips against his, triggering an explosion of chemistry between you. You almost flinched… and apparently, Loki felt the same.

Hela rolled her eyes in a disgusted manner. Clearly, she was convinced. “Leave. Make sure not to return.” She flicked her wrists once more, almost as if taking a spell on Loki—whatever had been necessary to allow him to travel through the portal and back to the living.

Confidently, you reached for his hand, a touched smile spreading on your lips when he accepted it and followed you back to Midgard and into Durham Cathedral.

“Husband?” He repeated, ignoring Thor who received him with his mouth wide open.

“There is a lot of explaining I need to do, I’m afraid.” You began apologetically.

“Indeed.” He was still holding your hand, not pulling away. It filled your chest with a cosy warmth which you had never felt before.

“You… only you can see my wings.”

“I still do.”

“You… you can because… because I am your soul mate. I never was an omen of death, Loki. I.. love you.”

The God of Mischief’s face fell.

“What you said to Thanos… you did attempt to…” You nodded quickly.

“I… I had to try. Contacting Hela, convincing her to resurrect you…”

“Thank you.” He interrupted, looking you deep in the eye. It was surprise which you found sparkling in those blue irises. Surely… never had anyone done this for him. Surely, nobody else would have done this for him. Thor still went ignored.

“I… I can understand if you… if you don’t want me to stay. I can leave. Being my soul mate, it doesn’t… it doesn’t link you to me if you don’t want to.”

Your heart jumped when Loki began to smirk mischievously... but genuinely.

“Oh no, my dear. I think I am going to keep you.”

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on KoFi! kofi.com/sserpente

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plumrabbit · 4 years

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I saw your comment about dealing with Trumpers. Do you have any advice for family members who truly believe they're on the side of good by supporting him? I'm especially torn up about someone who I believe is being taken advantage of due to lifelong social factors & her trusting nature. It's really difficult to unpack & it would be nice if there were a support group for this. I don't want to bother anyone but I need help too. I'm committed, I just shake during convos like these & it's draining.

Hello, and thank you for reaching out! Sorry it took a while to respond, I wanted to come up with something relatively comprehensive. Putting the rest under a cut as this is long!

I am so sorry you are dealing with this in your life, and you’re right, it is totally draining. The fact that these confrontations make you shake is significant because it means your fight or flight response has kicked in - your brain has told your body you are in imminent danger. Here is some info on this response, if you can understand it and how it affects you, you can start searching for ways to manage its debilitating effects, and make difficult conversations less stressful.

Don’t worry about feeling like you’re being a bother, I am happy to help as much as possible, though I can only speak from my own experiences. I unfortunately cannot say I know of any support groups, but I imagine there would be some on Facebook, and you may also have luck asking somewhere like reddit.com/r/trumpgret. You’re right, it is a ton to unpack, and every Trump supporter is motivated by different factors, but at their core, they’re all relatively similar in that Trump is appealing to something in their psychology. Like I mentioned, I can only really speak from experience, so I’ll tell you what has worked for me. As a disclosure, these were people that only supported Trump, and had some ignorant views based on the false information he’s been spreading. This doesn’t apply to e.g. people that rat out undocumented immigrants to ICE, capitalist bootlickers, neo Nazis, etc. I usually advocate for non-violence, but you can punch those people in the face for all I care.

First and foremost, the main thing I’ve always kept in the back of my mind when dealing with Trump supporters is that at the end of the day, they’re also human. Humans are fallible, and our evolution as a social species has also made us so prone to mob mentality and blindly following others. There are a multitude of reasons as to why this occurs, but it tends to boil down to emotions, and not actual facts. From Wikipedia: “Herd mentality, mob mentality and pack mentality, describes how people can be influenced by their peers to adopt certain behaviors on a largely emotional, rather than rational, basis. When individuals are affected by mob mentality, they may make different decisions than they would have individually.”

It’s important to remember that how they are behaving is not necessarily who they truly are, and even though communicating with them may be difficult as a result, you have to forgive them for following herd mentality because they may feel pressured to believe certain ideas. It’s difficult, but compassion is a requirement for getting through to someone.

If you’re having a discussion with the person you’ve mentioned and the topic of Trump comes up, the best way to establish a connection with them is to just listen. Acknowledge what they say by repeating it in a way that makes it clear that you are trying to understand their thought process. So many people respond by firstly stating their own perspectives, but this doesn’t show the other person that you are actually listening. Use this opportunity to find out what they are thinking, and remember what they said so you can analyze it later. I mentioned earlier that Trump supporters all tend to share certain psychological traits, and here are the studies, and the summary, that describe these traits in more detail.

Figuring out which one(s) your family members could potentially be categorized in will help you understand what is going on inside their head, because you can do more research on that specific issue. What are they motivated by? What are they afraid of? Not only can you do research on their specific psychological traits, you can also find statistics that will refute their claims that they are using to justify their discrimination. That being said, bringing up objective facts can be difficult, because they are likely to not want to believe the hard evidence. Again, if you can coax them into a place where they are open to understanding the bigger issue, e.g. immigrants and crime (hint, statistical analyses show immigration does not increase crime), you can increase the chances of having a productive conversation with them. Another thing to be cognizant of is the language you are using. It’s very tempting to call Trump supporters things like “Trumpets” (and much worse), but this tends to make them tune out to anything else you may have to say. Again, remember that they are fallible humans that, while they may need guidance, also deserve to be treated with a basic level of respect. Along the same vein as language use, avoid using terms and phrases like “that’s wrong,” “you’re problematic/stupid/an asshole etc.,” (even if it’s true). It’s easy to respond emotionally because trying to get people to understand why what they believe is morally reprehensible means a lot to us, but you will have to fight that feeling. Preparing yourself with knowledge and strategies is the best way to combat the feeling of helplessness that causes the upset during discourse.

I guess a lot of it also boils down to getting them to listen to themselves. If you can guide them through their thought process, sometimes I find they start to realize what they say out loud doesn’t actually make sense. If that happens, it’s also important to not catch them in a “gotcha!” moment, even though it’s tempting, because they will feel ashamed and will likely shut down any further conversation. Listen, acknowledge, and make them realize you’re not going to shame them for their choices (you can vent privately to somebody you trust, but don’t take out your emotions on the person you are trying to get through to). At the end of the day, you want to change their mind, and if brute force doesn’t work, gentle guidance often does. That’s all I can think of for now, I hope some of it is at least a little bit helpful! You’re welcome to continue this discussion, and let me know if you’d like me to respond privately in the future.

#jade q and a #ok to reblog #trump tw #dealing with trump supporters #trump

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hannahwaterman · 3 years

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Type and Language 1 - Choosing a quote, planning my project, brainstorming.

Selecting a quote for this briefing was something I tried to get done very quickly so that I could begin making work fast. At first I thought of doing the following quote by Bill Hicks:

“The world is like a ride in an amusement park, and when you choose to go on it you think it's real because that's how powerful our minds are. The ride goes up and down, around and around, it has thrills and chills, and it's very brightly colored, and it's very loud, and it's fun for a while. Many people have been on the ride a long time, and they begin to wonder, "Hey, is this real, or is this just a ride?" And other people have remembered, and they come back to us and say, "Hey, don't worry; don't be afraid, ever, because this is just a ride." And we … kill those people. "Shut him up! I've got a lot invested in this ride, shut him up! Look at my furrows of worry, look at my big bank account, and my family. This has to be real." It's just a ride. But we always kill the good guys who try and tell us that, you ever notice that? And let the demons run amok … But it doesn't matter, because it's just a ride. And we can change it any time we want. It's only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings of money. Just a simple choice, right now, between fear and love. The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your doors, buy guns, close yourself off. The eyes of love instead see all of us as one. Here's what we can do to change the world, right now, to a better ride. Take all that money we spend on weapons and defenses each year and instead spend it feeding and clothing and educating the poor of the world, which it would pay for many times over, not one human being excluded, and we could explore space, together, both inner and outer, forever, in peace.”

It’s very long, but I think it’s a very beautiful and well meaning piece of spoken word. Bill Hicks was a comedian-philosopher, and he was a very influential person in the formative years of my life from about 10 years old onwards. Definitely too young to be listening to Bill Hicks, but hey - his words really stuck with me and I think this quote is a very important one in my life.

