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visionsofus · 4 years ago

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Wanda and Vision's Mixtape Masterlist (updating now)

cover by the wonderful @jjlover01

Note: my inbox is currently open for prompt/ song submissions 🥰 (1-2wk turn around)

AoU to CW

#10 Death Stranding by CHVRCHES

what will become of us if we dare to dream? Wanda and Vision spend the night at a glitzy party for a mission and get jealous when they see each other with other people. read on AO3

# 11 Happy Together by the Turtles

the only one for me is you. In which Wanda and Vision try to deliver on a promise to cook breakfast for the rest of the team but end up goofing off together instead. read on Tumblr // AO3

#12 Where the Shadow Ends by BANNERS

put your trust in the light you cannot see. Wanda falls ill at the compound and Vision panics. Surprisingly, her illness gives them an opportunity to talk about their feelings. Wanda comes to terms with putting faith in her feelings and in Vision. read on AO3

#15 Flares by The Script

did you see the sparks filled with hope? Mere days after the battle in Sokovia Wanda is still coming to terms with Pietro's absence and the new life she is faced with in upstate New York. Waking from a nightmare she leaves sleep behind and takes solace in Vision as an unexpected comfort. Read on Tumblr // AO3

#19 Feel Something by Jaymes Young

you could be the one to make me feel. Movie night at the compound isn’t going well for Vision, and that’s even before he decides to try and be a bit more human and eat food. He manages to drunkenly confess his deepest insecurities about his own existence before the night is out. Ft. angsty Vision, jealous Vision, pining Vision and basically Vision feeling a whole array of emotions he doesn’t know how to deal with. read on Tumblr // AO3

#21 Start a Riot by BANNERS

I will tear down every wall just to bring you home. Wanda has a breakdown shortly into arriving at the compound and Vision is the only one who can get through to her. read on Tumblr // AO3

#25 Remedy by Adele

I will be your remedy. Wanda comes back injured from a mission and Vision has to come to terms with her mortality, and the limits of their relationship. Tender touching and the intimacy of tending to wounds. AO3

CW to IW

#3 Rescue my Heart by Liz Longley

Rescue my heart (I'll drown without you). In which Vision arrives to help break the Cap’s team out of Raft prison post-Civil War. Wanda recalls fond memories of the compound and comes to terms with the idea of living on the run. read on Tumblr // AO3

#5 The Best by Tina Turner

a lifetime of promises, a world of dreams. In which Wanda searches Edinburgh for Vision after she arrives late at their safehouse. When she discovers his energy signature floating around the city, she decides to follow the threads to their source. Along the journey she recalls the complications of their long-distance, secretive relationship but by the end recalls exactly why they sacrifice so much to be together. read on AO3

#6 Somewhere only we know

In which nobody died in Endgame and Vision gets the opportunity to pick up where he and Wanda left off before they were interrupted in Edinburgh. read on AO3

#7 Clarity by Foxes

don't speak as I try to leave (I'll fall right back to you). A distressed Vision shows up at Wanda’s door after a particularly bad situation goes down at the compound. She comforts him as they both try to reconcile with the very different lives they are now living. read on AO3.

#8 Our Corner of the Universe by K.S. Rhoads

Our little corner of the universe. In which Wanda and Vision are coming to the end of a few weeks together in Paris pre-IW and Wanda dreams a life for them where they no longer have to run and hide. Unknowingly, she draws Vision into her dream and they both must contend with the idea that this reality isn't something that will be easy for them. read on Tumblr // AO3

#9 If You Ever Come Back by The Script

just like you were never gone. Wanda and Vision recall an argument that forced them to go their separate ways in the early days of their relationship post-CW. Upon finding out Wanda is near the Compound Vision can't help himself and seeks her out to apologise. Read on Tumblr // AO3

#13 I Know Places by Taylor Swift

just grab my hand and don't ever drop it. Wanda and Vision try to spend a peaceful evening out for dinner in Paris when they are suddenly attacked. To keep each other safe they split up, forced to make the harrowing journey to the next safe house separately. Vision is faced with Wanda's mortality. read on AO3

#14 Me and My Husband by Mitski

when he walks in, I am loved. Vision is reminded that it is Valentine's Day and decides to show up at Wanda's safehouse to surprise her. Fluff ensues and Wanda's fugitive teammates realise exactly how close the pair have become. read on AO3

#17 Can You Feel My Heart by Bring Me the Horizon

can you feel my heart. One year into being a fugitive Wanda gets cornered, Vision sees the news in real time and runs to her aid. Aka Vision going apeshit when he thinks Wanda is dead. read on Tumblr // AO3

#18 That's All by Michael Bublé

All I have are these arms to enfold you and a love time can never destroy. Wanda and Vision share a perfect morning in Paris, snuggled up together watching the rain stream past the windows. aka 1000 words of fluff. Read on Tumblr // AO3

#20 The Scientist by Coldplay

you don't know how lovely you are. Wanda surprises Vision by breaking into the compound shortly after the fight in Germany. read on Tumblr // AO3

#23 Bury This by RVRB

I should bury this. Immediately after Wanda leaves in Civil War, Vision reflects on his feelings surrounding her departure. AO3

Post-IW

#16 Through the Fire by Jake Etheridge

I was lost (now I'm found again). The Battle of Wakanda is over. Vision knows he's gone and that there is no coming back. Taking pity on Vision, the mind stone lets him see some of his most treasured memories once more, to ease his passing. read on Tumblr // AO3

Canon Divergence

#1 Last Dance by Camera Can't Lie

If this was our last chance (I'd ask you to say). In which Civil War never happened and they all lived happily ever after. Wanda and Vision dance at one of Tony’s fancy galas and are forced to address the feelings that have become apparent to themselves, and the rest of the team. Yearning included with a happy resolution after a lil bit of angsty longing. read on Tumblr // AO3

#2 Infinity by Jaymes Young

Darling my soul, it aches for yours. In which Wanda and Vision sneak out of the compound and go on a date and just revel in the act of being together in public. The rest of the team doesn't know yet so they're working had on keeping everything a secret. When they arrive back Vision is so enamoured with Wanda that he trips the Compound alarms, waking everyone up with the fear of a break in at the front of their mind only to find the pair in a compromised position. Read on AO3

#4 Light Me Up by Ingrid Michaelson

we are tonight, we are forever. Wanda and Vision spend a domestic evening together free from the rest of the team. read on Tumblr // AO3

#22 Only Us by Ben Platt

it can be us, and only us. The Sokovia Accords are renegotiated so that the team are never divided. Following the successful signing of the document a press event is held at the compound. Wanda and Vision take a moment to breath away from the crowds, both have been holding back from each other for months, worried about risking their friendship. A simple miscommunication leads to a brief moment of angst as they realise their months of pining over each other has been mutual. read on Tumblr // AO3

#24 I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys

I wanna be yours. Things get racy between Wanda and Vision in the compound kitchen. Vision tries to come to terms with the intensity of his feelings for Wanda. AO3

#Wandavision #scarletvision #wanda x vision #wanda maximoff #the vision #scarlet vision fanfiction #visionsofusfics #fic masterlist #my writing

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sneakydraws · 4 years ago

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Well, here it is - a lengthy explanation of each card in my mdzs major arcana deck and what I meant to convey/what i would have changed in retrospect/what alternatives i considered! It’s a bit messy and my typing style is lazy but hopefully it will be an interesting read to some of you :)

And so you don’t say I didn’t warn you - jiang cheng’s section (11 justice) is absurdly long lmao

