#(partly some vague but panicked ''what if'' related to sharing too much)

[courtingstars]

Notes for Storming the Castle, Chapter 9

Hello again, dear AkaFuri readers! It feels SO nice that it hasn’t been too long since I last updated. I replied to all the Ch. 8 comments on Ao3 (YAY), but I did want to mention that I’m still planning to reply to several people who left me really nice notes here on Tumblr as well. Hopefully that’ll happen later today or this weekend, so thanks for your patience! (Also I apologize for the awkwardness of replying two weeks later... Family holiday stuff last week turned out to be, uh, a lot? //laughs) On to the notes!

Most of my notes this time are brief, since I didn’t have too much in the way of cultural info or setting inspiration that I haven’t mentioned already. But in the interest of sharing, here are some things I remembered…

(Cut for my usual rambling about Akashi’s house and previous fics and mental health and also THE SPOOKY STUFF/why KnB is a supernatural story anyway...)

The “Italian velvet” reference in the pillow fight

This is a really silly note that I’m including just to demonstrate how out-of-control my Google research gets… Here are some throw pillows made from Italian silk velvet, which was the fanciest imported fabric I could come up with for the pillow fight scene. (Because of course I managed to squeeze a pillow fight scene into my super-dramatic sleepover fic, haha. XD) And in case for some reason you want to know a little bit about the super-posh history of this fabric, I’ve got you covered.

(… Seriously, why do I look up things like that?)

The Akashi Family Portrait

The huge portrait of Akashi and his parents is something that I’ve been preparing to include in the story for a while… It was inspired by those gigantic paintings you often see in super-fancy European estates, that idealize powerful members of the aristocracy. (Or royalty, in some cases!) Since the Akashi house is a Western-style mansion, the idea seemed pretty fitting, as over-the-top and surreal as it is? //laughs Over on my Pinterest inspiration board for this fic, I included a bunch of different ideas for the gown that Shiori is wearing in the portrait. I especially like the color of this one and the overall silhouette of this one but this is spectacular as well. (Her gown probably wouldn’t be as low cut as those examples, for multiple cultural reasons, but you still get the general idea?) There’s actually a lot of Shiori-related inspiration in that part of the board, including a couple KnB images!

The Traditional Tatami Room

So this one is interesting… Back in Chapter Five, you might remember that Furihata’s house—like many Japanese homes—has a traditional Japanese-style room with tatami mats on the floor. Since Akashi’s house in the anime is based on an actual Western-style mansion near Tokyo, my initial assumption was that his house wouldn’t have any traditional rooms. BUT, it turns out the actual house does have at least one room with tatami mats, as you can see in the third photo from the bottom here. (You can also see a photo of it in the first link!) So I decided to include it in Furihata’s midnight exploration of the rooms, where he discovers the Akashi family butsudan.

I’ve mentioned butsudan in the notes in Part One, but as a quick reminder, a butsudan is a family shrine that is partly used to honor relatives who are deceased.

References to Fast Train

Since it’s been a looooong time since I posted the first story of this series, I did want to mention that a few of the things that Furihata thinks about during Part Two are referring to events that happened in The Fast Train to Kyoto. Furihata’s first dream about meeting Shiori is one example. Another one, in this chapter, is when Furihata sees Akashi’s father in person for the first time, and remembers that Akashi once told him that he “was instructed to keep people at a distance.” That’s from their phone mail conversation in Chapter Seven of Fast Train.

I try to make sure that any fic in a series can be read by itself, so I usually stop to explain these references in some way, for those who didn’t read the earlier story. But that one was vague enough that I figured it deserved a nod!