I thought I could do something funny like this quote from Come Dine With Me:

Dear Lord, what a sad little life, Jane. You ruined my night, completely, so you could have the money, but I hope now you spend it on getting some lessons in grace and decorum because you have all the grace of a reversing dump truck without any tyres on.

But ultimately, I didn’t have faith that I would really be able to get excited about it!

I finally settled for this quote by Robert Sapolsky, a human behavioural biologist:

I am not worried if scientists go and explain everything. This is for a very simple reason: an impala sprinting across the Savannah can be reduced to biomechanics, and Bach can be reduced to counterpoint, yet that does not decrease one iota our ability to shiver as we experience impalas leaping or Bach thundering. We can only gain and grow with each discovery that there is structure underlying the most accessible levels of things that fill us with awe. But there is an even stronger reason why I am not afraid that scientists will inadvertently go and explain everything--it will never happen. While in certain realms, it may prove to be the case that science can explain anything, it will never explain everything. As should be obvious after all these pages, as part of the scientific process, for every question answered, a dozen newer ones are generated. And they are usually far more puzzling, more challenging than than the prior problems. This was stated wonderfully in a quote by a geneticist named Haldane earlier in the century: "Life is not only stranger than we imagine, it is stranger than we can imagine." We will never have our flames extinguished by knowledge. The purpose of science is not to cure us of our sense of mystery and wonder, but to constantly reinvent and reinvigorate it.

It’s very long, so I chose from it the most effecting and important sentences, and I was left with the following.

I am not worried if scientists go and explain everything. It will never happen. It will never explain everything. As part of the scientific process, for every question answered, a dozen newer ones are generated. And they are usually far more puzzling, more challenging than than the prior problems. Life is not only stranger than we imagine, it is stranger than we can imagine. We will never have our flames extinguished by knowledge. The purpose of science is not to cure us of our sense of mystery and wonder, but to constantly reinvent and reinvigorate it.

Robert Sapolsky lectures on human behaviour, taking information from many different scientific avenues, including biology, endocrinology, sociology, criminology, neuroscience, etc, to build a massive and complex picture of why it is humans behave the way we do, looking at our behaviour through multiple lenses and disciplines, and combining them in order to answer some of the biggest philosophical questions, including questions about free will, about love, about hatred and forgiveness and family.

He is one of the biggest influences on my outlook towards life and my trauma and mental health recovery, because not only are his teachings grounded in extremely interesting research and knowledge, but they are able to explain and open up discussions some of the most confusing and difficult parts of the human experience. Sex, love, violence, free will, tribalism, trauma, fear - Sapolsky tackles all of these terrifying and wonderful parts of our lives with such grace and poise and intelligence - his lectures have coloured my world with a newfound respect for myself and those around me.

He delivers this quote or similar at the end of one of his books and in his lecture series, to help clear up some of the biggest fears that people have of scientific knowledge, and it is a sentiment that I hold very dear to my heart. We should not fear advancement and knowledge. It can only enrich our lives, and a better understanding of myself as not just another person in society, but my very own series of complex and intricate biological mechanisms, has completely enriched my life.

I began by experimenting with very basic black and white type designs on Procreate on my iPad. I tend to jump straight into making before I do research, or much thinking at all, because it is often the case that I can come up with some very raw, messy, and interesting visual ideas. The first few attempts I have at a task like this can really inform where my project will go, what I would like to work on over the duration of the project, and what techniques will or won’t help me.

I often start projects in black and white because it is a very basic and simple building block foundation for the shapes in the work, and makes it so that more complex parts of a visual identity can be added later, giving me more time to think about colours and textures before going ahead with them.

I had fun warping text like this - it makes the writing mysterious and mostly illegible. It did not yet communicate effectively, however, and I had a talk with Sarah to better discuss where to go with this project.

Sarah told me to really think about WHO said the text, and WHY. To ask questions about WHAT I am trying to convey. How will I bring the message of the words to life? How can I use type to emphasise and better explain the language being spoken? How can I use typography as not just a fun image, but a visual tool to really hammer home the intent behind the words being spoken?

Sarah advised me to sketch out “how to quote acts”, how it moves and it feels. Also to question, how do I want people to react to this type?

With this higher level of specificity, I was able to think much more clearly about the task at hand. My plan now was to take certain important words from my quote, and do visual research surrounding them. To really give this project a microscopic view to begin with, I am going to focus on smaller fractions of the text, to begin to build up a catalogue of how those words really feel, act, and speak to a reader. I need to bring into question, how can I communicate better using type? How can I make somebody listen with my typography? How can I use my skillset as a designer to translate information into something visually consumable and interesting to look at?

Once I’ve done visual research and sketches focusing on the very zoomed in parts of this quote, I am going to try to visualise those in context of Sapolsky’s life and teachings. He started off his practice as a field scientist, living amongst primates, and studying their movements. He went on to combine this knowledge with laboratory work, studying hormones and neurodevelopment in rats and analysing other studies. He now, on top of all of this, lectures at Stanford, and has written multiple books on the subject of human and animal behaviour, for the casual reader and scientist alike.

How can I represent Sapolsky’s life with design? Can I start off the quote as rough and messy and dusty and animalistic, representing the time he spent amongst apes in the jungle - then developing it into something very neat, tidy and clinical like his lab studies are? Can I make 2 different designs to represent these, then overlay them? Use colours to represent the two different stages of his practice? Can I make this into a screenprint? A series of 2 or 3 posters?

Or could I make a typographic mural to go on the wall at Stanford or another institute of science? A series of posters? A small book or leaflet? An animation? Who am I aiming it at? Over the next few days I am going to collate visual research and express it as a series of typographic works.

#type and language #typography #agp500

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queenlokibeth · 4 years

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Shall we talk about the songs on louis’ “28 songs” playlist?

(Massive observation of all 28 songs ahead. Yes it took me 2 hours to make this. Skip to the end after the keep reading if you want the TL;DR)

You’re not the only one - Sam Fender

“The song is in fact about his best mate and himself “coming out on the other end of a bad place” and going out to party. He told Virgin Radio that “It’s a celebratory song about loving your mate, really”. “ - Genius lyrics

“ The fabricated smiles so wide, they're of hope Your composure is so brittle, and you hold yourself so well Inside, you cling to pieces of a broken carousel “ well yes i am crying

“We'll have this place on lockdown, it's here for you to taste“

Call me out - Sea Girls (Nautical theme, anyone?)

“And I've changed a lot since then, ask my friends The crying stopped, on top of that, my eyes forgot An old flame who got her hips on a bucket list And times missed every night since we first kissed”

“ And I've changed a lot since then, ask my friends My clothes, my frame, I've spent enough but feel the same”

“And I'll be waiting when you come and call”

“ I can burn that bridge when we get to it “

The Runner - Foals

“... The narrator is done lamenting his fate now and Part 2 sees him picking himself up, dusting himself off, and moving forward... [A] call to find a sense of purpose and perseverance despite the odds and despite the troubles we may find inside or outside ourselves.” - Genius lyrics

Nightmares - Easy Life

“...topics of insomnia, anxiety, and peer pressure.... The major chords acting to cover up the emotions professed in the lyrics, turning the song itself into a perfect metaphor...” - About the song, Genius lyrics.

“ It's all a bit of fun until somebody gets hurt I’ll take it with a pinch of salt, another bridge is burned” Burning bridges, again, you say?

“ It's all a bit of fun until somebody gets hurt I'll take it with a pinch of salt, another lesson learned But I don't need to know what's real or not no more I don't need to know what's real or not no more “

My honest face - Inhaler (pretty self explanatory title there)

“ [The vocalist] fears being met with nitpicking or criticism of the lesser parts of his performance. He thinks of himself as skilled, but not perfect. “ - About the song, Genius lyrics.

“And honey, I could play the Joker My made up smile broke your heart last night No, no, no, I didn't want to hurt ya But there's just a certain culture when you're young When you're young “

“ And honey, I could play the hater Acting like I hated her last night No, no no, I didn't want to hurt you “

“ I'll take you to an honest place Darling, I just can't find my honest face It's all over the place, it's all over the place “ So he wants to show his audience who he really is, but he can’t.

Your girlfriend - Blossoms (oh? oH?)