0 the fool I elaborated on this in the post itself but yeah basically jin ling is kind of representative of all the damage and trauma caused by the past, and there’s a kind of danger there of him falling victim to the same vices as the older characters and repeating the same mistakes and perpetuating the cycle of war and misery (the cycle that we already see with how the jin sect became the new wen sect, and later with how jgy became the new wwx) and he has a lot of room to grow! He grows so much over the course of the novel, comes to realise the complexities of the past and gets a harsh life lesson in how nothing is as black and white as it seems. But ill save talking about his progress for the end, for now whats important is that he has room to grow and also a dog. I don’t really have a justification for the sun, i mostly just thought it looked sick? It made its way to the next card as well, where it makes a bit more sense, but then i realised it was a dumb motif to include 1 the magician I still very much like wwx for the role, and that illustration would have probably had him raising a corpse on his left and pointing threateningly to the sun on his right. I considered including the table as well, with some mdzs relevant items replacing the card suits. Anyway, like i said wwx got a few cards to himself already so i went with the alternative wq design, since i think she fits the card as well. Both she and wwx are highly skilled people, extremely driven once they set their mind to something. The card to me symbolises the creative mind as well as a general drive for action, which fits them both - wwx was famously a prolific inventor, and wq came up with a previously unheard of surgery, after all. This card strays pretty far from the rider-waite deck design, largely because i was still figuring out how i wanted to approach this series, but you can still see the influence. 2 the high priestess I was actually going to skip this card at first because I couldn’t think of a fitting character, but once i considered a qings character post death, it all fit pretty well. She was already a highly intuitive person in life, and in sharing her memories with wwx she is, in a way, relaying a kind of secret knowledge. Anyway she’s one of my fav characters so im glad i got a chance to include her. The coffins could be interpreted to be xxc and sl or xxc and xy 3 the empress Theres other mother figures in mdzs who got to be mothers for a longer time, but jyl definitely embodies the positive aspects of this card the best. She’s nurturing, kind, emotionally supportive, she already mothered wwx and jc quite a bit when she was young. Plus i liked that the rw card had both water and flowers, making an easy lotus connection. In retrospect the stars look kind of out of place and i should have replaced them with something more relevant... Also, i should have had her hold a lotus seed pod instead of a flower, haha 4 the emperor Like i said I considered jc for the role but hoching bullied me into admitting that nmj was better… they’re both more of an inverted emperor than an upright one but then again theres hardly any character in mdzs who would fit upright emperor so. Jgs was also considered but he’s even uglier than nmj so i couldn’t bear to draw him 5 the hierophant It was pointed out to me that lqr would have fit this card better and the truth if that statement haunts me to this day. Unfortunately I have no space in my brain for lqr so lxc got the role instead. My main reason was his role during the wen destruction of gusu lan, when he ran away with the contents of the library - this is why there’s bookshelves behind him. The keys, take, from the rider-waite deck, are meant to represent the gusu pendants that allow you to enter 6 the lovers Im sure many people would have chosen wangxian here but I uhh don’t really care abt wangxian personally? And also their love story is so convoluted that jyl and jzx seem idyllic by comparison lol. Also i didnt really have an idea for who to put in the angel’s place for wangxian… mme jin certainly did not get these two together in the end but undeniably she and mme yu did initially give them a chance to fall for each other so. Thats something i guess. Anyway the trees became their sects’ flowers and the mountain became the burial grounds - an omen of their tragic fate, basically 7 the chariot There might have been other characters who fit this card better but i couldn’t really think of another card for lwj and i thought it would be weird to not include him… anyway i don’t really care for current timeline lwj BUT i do like that he was clearly influenced by wwx to walk his own path in life based on his moral convictions rather than follow his sect’s rules blindly. The chariot is to me a card of self control, self determination and focused action, so it seemed fitting. The composition felt kind of empty without the actual chariot so i padded it out with the guqin, the cloud recess in the bg (it doesn’t look great but i tried to replicate the drama design….) and the bunnies which conveniently fit the colour scheme of the sphinxes in the rider-waite design 8 strength Like i said before, my interpretation of this card is more… morally ambiguous than the quote unquote official meaning, so i thought about manipulative or duplicitous characters more than kind characters whose strength is expressed through gentleness (though i did consider jyl briefly for the latter interpretation). As such, i considered both jgy and nhs, but ended up going with jgy largely because i couldn’t pass up the opportunity to put the nie sect’s beast as the lion. 9 the hermit My thoughts immediately went to bssr lol. It may be an overly literal interpretation but whatever, i like it just fine. And i like that i managed to echo the rider-waite silhouette in the mountain and the tree (and even in bssr herself) 10 wheel of fortune God i love the parallels between these 2… this card to me is about how you cant trust your current situation, good or bad, to last forever, and these 2 embody that perfectly imo. Wwx went from son of a well off servant and a powerful cultivator, to street rat orphan, to adopted son of sect leader jiang, to double orphan, to MIA, to terrifying but admired warrior, to terrifying and despised traitor, to dead, to, at the very end, suddenly respected and trusted again. The dishonesty and cheapness of whatever the public’s current opinion of him is is portrayed beautifully as far as im concerned. And jgy of course claws his way up to power only to instantaneously become public enemy number one, to the point that he’s probably blamed for stuff there’s no reason to believe he had a hand in. Wei wuxian’s silent astonishment at how quickly the cultivation world turns against jgy and towards him again is a delicious moment of thematic resonance. 11 justice I settled on this card for jc after he got booted from the emperor seat but i do think it fits, in a somewhat convoluted way. I turned both the sword and the scales into visual representations of the golden core transfer (can you tell im obsessed with it). According to biddy tarot, the justice card is partly about searching for the truth, and the scene where jc finds out about the transfer is of course a big deal. I was also very influenced by the reversed meaning again - which is about being reluctant or unwilling to face or accept the consequences of your actions. I feel on an intuitive level that this fits jc but I’m not sure how well i can explain it - it’s something about how he’s a little too comfortable scapegoating wwx for things that were also, if much less so, influenced by his actions, and also something about the way he keeps wwx at an arm’s length emotionally but still leans on him and accepts his support when he really needs it, and somewhat hypocritically expects wwx to put the needs of him and the jiang sect before the needs of others. And also something about the core exchange is the consequence and proof of wwx’s deep - terrifyingly deep, even - love and care for him, which is something jc doesn’t seem to let himself acknowledge. Maybe even something about how you could argue that the way all of the jiangs acted around wwx - jfm’s favouritism that left him with the feeling of a debt he needs to repay, mme yus insistence that he be a servant more than a brother to jc, prepared to give his life for jc, and jc’s own unwillingness - or inability, he was a child after all - to clearly acknowledge wwx as an equal to himself, enabling wwx’s self sacrificial and protective tendencies - that all of this was what caused wwx’s complete and unquestioning willingness to do whatever it took to protect jc, and therefore paved the way to the golden core transfer. And i don’t mean this to be scapegoating jc - especially considering how young he was when this all went down, it wouldn’t be fair to expect this level of emotional perceptiveness, awareness and maturity of him - but i think adult jc has to grapple with the fact that the chain of cause and effect was not as simple as wwx fucking everyone’s lives up to be a martyr, and that both jc and his parents had a role in that story as well. I don’t even necessarily think this is something that jc only realised in the current timeline - i think it’s something he felt on some level this whole time, and it probably led to a lot of feelings of guilt - but the suibian reveal definitely puts it in sharp focus, and i think he’s now better equipped to handle this introspection than he was as a recently orphaned, traumatised teenager, lol. ANYWAY the window with the fabric is both a nod to the rider-waite design and a reference to the destruction of lanling - i actually did some basic ass research for this, and it seems that in ancient china fabric would indeed be hanged in a window if the normally used paper was damaged. The design of the window, as well as the very idea to use it to imply the reconstruction of lanling, was taken from this great piece of jc angst by my pal moroll1! Oh yeah also the covered window kind of works as a denial of forgiveness for jc because it’s like a halo but covered up... Also I completely forgot to put a blindfold over his eyes which would be perfectttt because blind justice and the core exchange......... ok moving on 12 the hanged man I always have issues with this card because i cant find a satisfactory summary of what it’s really about. Best i can tell it symbolises a need to hit pause, surrender or let go of something… ive also seen it tied to sacrifice? So mo xuanyu doesn’t fit perfectly, but sacrifice is definitely there in a surface level reading kind of way, and the idea that you have to surrender or let go in order to achieve your goal does fit the whole deal of getting revenge but giving up your life in exchange and not being there to see it 13 death This is probably one of my favourite cards, definitely not because I have huge issues with change or anything…. I see this card as signalling the necessity of change or putting an end to something / leaving something in the past in order to start anew? At first i considered putting past wwx, mxy and current wwx here as a kind of transformation and one cycle flowing into the next... But firstly, I’d already used mxy in the very previous card, so putting him in again would feel like overkill, and secondly, the longer I thought about it the less convinced I was that this would even fit with the card’s meaning? Because coming back from the dead doesn’t like... trigger an internal transformation within wwx or anything? Anyway, fun fact: the design I ended up going with was actually originally intended for judgement! I thought I was being very clever with the whole “figure plays an instrument and the dead rise” parallel, but apparently I’d just completely forgotten that the judgement card had a completely different composition... Truly I was boo boo the fool... But yeah anyway at the end of the day I figured the design would kind of work for death as well, with Wen Ning and the theme of transformation, (since in his case coming back as a fierce corpse does actually mark a certain transformation in behaviour) and Wei Wuxian’s protection of the Wen people essentially signifying an attempt to break the cycle of oppression if that makes any sense? Like, wwx is trying to revolutionise the way the world works a bit, if you catch my drift 14 temperance The centrist card! Again this is probably going off track from the “official” interpretation, but to me this card has a certain “don’t commit fully; do everything in moderation; don’t take either side” flavour to it that i personally find infuriating irl and that i very much assign to lxc. It’s entirely possible that I’m misinterpreting his character because i didn’t really pay him (and the 3zun in general) much mind while reading, but hell, I’m allowed to pick favourites and choose who i want to interpret deeply vs shallowly. Again, i wish id chosen lqr for hierophant because its so annoying for a character i don’t care about to get two cards…. But oh well 15 the devil My alternative idea for this was jgy as the devil and lxc plus nmj as the figures, but since all three had been featured already (multiple times, even!) i figured I’d go with xy instead, especially since he’s among my faves lol. I think the devil signifies something along the lines of unhealthy attachment, obsession or addiction, which isn’t 100% accurate in the case of xxc and a-qing, but if i stretch it a bit to cover toxic relationships in general, and especially manipulation or negative influence, i don’t think it’s half bad. My main struggle here was to choose who amongst the xxc/sl/aq trio to choose for the human figures. 16 the tower Arguably jin zixuans death and the following massacre of nightless city were the final and most direct reason for the siege of burial mounds, and the tiger seal is good shorthand for wwx’s loss of control over his powers, which led to the deaths of jzx and jyl. When reimagining major arcana i like to feature some kind of building in this card (spoilers for a possible future project but in my rose of versailles major arcana set the tower is bastille) and even if it’s not a tower, the image of wwx looming over the gathered crowd from atop a rooftop is so good i couldn’t resist 17 the star Struggled with this one - considered both jin ling and lsz for it, as symbolising a hope for the future, but that was kind of covered by the world so it wouldn’t make sense to include here as well... As usual when I struggle with interpreting a card (as opposed to understanding it but struggling with matching a character to it, like with death or moon) I went to biddy tarot and read all the details about its meaning. What i got was that this card signifies an incoming period of introspection and inner peace following a time of turmoil, as well as a general moving on into a new, better phase of one’s life or finding new meaning and purpose. The figure also suggests someone vulnerable, but possessing a keen sense of intuition as well as a good degree of practicality and common sense. Given all those, I settled for mianmian because IM LOVE HER..... I also kind of see her as a prelude to the “just one person is enough” theme present in tgcf!! And i think her decision to abandon her sect because she saw the toxicity and corruption in it is a very inspiring action - even if it didn’t make a large visible impact, i think the appearance of her and her idyllic family at the very end of the novel - paralleling and mirroring wangxian - implies that at the end of the day, it was a meaningful one 18 the moon Another card i ALWAYS fuxking struggle with - this time less because i can’t grasp its meaning and more because I can never find a character that fits it well. I usually get fixated on the “dreams and subconscious” part, but if i lean more on the “disguise, deceit, anxiety and fear” part, i eventually figured the whole yi city arc wouldn’t be a bad fit. I say the entire arc because it really does encompass all those themes if you include both the past and the present - xue yang’s disguise, his tricks with the villagers, a-qing’s lies and even xxc’s reluctance to talk about his past as well as xue yang pretending to be xxc all fit the disguise and deceit angle, and the general mystery and creepiness of the current timeline yi city work well with the anxiety and fear - the mist, the slow uncovering of the past, even a-qing being revealed to be an ally after scaring the shit out of the protags. I definitely struggled with including all the elements and characters, and even moreso with making them vaguely fit the rider-waite composition, but i think it ended up okay ish. OH and i completely forgot to draw mist swirling around them :( 19 the sun I was considering mianmian’s family for this one, but since I used her for star, I ended up with wwx and his parents instead. Once again I’m reinterpreting the card a bit - normally I think it symbolises incoming times of pure happiness and abundance, as well as a connection with the inner child, but I gave it more of a nostalgic or sentimental twist - wwx looking back at the brief glimpse of his happy childhood. 20 judgement another card that i struggle to interpret a bit... Here i actually used the tgcf tarot zine as a reference! In it judgement is summarised as “rebirth, following duty, absolution” SO i figured that nhs, mxy and wwx all together would fit pretty neatly... wwx achieving (public) absolution through clearing his own name after being reborn, and nhs sort of calling on wwx to expose jgy’s crimes... It’s a bit messy but not bad I think! 21 the world This ties very closely to my read on mdzs as a story - which is that it’s, at the end of the day, largely about cycles, and about how hard it is to break them, but how we gotta keep trying and have hope anyway. Or maybe more precisely, that the people directly involved with and influenced by the trauma of the past might not be able to get over said trauma and that the hope for healing from it will be shouldered by the new generation. Or something like that… Basically what i mean is that jc and wwx and lwj and lxc and nhs and jgy and all these people who were in the thick of the sunshot campaign and the siege are so profoundly affected by it that it genuinely feels by the end of the story like there is little hope for them to ever truly overcome that trauma and build a better future without repeating the same old mistakes - but there is a glimmer of hope in the new generation, specifically in jl and lsz. And it’s a bit paradoxical, because they have also been directly impacted by the past tragedies - lsz having his entire clan wiped out after wwx failed to protect them, jl losing both his parents to wwx’s mistakes - but despite that loss, and despite coming from arguably the two opposing sides of the past conflicts, they are both, in the end, capable of moving past that tragedy, of recognising the complicated nature of those conflicts (jl’s moment of clarity at the end is both heartbreaking and hopeful) and forging friendships between clans in the process. I honestly think that the extra where jl is struggling to assert his authority as sect leader, to treat his subjects well and to cooperate with other sects in a truly amicable way is the single hopeful ending note for the larger themes of the novel - it allows us to imagine that maybe these kids can learn from the mistakes of their elders rather than getting sucked in by resentment at those mistakes, and actually build a brighter future for the cultivation world. And sidenote, this is also why i have a soft spot for jin ling and lan sizhui as a ship... speaking of which their poses were directly referenced from the lovers card ehehe

Looking back, I’d like to add some symbol of jin ling’s trauma so that it mirrors baby wen yuan in the tree stump... maybe his father’s sword?

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #tarot

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what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

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In a Week

Part 3/4 - Snowballs and cigarettes

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

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Summary: The snows finally stopped and its about time you got to work unburying your car. With your friends all prompting you to move on from your toxic ex you find yourself becoming more and more aware of the kind of person you’d want to be with. And how Frankie was ticking all those boxes.

Authors notes: Ugh okay I was over the max block text so the finale is split into two parts!! But you get them both tonight💕🌻💕 .

Warnings: mentions of toxic relationships, allusions to sex (nothing depicted), PTSD, smoking, drinking, swearing

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

Word count: 4.0k

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Day 4

It had only been three days but you had found yourself in a routine that you hoped you never fell out of. Each morning he’d wake up first and you’d be predictably wrapped around him for another 2 hours or so. He found it hard to believe you were able to wake up before 10am, let alone that you were up at 5am most days but he’d love to be around to see it happen. For the first time, he saw something he’d long given up on. A future with someone else ingrained into his and his daughters life. Maybe it was stupid feeling this way after a few days, but he was old enough to know when he felt a real connection, and he’d never felt as good as he did when he was with you. He would make his feelings known to you, one way or another, he’d regret it forever if he let you slip through his fingers. He just had to find the right time to do it. It had been a long time since you’d woken up with someone in the same bed as you and even longer since the person was someone who made you feel safe and secure. There was something calming about knowing that even if you pushed your freezing cold feet between his calves in the middle of the night he wouldn’t get angry, or push you off he’d just grumble and pull you closer.

It sounded pathetic but it was the nicest a guy had been to you in years. You knew how stupid it was to catch feelings this fast, and it definitely wasn’t like you to feel such strong emotions. Since the funeral you had actively decided to forego them although. This benefited your work, helped you in your field, made you a better doctor, but keeping all your emotions bottled up took its toll. Primarily on your love life. You’d had your fair share of flings with other residents, nurses, friends of friends, but between classes and shift work there wasn’t time. Plus what was the point when you had no idea where you’d be moved to. At least that’s what you told yourself. Then Jonathan came along and you’d let him in, let him know you and you fell for him in the process. Then he’d started dating someone else, told you he didn't realize you were exclusive, and it shattered you completely. You’d pieced yourself back together and once you were better, once you were finally over him, he’d cycle back round to you, determined to keep you on retainer. The whole ordeal had left you tired. You’d never had a real relationship and you were already done with them. You never understood how people would want to live with someone for the rest of their lives until now. Catching feelings had always happened in periphery to your life making it easy to push by a crush by simply avoiding them, but you couldn’t avoid Frankie. Each day you spent trapped inside with him he’d continued to grow on you, cementing your feelings for him tenfold. You yawn and stretch your leg out over Frankies torso propping yourself up onto your elbow so you can reach over him and grab the glass of water on the nightstand. He exhales as if your movement across him is an inconvenience to his meticulous strategy for winning whatever game he was playing on his phone. You take a sip and put the cup back down, rolling off the bed and opening the curtains.

“Hey!” you shout, causing Frankies head to shoot over to you, “It stopped snowing!” you exclaim, gazing out over the parking lot where the snow had fallen. The powder undulating overtop the cars buried beneath it. You stretch your arms up catching an unsavoury whiff coming from your armpits causing you to pull a face. Turning around just in time to see Frankie laughing from the bathroom door.

“Seriously man? Do you have to beat me to everything!” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Gotta be faster sweetheart.” he says, closing the door behind him. From anyone else the term would have driven you into a rage induced frenzy, but it was endearing not condescending coming from him. You take the time to call Stella, you’d been texting with her since you got stuck but you felt it was time to officially announce your arrival as permanently cancelled.

“Hey girl”

“Hey babe what's going on? You calling with good or bad news?” she asks, a constant bustle evident in the background.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, but only bad news on my end. I am so fucking sorry, I should have just flown down like you said” you offer, leaning back against the window allowing the chill of the outside to cool you off.

“Well this is why you should always listen to me, but i’ll forgive you just this once.” she laughs.

“God I can’t believe the one wedding I actually care about I’m going to miss!” you exasperated, shifting away from the window and flopping down onto the bed.

“Well I definitely won’t miss you, especially considering you’ve already sent a gift.” she teases.

“How, very dare you” you punctuate.

“Yup long con paid off, 10 years I pretended to like you just to get you to buy me a toaster from ebay” Stella laughs.

“You could have just stolen mine after the first year, then you could have had me gone!” you state.

“Ugh a huge mistake!!” she overemphasizes dramatically, causing you both to burst out laughing.

“So….” you say after your giggles subside leaving a gentle ache in your ribs that always occurred when you talked to Stella.

“What?” she asks, sniffling.

“ Did John make it out there?” you ask, in a painfully transparent way.

“Why?” she spits, her tone suddenly lethal. She hated the guy, she was the one who was always left dealing with you after he’d used you up, helping to piece you back together, just in time for him to get a hold on you again.

“He asked about me?” you query, once again failing to convey your intentions.

“I’m not indulging this anymore, it's bad for you. He’s bad for you, there's only so many times I can watch him emotionally manipulate you” she rants.

“Ya, but it's easy and it's so good with him.” you emphasize.

“It’s not easy, take it from someone in an easy relationship, it's not supposed to hurt that much.” she chides, determined to have you see the light.

“But..”

“Nope, I'm drawing the line for you, find someone else. You’re a gorgeous single doctor,

“Almost doctor” you interrupt, but the statement is ignored.

“Aren’t you currently shacked up with one of my stupid brothers friends?”

“Yes? And?” you say, your heart suddenly beating faster as your head turns to see Frankies hat on the nightstand.

“Frankie right? Statue like, soft curls, kind, deep brown eyes? And don’t pretend like you didn’t notice I know you like the back of my hand!”

“So what if I have, doesn't mean..” you whisper, not wanting him to hear you.

“Nope, don’t sell yourself short, I say get cozy with him and finally move on from dickhead McGee, even if it's just for a night, cleanse the palette. Besides, you know he’ll be doing whoever looks his way at my wedding.” you hear a muffled shout “alright I have to go, something about the bridesmaids fighting.”

“Your sisters? Fighting? Who could have seen that coming” you deadpan.

“I know, god I wish you were here.”

“I wish I was as well i'll call tomorrow in case you get cold feet, I have a five point plan”

“I won't” she chimes.