Photo References for the Bedroom

I linked some of these before, but since the final scene featured Akashi’s bedroom so much, I thought I would link a few of my photo inspirations for his bed here, here and here. Also, I forgot that he wasn’t wearing the robe in the previous chapter, so here’s a few photos I picked for possible inspiration there. (Those are both a little fancier compared to what I saw in my head, but I’m okay with that? //laughs)

Furihata’s Anxiety

I won’t go into panic attacks and anxiety here, since that information is pretty readily available online… But I did think it was worth mentioning that while Furihata has panicked in front of Akashi in my fics (and in canon!), he says that until now he’s tried to avoid having an attack that severe in front of a friend. Since this series is meant to be about two people who struggle with different mental health disorders, I think it’s noteworthy that Furihata trusts Akashi enough at this point to let his new friend be around him when he’s at his most vulnerable, and to see the full extent of what he struggles with.

(And I’ll also say that this is a theme in the series that’s going to come around again. I won’t say exactly how, because of the spoiler factor, but… I bet a lot of you can figure it out! Seriously, your insight about where the story is going constantly amazes me. <3)

All The Supernatural Stuff

To be honest, I have no idea if I should be apologizing or not, for how supernatural this chapter gets? //laughs Several people have told me that they’re still reading this series because they enjoy the idea of Furihata having supernatural powers, like the ability to see auras. So, uh… I hope you enjoyed this chapter? XD

I have to admit that from the beginning of A Spark of Light, I was planning to include various elements of the supernatural. (I was foreshadowing this in Fast Train too, so, see previous note? //laughs) That’s one of my favorite things about KnB, if I’m 100% honest… I’m obsessed with all kinds of fantasy and speculative fiction, so I love all the little hints in the KnB canon that something kind of supernatural might be going on with the Generation of Miracles. Like how Kuroko has absolutely no “presence” but the GoM have really strong ones, and how they all have that weird clairaudient vision of a door opening in that one episode, and… yeah. XD Even the more subtle stuff, like all the different patterns of matching names (no kidding, almost EVERYONE has names that match in different ways, even Seirin and the Uncrowned Kings!). Plus the way the GoM are the only ones with super colorful hair, and also Akashi’s slitted pupils? (SERIOUSLY WHAT IS WITH THE CAT PUPILS, WHY DOES NOBODY IN CANON EVER ASK ABOUT THAT.)

Come to think of it, I can go ahead and mention this now… The series title, A Spark of Light, is meant at least partly as a reference Furihata’s first name! “Kouki” includes the kanji for “light,” and one translation for its full meaning is “establishes brilliance.” (Light symbolism is super important in KnB in general, for obvious reasons. XD) So the title partly refers to how during the series, Furihata’s intuitive and supernatural powers are “sparking” to life, and this affects pretty much everything that happens. (And it’s one of the reasons why he is able to get so close to Akashi in the first place.)

Side note: This is loosely related to the reoccurring thing with Furihata (or a character that represents him!) holding a small light, like a lantern/candle. I also use a lot of fire symbolism for Akashi, because fire is pretty strongly associated with the color red in Japan. So one is the “spark” while the other is the “flame,” basically? METAPHORS. //I’msocornyohgodhelp

In any case, the supernatural parts are definitely becoming more and more important to the plot! Furihata doesn’t fully accept some of what he sees in this chapter, but I can say that he’s going to have to face some of what it means for him (and for his connection to Akashi) very soon.

(And hopefully I didn’t creep anyone out too badly with the ghost stuff… I know some of you definitely saw it coming! But with any luck, the way in which it was finally introduced had an interesting twist to it… I hope?)

As always, thanks for checking out my ramble-y notes, and thanks so much for reading the fic. <3 See you again soon for the final chapter!

[justafandomfollower]

I heard you're taking prompts for Travelers! How about some downtime for Trev and Philip (because they deserve it) and them just hanging out in HQ?

I am indeed! Thank you so much for the prompt.

This ended up being more of an introspection on what Philip thinks about Trevor but… hope you like it! (Starts of with a scene from the show and then goes from there):

Philip was sitting by his computers, staring through theglass of his new turtle’s enclosure, when Trevor entered their headquarters.

“You do some redecorating?” the other Traveler asked,approaching them and peering curiously into the tank. He knelt down oppositePhilip and stared at Poppy.

It had been a long day, but Philip didn’t mind the company.Still. “What happened to Protocol 5 indefinitely?” he asked.