This one is interesting. There are many pronoun changes through the song. It’s hard to figure out at which point the girl goes from being “a friend who is a girl” to “girlfriend” and who is the speaker, who is the friend, and who is the girl.

“ I'm a boy And she's a girl With more charm than most movie stars So we met Through a friend We rent a place and she comes round to stay “ The first ‘we’ is the speaker and the girl, the second we is the speaker and his friend. This is when the song starts sounding like a dialogue to me: one person sings everything until before the last line, and the last line is a reply from the friend.

“ And now your girlfriend is ringing in my ears again “ There is a change here from “we met through a friend” (telling the story to someone else) vs this line, where the speaker is talking TO said friend, or perhaps following up on the dialogue theory, this is the friend replying to the speaker.

“ What am I supposed to do? I can tell, they get along so well” Is this the speaker talking about his friend and the girl, no longer talking TO the friend? I feel like this is the (mutual)friend wondering about his girl friend and the speaker.

“Is it possible, she likes me too?

I'm not sure if I should read between those lines “ This could be the speaker wondering.

“I should be moving out but can't 'cause we've just signed a lease “ (Again with the renting? Princess park? Hmm?)

“Thought maybe we'd go out for a movie And we can forget friends who'll be fuming Then I could walk you home in the evening And that's just being friendly “ This can be analysed in so many different ways depending on who’s speakig and to whom.

“And now your girlfriend is ringing in my ears again And when she smiles, I can't hide my jealousy Oh I can't take it, boy I hope she's faking it I heard he bought a ring today

I heard they got engaged today “ This one is interesting, because she might have ended up together with either the friend or the speaker, and whichever one she did not end up with is referring FIRST to their buddy and then moving on to address someone else, telling the story. Also, it almost sounds as if whoever is saying this is jealous OF THE GIRL, not of the guy who is with her.

Overall there is a lot to unpack with this song, mainly because of the change in pronouns and who the singer has as their audience for each line.

Empty hands - Tors

“Too late to call I've been away left you alone”

“I didn't notice you're feeling hopeless So blue-ou-ou again”

“And I'm nothing more than just a man And it breaks my heart When I break your heart”

“And I promised more than I could give And it's not the life you thought you'd live”

“Saturday nights up on the roof Sundays in bed Coffee and sleep Head for a walk Down by the sea with you-ou-ou” (Again nautical theme? Eroda anyone? Lou’s MV? Harry’s MV?)

“When I come back home I see the lights That you left on for me every night When I see you standing at the door Everything i want for evermore “ (Lights up? met you at your doorstep?)

Restrospect - Vistas

“See you find comfort in small things Which she considers the wrong things And you find comfort in hellos Not goodbyes, not goodbye And you try not to have issues With the hate you, love you, and miss yous That all come out when she kissed you Goodbye, goodbye” This is basically saying “hey i know about the stuff you like and don’t, she doesn’t! also you were feeling great until she ruined it!”

“Singing Sweet Caroline with diamonds in her eyes” (diamonds will make sense with the next song)

“Throw my arms to the skies”

“ Let me go and I'll forget Happiness in retrospect” Letting go has been a big theme y’all.

“See you find comfort in tall things Which he considers the wrong things And you find comfort in things he can't Recognise, recognise” OH HO HO HO WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT PRONOUN CHANGE? Now there’s a MAN who isn’t right for this person according to the singer.

“ And you want nothing but all this While he's stuck trying to solve it Nevertheless acquiesce till you feel those Butterflies, butterflies “

Lucy - Ten Tonnes (aHA! Lucy as in Lucy in the sky with diamonds, aka ANOTHER Beatles reference up in this bitch.)

“ Where you left your face “

“ Come away, from the window Haven't you learnt? That in dreams you can't get burned And I will meet you there Under purest skies It's where I'll be When they're finished with me” This gives me some SOTT vibes.

My Cheating Heart - Love Fame Tragedy (Pretty self explanatory song title, pretty self explanatory band name)

“Money, women, cars Leave my head among the stars 'Cause I want it all, yeah, yeah I want it all Puppet on a string is it such an evil thing”

“ So do I sink or do I float now?” The water scenes in the MVs????

Tears dry on their own - Amy Winehouse (ouch)

About the song: “She describes how a tarnished relationship has made her feel, and how she cries often. [Song] Samples Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell’s “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” Interesting sampling there, since ANMHE literally goes “ain’t no mountain high enough... to keep me from getting to you babe. Remember the day I set you free...” and just great song overall i cannot copy the whole thing here but YO.

“Once it was so right When we were at our height Waiting for you in the hotel at night I knew I hadn't met my match But every moment we could snatch I don't know why I got so attached It's my responsibility And you don't owe nothing to me But to walk away I have no capacity “ Well i am crying this isn’t it THIS AINT IT

“He walks away The sun goes down He takes the day but I'm grown And in your way, in this blue shade My tears dry on their own” Letting go, your partner leaving you for someone else... there’s a lot to unpack here.

“We could a never had it all We had to hit a wall So this is inevitable withdrawal Even if I stop wanting you A perspective pushes through I'll be some next man's other woman soon” So, Walls? Hardship in the relationship? Not being the formal girlfriend/partner but the side-chick?

“ I wish I could say no regrets And no emotional debts Cause as we kiss goodbye the sun sets So we are history”

2all - Catfish and the Bottlemen

“Life got led By people who Just wanna flood your head

... But it fits you at the time To fall for every line “ As stated by Genius: “...life is often “led” or heavily influenced by those who can rally people to follow their thoughts and ideas, e.g. friends, employers... The “fall for every line” is referring to the ones who let the people that try to influence their lives into their head and let them take over. “

Also, About: “ The song has a heavy emphasis on how you should hold the best people closest to your heart – the ones who are always there for you when you need them and the people you can count on all the time.”

“ Oh, they convinced me every time That I needed fooling So that I'd go and get it right Yeah, somewhere, they convinced me down the line When I needed fooling So that I'd go and get it right”

Reptilia - The Strokes

About the first lines: “ A shot at journalists; The Strokes, especially Julian, have never been open with the press and want their music to do their talking.”

“"You sound so sleepy, just take this, now leave me" From Genius: “Julian’s girl is talking to him, telling him that he looks “sleepy” but he probably is bored... his girl gets frustrated with him and eggs him on to ditch her.”

Honestly the whole analysis on Genius is pretty on point:

“He’s using sarcasm, the girl is trying as hard as she can to keep the relationship together, she’s thirsty as fuck and the night is barely over.... At this point Casablancas just wants to get out of the relationship. he sees this desperate need to leave, but she remains behind.... He’s waited long enough and it’s finally over between whom ever the girl is. She’s not having fun anymore and her happiness becomes sorrow, he just wants this night to be over....[About the title] Reptiles are cold blooded creatures (and the girl in the song just doesn’t care about the guy.)”

Harmony Hall - Vampire Weekend

This song sort of refers to hate groups, keep that in mind.

“ We took a vow in summertime Now we find ourselves in late December”

“ I thought that I was free from all that questionin'”

“ I don't wanna live like this, but I don't wanna die “

Runaway - KAWALA

“ Run away from the words unspoken Coast to coast going through the motions of Who'll be a better man, who'll do it better”

“ And I'll help you follow the line “

“ We're miles apart, closing up the distance I'm reaching out if you need assistance Who'll be a better man, who'll do it better”

“Today is the day I'll get on Awaiting the storm to move on I lie naked in wait to reform Let's try make it right this time now” I’m-- Bitch i’m---

“ Oh, it's all so emotional Oh, I hope that you're coping Oh, I won't let you lose it all “

Mr. Brightside - The Killers (Ah well we all know this one who are we even kidding)

Honestly this is where shit starts aligning.

About the song: “the song deals with issues of infidelity, paranoia, and jealousy”

“ Coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine Gotta gotta be down because I want it all It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?” Iconic, we all know it, wild.

More About: “ The song is about the THOUGHT that one’s significant other is cheating”

And anyway, more paranoia and jealousy and fear of getting cheated on.

For now - DMA’S

“ All I need to know, she's dead to me” Well that is... harsh.

“ Quite like what I need to be, I'll send your bones to the sea “ You know the drill.