“ I know because you love her”

“And I also love you” she says

“And I love you” you respond before hanging up. Not even a minute after hanging up you get a call from Santiago

“Hey, I just wanted to verbally apologize for trapping you with ‘Fish, though he's definitely one of the better ones to get stuck with.” he says.

“Well that’s good to know” you laugh, rolling your eyes.

“He hasn’t tried anything has he? If he has I'll kill him, and get away with it, you'll have to help me with the body but...” Santiago starts.

“Santi, it's fine he's cool, really sweet, actually,” you offer heat rushing to your face for some unknown reason.

“Good. He touches you ill..” he warns.

“You’ll kill him ya I got it!” you snap, you understood why Santiago felt like he had to play big brother for you but sometimes he was a touch overbearing. “Is John there?” you try and ask casually, failing to head Stellas advice.

“Don’t...” Santi starts, you can practically hear his jaw clench over the phone “you know if I see him tonight i'm gonna knock him out for how he treats you”

“It wasn’t that bad.” you whisper.

“It was, still is, I heard him bragging about how if worse comes to worse he always has his plan D,” he offers, not to hurt you but to try and free you from the cycle.

“That dick. You know what Stellas right, fuck him!” you exclaim with a newfound determination to rid him from your life.

“Oh my god, are you finally seeing the light?” Santi asks “Praise the lord!” He shouts up into the sky.

“Ya I guess so” you say staring at Frankie as he dries his hair with the towel. “I gotta go, see you soon.”

“Not soon enough” he laughs as you hang up.

“Whose that?” Frankie asks, still curious about who you’d been hoping to see at the wedding and what they’d done to earn your affection.

“Pope!” you say with a smile, pushing your back off the bed and sitting up.

“Threatening to kill me?” Frankie predicts.

“Ya we have a plan” you murmur.

“We?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye and his mouth upturned at the sides.

“Well he'll kill you but, I cant have him go to jail so i'll have to hide your body.” you explain

“Good glad that got sorted” he says, his smile now in full effect.

“I'll go grab some breakfast” you say.

“No ill get it, you’re always getting it, plus gives you time to shower, I can smell you from here.” He prods, grabbing the key.

“Rude!” you yell out after him.

He's back when you exit the shower

“Oh thank you, you say grabbing the plate form him”

“Just what the doctor ordered, hey?” he asks, smiling stupidly big.

“Ouuuf that that was bad truly apologize to me” He laughs at how serious your face gets “You're laughing? I had to listen to that joke and you're laughing?” you say through a mouthful of eggs. “Here's something that'll wipe that stupid smile off your face, snow stops which means we have to clear off my car.”

“Using the royal we are we?” he asks

“Think of it as repayment for the pun,” you say waving your fork in his face

“How will we be clearing it off?” he asks, leaning over the counter.

“Brush” you say, as if it's obvious

“Where's the brush?” he asks, resting his chin on the back of his hands and smiling sweetly at you, waiting for an answer.

“In the….oh” you say, face dropping when you realize that the brush was in the car currently buried under a snow pile.

“Not so smart now” he laughs pushing back off the counter taking your empty plate with him, washing it up for you.

“Well I guess we just have to get to the door with our hands then” you say smiling.

“Once again, about this we,” he says, drying his hands on the dish towel, turning to see a dramatic pout plastered across your face.

“Fine, I'll only help because I think you may disappear in the snow if you go in alone” he responds, the truth was, he couldn't deny you.

You both get dressed into the most winter proof clothes you had, neither of you having packed for a snowy expedition. As you exit the room you see him grab a pack of cigarettes he’d been hiding, not wanting you to see his worst traits.

“Those will kill you, you know,” you say, causing him to roll his eyes dramatically.

“Okay mom” he laughs grabbing the lighter despite your disapproving glare,

“You have a daughter to think about” you say, feeling like you'd be letting your profession down by giving up so easily.

“It's why I smoke, the safest way to calm the nerves while staying clean” he murmurs with a look on his face that is enough to get you to drop it for now. You weren't about to pry into his struggle with addiction and you certainly weren’t one to judge, you’d faced similar issues after your brothers passing.

“I used to smoke,” you confess as the elevator doors close in front of you both.

“Seriously?” he remarks, not able to believe it.

“Pack a week for about a year” you say, slowly nodding your head as the two of you walk through the foyer towards the parking lot.

“You quit?” He asks, impressed.

“Ya I don’t think it was long enough to form a habit. When did you start?” you offer as you move your legs through the snow, it was dense your legs would be sore tomorrow.

“What? Are you gonna assess the state of my lungs?” Frankie laughs, moving easily through the snow you were struggling so hard against.

“Yes, but i'll only tell you the results if you want to know”

“Few years back, after...” he stops himself before confessing the worst thing that ever happened in his life.

“The mission” you finish for him, remembering how Pope had picked up similar habits once he finally returned home. “You were there with Santi?” you question

“He told you about it?” he asks, sterner than you’d seen him before, he was afraid that you knew what a monster he was. You shake your head, no and he thanks the gods. “You think i'm going to?” He queries lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag, making sure not to blow it out anywhere near you.

“I don’t know, maybe. It’s the one thing he wont tell me about, figured it would be easier for you if you were talking to a stranger about it.”

“Not much of a stranger now” he laughs, but there was something behind his eyes, a similar sadness that you saw with Santi when he talked about it. Your thoughts are interrupted when something cold hits you in the face, your mouth drops open, your forehead scrunches in disbelief.

“Shit, I wasn’t aiming for your face I swear!” he looks up panicked

“I guess it's what I get for asking so many questions” you say, hand still over your face playing into it as you formulate your attack.

“No, oh my god! No! It wasn't because of that, let me see” he says, you let your hands drop and you smile wickedly up at him. Before he has time to react, you rub a handful of snow into his face.

“Oh... you're gonna pay for that.” he draws out, wiping the snow from his face.

After 15 minutes of all out war, and a brief truce that was to be officially signed once back inside you managed to get to the door handle and lean into the back seat grabbing out the brush. You offer it to Frankie, but he's already started clearing off the rest of the car with his arms.

“Hey can you grab my spare charger out of the compartment there?” you say cleaning off the trunk, the front doors now accessible.

“Ya, holy shit is this a knife?” he asks, pulling out a knife.

“Maybe.” You say staring into his eyes as his mouth hangs open in amusement. “For safety, I didn't know who I'd be driving up with! You coulda been a murderer” you explain palms up.

“And you were planning on what? shanking me?” he laughs a huge smile on his face, weirdly endeared by your thought process.

“Only if I had to.” You say chuckling between shivers, the cold now seeping through your makeshift snowsuit hitting against the sweat you’d worked up.

“You want it?” He offers.

“No i'm good, thanks”

“Because you don’t think I'm a murderer or because you have another one hidden in the room already?” he laughs, but he stops when you tilt your head slightly and raise your eyebrows, averting your eyes.

“Wait, do I need this knife?” he calls as you trudge back through the snow.

You both change into less sweaty attire and you settle into the couch turning on to watch the latest forensic files rerun. You shiver as you sit down having caught a chill. Noticing you shaking, Frankie goes to the wardrobe and grabs down a spare blanket throwing one at you so it lands directly over your head. He laughs when he sees you slowly turn towards him beneath the blanket, like someone in a makeshift ghost costume.

“Excuse me!” you laugh

“Hey you should be thanking me, can't have you freezing to death.” he says, “Are you asleep under there?” he asks, when you don't respond

“I'm not a cat! I don't fall asleep when someone throws a blanket over me!” He's not paying attention to what he's doing and the bottle in his hand shatters against the counter, a shard slicing his hand open.

“Fucking shit.” you him sigh.

“Are you okay?” You ask maneuvering out from under your blankets to see Frankie in the kitchen, glass on the floor and blood coming down his arm.

“Wow you're out of my sight for 2 seconds and you maim yourself” you say laughing, stopping when you see the panicked look in his eye, the event evidently triggering something deep in his psyche. You quickly stand up and he goes to move towards you.

“No don't move Frankie, stay where you are.” you reassure softly, watching as his eyes lay into your own, his breathing calmer now “You're in socks, can't have you cutting your dancing feet” you say.

“You’ve heard of my dancing feet,” he says, grounding himself again.

“Only bad things” you say, throwing him a pair of shoes that he carefully puts on before moving toward the closet where the broom is “No come here, let me see your hand. The mess can wait, you're more important,” you stress leading him over to the couch and sitting him down.

“Wow, first time I'll be able to afford professional health care “ he jokes as you take his hands in your own.

“Ow” he says when you press down onto the hand to assess the damage.

“It's fine, not deep enough for stitches, should heal up on its own. I still want to clean it though, to stop any infection.” You return with a small bottle of over priced vodka opening it and dabbing some onto a cotton pad. He doesn't flinch when the alcohol cleans the wound and he watches as you bandage his hand up.

“You carry a med pack with you on every trip?” he queries, but you don’t hear him you’re too focused on wrapping his hand.

“There! good as new,” you say standing up and cleaning up the glass on the floor. “Hey did you bring a swimsuit?” you ask, dumping the glass into some newspaper that was left in the room.

“Why?” He asks.

“Answer the question Frankie” you say, folding the paper around the shards before placing it into the trash.

“Yes, you wanna go hang out at the pool with the fifty families stuck here?”

“Ya. You don't? Seriously this room is wildly expensive and has a huge jacuzzi tub, I'm getting in your welcome to join, but bathing suits are mandatory.” you offer.

“I was gonna get in fully clothed,” he offers, not missing a beat.

“Perfect even better”

As per usual he beats you to the punch and settles into the tub that was more akin to a hot tub than a bath, he wanted to get in first partially to annoy you and partially so his body wouldn’t be on full display, he wasn't as jacked as he once was and he’d become insecure about certain areas that he’d let go once his kid came along. He watches as you walk in and his eyes can't help but follow your figure around the room, a beautiful person behind a beautiful personality, he thanks the universe for placing him into your orbit.

“That why they call you catfish?” you ask drawing him from his daydream back into an equally pleasing reality.

“What?” he responds, blushing at having been called out on his gawking.

“Cause your mouth hangs open like a fish out of water when you're zoned out” you smirk, lowering yourself down into the tub.

“Rude” he says splashing after you settle in.

“Alright, Frankie, what is it?” you ask, causing his face to look up to you “what's your deal, apart from smoking? You gotta have flaws”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” he charms

“Sinister” you laugh, but he doesn't, you reach your foot up tapping his cheek with it,

“Disgusting,” he chuckles, grabbing it and rubbing the arch before pushing it back into the water.

“God, I miss the ocean” you confess, “ I hate the city sometimes.”

“You’re not planning on staying in Chicago after you're done?”

“Nope, gonna get myself out to the coast, or at least somewhere without winters.” you say stretching your arms out across the tub. “How about you, are you planning on staying?”

“ Probably, no reason to leave, plus it's close to my mom so she can take care of Arianna when I'm at work, though I wouldn't be opposed to moving if the opportunity presented itself she's young enough that it wouldn’t be too hard.” he says, wanting you to know that if you asked, hed follow you anywhere.

“Arianna, beautiful name. Did you pick it?” you ask looking up when a few minutes of silence pass. As you do you notice that the somber look from early had returned. “You okay?” you ask.

“I don't deserve her, I don’t deserve something so good.” he states, suddenly realizing he didn’t deserve someone like you either. You wouldn’t be sitting in the tub with him if you knew what he’d done.

“Frankie that's not true” you reassure

“You don't know the shit I've done. I'm not... I'm not a good person,” he says, still not looking over to you.

“Well, I…” you begin to refute.

“Seriously, I've done bad things… awful things'' he clears his throat, afraid to look at you, afraid you’d be terrified by him.

“People make bad mistakes, but that doesn't make them irredeemable, not if they are willing to change. You understand what you did was bad, that says something.” you reassure, knowing the guilt was likely left over from the military.

“Well, wise words coming from someone who's never done anything bad”

“You don't know me that well Frankie, I’ve done my fair share of stupid things, crappy things to numb the pain. It's what we do to make up for those shitty actions that count. At every turn, you’ve shown me that you're not an evil person. Everything I’ve seen is good, and funny and incredibly kind.” you finish and you continue to nudge him with your foot until he finally cracks a smile.

“Well now you're smiling again, my missions complete and it's time for bed” you say stepping out of the tub and drying off, unaware that you’d just made Frankie fall even harder for you. His eyes helplessly following you as you leave the bathroom.

“Since I'm an outpatient, does that mean I get the good side of the bed?” he calls out after you. You roll your eyes but let him have it, you preferred the sleeping situation the way it was.

#In a week #part 3 #frankie x y/n #frankie x reader #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal characters

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

Text

Bloodstone | Part 2

Summary: You knew all about the ring your grandmother had told you about and yet when the stone fell from it one fateful day, you weren’t truly prepared for its return, nor who it came back with.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

Genre: fantasy / romance

Warnings: talk of witchcraft and magical books

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

You had returned home after a lengthy and mostly unsuccessful brainstorming session with Yoongi. You could see why he was thinking of fantasy novels because as you let yourself into your home, now cold and hungry from the long day, you felt as if you had become the main character in one.

Just what did all this mean? Where was your wise guide to teach you the ways to get through this? What journey would you even face now that the stone was gone?

A big part of you wanted to forget that it had even happened. That it was just a ring and your grandmother had spoken of something silly. You even went as far to pull the remaining silver from the finger it had lived on for years, trying not to look at the permanent indent in your skin that it had created.

You needed to forget all about today.

Except, as you trudged through your home, exchanging your clothes for your pyjamas, you found yourself stepping through the door to your study, staring at the wall lined with books. Most had been inherited from your grandmother, though the one you reached for first had been given to you by your mother shortly before she fell ill.

“You’ll get more out of this than I ever did, my love.”

It was an inconspicuous text, no title or author was scrawled on the front. You hadn’t really looked through it at the time, more focused on her ailing health. Now, you wondered if she had known this day might come.

Flicking through the first few pages, you sighed. It was in a different language, one you couldn’t understand. You placed the book down and went to make yourself something to eat, returning with your bowl of food to use the computer.

However, you stopped midway across the room, the book you had discarded now on a different page. “What’s this?” you murmured, picking it up on your way over to the desk, placing both your food and the leather-bound book down upon the surface as you took a seat before them.

There in the middle of the left page was an exact drawing of the ring you had worn for fifteen years. Blinking slowly, you took in the unique style of the ring you knew every detail of. This was no coincidence and looking around your room cautiously, you turned your attention to the right page to see what was written down about it.

You gasped when the words, before foreign and undecipherable started to make sense to you. Flipping back to the front of the book quickly, where the opening page had seemed incomprehensive, you now took in the first sentence with ease.