“Can’t Trevor and Philip be friends?”

Philip paused at the unexpected question. “You’re at least ahundred years older than me.”

“Well I’m young at heart,” Trevor responded, still staring atthe turtle.

Philip didn’t need to think about his response to that. “Notso much,” he replied skeptically.

“Look, I need a couch to crash on,” Trevor admitted, finallylooking at him.

There it was. Not that Philip didn’t think Trevor wasfriendly, but they weren’t really anything alike.

“That I believe. Mi casa es su casa.” They talked for a littlebit longer, but then Philip’s computer dinged.

So much for Protocol 5 indefinitely.

…

Still – a new mission they might have had, but they didn’thave to do anything until the next day. The team chatted a bit over the comms,went over their roles and where they needed to be at certain times, but therewas no need for everyone to come in. Once everything was planned out, Trevorstill needed a place to crash.

“You hungry?” the older man (teenager) asked him in thesilence that followed the rest of the team disconnecting from their comms. “Inever ate dinner.”

Philip hadn’t either. He nodded. “Sure, I could eat.”

Trevor nodded as well, straightening up. “I’ll go picksomething up.”

Spinning his chair around and grabbing a wad of cash from adrawer, Philip tossed it to his fellow Traveler. “No meat this time,” herequested.

As Trevor agreed, leaving headquarters, Philip wondered if heacted the same around the others, had paid them visits and tried to be‘friends’ with their covers. No, probably not. Trevor was friendly, sure, buthe was dedicated to the mission and to maintaining their covers. MacLaren had awife, Marcy lived with her social worker, and Carly had a son and anex-boyfriend who could show up at any time. No, it was only Philip who wasalone and only Philip who could be Trevor’s friend within the confines of theircovers. (And only Philip who had a couch available to crash on).

Not that Philip thought he was a last resort or only optionfor Trevor. He doubted the old man thought like that. And he genuinely didenjoy the man’s company. Trevor had an optimistic zeal for life that the entireteam appreciated. He was a calm and steady presence. Reliable. Kind. Wise. Evenforgetting his decades of knowledge, the team wouldn’t have been the samewithout him – wouldn’t have been the same without any of them.

But while Philip liked Trevor and enjoyed his presence on theteam, he was… kind of hard to relate to. What did you say to a man a hundredyears older than you? Who had lived through and seen things Philip could only haveread about in historic files?

Philip didn’t know about the others, but despite their newfaces, he never thought of his teammates as their covers, only as the peoplehe’d trained with. Trevor looked like the youngest among them – not even legalage yet by current laws – but the way he acted made it impossible to forget hisage. Always calm, mostly quiet. Speaking only when he had something to say. Itwas only the few times that he did get emotional that he forgot his cover and mentionedhis age.

(The bombs were about to release a toxic gas and there wasn’tsupposed to be anyone else here, Philip had thought in a panic, on his kneeswith his hands raised.

“Please kid, run!” he’d heard Trevor shout from thebalcony above him. “You need to run! Go, go!”

Philip had had only a moment to consider how strange thosewords must have sounded coming from 17-year-old Trevor Holden’s mouth beforethe tanks blew.)

(“I’m so sorry.”)

Philip had always thought that Carly would take over ifsomething had happened to MacLaren (though he tried to keep those thoughtsaway) and, while he still believed that to be true, their kidnapping hadchanged his perspective slightly. Trevor, and his calm acceptance of theircircumstances, had changed his perspective.

He’d never panicked, instead walking them all throughmeditation exercises to keep them calm as well. He’d been the only one to get arise out of their captors.

While Carly and MacLaren had gotten them out of it, Trevorhad gotten them through it.

What did you say to a man like that?

The nice thing about Trevor though, Philip mused as the manreturned, was that he didn’t need you to say anything.

Philip cleared a small table in front of the couch and thetwo of them sat down again, much the way they had when Philip had been injuredand Trevor had shown up only to keep him company.