“ No, I won't be anymore, no, we won't be anymore “

“ Lately, we've lost control of everything you're biddin' for You keep me down, you set the score I've been impossible, only words are drowning out Take your head out of the clouds” There’s like 80 different meanings here.

Belter - Gerry Cinnamon

About the title: “ “belter” which is Scottish slang for an exceptional or outstanding example of something”

“ Diamonds oan' her finger and she always looks her best “ Diamonds again. Also allusion to rings ehem.

“ No happy endings, unless fairy-tales come true But she looks like a princess and there’s not much else to do I think I love her “ :(

“Is happiness an option, or has love just turned me blind?” Double :(

Dry your eyes - The Streets

The whole thing is about a breakup.

“In one single moment your whole life can turn around“

“ Please let me show you how we could only just be for us I can change and I can grow, or we could adjust The wicked thing about us is we always have trust”

“We can even have an open relationship if you must”

“Dry your eyes, mate I know it's hard to take but her mind has been made up There's plenty more fish in the sea Dry your eyes, mate I know you want to make her see how much this pain hurts But you've got to walk away now, it's over” It’s like he’s talking to his buddy who just went through a painful breakup telling him to n o t l e t i t b r e a k h i s h e a r t.

“ 'Cause I can't imagine my life without you and me There's things I can't imagine doing, things I can't imagine seeing “

“ 'Cause you said it'd be forever and that was your vow And you're gonna let our things simply crash and fall down? “ I didn’t include it before, but a few other songs also mention vows.

“ I know in the past I've found it hard to say Telling you things but not telling straight But the more I pull on your hand and say The more you pull away”

Confidence - Ocean Alley

(Random fact: I just noticed that this song is from an album called Chiarobscuro, and i didn’t include it but one of the previous songs also used that word)

“ Well, I should've said this, and I should've said that All that I know now”

Modern Love - Courteeners (quite the title)

“We got style and we got grace, we run wild and never dance alone In this town, she’s fucking famous But this town will never be her home” LA anyone?

“ But I don’t need this modern love This modern love Oh, it always lets me down”

“The popularity trap strikes again You don’t need these fools cause you’re incroyable“ Yeah not to be that larrie but the TPWK website has been telling people that they’re “incroyable” (incredible)

“ We found solace at The Star and Garter “ Oh, what is The Star and Garter? Oh you know, just “... a cult club located in their home town of, Manchester.” Anyways moving on

I am slowly losing my shit here:

“ A bare mattress, a lockless door Two Withington hearts on a pique assiette floor Give me back those awkward exchanges The fumbles In bathtubs When we were just strangers We talk about your graduation And the realisation that we might not be together forever and ever “ Withington is an area of south Manchester.

“ Wide-eyed and up all night This could be good” ANYWAYS...

Laurel Wreath - Bear’s Den

About the title: “refers to the Ancient Greek tradition of awarding Olympic victors laurel wreaths. The laurel wreath is also used in academia and as an architectural accent, for good luck.In this song the wreath is withering, and Andrew Davie uses this idea of athletic defeat as a symbol for his failures and relationship issues.”

“ Or the collapsing of a history “

“ But you found me in the morning, December in my eyes” December was mentioned in other songs, too.

“ Got your call, I needed it more than I could let on to you” WELL

Riot Van - Arctic Monkeys

About the song: “[The people in the song] As long as they had some good laughs, they don’t care if they are rich or have a job or are poor or anything. They just want to exist. “

“ Got a chase last night From men with truncheons dressed in hats We didn't do that much wrong Still ran away though, for the laugh Just for the laugh“

“ Well, they won't catch me and you”

“ Is there a certain age you're supposed to be? 'Cause nobody told me"

“ They get their address and their names took But they couldn't care less” Genius says: “ This is the police’s main deterrent for underage offenders, but the parents of these boys have obviously had so many calls from them that the boys don’t care anymore.”

Ahhh but the fun comes with painful consequences:

“Thrown in the riot van And all the coppers kicked him in And there was no way he could win Just had to take it on the chin” Also from Genius: “ Throughout society, whatever he does is never good or acceptable enough. He always gets pushed further down and down, to the point where he’s given up. He’s never going to win, there are too many people with much more power going against him. He just has to ‘take it on the chin’, ie. he has to accept that this is his life, there’s not point fighting against it because nothing will ever change.”

Please, please, please let me get what I want - The Smiths (it doesn’t get more literal that this tbh)

About the song: “ This song is about the desperation to fulfill personal desires... He has lived a life full of disappointment and maybe despair... For once he is having a good time, which is a wonderful surprise...” Also, sidenote, in live shows the title lyric apparently gets changed to “let me get who i want”.

The Less I Know the Better - Tame Impala (buddy let me tell you, the amount of gay fics i’ve seen from different fandoms using part of this song as a title...)

About the song: “...describes the pain of a man feeling left out in a love triangle”

“ She was holding hands with Trevor Not the greatest feeling ever” Y’all remember the Trevor concert incident with Harry? also the singer’s name is Kevin... who’s feuding with Trevor in the song... maybe that doesn’t mean shit.

“ Then I heard they slept together Oh, the less I know the better The less I know the better” Oh perhaps you broke up with your love and now he’s with someone else and it hurts?

“ Oh my love, can't you see that you're on my mind”

“ She said, "It's not now or never Wait ten years, we'll be together" I said, "Better late than never Just don't make me wait forever" Don't make me wait forever Don't make me wait forever” Oh shit bruuuuuh oh SHIT.

“I was doing fine without ya Till I saw your face, now I can't erase Giving in to all his bullshit Is this what you want? Is this who you are?” BULLSHIT? DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE?

“Oh, sweet darling, where he wants you Said, "Come on Superman, say your stupid line" “

Tomorrow never knows - The Beatles (AHHH WE LOVE A BEATLES REFERENCE)

Song is from the Revolver album (gunshot anyone?)

“Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream It is not dying, it is not dying “

“Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void It is shining, it is shining”

Eat, Sleep, Wake (Nothing But You) - Bombay Bicycle Club

“ Eat, sleep, wake Nothing but you” Habit? I don’t know if I could ever go without?

“ I can see where you are, dream where you are Will the song never end? Us on the bed half a meter apart”

“ I may not say it outwardly So all I have are memories Those looks at the start, the words in the dark But never a flame, we just wanted the spark”

ANYWAYS CONCLUSION TIME, or TL;DR: There is A LOT to unpack here. All of these songs vaguely follow the same theme. There’s a lot of breaking up going on, as well as moving on and third parties being involved. There’s stuff about being controlled, not being enough, wanting to be yourself, There’s references to Louis’ songs, to Harry’s songs, to 1D tracks, to Larry, to Elounor, you name it. This playlist is definitely giving us a taste of what Walls will deal with and boy is it A LOT.

#louis tomlinson #larry stylinson #larry #harry styles #mine

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gwoongi · 5 years

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ways to say i love you (05)

min yoongi / reader genre: royal guard au, game of thrones (?) au, angst rating: mature words: 3.2k warnings: cursing, guard yoongi, major character deaths, violent deaths, graphic details a/n: very inspired by game of thrones (the ending of the story).

➸ Imagine them shouted at top volume, in the middle of an argument, never meant to come out that way.

Growing up, Yoongi had rarely thought of anybody other than himself. He was selfish, arrogant, cold and standoffish to his friends and family, brooding in his chambers and isolated from children his age. And so, really, he can’t complain about the fact that his father got fed up by his antics and sent him to a facility outside of his village, grooming boys into men, men into Gods who would later serve Lords and Ladies. Yoongi had never expected to go up in the world, but he did; quite possibly, Yoongi had the biggest task on hand after his graduation- like every great Kingdom, there was a monarchy. And, as it so happened, their princess was in need of a protector.

He’d been doing that since he was nineteen, standing like a shadow behind the young princess and watching without judgement as she cried, as she obeyed, as she writhed under the stares of suitors and yells from the monarchy behind closed doors. Yoongi was still selfish, despising the King and Queen and at the same time, needing every moment of his life to be by your side, making sure nobody hurt you or even thought of touching you. Princess Y/N, the only daughter and heir to this Kingdom; his Princess and his life, who he’d do anything for.