This book is not of the human world, you thought to yourself, a tremble running down your arm as you slipped back to the section about the ring. It was titled The Stone of Blood and you frowned. Was that the ring’s official name? Thinking back to the colour, you had just assumed it to be a ruby of some sort.

Was it actually made from some sort of… blood?

For the briefest moment, you were grateful for the stone leaving you if that was the case. A shudder rolled throughout your body at the thought of how you had protected and appreciated a ring made of blood. However, your curiosity was still present and you looked at the first statement about the ring, gasping lightly.

“The Stone of Blood is a love stone. It connects the realms of possibilities to those strong enough to possess it. The ring chooses its host and when the Triax connects, the stone falls into the possession of the divinity. The journey for the stone to return to the ring is one in which binds two unlikely entities through the truest of love.”

“Yeah sure, whatever,” you muttered through your shock, trying not to put any weight into it. You and the word love never went together. You had only suffered through mediocre attempts towards finding someone to adore. There was more than enough mortification in your past from dating tribulations that you had sworn off men altogether – apart from Yoongi, that is. But he was different. He was a part of your family, the person you had known the longest in your life outside of blood relatives.

You didn’t need a book to tell you that the stone you had worn had a habit of falling loose from the center of it to go find you a man. The idea was completely laughable and you started to do just that, laughing until your cynical mind was well and truly satisfied. If this was the journey your grandmother had hoped for, then she would be sorely disappointed. Perhaps the ring should have loosened off the Stone of Blood in her time so she could have met someone instead.

She had met someone wonderful. Your grandfather had been the most comfortable man to spend time with, spoiling you rotten as a young child with his affections and sweets. And had she not met him then you wouldn’t exist right now.

“Still, sorry grandma, this one isn’t a plight I’ll be taking on any time soon,” you spoke out loud, your eyes lingering on the book, vaguely taking in the words of sacrifice and hardship.

You needed to sleep. With your food now within your belly, you should go to bed and close out this ridiculous day from existence. In the morning, you would wake up to a brand new day, where books with strange languages didn’t make sense and didn’t need to worry about where the stone – the ruby as you had known it to be – had gone.

You were all too happy with it not returning.

When Namjoon landed with a thud, he remained still for a moment, accessing if any part of his body hurt. It was during this time that he realised the ground he had fallen to was covered in a plush rug, and he opened his eyes slowly.

He was inside a darkened space.

As his eyes adjusted to the lack of lighting, Namjoon sat up, wincing a little as he did so. It hadn’t been too hard of a fall, but his chest did hurt a great deal.

For a moment, he tried to recollect his thoughts. He remembered the day of sorting gemstones and going to leave to go have dinner with Marian. Furrowing his brows, he gasped at the arrival of the stone that had opened havoc on him and his studio.

The bloodstone.

Searching around his body for the cursed rock, he stopped when he saw his actions reflected across from him. Getting up from the floor, he moved towards the mirror hanging on the wall, his gaze widening. Hastily undoing the three buttons to his linen shirt, he pushed it aside to expose his chest.

“What the…” he breathed, finding the stone now embedded over the left side of his chest. His fingers ran over it gently, trying to find a way to pull it out of his chest. It was due to the red glow that he grew distracted of the extraction, frowning at the items on the shelf next to the mirror. He had never seen plants and paintings quite like these before.

Turning around, Namjoon shook his head in disbelief. Just what was this place? Looking for a way to light the space he was in, Namjoon fumbled around, bumping into something protruding in the wall. The room suddenly became illuminated with bright lighting, and he pressed the switch again, casting everything back into the shadows. He turned it on again and then grinned.

Back home, lighting was triggered by pulling a chain on a lamp. Wherever he was now had a superior system, he decided.

Rummaging through the strange yet wonderful items in the room, Namjoon smiled. This was a world unlike his own. The space was cluttered with possessions that he had no idea why anyone would need, however, he was eager to learn their purpose. As he soaked it all in, he noticed the kitchen was adjoined to the room. Or at least, what he assumed to be the cooking space. There was a cooking range with strange symbols on it and he decided against turning the knobs in case they ignited the flame.

Growing bold, Namjoon moved across to a door and twisted the handle. He found the bathing room in here and laughed with delight at the strange concept of no bathtub yet a raining waterfall came out from a spout on the wall.

Closing out of this room, he turned to another door, which led to storage and then the next that welcomed him into a library. This room he felt the most at home in, if he didn’t stare at the weird contraption sitting on the desk taking up most of the space. There, laid strewn beside it, was a book and he picked it up, surprised to find it written in his language. Did the owner of this home know of his world?

Flicking through the pages, he stopped when he saw something familiar, the shade of red catching his eyes. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured as he scanned the explanation of the bloodstone. He moved from the first part to the next, his father’s concern now apparent.

“When the stone lands in front of the divinity, one must endeavour not to fall for its charms. It lures the purest of hearts towards its glow, implanting itself there until that of the host can free their heart from its captive state. Love can be fleeting once this occurs and if the host chooses that of human devotion instead, the stone will poison the blood of the divinity, condemning them to a life of being incapable of loving another. Even if the entity finds someone to care for, it won’t be at the same level of compassion as before.

The Triax will be broken and the bridge between worlds forgotten of until a new host is chosen worthy of the stone.”

Glancing down at his chest, Namjoon let the book drop from his grip. It landed on the floor with a bang, and before he could reach to pick it up, he became aware of another presence in the room.

You stared at him and then at the book, shaking your head in disbelief. And then you stilled completely, gaze cast towards his glowing chest. You swallowed visibly. “Just who are you?”

“Are you the host?” he asked in return, his grip now firmly around the spine of the book he held up. “Are you the one who captured me with this bloodstone?”

_________________

Part 3

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#kwritersworldnet #kim namjoon #namjoon fiction #namjoon fanfic #namjoon au #namjoon fantasy #namjoon romance #bts #bts fiction #bts fanfic #bts fantasy #bts romance #bts au #pwyl; bloodstone #kpop fiction #kpop fanfic #kpop romance #kpop fantasy au

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misedejem · 4 years ago

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I wrote 75 headcanons about Kannao

25 for Kanji, 25 for Naoto, 25 for them as a couple

Why?

Why not.

Kanji Tatsumi

1. He does actually need glasses, but he was hesitant to ask for contacts, so he spent most of P4 struggling to see until Naoto brought up that he looked like he was having a hard time. He wore contacts for a bit, but eventually he just stuck to glasses.

2. The scar on his head was a source of speculation for the other members of the Investigation Team for years, because he never cared to explain, resulting in some very wacky theories. Eventually they found out it was just from a fight with a gang member, but considering he got it when he was twelve, the story is still pretty interesting.

3. He hates mentioning medical stuff to anybody, but he’s prone to fainting spells out of nowhere. Thankfully, it never happened in the TV, which several members of the IT very angrily said to him when he blacked out in front of them one day.

4. He’s the spitting image of his father, only with shorter hair. He could never let it grow out for that reason.

5. He’s the only one from the Investigation Team B to go to college. He studies textiles and trains to become a teacher in Tokyo. He ends up being an art teacher at a middle school.

6. He’s actually pretty good at literature and humanities subjects, though he struggles applying those skills in a school setting until a teacher who hasn’t given up on him yet helps him through them.

7. Rise forced him to take dance classes the minute he moved to the city because he was ‘super good at it dammit’. Ditto the drums. He can sing too, but she’s not allowed to know that.

8. He actually just tends to go along with Rise’s plans a lot, partially because he knows her well enough to know stopping her is futile, and also because she understands his tastes very well once she learns what they are

9. He doesn’t dislike the way he used to dress in high school, but it wasn’t quite him. It needed more cuteness, and softer colours, which is how he started to dress once he graduated high school.

10. The black hair and glasses stay forever, but when he’s sewing, he still wears his hair pushed back. Yukiko gave him a hairband for it when she noticed him growing slowly more irritated with it getting in his eyes.

11. As well as his nose and ears, he also gets an eyebrow piercing in college.

12. He manages to make a small group of friends in college, with his course being the perfect way for him to find likeminded individuals who applaud his skills rather than shunning them

13. Kanji is the best cook in the Investigation Team. His baking skills, especially, are exemplary.

14. He has an online, worldwide store where he sells his plushies and the occasional drawing and outfit. He’s semi-fluent in English by the time he graduates college, so when Naoto travels abroad sometimes he goes too and hits up the conventions.

15. Ann is his go-to model once they meet. He helps her with outfits for a college final once and they work together so well that she sticks with him.

16. The reason Koromaru dislikes him is that he can tell he’s kinda rough with physical affection. He doesn’t realise it for the longest time because nobody points it out. He is really good with animals otherwise though, and he’s also really good with kids.

17. He’s a back-up fighter for the Shadow Ops should they need him, by virtue of being married to their resident detective.

18. The main reason he keeps training his body though is actually because Chie is determined to beat him at arm wrestling one day, and he’s too proud to let anyone win without a fight.

19. When Naoto’s cat, Mochi, had kittens, he got to name the one they kept. His name is Pocky. He has a little leather jacket that Kanji painstakingly crafted one night when he couldn’t sleep.

20. He needs a lot of alcohol to get drunk (which makes nights out with the IT interesting for him, given that the others are all serious lightweights)

21. If you give him a life sim, especially that one with the cute animals, you will not see him again for days at a time. He’s not huge on video games, but life sims will take over his life

22. Even if he does retreat into a cave to build a pristine village though, he will still probably emerge with a smooth face because he doesn’t grow facial hair very easily. He can, but it takes a while.

23. He can’t sleep as easily unless he’s holding something soft.

24. The easiest time to get him to speak his mind about certain things is when he’s sick and more vulnerable, which doesn’t happen very often. For example, the IT had no idea their jokes at his expense bothered him until he confessed it while extremely out of it on cold medication one time. He doesn’t remember saying it either, but he did notice they were more sincere with him after that.

25. Everybody in the Investigation Team ends up facing their Shadow again in their adulthood, but by the time Shadow Kanji returns, Kanji has become so accepting of the self the Shadow had represented in the past that he takes on a completely different form. Naoto is the only other person with this same experience.

Naoto Shirogane:

1. By the time they stop growing, Naoto is nearly 5’1” and they absolutely make it a point to let their friends know

2. They don’t really know how to look after their hair at all, hence the cap and general messiness. They tend to forget about it until it becomes too long and gets all tangled.

3. They’re very accident prone, and are covered in a lot of scars from their childhood. The worst one though is one on their back from that time Sho stabbed them at Junes.

4. One of said scars came from their neighbours’ huge dog biting them when they were five. To this day, they’re still absolutely terrified of big dogs.

5. They’ve experienced panic attacks for most of their life, though they occur less frequently as an adult.

6. They resemble their mother more than their father, but the height comes from the Shirogane side. Grampa Shirogane was quite small as well.

7. They are the only member of the Investigation Team who can tolerate Rise’s cooking. The others suspect potential spice immunity.

8. As well as piano and ballroom dance, they were also trained in a choir as a child, but fell out of favour with it in their teens. The Velvet Siblings hold a final Theatre Showdown with their guests in 2019, and this is when Naoto fully rediscovers their musical side again.

9. If you ask Naoto how much those specially tailor-made clothes cost, they will mumble and then change the subject

10. Naoto returns to Yasogami as a full-time student in third year after Mitsuru enrols Labrys in the school out of nowhere, intent on investigating her motives.

11. They hold the school’s record for highest graded paper for decades. It was on Sherlock Holmes.

12. Naoto has written a lot of Sherlock Holmes fanfiction as a kid. The others are aware this exists, but are not allowed to read it.

13. They don’t attend college after graduation, but don’t have much time to figure out what they will do. The mental shutdown incidents begin the same year, and Naoto decided to help the Shadow Operatives with it as much as possible.

14. Naoto hates the title ‘detective prince’, and actively tries to shed it. Akechi was a godsend in that light.

15. They actually hate the media’s attention in general but figured that they may as well use the platform they have for a good cause. They want to be the kind of person they needed to see on TV as a kid, but they very vocally opposed the ‘detective prince’ crap until it ended – which it did quite abruptly when the truth about Akechi came out.

16. Much of what Goro Akechi likes, he got from Naoto’s indirect influence, from the way he dresses to knowledge of that jazz club in Kichijoji. They’re more of a regular there than he is.

17. Rise set them up on social media, but they don’t really get how to use it. Their fans discovered it though, so they still have a fair number of followers.

18. Naoto has a slight friendly rivalry with the people who run a local escape room place. Their goal as a company is to one day leave Naoto stumped.

19. Naoto doesn’t actually like coffee. Too bitter. Tea is their go-to.

20. They got a standard-size motorcycle at eighteen but doesn’t drive a car. Yakushiji and Kanji refuse to let them behind the wheel.

21. After becoming comfortable with their childish side once again, they became openly enamoured once more with Neo Featherman, and have a lot of very expensive figures on display in their house. They even cosplayed at a convention once with some of Kanji’s college friends (though it was difficult to convince them to do it)

22. Yosuke was paid back all the money the IT owed him shortly after Naoto joined the team and discovered they were mooching from him. Yosuke doesn’t know for certain where it came from.

23. They adopted a kitten they named Mochi in 2017, who they found abandoned outside a supermarket (in an old box that had contained a shipment of mochi, hence the name). She’s an orange tabby, and she became something of a comfort animal when Naoto was at their lowest.

24. Their grandfather died from an illness in early February 2017. They didn’t handle his loss well, and they ended up falling into a depression that they never really came out of, though they weren’t able to admit that they weren’t okay. It was an encounter with their Shadow that eventually led to them seeking help.

25. While they’re still a Private Detective in theory, most of the work they do following the events of P5 are Shadow-related. The Shirogane Agency became one of the Shadow Operatives’ closest allies. Makoto Niijima is currently doing an internship there (they met after the Phantom Thieves helped the SOs deal with another incident in Tokyo in 2018)

Kannao

1. Naoto ‘came down with a fever’ around the time of the Love Meets Bonds festival that had absolutely nothing to do with their friend Kanji suddenly seeming way cooler than before.

2. The ‘fever’ got worse when they started having classes together in school, and Naoto agreed to help Kanji with his college entrance exams.

3. At this point Kanji had kinda accepted his feelings existed, but were unrequited, and that he didn’t want that to interfere with their friendship. Naoto was one of the only people who really got him, and he didn’t want to lose them so soon after building a rapport with them. Little did he know.

4. Naoto was the first one to eventually confess, once Rise, Yu, Grampa, Nanako, several books and google searches, and a random stall vendor at the summer festival in their hometown had convinced them that the weird feeling in their chest wasn’t actually an illness. They did it in the summer of 2013, at said festival.