That was the sort of thing Trevor did, Philip mused as heaccepted the take-out box from his fellow Traveler. He wasn’t so naïve to thinkthat Carly and MacLaren didn’t occasionally spend time together, but otherwise,Trevor was the only one who stretched outside the bounds of his cover – and mostlyonly to “hang out” with him.

“You’ll like this,” Trevor said, opening his own dish.

Philip looked at what Trevor had, then opened his owncontainer. Salad – but not just the crisp, clean leaves that could be found inthis century. The lettuce (was that spinach mixed in?) was covered with avariety of colorful foods and toppings, vegetables and fruits and what lookedlike breads even. He eagerly picked up his fork.

The variety of flavors was marvelous, the freshness of thefood evident. Philip gave himself a moment to savor the first bite, thenglanced toward Trevor, who was eating the same thing. “It’s great,” headmitted.

Trevor gave him one of his small, comfortable smiles, thenbent over to pull a drink from the bag on the floor next to him. “Lemonade thistime,” he said, “but it’s just as sweet as the soda.”

Objectively, Philip knew all that added sugar was bad forhim, knew that, if he had been in his previous body (his original one) that hewouldn’t have been able to handle it. But this body was used to the amenities ofthe twenty-first, and, quite frankly, he liked the taste. (Besides, who knew ifhe’d live (or exist) long enough to suffer any ill effects from a poor diet).

He took the offered cup with a grin.

They ate mostly in silence, partly because they were bothenjoying the food, partly because Philip really didn’t know what to say toTrevor, and partly because that was the kind of people they both were – neitherof them minded the quiet. And when they finished, Trevor held his hand out forPhilip’s empty take-out container, quickly and quietly cleaning up theirwrappers and dishes without words between them.

As Trevor dumped the remnants of their meal in the trash,Philip stood. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to,” he offered.Protocol five still existed, sure, but Trevor was right; it wasn’t like theyweren’t following orders.

Trevor offered Philip his small smile again. “Thanks,” hesaid, the single word ringing with sincerity. He headed back toward Philip andpulled out the backpack he had brought with him originally. “I brought somestuff,” he said simply, pulling out what looked like a twenty-first centurygaming console.

“Video games?” Philip asked skeptically, picking up the sleekwhite box and studying it. What the hell, they could be fun. “Not any violentones I hope.”

While he didn’t begrudge the twenty-first century for seekingout entertainment wherever they saw possible (entertainment was few and farbetween in the future), given what they did for a living, he wasn’t much in themood to watch even fictional characters suffer at the moment – and he had nodoubt that 17-year-old Trevor Holden owned his fair share of violent videogames.

Trevor pulled a game from his backpack, offering it toPhilip. Setting down the console, he took it: the front picture was a widearray of strange characters in all shapes and colors, only a few of whom lookedvaguely human.

“I found this one at the bottom of the pile,” Trevor toldhim, “it’s a racing game.”

Philip grinned. “Well what are we waiting for then? Let’s getstarted.”

It took them no time at all to set up the console and adjustto the controls and Philip mused on the absolutely normal picture they would have painted for anyone who saw them:just two young men from this century, sitting side by side on a couch andplaying video games together.

Even though not much was said, Philip enjoyed himself. Theythrew obstacles at each other and rammed the other off the road, but only untilthey realized they could play on the same team, and work against the computerplayers.

They smiled and laughed and joked and elbowed each other intheir enjoyment and Philip found himself wondering what else the twenty-firstcentury had to offer. No doubt Trevor would be the first to discover thosethings too.

(“We all knew assuming the lives of people from another centurywasn’t going to be a walk in the park,” MacLaren had said at their first meeting.

Trevor’s response had been immediate. “Yeah, actually youshould try a walk in the park sometime. It’s lovely.”)

…

(Philip woke the next morning to a fruit smoothie and a freshpile of multi-grain pancakes and no other sign that Trevor had ever been there(no doubt the man (kid) was already on his way to school). It was a thank youand silent appreciation and simple kindness all in one. He smiled, and wonderedif Trevor would need a couch to crash on again that night.)