Should the city fall, Yoongi had a conditioned procedure and a network of exits, a well-known passage out of the city towards the Sacred Temple of the Anders, where he had trained meticulously for eight years of his life. Naturally, Yoongi had never felt the need to practise this with you; because this Kingdom was safe and secure, and would never fall under siege.

Of course, now, he curses himself; outside the window, Yoongi can see turrets of thick grey smoke rising to the sky and glimpses of flames inside shop windows, the screams of the people- by extension, his people- as they fled on foot, on horse, on all fours, escaping the flames and the gunshots and the arrows that were being shot from trees and dugouts, men on horseback.

“Your Grace, it is of paramount importance that we leave right this instant.”

Behind him, Yoongi can hear the grand maester shouting at you from the door to your keep, his chains clinking nervously as a thud sends bricks from a nearby avenue crashing through the castle walls. He gasps with horror and has the nerve to grab at your arm, as Yoongi sees when he turns around. Before he can intervene, you yank yourself out of his grasp with a scowl.

“I will leave when I please, and I will leave when Yoongi says so. If you have anything against my judgement, I would enjoy hearing it at a trial for your head. Now, if you don’t mind,” you huff, finally looking at Yoongi and as you turn, your expression falls.

There’s no word from the King or Queen, or any other royal council member for that matter. As the world comes crumbling down, there’s only you and him, and the withering old maester who eventually loses nerve, treasonously scoffing in your direction before finally fleeing down the swirling staircase towards, presumably, the next best exit.

Yoongi follows his body as he leaves before looking back at you, feeling his heart wrench at your fallen expression, eyes filling with tears and skin glassy. He takes several steps forward, because Yoongi is the only person authorised to be within inches of you without asking beforehand, and takes your forearms in his hands gently.

“Princess, I believe it is time to go,” he says.

“My parents- the King, the Queen-”

“Should have already left, your Grace,” Yoongi finishes. Your bottom lip quivers with the threat of a cry, and Yoongi without thinking cups your face with his hands, his thumb smoothing a fallen tear away. “It’s okay. I’ve got you and I’m not going to let a single thing happen to you, okay?”

You nod around a sniffle, gently stepping away and placing your crown down onto the bed, on a pillow where you hope it will remain. If not, somebody else can wear it with pleasure; if there’s a chance your family are alive, they might even look for you once this is all over. Otherwise...

You look back at Yoongi, whilst he’s busy taking another glance out of the window as if analysing the outside damage. Yoongi was undeniably one of the strongest, bravest and most selfless people you thought you had ever met. He put you before anything, even if it meant danger for himself, and absolutely anybody in the world would be lucky to have him in their service. While he stares away, you catch your breath and slip your hand into his, wanting the safety of his touch, his presence, to physically feel him there with you.

When your hand slots into his, Yoongi snaps his head away from the damage and stares at them, intertwined. He sniffs and inhales the smell of dust and brings your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles and finally looking at you with a scared, yet composed breath of air: “Okay. Stay as close to me as you can, okay?”

“Yes,” you reply quietly, immediately doing as he says and gluing yourself to his body. He welcomes it, embracing it, as he hurriedly begins a descent down the staircase and onwards with his pre-planned escape route.

It’s simple, and easy to navigate, made up of stairways and corridors that only he knows about, lefts and rights down walkways that hadn’t been dusted in years. With every grumble of damage above your head, you whimper, following Yoongi further down the castle before finally reaching the dungeon doors. It could be easy for Yoongi, if he were the type, to kill you in here, or hand you over to the invaders as a welcome present, but he doesn’t; he pushes the door open and pulls you inside, setting off towards the back entrance that just occurs to you is open and untouched, revealing out towards the back of the castle near the creek, and the open passage you both used on evenings to explore the city and the fields, catch frogs in the spring in the pools, watch fireflies and lanterns on summer evenings.

Yoongi has you halfway down the corridor when suddenly he pushes you into an alcove, the sound of spraying bullets echoing in the corridor. A torn cry of horror leaves your throat as Yoongi pushes his weight onto you and against the wall in a crouch. A series of voices in a foreign dialect laugh from further by the exit, footsteps slowly moving forward. They think they’ve got a hit.

“Are you hit? Are you hurt?” Yoongi asks hurriedly, his hands searching for injuries he won’t forgive himself for.

“No, no. Are you?” you reply and he shakes his head quickly, sighing with premature relief. “Yoongi-”

“I am going to go out there and I’m going to clear the way for us,” he explains, and the plan sounds diabolical and you shake your head as he speaks, “and when I say so, you will run down that corridor and outside. If I’m not behind you, then you must go without me. Go as far as you can, past the forest like we used to, towards the windmill and the lonely tree.”

“Yoongi-”

“There will be someone there for you,” Yoongi continues breathlessly, “and they will take you someplace safe, okay? Promise me, please. Promise me you will do as I say.”

You gape at him as he tries to hand you something in his fist. “What? No, absolutely not, I will not leave you behind! Who do you think I am?”

“You are the Princess and your safety is my number one concern.”

“Yes, I am the Princess, and I command you to stay by my side,” you stress indignantly. “I am not leaving here without you.”

Yoongi’s face darkens with frustration, the item in his hand now forced into yours. You realise that it is a necklace- his necklace, with his family ring attached like a pendant, the chain slightly dirty and skinny. As tears pool in your eyes, you glare at him.

“Don’t be so stupid,” Yoongi snaps. “Don’t you dare put my life before yours.”

“But you can put mine before yours?”

“That is my job!” Yoongi replies. The footsteps are approaching closer, hurried and searching. “Just do as I say!”

“No, I can’t-I can’t leave you, Yoongi.”

“You hold no obligation to save my life,” Yoongi points out. “So, why?”

“Because,” you cry out. “Because I love you, Yoongi! That’s why!”

The words come out without you wanting them to, and you can’t undo it; Yoongi hears it over the crashes of explosions above you and he’s rendered speechless, his eyes looking at every feature of your face with an unreadable expression. He looks pained, heartbroken, his head tilting up with a forced, “fuck,” and he blinks rapidly, to stop his eyes from filling up.

“Why,” he says quietly, looking back at you; his eyebrows are pinched, his face in agony, “why now, baby? Why would you say that now?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know if I’ll get to say it again,” you admit, and after you say them, Yoongi looks like he’s actually about to cry when he pulls your face towards his, capturing your lips in a firm and deep kiss. It’s short, because it has to be, and he holds your face for a little longer before sighing shakily and pulling away. “Yoongi- please-”

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, nodding as he speaks. He reaches for his sword- he knows how to use it around the hunting rifles, because they’re slow to reload, and heavy, and he’s not. “You know what to do. Okay? Hm? Yeah, okay?”

You force yourself to nod: “Okay.”

Yoongi doesn’t want to leave, but he knows that above anything else he wants in the world, he wants you to be able to live, and rest at the end of the day. Granting himself another few seconds to look at you and memorise your face, he smiles around his pain and turns into the hallway. Immediately as he steps out, hellfire; you clench your eyes closed and cover your ears with your hands, struggling to breathe around heavy sobs. From your mouth leaves frantic cries to God, asking him that if he’s there and if he loves you, will he save the one you need to keep living?

A few moments pass, and as you bury your head between your knees, a cold hand on your head makes you shoot up with alarm. Spotting Yoongi’s face in the blur of your tears makes you cry more, not at first recognising the wound in his leg, the blood pouring down his skin and his trousers torn around the knees. Yoongi says something- you can see his lips moving but nothing is coming out; he forces you up off the floor and holds you close to him as he limps back out into the corridor. As he hurries you down, you trip over the extended hands of bodies Yoongi has slain, their faces forever remembered as the ones who tried to take him away from you.

The sunshine of the creek is what you can see, and it occurs to you that Yoongi has smuggled you out. As expected, by the apple tree by the fountain is the white horse Yoongi raised from a foal, his mane matted and slightly bloody. He whinnies as Yoongi clambers forward, and before he raises himself up onto his back, he helps you up, a hand on your legs as he lifts you with a quiet grunt. He doesn’t have much time- the sound of battle cries back towards the castle indicates that more rebels have seen the slaughter, and they know you’ve escaped.

Yoongi untangles his horse’s reins from the tree branch and heaves himself up; your sitting in his lap, essentially, unsafely with your body facing his and legs swung around his waist. He does this for his own selfish needs to keep you safe, his arms around you to cage you in so you don’t fall. Wasting no time, Yoongi rattles the reigns and the horse gallops towards the entry.