5. They were also the first one to say they were in love. The realisation hit them one day as they were watching Kanji play a cute life-simulator game in his college dorm.

6. While they’re no longer awkward around each other all the time, there are ways they can still make the other very flustered. For example, with Naoto, it’s any time Kanji is wearing a suit.

7. They got married at Christmas in 2019. Kanji had a proposal planned. Naoto misread the vibe and proposed early and spontaneously on the day he had planned to, though he still got to go ahead with his as well.

8. Kanji doesn’t really like PDA. They get a lot of people staring at them anyway because of how they look, or because Naoto is recognisable from the TV, and he doesn’t want to make the stares worse. In private though, he’s the more affectionate one.

9. Naoto accidentally fuelled the rumours that ‘Kanji Tatsumi is in a biker gang’ again when they first started dating by parking their motorcycle outside the textile shop. Ma Tatsumi was quick to tell anybody who questioned it that it belonged to her son’s significant other long before she was supposed to know they were dating

10. Kanji keeps forgetting to specify which number in his phone is for Naoto’s personal phone and which is for work, which has lead to such wonderful anecdotes as ‘I accidentally hired a private investigator to fix my broken car’

11. They’re both used to the other bolting upright in bed at 3am because they’ve had an idea for a new pair of socks for the cat, or another hypothesis for a case. Naoto also wakes up quite a bit due to nightmares.

12. They lived together with the rest of the Investigation Team since 2016, but they don’t get an apartment as just the two of them until the year they get married. It doesn’t take long before there is an entire room in that apartment filled from floor to ceiling with toys.

13. Kanji is much tidier and more organised than Naoto, even though Naoto isn’t bad, so he’s the one who figures out where things should go. Decorating the house is his favourite thing

14. They are the unparalleled board-game kings. Somehow, they’re an unstoppable force of nature when paired together for them.

15. Surprising everyone, Naoto is the more likely of the two to use pet names. They are the only person who won’t be threatened if they call him ‘Kan-chan’.

16. Before it became common knowledge amongst Naoto’s fanclub that Kanji was their boyfriend, they thought he was their bodyguard. (The Risette fandom had the same idea)

17. Kanji never helped that rumour die, considering that when the media tries to shove cameras into Naoto’s face, he yells obscenities and gets in the way until the footage is unusable.

18. They have a daughter in 2025, when Naoto is 30 and Kanji is 29. She’s named Chihiro, mostly because it’s like a phonetic portmanteau of Kanji’s father’s name (Koichi Tatsumi) and Naoto’s grandfather’s (Yasuhiro Shirogane). But also, that was the name of the actor who played Naoto’s favourite version of Feather Swan. Naoto isn’t creative enough to come up with a portmanteau.

19. They are each 80% of the other’s impulse control

20. Naoto couldn’t care less that Kanji isn’t the brightest, despite common misconception. The Shirogane family, and the people who work for it, always placed emphasis on a person’s intelligence (hence Yu’s requirement for a lot of knowledge to start the Fortune link) but Naoto is strongly opposed to that mindset. To them, it’s freeing to have somebody around who doesn’t want to be an intellectual 95% of the time.

21. They are very private when it comes to their relationship, to the point that sometimes even friends or colleagues have no idea what’s going on in their lives until it’s let slip somehow. When Junpei and Yukari – the Shadow Ops Naoto worked with the least - found out they were expecting, it first had to be explained to them that they’d been married for five years.

22. They sometimes get mistaken for father and son at restaurants until their early thirties, to which point Naoto will make a scene of ordering a lot of alcohol to prove they’re old enough. Naoto can’t really handle booze.

23. They’re really bad at making face to face announcements about anything big to their friends, so they always find some way to do it elaborately instead. They told the IT they were having a kid, for example, through a series of puzzles put together by Naoto

24. Kanji loves making couples costumes and outfits, but then gets too embarrassed to wear them

25. Naoto is a fiend for stealing Kanji’s clothes as pyjamas. They are large and warm, and when they’re travelling for work, they remind them of him. It got to the point where Kanji would pack a shirt of his secretly in Naoto’s suitcase, knowing that’s why his clothes always went missing.

#persona 4 #kanji tatsumi #naoto shirogane #kannao #headcanon

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 4 years ago

Text

Life Without Reverend Moon by Jen Kiaba – October 22, 2012

Thirty-thousand feet seems like a good altitude at which to question one's life. “I am already in motion,” I tell myself. It's a kind of progress. Shortly after my twentieth birthday I was in progress, between JFK and Heathrow, en route to Oslo.

After takeoff the girl sitting next to me smiled kindly, asking where I was headed. I told her:

“To Norway. To visit my husband.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a stack of glossy women's magazines, offering me several. They promised hot sex tips, orgasm-inducing positions, and advice on how to find a man to orgasm with. She pointed to a few with a wink. “Maybe you can find something nice in there for your husband.”

Today, almost a decade later, to use the word husband feels wrong; I avoid it. But at the time it was what he said I should call him. “I am your husband!” he would say. The word sounded foreign in my ears; "husband" was supposed to be a word attached to “honoring” and “cherishing,” and whatever else heartfelt marriage vows should entail. But I had not been given the choice to say those vows.

My parents were married, along with two thousand other couples, in Reverend Sun Myung Moon's Unification Church at Madison Square Garden on July 1, 1982. I was the first of five children, and we were all raised as members of the Unification Church's Second Generation, who were thought to be born sinless and of God's Lineage, through the Blessing marriage ceremony officiated by Rev. Moon. Theologically this meant that Rev. Moon, as the purported Messiah, had created a heavenly lineage through his personal perfection, relationship with God, and marriage with (the much-younger) Hak Ja Han, in 1960.

Growing up, I always had the expectation that Rev. Moon would choose my spouse. In the Unification Church, one didn't date. Flirtatious interactions with the opposite sex were severely frowned upon, all activities were separated by gender, and we referred to one another as brother and sister in order to emphasize platonic relations. Sex before marriage was absolutely out of the question. The Church had a word for that: falling. To fall was the greatest sin that could be committed, and it could not be undone. To fall was to enter the realm of Satan, to be cut off from God and to wound His already-suffering heart.

Perhaps childhood's greatest tragedy is what we learn to normalize. In my upbringing, to question what we were taught was to invite Satan and the evil Spirit World into your mind; to fend off evil, one must quiet the questions and dive further into the readings and teachings of Rev. Moon. Some of the most effective brainwashing was what we had been taught to perpetuate upon ourselves.

At 19 I found myself on a terrifying personal precipice. I was seriously considering leaving the Unification Church, but with no means of supporting myself and no safety net outside of the insular church community, the notion was enough to bring me to panicked tears. Yet I didn't know if I believed Rev. Moon, his world, or his supposed messianic mission. As a reflex, I was ashamed and hated myself for feeling that way.

When word of an administrative opening in the US Second Generation Department reached my family, I was intrigued. What better way was there to understand what this movement was all about than by working for one of the central organizations? So, before making a decision to abandon the culture of my childhood, I climbed into the belly of the beast looking for truth. That’s where I lost my way.

When the Christmas holidays rolled around, I took my miniscule stipend and boarded an Amtrak train home to ponder the nothingness I had found but had not yet accepted. When I arrived home, there was news: after five years of having parents match their children, Rev. Moon was stepping up again, and was going to conduct a matching ceremony for the Second Generation.

My parents sat me down in the bedroom, listing all of the reasons why I should go. Though it was left unspoken, we all knew that at almost 20 years old, my eligibility expiration date was staring me hard in the face. My mother finished with, “If Jesus came to you and said that he had found your perfect spouse, what would you say to him?” She paused for effect. “Now, how much more is Father?”

How could I say no? To refuse was to deny the remotest possibility that this man might be who he said that he was. I simply had not gotten there in my journey. Besides, I told myself, it was just a matching. My match and I would have time to get to know each other before deciding to get married.

My biggest mistake was to assume that I would be allowed to exercise free will.

My mother dropped me off at East Garden, one of the Moon family's mansion-compounds in Tarrytown, NY, and I entered into the ballroom of the estate with approximately 10 other nervous young people. For the next several hours, one of the Korean leaders proceeded to lecture us on our unworthiness. That’s when I found out that by the time we left, we were all going to be Blessed to someone.

The panic blossomed. I had to leave and began approaching anyone, even strangers, to ask to borrow their cellphones. Repeated calls home, begging my parents to come pick me up, were answered in the negative.

By the end of the day, the ballroom was packed to capacity. Young people from all over the United States, Asia, and Europe had answered Rev. Moon's call. Late in the evening, Rev. Moon came out to address us through his interpreter. Though I had never heard them from his mouth before, I desperately wanted to hear words of wisdom — or something that rang true — from the man who held my future in his hands.

One phrase stuck out to me in the monotony: “Do you want me to match you tonight?” A thunderous “Yes” answered Rev. Moon's question, and we were lined up into rows, divided down the middle, and categorized.

I should have left, I tell myself. I should have simply snuck out of the sweltering ballroom, slipped out of the mansion, and found my way through security to get outside of the compound. Even if I had had to follow the train tracks from Tarrytown back home, I should have left. But with no money, no means of communication, and no idea if I would have a home to go back to if I left, I was frozen in place. Besides, I had been trained to obey.

Suddenly Rev. Moon began pointing. A girl, then a boy would stand up, acknowledge each other, bow to Rev. Moon, and then be ushered out to be “processed” by administrators. My breathing was shallow; I tried to quiet my mind and draw upon the things I had been taught.

Absolute faith. Absolute Love. Absolute Obedience.

When Rev. Moon's finger pointed to me, time stopped. I looked deep into the eyes of the man who had bidden me to rise with his gesture and saw nothing. I was gazing into the eyes of the man who was determining my future, and I had expected to see some sort of timelessness, or to feel as though his eyes were digging into my soul. But he was looking through me, as though his finger had arbitrarily found its way to me in a game of love roulette. I felt suspended over an infinite emptiness.

Then time sped up, his finger jabbed in another direction, then another and another. Three other people stood up, and I had no idea which of the other two men I had been assigned to. One I had met at a summer camp several years ago, but he was looking at someone else. The other man gestured to me and I found myself eye-level with a shrunken and pilled sweatshirt emblazoned with the word “Norway.”

In an instant, I was no longer suspended. A kind of darkness engulfed my mind, the words “game over” ringing in my ears. Afterward, everyone was abuzz with excitement; I desperately looked around to try and find someone whose face mirrored the same panic I was trying to fight. A gesture from above caught my attention. “Norway” was trying to introduce himself to me.

Finally I looked up at the man that Rev. Moon had chosen for me. "Tall" was the only word that came to mind. Over the noise, he tried asking me questions; what they were and how I answered, I forget. Those next hours were a strange blur — alternating between sadness and terror. At one point I borrowed someone's cellphone and called home. It was 2 a.m. and my mother's sleepy voice answered. “I'm matched,” I said without emotion. “To a Norwegian. His name is Chris.” Then I hung up.

We were woken up the next morning at 5 a.m. for morning service. I had lain awake all night, clutching my stomach, trying to keep nausea at bay. Chris found me and approached me with a bagel — the first meal I remember receiving in 24 hours. The smell of food made me ill and I politely refused. Despite his best efforts to chat with me and have the “getting to know you” small-talk, I could barely muster words.

Every so often I would sneak away to borrow another cellphone, calling home in tears. But if my parents had refused to budge before, they certainly weren't going to now that they had a son-in-law waiting in the wings.

The day after Christmas, at the back of that crowded ballroom, I was wearing a wedding dress that didn't fit, standing next to a tall stranger, and repeating vows in a language I didn't understand. After the Blessing ceremony, we had official photos taken. As the photographer told us to say “cheese,” I realized that I couldn't remember how to smile.

I still have that photo. I look like a confused child playing a bizarre game of dress-up; I'm gazing into the camera with a lost expression. Chris is looking away, dressed in an equally ill-fitting tuxedo. The picture would have been funny if it weren't so sad.

That was how I found myself several months later at 30,000 feet, bound for Norway. To fight the mounting dread of the impending arrival, I immersed myself in the magazines that my neighbor had kindly lent me. It was the first time I had ever picked up any material that encouraged an expression of sexuality, and I felt a delicious bit of rebellion wash over me.

As I pored over the pages, I could feel certain gears shifting as pieces of me unlocked and unwound inside. The women in these pages catapulted me into an exhilarating daydream in which my choices were my own. That daydream left an intense hunger within me.

As a 20-year-old virgin, I wanted to know what it would be like to sleep with a man because you wanted to, or because you loved him, not because you were pressured by your parents and his parents to “start family life.” The idea of sex with Chris made my skin crawl, and I had no idea if I would face pressure from him or his parents when my plane touched down.

Rev. Moon died on September 3, 2012, at the age of 92. His daughter, In Jin Moon, stepped down from her role as leader of the American church a few days later, after having given birth to a child from a three-year affair with a married man. While the church has not been a part of my life for many years now, I've watched these recent events and their fallout with interest.

At first, this news of Rev. Moon's daughter didn't bother me. Then the leadership began trying to explain away her actions and affair, saying that she "chose love when she had a chance.” How many of us were given the allowance to "choose love when we had the chance"? That was something we were explicitly denied; instead were taught to feel ashamed for our feelings unless they were chosen for us, and then sanctioned by someone with power over us.

Sometimes I wonder where my life would be if I had sat next to someone else on the plane, who offered to let me borrow a copy of The Economist instead. The girl next to me on the plane offered a small form of salvation; in a kind gesture she offered me a glimpse into a world that I had had no idea existed. It was a world in which I did not need to be ashamed of my body and my sexuality. My desires for love were not evil. It was a world that encouraged me to discover who I was, not a world in which I had to break my inner-self down to fit a preconceived notion of goodness and of womanhood. Most important, it was a world that let me take ownership of my future, my free will, my reproduction, and my heart. It was a world that I finally knew I needed to escape to.

And I did. It didn't happen overnight. It didn't happen while I was in Norway. It took me almost two years of fighting with Chris, fighting with his parents and my own, before a church divorce was granted. The decision to "break the Blessing" was an agonizing one that took me turning myself inside-out, trying to reform into the kind of person who could love and accept Chris. But finally, I walked away — free but with a proverbial Scarlet "A" branded into my chest, as far as other church members were concerned. Today I am proud of it. It is my battle scar from a fight I am proud to have survived, because I fought my way into this new world.

Jen Kiaba is a photographer living in New York's Hudson Valley. Her work explores dreams, memory, fantasy, and the realms where all three blend. This is her first personal essay. She and her sister also have a blog about their experiences within the Unification Church.