For a few minutes, he thinks he’s safe.

Your head is on his shoulder, your ragged gasps of air in his ear and blowing on his neck. Yoongi just wants to cry- he wants to cry so badly and loudly, and lift you up in his arms and tell you that he loves you and that he’d do anything for you. Those three words are on his tongue ready to be spilled when the crack of a whip sends a shudder down his spine. Over his shoulder, you squeak with fear as a herd of rebels emerges from down the street, blobs that slowly gain shape as they hurry towards you with haste.

The scenery is a green and brown blur, the smoke from your kingdom clustering in the sky and filling the air with a choking and overwhelming smell of ash and fire. That same fire catches to the trees, flames spreading like water spilling and the wildlife protected by your family name scurry away to safety, deer on the road next to you, a squirrel catching a ride on the back of a wild wolf that pays no mind to Yoongi and his horse. It’s a game of life or death.

Further down the narrow path, Yoongi sees them; he sees the group of Anders boys standing around the Lonely Tree on top of the passing hill, where the end of the kingdom stands. He can make out three, on horseback and he doesn’t let himself get too excited- instead he sends his horse rushing towards them. Behind the three, there was more, he could see heads bobbing like fishing boats as the horse settled on the grass. Anders could help them- Anders could get rid of the rebels behind you.

Around his waist, Yoongi feels you shuffle, your hands creeping up his back between his shoulder blades as you sit back to look at his face. He trusts his horse and looks at you with faith.

“We’re almost there,” he promises, his eyes looking deep into yours as they flicker to the rebels and back to them: “Don’t look at them, baby, look at me, okay? Look at me, Y/N.”

You do, focusing in on his gaze.

“I love you so much,” Yoongi cries, his composure slipping. “I love you.”

“I know,” you reply softly. His horse gallops faster, nearing the hill. The grass is right ahead, “I know. I love you too-”

A horrified scream leaves Yoongi’s throat as the rebels send out their arrows; one flies through the back leg of his horse and the other shoots straight through your skull, a circle of red around the middle of your eyes as the arrow hits your brain and kills you instantly. As his horse falls, so do you; everything goes tumbling to the twigs and gravel in a matter of seconds and Yoongi cannot breathe.

Anders move from the hill downwards but he’s not even looking. Yoongi feels his whole body shaking and his heart hammering in his chest, bile in his throat; your head is split open with crimson, the blood shining in the sun and Yoongi cries out loud, shouting to the skies as he frantically holds your head with his hands, feeling his body go rigid with tremors as he inhales the smell of your skull, his hands covered with it. This was his fault- he had told you not to look; if you’d have looked, you could have seen them raising their arrows, he could have taken cover - he could have saved you.

Yoongi is not the only person paralysed; the shooter freezes on his horse. He wasn’t supposed to hit you. He was aiming for Yoongi, but his horse had jolted and he let go too soon; without you, there was no chance the kingdoms would accept their King on the throne. He pulls his horse back, trying to flee, but Jeongguk from Anders slices the leg of his horse off, watching the stallion move to the floor with pain and Jeongguk ends its suffering before it can truly suffer, thrusting his sword into the chest of the shooter without a word.

Yoongi sits.

Even when Hoseok, another man from Anders, comes up behind him with his hands on his shoulders, trying to force him back, he doesn’t budge. He can barely hear Hoseok screaming at him to move, everything feels like he’s underwater. When Hoseok removes his hand quickly and Yoongi feels the floor vibrating beneath his knees, Yoongi looks up. Anders have tucked their tails and left, Jeongguk now on his horse and retreating back to the tree. The rebels can’t touch them there- they’re on sacred ground.

In his head, flashing images of your smile replay, the static in his ears. This was his fault. This was all his fault.

Quietly, Yoongi whispers I'm sorry, his lips on your hands as he gently sets you down on the floor. Jeongguk rides up to him, stopping for one moment and looking at him silently. Nothing is said but he knows what to do, he knows what Yoongi wants.

In less than three seconds, Jeongguk jumps off his horse and gathers you in his arms, mounting the horse once more and riding towards the plains. If Yoongi’s lucky, they might get his body too.

Rising to his feet, Yoongi feels a wave of anger washing over him; his body vibrates with hostility and his face is darkened with pain and sorrow and guilt. As the rebels surge towards him, singing battle cries, Yoongi unsheathes his sword and stands his ground, feeling the energy from the earth ride through his body. All he can think about is you- his Y/N, his Princess, his meaning and will to live.

And they’ve taken that away from him.

Yoongi fights for your honour until he feels the clean blade of a sword on his neck. When the blade cuts and slices Yoongi’s head off his neck and shoulders, Jeongguk’s horse bristles and he turns away unexpectedly, bringing you closer to his chest and retreating down the plain and back towards the Temple of Anders.

If Hoseok wanted, he and his men could shoot those rebels, who laugh and cheer tauntingly as they drag Yoongi’s body up and pull it towards one of their horses. On the side, in a sack on one of the stallions, Hoseok spots the tufts of fur from a direwolf from the sacred forests, blood dripping like a tap. The foreign rebels are famous for what they’ll do next, and what they’ll show to celebrate the death of the monarchy- the irony of a sacred creature sewn onto a sacred guard to the sacred monarchy.

Hoseok turns away. What’s done is done, and the only thing he can do now, is save himself.

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years

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Kira (15)

CHAPTER 15: NFWMB

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: Will contain fluff, smut, bloodshed, violence, anxiety, tears and the cries of my wilted soul.

Chapter content: It’s the end. ....or is it?

Warnings: that’s it. That...is it.

Word count: There are very few times when once I have a story in mind I have found the perfect soundtrack to go with it. I didn’t think I could have ever found any lyrics close to what I wanted to protray in this chapter but damn! Hozier outdid himself!!

And I need to eat more vegetables somebody help me

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

Fenrir's chin rests on the edge of the bed on the footboard, still as a ghost in a silent moonless night. His eyes do not stir. His breaths are steady. His hind legs have settled with the decision of taking in the long shift while his front paws support the self-proclaimed weight on his shoulders of looking after your well-being as your comatose figure lies in your room over his favourite bed, surrounded by wires and pipes and beeping mechanic monsters this wolf does not understand, neither does he like them very much- because twice has his sharp ears caught your heart flutter and then both times heard those machine monsters beep at him like senseless maniacs till the strange men in white clothing have touched you (without your or his permission) to get the hysterical sounds to calm down but not stop.

It's better this way. He did not like having to worry about you from outside your room, looking in through the glass, trying to gnaw his way inside when he wasn't able to figure out if you are all right or not. He likes sitting by your feet, keeping an eye on your steady breaths, growling at unfamiliar footsteps- loud enough to make anyone from the help that isn't Ygritte stop and think if they should go against his wishes but not too loud to disturb you. He knows what he is doing. He has done it before. He will do it again if he has to.

He knows Loki sits right behind him on the teal coloured sofa, his face resting on his hands, his eyes frozen just like his wolf's, his body still like his son's. Both Heimdall and Ygritte cannot help but stare in invisible spectrums of wonderment at the father-son duo not leaving the side of the one thing they have attached themselves to in a matter of days, sitting there, watching every single breath you take, praying to- some entity that they believe would hear them- make you better, as soon as possible. Till then, they will do whatever is in their power to make you better. And often even our most seems nothing when someone we love more than ourselves suffers and we cannot take their pain even if we want to.

Ygritte brings in breakfast for Loki and Fenrir, requesting them both to have something. She smiles at them, kindly asking to have at least enough for their bodies to have the energy to sit there by your side. It's just some juice and milk that Loki and Fenrir agree to; that too only because they can feel their mental exhaustion depleting their will to sit there with eyes open. The liquid going inside them does the trick to bring that fleeting will back by its neck, satiating the worry in Ygritte' heart.

She herself carries bags under her eyes. Those sleep-deprived eyes have cried alone in the kitchen when she saw Heimdall bringing in your bloodied figure. The sight of you- the most prominent splash of innocence she has seen after a very long time- half-dead and unrecognisable under all that blood and open wounds, your arm dangling lifelessly whilst the Watcher carried you to your room (as doctors and nurses followed the procedures they were supposed to in such situations) almost made her heart break into two, violently. The image of your clothes ripped, your nails broken and your face bruised heavily just does not leave her mind till she finally breaks down in the one place she finds comfort.

She had made sure the sniffles were silent; that only hot tears flowed freely and lightened up her grieving heart. She had been really cautious and yet Loki found her- when he'd been forced out by the doctors in charge. She'd tried her best to compose herself but those forsaken tears just would not stop, making Loki slowly soothe her till he was hugging her to comfort her shaking form. "She'll be fine," he’d whispered, more for himself than for her, letting his words become an affirmation in the heavy air around them. "She'll be fine."

She'll be fine.

The silence surrounding your room is unlawfully eerie, like the shadowy emptiness that rises like heavy smoke during a funeral. And neither of the people present in the room want to feel anything close to a funeral.

The vibration of Loki's phone breaks the horrid silence, that grim expression on his face turning into a splash of surprise before he picks up the call and presses the device to his ear.

"Robert?"

The name brings around the attention of all the ears present in the room save for yourself. Heimdall, Ygritte and Zair- your assistant who had been taking care of everything for you at the office front- shift their weight on hearing Robert's name.

"Is she okay?"

Loki nearly feels his heart being squeezed by a concoction of emotions for this man, taking him back to the day when he first found him. Or rather, he found Loki. This son of a bitch is not going to die that soon.

"She's...out of danger. The doctor said she has two broken ribs, a broken arm, internal bleeding and concussion. No signs of...no signs of any sexual assault. Ahem..."

"Loki..."

Loki closes his eyes at that familiar tone. Robert knows. He knows. But he cannot think about it. Right now there is no place for rational thought inside him.

"The doctor here says I cannot move from the bed for about another day."

"...Robert."

"So, I won't be able to hold my promise to you right now."

"Remember that time when we had to take our men over to Vanaheim in the summer to prepare for Odin's arrival to bless the wedding of Thor's cousin?"

Heimdall looks over at Loki from where he sits. His eyes dart to some invisible void behind Loki for a few seconds till the strain in his brows is relieved. "During the time his grace was supposed to present the infamous sword to the couple as a wedding gift?"

Loki barely stops himself from rolling his eyes but the feeling isn't lost on Heimdall. "My error," the Watcher confesses, "your sword."

"Thank you," Loki stresses with just a hint of sarcasm.

"You swapped the sword for a stuffed adder, clearly giving the bride and groom something to reminisce about for the rest of their lives."

Loki presses his lips, trying to suppress the smile that is rising up at the crystal clear memory. "I never liked Fruth. But I never realised my plan would have exposed his ill intentions with a devastating flight response."

Heimdall chuckles lightly. "Yeah. Even though I was supposed to be standing by your father's side I was impressed by your out of the box strategies. And your will to smash his face when he spoke ill of your mother."

Loki smiles, his eyes turning to look at you, the bruise on the side of your face hurting his chest every time he sees it. "Would have been nice to know that when I needed to hear it," he mutters, bringing his eyes back to Heimdall before looking down at the ground.

Heimdall does not know how to respond to that. He wants to speak well for him but no words come out for his heart too knows where it lay all those times. All the times Loki's mischief had been a cause for trouble both inside and outside the home, Heimdall was by Thor's side, mute at the words that got harsher with time for his sibling. Even when his unusual ways had brought success in times of trouble against the crown, there had been no sentences of appreciation. Just a look of abrogation at any method Loki used.

"You made me give you my word at the end of that day."

Loki's words bring Heimdall out of the sour memories. "You made me promise to never use my strength against another person. Even though they spoke poison about the people I used to care about."

Heimdall's brows are trying to adjust to this old promise being taken out of the dusty chest of forgotten memories and placed in front of him to analyse. He can feel a foreign emotion emanating from Loki where he sits in that teal sofa, still as a rock.

"I remember vividly," Heimdall responds, waiting to see where Loki was taking him on this ride.

"I want you to take back your word, Heimdall."

There is a tilt in the gravity present in the room once the words have been spoken. Fenrir shifts where he sits, turning to look around at Loki. Heimdall too is watching him intently. Both of them can feel something really dark exuding from inside the man, burning and crackling inside those green eyes laden with a sinful weight. Something ominous brews inside him, fuelling a boundless rage, so intense that Fenrir feels a need to shuffle where he sits, not looking at his father in the eye. Heimdall too feels the need to question this darkness but is made to stop short when those green eyes land their dark gaze upon him.

"I need you to take them back."

A farm rests on the outskirts of the city with a mansion mostly made of glass sitting in the middle of the land that has recently been made barren after the clearing of harvest from the fields all around. The path leading from the road to the gigantic house is lined up with black SUVs in a perfect caterpillar-like way to have them in and out in one smooth trail. Armed men dressed in black camo stand guard at the entrance of the gate, down the path to the door and inside the hall. The hall that welcomes its visitors has a skylight to let uninterrupted October sun warm up the white walls and white furniture all around. By the end of the hall where a spotless glass wall stands between the house and the little rocky hill it stands upon, Billy stands to look at the horizon of the city that is fogged up by its own relentless will to make money at the cost of everything else. He feels proud at the fact that the all-white suit he wears reflects more sun than that tallest building- which belongs to Sun Corp- he can see.

"So much for an empire to watch it crumble within seconds."

The smile on his lips just doesn't feel like fading away any time soon.

"You lookin' at this?" He gestures the guard standing closest to him, "those tallest buildings over there? They belong to the business that runs this country. Soon I will be running that place. And then this country."

He cannot help but chuckle at the thought of it.

Sun Corp. Anvil Corp.

If only that son of a bitch who mocked me could see me now, he thinks to himself. Loki never had a chance. The ones with humans as their weakness never do.

A shuffle at the main door perks his ears, denting his jovial mood a bit. There seems to be some petty commotion outside that has had the audacity to reach him all the way.

"What is going on?" He asks the guard standing next to him.

"I don't know, sir."

Billy looks at him with the will to smack his face into this very glass in front of him.

"Then go out there and look you cunt!"

The guard scuttles away scared, leaving Billy to contemplate how many more idiots like him did he have in his company.

A few seconds pass by whilst Billy revels in the concrete beauty in front of him before he feels a sudden change in the air, raising the hairs on his back with a subtle chill.

He turns around to watch Loki standing ten feet apart near a sofa, watching Billy with an unreadable gaze.

Billy cannot bring to admit to himself that he feels tiny specks of jolts go down his spine on watching Loki standing here after all of this. But then again, for what he's done to the man, it is all the more reason for him to be here looking for answers perhaps.

"Loki," Billy announces, his hands in his pant pockets still, his figure stoic as ever, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

The smirk growing on Loki's face sends such dangerously mixed signals. What is going on in this man's mind? Billy is internally frustrated within seconds of not being able to read him.

"It should be me asking you that, Mr Russo," Loki answers, running the hand that doesn't rest in his pocket over the expensive white fabric of that sofa that reflects the sun from a particular angle. "To what do I owe the pleasure of having you in my city?"

"Your city!" Billy cocks a brow at him before taking a step down the one stair and coming to the nearest sofa. "How awfully cheeky of you! I'm here on business."

"Oh," Loki's raised brows show genuine surprise before coming and sitting down on the sofa he has been observing, "I thought that was concluded last night."

Billy licks his lips at the surprising turn of events, a broad smile erupting at the thought of never having anyone be this blatantly forward with him. "Oh no, that was just the...uh...what do you call it...the linchpin needed to start with the overtake. Wasn't easy, I must admit."

Loki lets the luxurious armrest and back give him some relief, much against Billy's wishes. "What wasn't easy? Finding out that not everyone is moved by your charms?"

"Wasn't easy to hold down Kira. She is one hell of a biter."

Billy cannot help himself. He wants to see where this goes. He is loving every single moment of this. "Gave me quite the bruises, that little whore."

Loki sits there, not giving away anything to Billy, which entices the latter to reach further. "You should've seen how quickly she got wet on my fingers, Loki. Before either of us could tell, she was crying ou-"

"Five minutes."

Billy tilts his head and narrows his eyes. "Sorry?"