___________________________________

The Purity Knife: Sex, Death and Human Trafficking in the Unification Church

http://summerofcheesecake.blogspot.com/

https://www.jenkiaba.com/portfolio

___________________________________

Jen Kiaba on the Ares Meyer podcast

Conceptual Self Portrait Artist Join me in conversation with Artist Jen Kiaba as we talk Poetry, Self Portraits and Child Marriage.

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/conceptual-self-portrait-artist/id1549515902?i=1000507915214

___________________________________

Why Didn’t You Just Leave?

Jen Kiaba : Hello and welcome to my least favorite question in the entire world. It’s one I’ve heard more times than I care to count, and sadly I think that’s something many cult survivors can relate to. In the past that question used to make me clam up and spiral into shame, or mumble, “It’s not that simple.” But in those days I didn’t fully understand the coercive control mechanism that were used to keep me, and so many others, trapped.

Read more:  https://jenkiaba.medium.com/lessons-on-leaving-why-didnt-you-just-leave-789953c4689a

___________________________________

We Are All Vulnerable

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‘Falling Out’ Elgen Strait podcast April 6, 2021

13. Fuel For Nightmares: Jen Kiaba – Part 1

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/13-fuel-for-nightmares-jen-kiaba-part-1/id1550448436?i=1000516011584

• Jen’s website: jenkiaba.com • Introducing a new segment “Autotune the Moon.” • “Bad Moon Rising” by John Gorenfeld – Recommended by Jen. 

__________________________________

‘Falling Out’ Elgen Strait podcast April 13, 2021

14. Scorpion House: Jen Kiaba – Part 2

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/14-scorpion-house-jen-kiaba-part-2/id1550448436?i=1000516958607

Recommended reading from Jen: "Pure: Inside the Evangelical Movement That Shamed a Generation of Young Women and How I Broke Free" by Linda Kay Klein

#Jen Kiaba #Moonies #cult #Sun Myung Moon #Unification Church

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thehangeddemon · 4 years ago

Text

Playing with Fire || Master Maxi || March, 1958

Maximus: Maximus hesitated just outside of the office. The day's mail stacked neatly on a silver tray, newly polished. He hovered only because of Xavier's stance, awaiting to be noticed.

Xavier: Xavier was rubbing his forehead and temples in rhythmic little circles, a distinct furrow to his brow that said the universe was sorely testing him this day.

It was when he leaned back in his chair to heave a great sigh that he noticed Maximus and some of that annoyance melted away. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked with an apologetic smile.

Maximus: "Long enough to know better." Only then would he enter, lowering enough for his master to inspect the tray. An invitation, news, bills. Maximus waited quietly for inspection of each letter being speaking.

"May I ask what is troubling you, m'lord?"

Xavier: He took the mail from the tray with a nod of thanks. Bills went in the To Do pile, the news in the To Read pile, and the invitation in front of him.

"I received a call from an associate of mine in Riyadh. He handles my exports from that part of the world and a few years ago I invested in his business. Ever since, he comes to me with any and all business ideas he comes up with hoping I'll invest."

Maximus: "Not very keen, m'lord?" Given the strain around his eyes, and the massage of his temples. As much as he wanted to ask about the invitation, he refrained, placing the tray under his arm.

"Will that be all?"

Xavier: "I was, once upon a time, when the ideas actually bore fruit and effort was put into ensuring so. Now the ideas become more harebrained with every passing year, but he never presents them that way." Xavier grabbed his letter opener. "He makes each one sound more grand than the last, never wants to take no for an answer. If I were alive he'd have taken years off my life by now."

He opened the invitation, scanned it briefly. "Speaking of grand."

Maximus: Maximus wondered what sort of ideas this man had, and silently tickled at the idea of Xavier's irritation with anything so far from serious. Something rather human to stir things.

"A party, this time of year?"

Xavier: "It would appear so. An exhibition of classical art to be followed by an auction. It's being hosted by Haskell, that insufferable bon vivant we met in Los Angeles. You know the one. Old, old money banker who sold me the chandelier in the drawing room some time ago."

Maximus: He remembered. The man had leather for skin, and glasses far too thick. The way he stared, as though right through and beyond. He didn't much care for him.

"Do you wish to accept?"

Xavier: Xavier sighed and considered for a moment. Did he want to endure an entire evening listening to that dandy boast and hold court?

"Not particularly." He smiled. "But I do wish to avail myself of the contents of Haskell's wine cellar."

Maximus: "You do enjoy playing with fire at every opportunity." Bold words for eyes submissive to the ground.

Xavier: He chuckled. "It's Haskell who's playing with fire by sending this invitation. He knows damn well he squeezed me for every cent he could for that chandelier. No doubt he's hoping I'll part with several hundred more of my dollars on this little auction of his."

Maximus: "May I ask what the auction is for? Does the invitation say?"

Xavier: The invitation was consulted. "He claimed the proceeds will benefit the hospital but that is a damnable lie. The hospital will see a fraction of the proceeds, if that, and the rest will go into Haskell's pocket. How do you think he's managed to afford that ridiculous mansion?"

Maximus: This made his butler frown. "I see. Then I will not waste energy encouraging your presence."

Xavier: He grinned. "Would you like to go to Los Angeles? We can steal Haskell's wine, give a bigger donation to the hospital to spite him, and go to the pictures. There's nothing quite like going to the pictures in Hollywood."

Maximus: "In all my years, I can't recall having ever been." And his first experience would be with Xavier. He very much liked the idea, but these were duty hours, so his smile was that of poise.

"You had me at donation, m'lord."

2:54 AM] Xavier: "Excellent!" Xavier took the RSVP card out of the envelope and reached for his pen to fill it out. "Please see that this gets returned and find me the name of the lowest quality vineyard in the state."

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord." The tray was lowered for the invitation's return. He didn't expect to see the fruits of this labor. Only to hear about the fruition of his schemes, and he looked forward to such tales.

"I would like to ask your opinion on something as well, if you have a moment to spare."

Xavier: "Please, by all means." Xavier was in considerably better spirits than he'd been a few minutes ago and it showed clearly in his expression in demeanor. All the annoyance had turned to warmth and welcome, and both were directed at the beautiful man before him.

Maximus: "I apologize for not inquiring sooner, but, do you have a preference towards wild game?"

Xavier: “I don’t favor any particular type but I’ve always enjoyed venison.”

Maximus: "Very good, m'lord. Will that be all?"

Xavier: "Yes, darling, thank you. Bring me the name of that vineyard as soon as possible, preferably before the party."

Maximus: The darling caught him off guard so early in the morning. He blinked, but offered nothing of his thoughts physically. A bow of obedience, and he turned from the room. Wild game, he decided, would be served for lunch. Something elegant, of course, but unusual. It was time for a split of body. Cooking, research, and to tend the garden.

Xavier: Xavier smiled at Maximus' retreating back until he was out of sight before turning his attention to the mail. What needed reading was read, what needed paying was paid, and a letter was written to a certain associate telling him in no uncertain terms that Xavier's patience for harebrained schemes had been completely exhausted.

He gathered everything up and went to put it with the rest of the mail. And maybe look for Maximus.

Maximus: One of those he sought was in the kitchen chopping carrots and celery. The usual mise en place accompanying a French inspired dish. Another duplicate with rolled sleeves visible from the kitchen window, tending the garden pulling weeds.

The real Maximus Fairchild was in his modest office. Research, as commanded, with the phone to his ear.

Xavier: Xavier smiled as he spotted each of his butler’s shadows, not surprised to see them. When Maximus had a pressing task he always preferred to attend to it personally, like the little project Xavier had given him.

The question now was, did he watch the shadow cooking or the one gardening?

A few moments to decide and he was stepping into the kitchen.

“Hello, my dear,” he greeted, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Would you mind some company?”

Maximus: The duplicate looked up from his scrutinized knife. Almost the same man. Absent voice, but not expression. Free by a margin to smile as though off duty.

Maximus #2 pointed to a large bowl by the long sink. A skinned hare, fresh from market before Xavier opened his eyes that morning.

Xavier: “Such a beautiful smile,” he said, barely resisting the urge to kiss it before walking over to the sink.

“Ah, this explains the question about wild game. It appears we’re to have a very excellent lunch indeed.”

Maximus: Still as modest as the original. This Maximus paused, basked a moment in praise before pushing it aside with scolding eyes.

Xavier: Xavier laughed softly. “I’ll behave, you have my word. I’m simply here to observe. You’re miles more alluring than anything I have on my desk.”

Maximus: Even a mimicry with base faculties was enough of a truth to bristle at such flattery. He pointed in the direction of the office.

Xavier: “Very well, I’ll leave you to your work.” Beautiful shadow of my beautiful Maximus.

He tamped down another urge, this time to brush his lips against the shadow’s cheek, and went to knock on Maximus’ door.

1:10 PM] Maximus: The office was modest, despite encouragement of his master. Decorated with a framed original photograph of the estate on the east wall, and a portrait of a mother and child found in the attic on the east. Nothing personal. Despite budding intimacy, doubt lingered whether or not a Fairchild or Berti might be neatly displayed in the upcoming months, years.

Maximus looked up from a simple brown book, telephone handset returned as he stood.

"Yes, m'lord?"

Xavier: Xavier leaned against the doorframe and smiled softly. At Maximus, at the simple decor, at the phone and the book.

What he wanted to say was, we’ve been apart for an hour and I missed you. I feel...needy for your company today and I’m not quite sure why. I want you to set work aside for the day and come sit in my lap where I can kiss and hold you. I want you to smile at me, talk to me in your soft, gentle way. I want to see the blush on your cheeks when I compliment you. I want you to ask me for the moon and I want to get it for you. I want you to feel needy for me, too.

What he said was, “How is your search coming?”

Maximus: His butler could only decipher so much, but that long stare did something to his insides. The room was suddenly too warm.

"The list is nearly complete. Two more calls to make. A budding vineyard to the south gave interest to inquiry. I thought it might be worth your investment, or ill-considered to neglect informing you."

Xavier: He nodded, and tramped down his third urge in as many minutes. “That was good thought. A budding vineyard might be exactly what I’m looking for, or a worthy investment as you said.” Another nod. “Excellent work, thank you. I’ll leave you to it.”

Maximus: Where Maximus should have bowed his head and returned to his seat, he lingered.

"Is there something else I might do for you? Or... one of them?"

Xavier: Xavier shook his head. “No, thank you, I’m...I’m fine. I might take a short drive before lunch.”

Maximus: "As you so often remind me, I am more than your servant. I am your assistant. Allow me to be concerned for a moment, and serve you as my choosing."

Xavier: Maximus was offered another smile. “I’ll allow you, and I appreciate your concern. I suppose I’m simply in a restless mood this morning.”

Maximus: "Perhaps, instead of a drive... a walk?"

Xavier: “Perhaps that’s a better idea. Would you—?”

Maximus: "I would love to accompany you."

Xavier: He offered his arm. “Around the garden?”

Maximus: "I am off duty in the meantime?"

Xavier: Xavier nodded. “Yes. For the walk, and perhaps to join me for lunch?”

Maximus: Such proposal prevented the removal of his watch. Lunch was nowhere near finished; neither were monotonous chores worthy of his duplicates. His hand came away from his wrist.

"Delighted." His first undressed smile of the day.

Xavier: That smile made him feel like a drowning man being given breath again.

He returned it in kind. “Marvelous. Come, let’s get some fresh air.”

Maximus: Papers were quickly straightened. Pen used as a bookmark for the phone book and set aside. Off duty, he told himself. His own idea, he repeated. He didn't know what to do with his hands. A coat? Loosen his tie? Nothing seemed more appropriate than consistency.

"Just the garden?"

Xavier: “The garden, the grounds. Perhaps the woods. We’ll see where our feet carry us. It’s a lovely day; we ought to enjoy as much of it as we can.”

Maximus: Seemed fanciful, but as he'd come to learn, not so unlike this young demon.

No coat, only a change of shoes before holding the door. Some standards would not shake. The garden had expanded since winter. Herbs dominated much of the landscape leading to the house. Roses and shrubs lining the walk towards the various statues. Tomatoes and other less visually stimulating like were out of sight by design.

"If I were to ask you to spill your thoughts, would you?"

Xavier: It was as proper as an English garden could be. Tea roses, winding paths, statues, vegetables, a fountain. It was what the manor deserved after so many years of neglect.

“Just now I’m thinking what a beautiful job you’ve done out here.”

Maximus: Not what he'd expected, but he would take it. "These were your choices." For the most part. The flowers, with the exception of tenderly minded magnolias.

Xavier: "And you took those selections and created a garden worthy of the estate it surrounds. You should be very proud, Maximus."

Maximus: "That's the word I'm looking for," he smiled. "I'd like to hear more of your thoughts, if you'd allow me."

Xavier: "I'm also wondering how long it will take Haskell to realize his wine collection is worthless after I replace all the wine with whatever vineyard is chosen for the deception."

Maximus: "Rather than leaving his stock barren, your sense of humor is to replace with inferior. As you do artistic masterpieces."

Xavier: Xavier grinned. "Indeed. And like with artistic masterpieces, they will receive a better home and proper appreciation. Haskell, on the other hand, will be humiliated in front of those whose coattails he seeks to ride and will have an absolute conniption thinking he essentially tossed thousands of dollars down a hole."

Maximus: Is he really deserving of such punishment, he thought. He felt it best not to ask. Despite the careful distance their relationship had crossed, Xavier was still master. Trust was a fickle creature. It was of little concern; he didn't actually care.

"You spoke to my copies again today."

Xavier: This particular punishment was merely intended to knock Howard Haskell down a few pegs and back to where he rightfully belonged. There was nothing Xavier hated so much as hubris that hadn't been earned.

He nodded, smile still in place. "I did, yes. I always speak to them when I see them."

Maximus: "I'm not sure I understand your reasoning. They offer little." They were tools, nothing more in his belief, which made Xavier's insistence fascinating and confounding.

Xavier: "They offer more than meets the eye." More than once, talking to Maximus' shadows offered the chance to see that beautiful smile without a hint of reservation.

Maximus: He saw each and every one-sided conversation. With every broken spell, each memory of his duplicates became his own. What was once used as a torment, now became a source of entertainment.

"You could always speak to me, if you need an ear."

Xavier: His smile gentled. "Thank you," he said softly. "I sincerely appreciate it. I don't often find myself having that need, but when I do...thank you, Maximus. For the offer and...for walking with me."

Maximus: "It's less out of obligation than you might think."

Xavier: "At the risk of flattering myself, I don't think it's out of obligation at all."

Maximus: "You've taken a great risk. Haskell would be impressed."

Xavier: Xavier chuckled. "Haskell's risks aren't really risks. They're calculated to appear that way."