"Five minutes," Loki repeats, "I'll give you five and no more to leave the city, get on your jet and outside this continent. That is what I am offering you to walk away from all of this right now. One time offer. You won't be getting it again."

Laughter breaks out of Billy to echo through the naked walls around him. "Right. And what happens if I don't? Do I get dragged to hell? Does someone shoot me from outside the window? Or do you take me by my collar and try to threaten the shit outta me?"

Not a single nerve in Loki budges- not even when he looks down at his wristwatch- and the laughter dies down just as it came.

Billy feels an itch on his neck. "Will you kill me, Loki?"

Loki's smaragdines rise to face his dark ones. "I will hurt you enough that you'd wish you were dead, William. I promise you that."

The softness in his voice carries a soothing touch that hides the threat as an aftertaste, leaving undesirable convulsions in Billy's stomach, forcing him to stand and tower over Loki.

"What makes you think you can touch me and walk away, Odinson? I run a fucking army for business."

"And where is that army now?"

Billy feels the confusion hit his head for a split second before he notices not a single soul around them. The silence both inside and around the house is deafening, to say the least.

"You may run an army, Billy," Loki mentions as soothingly as the threat he just gave, getting up and removing his suit jacket, "but you clearly do not know what the army longs for the most apart from a little bit of money."

Billy is still trying to figure out where everyone went.

"Home and dignity," Loki continues, smoothing out the creases on his jacket before planting it on the headrest of the sofa. "Speaking of which, I have to say your mother is a darling."

Something inside Billy cracks and he whips his head towards Loki, the rage that was initially hidden now a full-blown volcano in his eyes.

"I'd suggest you stop right there-"

"Oh shush, little William," Loki cuts him short, removing his watch and throwing it on the sofa, "your five minutes are over."

The tie is loosened next and thrown next to the watch.

"It's time for you to pay for making the mistake of thinking you'd get away with this. Even your mother is looking forward to this, I can assure you."

Billy hisses, his eyes throwing daggers at Loki before his fingers are curling into a fist to find that jaw and smash it into pieces. "You son of a-"

The fist stops midway right where Loki's hand wants it to, bringing a halt to that blind rage for enough moment to make Billy realise the strength he never thought Loki could possibly have.

"You had your chance," Loki whispers close to his face, "you missed it."

Heimdall knows Loki has had something to do with the silence in this location but he still cannot make out the how what and when of the situation; something that keeps bugging him even when his car stops in the driveway right at the footsteps of the doorway into the house.

Take care of him.

That's the last thing he has said and then let silence reign over him all the way to The Hidden Gram. His arms hurt but the turn is made without so much as a squeak as the car comes to a halt at the door in the driveway. This time, instead of Fenrir, Loki sees Robert with an arm in a sling and a worried smile standing by the doorway.

The crunch under his shoes brings Heimdall's attention to the fact that he has actually walked in through a broken window that has been shattered to such an extent that the glass pieces have gone all the way to the back. Every step he takes away from the entrance towards the house, some invisible and some glittering pieces crunch under his shoes making him curse out loud till he starts seeing them creating a trail on the white floor with smears of red.

Loki turns off the engine and gets out of a vehicle with a limp. Robert cannot help but raise his brows in light surprise at the blood and bruises that mark Loki's clothes and any exposed body part, while Loki cannot help but be amused to watch that man in a white shirt and khaki trousers, nothing like the man he is used to seeing.

"You were supposed to be in the hospital," Loki states with a hint of betrayal and disgust, trying to keep the pain as much hidden as possible.

"You were supposed to wait for me," Robert spews back.

"Wait for you to attack that scum with your sling?"

"Shut up. You look like a battered mess."

"I'm better than your puny ass," Loki nearly spits the words before rolling his eyes and deciding to walk inside only to smile when Robert cannot see him.

Robert does the same.

The blood trail goes all the way to the other hall next to this one, with it a scene of pure chaos on the way- sofas turned upside down, wall hanging lying broken on the floor, vases smashed, their remnants being puddles with flowers and scattered pieces, lamps thrown across the room, wooden and paper partitions smashed to the point of no return. The trail goes till the three steps at the end of this hall where Heimdall can a figure writhing in pain trying to crawl up the steps.

The pain in his leg comes back every time he puts pressure on it. But Loki ignores it, having more important things on his mind than one fractured bone. In the back of his mind, he knows there is more than one, but that can be dealt with later.

Ygritte watches Loki limp his way to his room, letting a little gasp escape her lips on seeing the drops of blood he leaves behind, running away to get medical supplies and call the doctor, all before she gets her mop out to bring the floors back to their original beauty.

Heimdall is careful when he starts walking towards the figure, who can clearly hear the footsteps behind him to stop the agonising efforts of crawling up the steps and turn around to face the Watcher.

It should not be a shock to Heimdall to see this sight after all that went down but he admits he never thought Frigga's raven-haired boy had it in him to sabotage the face of his enemy beyond recognition. He cannot even recognise the man lying in front of him, blood being the only distinct feature over that face. Heimdall nearly starts feeling guilty for having thought Loki might not make it out alive.

"Just kill me already."

A tired sigh leaves Heimdall and he comes down to sit beside Billy's figure, still seemingly towering over him. "I'm not here to kill you, Billy Russo. I'm here to take care of you."

The blood is washed thoroughly by the hot water and the strain in aching muscles is relieved. Loki is careful with the cut on his lips but that doesn't stop him from desensitising all the wounds before drying himself and taking out a white cotton shirt and white trousers lying in the back of his closet. After much hisses and groans, while putting the clothes on, he is satisfied with the outcome in the mirror in front of him. With a lungful of breath, he walks out.

"You have no idea what's coming for him. For all of you."

"For someone broken and near death you sure talk a lot."

"I'm gonna kill him for this."

Heimdall cannot help but rub his palms on his face.

"You have no idea, do you?"

Billy is far from being sane in this hell that Loki has left him in to know what Heimdall is referring to.

"The man who did this to you was not known for his physical prowess, Russo. He was more of a black sheep of the family. I don't know what happened in all those years he had disappeared but something clearly changed in him. I'm guessing you had the same thought too when you went after the one thing he had started to care about after a really long time. The only thing you didn't expect was him tearing you down while destroying your own empire at the same time."

Billy's eyes go wide, not knowing what to think through the humming ache. Heimdall bends down a little towards him, making him jolt a little.

"Anvil Corp is in pieces, William Russo. Your assets have been liquidated and your name no longer carries the dignity it once did. All because you wanted power. All of this...because you chose the worst path you could. You just opened a can of worms that none of us was ready for, Billy. And now the world knows that Loki is not someone to be messed with."

Billy can feel the rage poisoning his blood, increasing the pain tenfold.

Heimdall gets up and smoothens his jacket, looking down at the excuse of a man with no ounce of sympathy.

"And neither is Kira."

One hand resting on the door frame of the room, Loki has to take deep breaths before he can prepare himself to enter your room again. And still, the sight of you creates ripples in his chest that send the ache thumping wherever he feels hurt.

Fenrir watches Loki stand by the door, taking your visage in. That wolf has not budged from where Loki left him, neither has he touched any morsel left in his bowl.

The side of your bed on which you lay now has a recliner placed next to it, making Loki switch his gaze from the recliner to you and then back before limping his way to it, settling down in it while stifling his groans and crack of bones.

Once settled, he takes an easy breath and closes his eyes, letting his ears find the rhythm of your breaths under that respiratory mask. It takes him a while but he finds the cadence and soon enough is syncing himself to you.

A few moments more pass and Fenrir can see both you and Loki in a slumber-like trance. The wolf, which had been using your bed as his chin rest, suddenly raises his head when he sees Loki's hand move. The pale fingers- bruised red and green- travel over the bedsheet to find your hand, grazing those long fingers against yours before finding the strength in themselves to go around the wrist and find your palm to be embraced by his.

Fenrir smells the change in Loki's scent the moment he does this, like a dark stench giving way to something light and sweet.

He lays there for a few moments like this. His heart at peace. His mind at peace. He knows you are there next to him. He can feel you in his hand. That's it. That's all he wants right now. You. safe. That's all he wishes.

And he doesn't realise the gravity of the universe that is you when he feels your fingers curling back into his and pulling him closer to you till his eyes are getting blurry and washing away the fear of losing you.

...

End of Volume One

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