Maximus: "Yours are true?"

Xavier: He nodded. "There was a very good chance coming with me and lending me an ear was due to a sense of obligation."

Maximus: "We still walk that fine line of mystery."

Xavier: “We do indeed. And I take great risks and hope for the best.”

Maximus: "You risk believing there is no risk," he smiled.

Xavier: “Oh believe me, I could never. It’s always very present in my mind.”

Maximus: He wanted an elaboration, but would not ask.

"Are you feeling better now?"

Xavier: “Much better, yes. You’re a very great help.”

Maximus: "You're very generous as usual, Xavier."

Xavier: Hearing his name from Maximus’ lips brought a rush of such affection it was a wonder he didn’t pull the man into his arms without a second thought.

“It’s sincere. Talking to you makes my mind feel quieter, more calm.”

Maximus: "I'm...honored." But what he wanted to ask was why, and how, as he felt he offered nothing significant.

Xavier: Xavier turned to study his companion for a moment. “May I be so bold as to say you’re also...curious?”

Maximus: "I'm curious?"

1:57 AM] Xavier: “About why you calm my mind. It feels as though you want to ask me something.”

Maximus: You cannot read my mind, he reminded himself. "I have a readable face." This much was honest.

Xavier: “You do, but it’s more than that. We have a bond. We’re...in tune with each other.”

Maximus: "You think so?"

Xavier: “I do. I can feel it when I’m near you and when we’re apart, when we’re speaking or sitting in silence.”

Maximus: "That's perhaps the bond of servitude." A jest, but his smile was meek. One might regard as shy.

Xavier: Xavier simply returned the smile and offered Maximus his hand. It was fine if he didn’t take it; but Xavier felt the need to offer it.

Maximus: The hand was given a second of regard before taking. Not because this was his master, but because he wanted to. He wondered if Xavier truly understood.

Xavier: Perhaps Xavier could never fully understand, but he understood that this was a man who was rightfully cautious, who'd been hurt in unimaginable ways, and still accepted his hand.

He brought it to his lips and placed a delicate kiss on Maximus' knuckles.

Maximus: Maximus watched against his will. This was his hand being lovingly cared for, and those were Xavier's lips. There was no greater affection, and after months of such treatment, he was sure more than anything else that Xavier knew.

"It...smells like wood polish. Forgive me."

Xavier: “The wood polish you use smells like lemons. I’ve nothing to forgive.” He offered another kiss, this time to Maximus’ palm.

Maximus: Air demanded to leave his lungs in one warm escape. The emptiness felt at the bottom of his ribs made him feel more alive. Pain often did in the most unpleasant times, but in the moment, only made him more aware of Xavier's presence.

"How far shall we walk?"

Xavier: He was starting to get a decent gauge of the reverence and meaning this sort of affection had for Maximus. All the more reason for Xavier to offer as much as possible, when possible. "Perhaps to the edge of the estate and back? I was thinking that perhaps you'd like to have lunch in the garden. It really is a lovely day, it'd be a shame not to enjoy it as much as we can."

Maximus: Xavier was a painting. Spoke like a gentleman, poised, tailored like a gentleman, but months together he began to see the forgery. What was beneath was less impressionist and more abstract. At the moment it was lovely.

"Would stewed hare be inappropriate for a garden lunch? I'll see to an alteration. Something lighter."

Xavier: "We rule all that we survey, my dear." He smiled. "We get to decide what is appropriate. And from what preparations I could see in the kitchen, I'm very much looking forward to that stewed hare."

Maximus: "It is an hour until lunch. To the edge of the property and back?"

Xavier: Xavier nodded. "To the edge and back. Tell me, do you think there's a good spot for some sort of garden folly or a gazebo?"

Maximus: "Certainly. This small clearing here," he pointed where the sun intended to set, just shy of the woods. "It's away from the house, but not far from the garden. Leaves the expanse of the lawn to admire, without having to see the driveway."

Xavier: Xavier considered for a moment and nodded. "You're right," he said with a smile. "That's the perfect place for it. Although looking at it, a folly seems like a much better use of the space than a gazebo. Something that wisteria or perhaps star jasmine can climb."

Maximus: "I think jasmine is an excellent idea. I'll begin the necessary arrangements. There, you think?" He pointed to where the garden ended shy of the woods, a corner of sorts. Even still, despite the calm, he sometimes had to correct his speech. No 'm'lord' here. He wondered if he would ever accept Xavier's supposed intention.

Xavier: “Let’s get a closer look.”

Xavier led Maximus over to the spot, walking around and picturing the potential structure and how it would look from the windows.

“Yes, this is the perfect place. Stone and wrought iron, I think, something very intricate. I trust you to find the perfect craftspeople.”

Maximus: "You're certain of iron?"

Xavier: “I rather like the idea of the sun casting filigreed shadows on the stone beneath. Do you have another material in mind?”

Maximus: "I don't want you to burn yourself. If perhaps it were painted?"

Xavier: "Ah, yes, you're right. For both our sakes, we shall have the iron painted black."

Maximus: "Are you efficient with drawing? Something I could show a contractor."

Xavier: “Efficient enough to give a contractor a decent idea of what I’m looking for. I might have to peruse my library for some inspiration.”

Maximus: "Very good." M'lord. "Something that will feel as timeless as the estate itself. Perhaps a winding stone walkway?"

Xavier: “I do like the idea of a walkway leading up to the structure. Perhaps with ornamental plants surrounding it.”

Maximus: "I'll see to it as well."

Xavier: “What would you like to plant along the path?”

Maximus: Maximus looked up, considering the shade. "I'm no expert on the subject, but, I believe leaving color to the garden here," he pointed back, "leaves less competition for the eye. Ferns, or something equally lush. The very least, creeping thyme."

Xavier: "Some ferns would look rather nice. The thyme as well. We shall see which one suits better when we choose the stone for the walkway." He thought for a moment. "If memory serves, there's an excellent stone mason in Los Angeles."

Maximus: Maximus frowned but nodded. Eyes thoughtful. "If I may be so bold, I find myself confused every instance it seems my opinions are valued."

Xavier: Xavier offered a smile. “Is it still so foreign after we’ve set this house to rights together?”

Maximus: "I've been made to do many things by various masters, but never trusted with an estate."

Xavier: “I trust you implicitly with this estate, Maximus. Not to mention my meals and my wardrobe.”

Maximus: "I couldn't poison your food if I wanted to," he smiled.

Xavier: “With your cooking? It’d be worth it.”

Maximus: "Your praise borders on cloying, Master Xavier."

Xavier: He chuckled. “I’d apologize if I didn’t think very highly of your cooking. And you know I’m a man who appreciates good food.”

Maximus: "I don't expect apologies when your words hold meaning to you."

Xavier: "They do." He found himself kissing Maximus' hand again. "I sincerely appreciate and value your opinions. Your input is something I treasure."

Maximus: Their pace slowed as Xavier indulged himself. Moments like this, words were too elusive to pluck from the air. Just emotion. Enticed by self-imposed mystery, but stayed by caution. Rarely was something hidden behind his eyes, but Maximus expected something. He would be foolish not to.

Flowery words, he told himself. Flattery from a charming demon. He should have been made at the crossroads.

"I'm honored."

Xavier: Perhaps he would be foolish not to, but the only thing behind Xavier's eyes was affection. Sincere, abiding affection.

"And I'm honored that you feel comfortable enough to give your input, even if it confuses you when it's taken to heart."

Maximus: He didn't want to spoil things by saying refusal was smaller than a crawlspace. Instead, he smiled, content to his silence and what his expression could offer.

Xavier: As staying on this subject would only serve to make Maximus uncomfortable, Xavier chose to move on for now.

"This is going to look lovely when it's finished. As will the road to the house when the wildflowers bloom."

Maximus: "You're in favor of a manicured lawn, or would you be interested in ground cover flowers?"

Xavier: "I'm in favor of both, though both have their place. I quite like the lawn surrounding the estate but lawn looks out of place on the roadside."

Maximus: "Very French," he smiled. "I agree, both have their place. I'm in favor of the backyard being as lush as we intend."

Xavier: “It will be when we’re done with it, we’ll put Versailles to shame. I rather like the idea of having a couple more statutes as well.”

Maximus: "There is enough space for a hedge maze as well, if your desire is a statement."

Xavier: “It’s tempting,” he chuckled. “But the sight of the woods beyond the garden is impossible to give up. Although some hedges would look nice bordering the drive.”

Maximus: "We could begin the drive with an iron gate, line the drive with hedges or perhaps roses. Something to withstand the drastic seasons."

Xavier: Xavier pictured the final result and smiled. “Perfect. This estate will be grand in every sense of the phrase.”

Maximus: "And when... we have finished, do you intend to throw a grand party celebrating your success?"

Xavier: "This wouldn't be much of a sanctuary if I did that. Perhaps we could have Massimo and his family for dinner. I only trust him with the location of this house."

Maximus: This surprised his servant, studying his profile as they slowly walked, curious what in particular made this home a sanctuary. What was intended for this house.

"I see. Something in New York, perhaps. You should celebrate your achievement."

Xavier: Xavier smiled. “A more private celebration seems more appealing, although perhaps that’s the hermit in me. I always manage to wander off on my own at parties.”

Maximus: "More business deals, wine and beautiful people."

Xavier: You’re the only beautiful people I need, Xavier thought to himself.

“Deals aren’t quite enticing enough for a celebration. Are you opposed to a small dinner party with Massimo’s family?”

Maximus: "I will serve whomever you choose to bring," Maximus said, watching the woods towards the abandoned house.

Xavier: "Perhaps we can also invite my staff at the warehouse. Everyone has been thoroughly vetted and I trust them all. They're good people."

Maximus: "If they can make the travel," he felt the need to point out.

Xavier: “Easily taken care of. I can make travel arrangements for them.”

Maximus: "Very elaborate. I believe my spell will be in order."

Xavier: "Or, there is an alternative."

9:22 PM] Maximus: Maximus slowed and studied the man by his side, curious but unwilling to guess.

Xavier: “We could hire waitstaff for the evening, which would allow you to enjoy the celebration freely.”

Maximus: "Would that not be seen as inappropriate of your assistant to dine as equal?"

Xavier: “Massimo is incredibly fond of you and my employees wouldn’t dare cause such offense.”

Maximus: "I don't believe they would dare such disrespect to you in person, but perhaps it is not in good taste." He watched Xavier a moment. "If I may be so bold to speak my mind this way."

Xavier: Xavier smiled. "Of course you may. And if you truly do not wish to attend a celebration as a guest, you don't have to. I only ask that if you decide against it, it be because you truly wish to attend in your capacity as butler."

Maximus: "I think it's the most appropriate road in which to walk... in public." Their relationship was still so young. Still too soon to openly reveal anything more than professionalism. It was safe.

Xavier: "As you wish, my dear." It didn't feel right to take sole credit for the complete transformation of the estate, but it would feel worse to push Maximus in a way he wasn't ready for.

"It will be a small celebration but grand nonetheless."

Maximus: Finally, he could breathe. For a moment he was concerned, but Xavier's response was as consistent as day one.

"I look forward to assisting in its assembly."

Xavier: "You'll be instrumental in its success. That being said, would you like me to hire waitstaff to assist you for the evening?"

Maximus: "Hire, or borrow from another?"

Xavier: "Hire and thoroughly vet."

Maximus: "By your will. Eight hands are better than six."

Xavier: "Anything at all you need when the time comes, please ask. No expense will be spared."

Maximus: "I wouldn't insult your celebration by offering cheap wine," he smiled.

Xavier: "You couldn't insult my celebration, full stop. Outwardly it might be mine, but privately, it's ours."

Maximus: "That's very kind," said Maximus. He would have worried for repeating himself if not for being so relaxed. Too eased, his equals might argue.

Silence would be sensible for several meters.

Xavier: Xavier didn't mind the silence. During his time with Maximus, he'd come to recognize the different types he affected at different moments. Some silences were companionable, some filled with work and distractions, and others, like this one, affected when there was a fear that too much had been shared. Not always in words, but in manner.

It almost came as a surprise when they reached the edge of the property. Xavier hadn't realized he'd been lost in thought. "Ready to head back, darling?"

Maximus: Seemed the moment had passed. For now. He wouldn't linger on what he had felt and why. Not here in his master's presence.

"I will see to lunch, prep for dining outside, if the idea still appeals."

Xavier: "It does," he said with a nod, sighing contentedly. "I shall go down to the cellar and select a good wine to accompany our meal. All game requires a fine wine."

Maximus: He would dare offer a suggestion. "A bold red, perhaps?"

Xavier: Xavier beamed in approval. "Precisely what I was thinking. We shall lunch like royalty today, my dear."

Maximus: "If there is anything one of my shadows can assist you with, please. You will be quite bored observing my assemblage of lunch."

Xavier: "Actually, now that we're going to be coming into a great deal of wine, some reorganization of the cellar is in order. I'd like to see how much spare room we have."

Maximus: "It is one of the last areas of the house left virtually untouched." He wanted to be there to assist, but preparing the table outside yielded a more intimate future.

Xavier: "And a significant project because of it. I will take one of your shadows down to get a proper lay of the land and we shall discuss over lunch."

Maximus: I shall see you then, he thought, offering nothing more in response than a gentle smile.

Xavier: Xavier was going to take that smile as approval of the plan, and give one in return.

“Very well, my dear. I’ll be down in the cellar. May I kiss your hand again, before you return to duty?”

Maximus: "Am I to return to duty before lunch?" Asked carefully. A timid offering of what could be.

Xavier: He had put forth a great deal of effort to keep his face from smiling too excitedly. Such a careful question could only be met with gentleness.

“I think not,” Xavier murmured. “After lunch will be quite soon enough.”

Maximus: His smile was not quite what Xavier felt. Bedded down as forcefully as Xavier's efforts. "As you wish."

Xavier: “In that case...” He turned to fully face Maximus. “May I kiss you, darling?”

Maximus: He dared look his master in the eyes. There was no harm here. Those eyes, as they had always been, were a safe place.

"You may," said softly.

Xavier: Those eyes were brimming with affection as Xavier gently cradled Maxmius’ face and leaned in to kiss him like he’d wanted to do all day. Feeling and tasting this beautiful man was like satisfying a craving.

Maximus: Every kiss felt the same. Something less than fear and more than elation. Trust deserved but fragile. His lips felt impossibly warm, and he welcomed them with an inaudible sigh. His hands didn't know what to do, other than remain useless at his sides.

Xavier: Xavier could only hope that the day would come when Maximus felt comfortable enough to reach for him, to touch him as much and as long as he wanted without a second thought. He could only hope that someday Maximus would feel comfortable enough to do a lot of things.

Until then Xavier was more than happy to take the lead. They were dancing the world's gentlest, most deliberate waltz, each move fraught with meaning. Each kiss he was allowed was treasured. He took only a little bit at a time, savoring before coming back for more. Never pushing, never demanding.

"Beautiful," he whispered, caressing Maximus' face.

Maximus: Like a dream he was sure wakefulness would steal with cold hateful hands. He was certain this was false. Not any moment, but someday. For now he could lean into the strength of Xavier's stance and welcome his warm merciful hands. Offer a deepening of his affections as his master-in-name caressed his pale face. Reach timidly to place his hand over Xavier's in solidarity.

Xavier: There had been moments when they first began this delicate relationship where Xavier had wondered if he had the strength of will to be gentle, to tamp down his desires and keep from take, take, taking. But he'd soon discovered that when it came to Maximus Fairchild, being gentle was the easiest thing in the world. It came as easy as breathing, and Xavier had slowly begun to realize that the only thing he had to tamp down was the urge to bombard Maximus with his affection a thousand times a day.

He had his moments, of course, he was only human--or had been at one point. But this here? That little touch, the subtle deepening of a kiss? Fuck, it was what he lived for.

Beautiful, he thought again, letting himself stretch the kiss a few more long, lingering moments before regrettably pulling away.

Maximus: Parting had become a bittersweet endeavor. He realized in this moment, taking a step back from Xavier's handsome figure, that their relationship was akin to an arranged marriage, more than that of master and slave. He would rather believe that than the truth. Wondered if in some measure Xavier felt the same. A fantasy which would live in his head as comfort, until the day it would no longer provide sustenance.

"A shadow will be with you shortly."

Xavier: He had to allow himself one final stroke of Maximus' cheek. Just a single one to sustain him until they sat down to eat.

"Very well," he said softly, smiling as he let his hands fall away. "I'll await them down in the cellar." And select one of his best bottles for their meal.

With that fond smile still lighting his face, Xavier started back toward the house.

#Playing with Fire chapter #maximusfairchild

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quickspinner · 5 years ago

Text

Beautiful Dreams - Ch 1 Wake Up Call

Or read it on AO3

Summary: It’s been years since Luka’s spoken to his old friend Adrien. Of course he knew about the divorce--it was big news when the golden boy of fashion split with his wife and head designer, but Luka’s had his own problems to worry about. He doesn’t think much about it when Adrien brings his son Louis in for music lessons, until he meet’s Louis’ mother and Adrien’s ex-wife, Marinette. Suddenly his life is a whole lot more interesting, and a whole lot more complicated.

No powers, aged-up Lukanette, past Adrienette

Rating/Warnings: Rated M, later chapters will include implied sexual content (nothing explicit happens on screen), TW for death of family members, grieving, depression, divorce

Author’s note: I’ve been really excited about this project and I’m super excited to finally start sharing it with you. It’s a little heavier than my other work, but still lots of fluff and romance, so I hope you’ll enjoy it.

“Hey, Luka, it’s been a long time.”

“It has, Adrien. I hope you’ve been well.”

“Well, I’m...I’m getting along. I can’t really say better than that. I mean, I’m sure you heard, it was a media circus. This whole thing is...not what I wanted, to say the least.”

“Yeah. How’s the kid handling it?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t think he’s doing all that well but he just clams up and won’t talk to anyone. And last time he was here, he didn’t want to touch the piano at all. His mother said it’s the same at her place. His current instructor is a good teacher but he doesn’t have the patience to deal with Louis right now. I know you’re busy but I was hoping you could fit Louis in your schedule. If there’s anyone who can draw his passion for music back out, it’s you.”

“Mmm. I want to help, Adrien, but I do have a full roster of students right now, I’m just not sure if—“

“Pick two of your lower income students. I’ll sponsor them for as long as Louis is taking lessons with you.”

“Man, you know I hate it when you throw money at problems like it’s the cure for all ills.”

“I do, but I’m desperate and I know it’ll work this time.”

“Ugh...I do have some talented students that could really use that support. All right, I’ll find a way to fit him in. Although honestly, Adrien, I probably would have done it anyway.”

“Thanks, Luka. Let me know when and where, and we’ll make time in his schedule to get him there.”

***

Luka looked over his newest student and concluded that he must take after his mother, since he didn’t look much like Adrien at all. His hair was dark and his eyes, while still green, had more blue in them than Adrien’s did. He had a little more of Adrien in the chin and the nose, but his build was lean and slender. He was a smart kid, too, looking Luka over with the same scrutiny, taking in Luka’s blue-tipped hair, the black turtleneck and black jeans, eyes lingering on the tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves.

Luka crouched down to Louis’ height and offered his hand. “Nice to meet you, Louis.”

“M. Couffaine,” the boy greeted seriously, shaking his hand with all the formality and gravity of a tiny businessman. “It’s a pleasure to be here.”

Luka kept his distaste behind his professional mask. He’d never approved of teaching children to tell polite lies. But for all that Adrien had tried to let go of his father’s strict teachings, Louis Agreste was nothing less than rigidly formal and polite.

“You can call me Luka,” he told the boy, who glanced back at his father. Adrien gave him a slight nod and Louis turned back. “I know some teachers prefer a more formal relationship,” Luka continued as if he hadn’t seen this. “But I like to think music is too personal for formality. I want you to be comfortable, though, so if you prefer M. Couffaine, we can go with that.”

Louis blinked, momentarily startled out of his formal composure. “Umm...I’m fine with Luka. Thanks.” A hand rose to rub at the back of his neck in a gesture Luka immediately recognized. Clearly the kid hadn’t expected to have a choice in the matter.

Luka smiled. “Okay. Let me talk to your dad for a second, and then we’ll get started, okay? You can stay here and listen if you want, or you can follow that hall to the studio, that’s where the piano is.”

Louis looked past Luka curiously. “Can I look at some of your other instruments?”

“Sure,” Luka straightened up. “Look all you want, just please don’t touch anything you don’t already know how to play, okay?”

Louis nodded and went off to look at the row of guitars along the wall.

“So,” Luka said, turning to stand next to Adrien and folding his arms as he watched Louis explore. “Tell me why you brought him to me.”

“I was thinking about it even before the divorce,” Adrien told him. “You know I was good as a concert pianist but I was never a composer. Louis, though, he’s got his mother’s creativity. I know I’m biased as his father, but I think he could be a really good songwriter someday. But now…” Adrien sighed. “I’m really worried about him,” he continued in a low voice. “I mean, he’s been seeing a therapist since we told him about the divorce, but...I don’t know.” Adrien sighed again, scrubbing his hand over his face. “He just doesn’t seem to be bouncing back the way he should. He’s so serious and sad all the time, and he seems like he’s lost his passion for music. He wanted to quit and Marinette wanted to let him. We kind of fought about it, actually. This is a compromise. If he still wants to quit after he’s worked with you for a while, I’ll let him, but I’m hoping you can help him. The way you connect with music, it’s unique. Frankly, if you can’t help him then maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.”

Luka made a thoughtful noise. “I can try. I can’t guarantee it. Some people just lose the spark. Or it may be too painful for him to play right now, but he’ll pick it up again in a few years.”

“We used to play together all the time.” Adrien’s voice cracked. “He never wants to play with me anymore.”

Luka put his hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “He’s not rejecting you, Adrien. I’m sure of that. Just give him a little time. I’ll work with him and we’ll see what happens. In the meantime, you work on finding other ways to connect with him. Don’t pressure him about the music at all for now, okay? Let him know you’re willing to play with him whenever he wants to and then drop it.” Luka frowned. “And if he does ask to play with you, you better be ready to drop whatever you’re doing and play. No excuses, Adrien.”

“I wouldn’t,” Adrien protested.

Luka folded his arms again. “All right, now I’m going to piss you off, so brace yourself.”

“Great,” Adrien muttered, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Tell me what’s going on with you and his mother.”

Sure enough, Adrien scowled. “Why do you need to know that?”

“Do you want me to teach him, or not?” Luka asked calmly. “You brought him to me for a reason, Adrien. I’m not trying to pry for the gritty details, but I need to know what’s going on in his head. Are you still friendly or...”

“We’re...strained. We’re both in therapy but—” Adrien shook his head. “She left me, Luka. I’m having a really hard time forgiving her for that. And—” Luka glanced at him as he seemed to struggle to get the words out. “I think she’s having a hard time forgiving herself for it too,” Adrien finally finished, grudgingly. “She’s working a lot. She’s been my head designer at Gabriel since my father passed. She doesn’t need me, she’s more than talented enough to split off and form her own brand. But she hasn’t done it. It’s been...less than a clean break. We’re managing to work together civilly because we have to, none of the other designers have the vision to keep Gabriel relevant, but it’s still pretty tense.”

“How’s she with Louis?”

“She’s a fantastic mom, everything I wish I could have had as a kid. She pays attention to him, she always puts his needs first. She indulges him without spoiling him, she pushes him without pressuring him, she encourages him to do better without making him feel like he’s not good enough.” Adrien sighed, and swallowed.

“I loved her so much,” he said thickly. “I built my whole life around her. I’ve accepted that she’s gone and she’s not coming back, but...I don’t know. Deep down I love her and I want her to be happy, but I can’t seem to stop being angry at her and she just takes whatever cruel thing comes out of my mouth because she thinks she deserves it. I don’t know how we got so twisted up.”

Luka turned and pulled Adrien into a hug. “It’s okay to be upset, man,” he told his old friend. “It’s okay.” They stayed that way for a moment, until Adrien pulled away.

“I’m sorry I let us go so long without contact, and now here I’m only calling because I need your help. I’m a terrible friend,” Adrien sighed. “And I should have called you after—” Luka flinched, and Adrien broke off. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“That’s life, Adrien,” Luka shrugged, staring at the floor. “I haven’t exactly been breaking down your door either, so don’t sweat it. You and I just run in different circles right now, and that’s okay. Doesn’t mean we’re not friends. Now you go do your thing, and Louis and I will go do ours, and we’ll see where all this goes.”

Adrien and Louis said a quick goodbye, and Louis reluctantly followed Luka to the studio. Luka sat next to him at the piano, leaving plenty of space between them. “Okay, Louis, we’re just going to see how much you know, okay? No pressure, this isn’t a pass-fail kinda thing. It’s just to help me see where to start with you.” He set Louis some basic exercises, unsurprised when the boy flew through them with an expression that was a mix of melancholy and boredom. Luka worked him up through the exercises until he thought he had a good idea of Louis’ ability, and then set the music books aside.

“Okay,” Luka said, “Now play me something that makes you happy. Anything you want.”

Louis gave him a startled look. Luka just looked back expectantly. Louis’ hands crept to the instrument, and then fell away again. Luka just waited.

“It doesn’t make me happy anymore,” Louis whispered. “It just makes me miss my dad.”

Luka put his hand on Louis shoulder. “That’s okay. And it’s brave of you to admit that. But your dad isn’t gone, Louis. I know that he loves you and he’ll play with you any time you ask. That’s not something you have to give up.”

“It’s not the same.”

“I know,” Luka said sympathetically, genuinely feeling for the boy. “Nothing stays the same forever. Sometimes change comes when we’re not expecting it and it’s hard. Especially when you feel like you don’t have any control over what’s happening and you just wish everything could go back to the way it was, but you know it can’t. So,” he finished, dropping his hand, “Try playing something that expresses how you’re feeling. It doesn’t have to be a song, you can just play a few notes or whatever. Whatever comes to mind.”

Louis frowned at the keys for a moment, and then lifted his hands over them. He tried a few notes, and then shook his head, and played the same sequence in a lower register. Luka nodded slowly as the boy played, taking notes in a book he kept to one side.

“Good,” Luka said, when Louis started to fumble and scrunch his face in frustration. “Let’s stop there for now. Let me show you what I heard while you played.” Luka placed his hands over the keys, and played the theme he’d heard repeated in Louis’ experiments.

“Does that feel right?” Luka asked, playing it again.

“Yeah,” Louis said slowly. “I mean, yes, it does.” The tension in his body eased slightly.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Luka said. “It helps, to get it out, so you can feel more like this.” He shifted to a slightly different melody, lighter, more hopeful. “You see? The sadness is still there, but it’s not the whole piece anymore. Then you build from there…” He changed the piece again, crescendoing, adding flares of joy, and emphasizing the hope. “So that even if the sadness never goes away, it doesn’t lock up your heart. You’re more open to the good things that come along—or maybe the good things that were always there. It won’t be the same as it was before—“ he played a light, happy, uncomplicated melody.

“But nothing stays the same forever,” Louis grudgingly repeated.

“Exactly.” Luka took his hands from the keys. “I want you to keep working on your exercises at home, okay?” He stood from the piano and went over to a cabinet on the wall, digging through it for a moment and coming up with three CDs. He brought them back and handed them to the boy. “Listen to these, and when you come back, we’ll talk about which pieces speak to you. We’ll use that to plan our lessons. And any time you want to, we can do what we did today, and maybe help you work through some of those hard feelings. Okay?” He held out his hand for Louis to shake, and the young boy took it. Louis moved slowly, but his grip was firm, and Luka was satisfied. “And if you won’t resent some personal advice,” Luka added, “Don’t stop playing with your dad. It might feel sad now, but it’s okay for you to be sad together. Someday you’ll be able to play happy again, and you’ll want him to be there.”

Louis made a noncommittal noise.

Luka crouched again to meet his eyes. “Listen. I know I don’t need to lecture you about practice, and I can see that playing hurts you right now. I’m going to talk to your dad, and make sure that he and your mom know that you’re allowed to decide on your own practice time, okay? For now, just do what you feel you can do. If you sit down one day to practice and it just hurts too much, it’s okay to get up and walk away. Try again later if you can, but if you can’t, that’s okay too. Music has to come from your heart, and if your heart is hurting too much to make music, then it doesn’t matter how much you practice, you’ll just be making noise, not music. I trust you to be responsible and not blow off practice just for the hell of it, okay? You sit down at that bench every day and you do what you think you can manage. If you can’t make yourself do the exercises, just play like you did today, whatever comes into your mind. In the meantime I’ll write up that little tune you wrote and you can have a copy of it to take home next week.” He paused, and then said, “Let me ask you something, Louis. Do you want to love music again? Is this something that you’re willing to put in the work for?”

Tears sprang to the boy’s blue-green eyes. He didn’t seem able to answer, but Luka nodded anyway. “Okay. Then we’ll get there. A little bit at a time. There’s no deadline on this, Louis. Nobody gets to tell you how long it takes to feel better. You’ll get there when you’re ready, as long as you want to. And my job is to help you and support you while you get there.”

“Like a physical therapist after an accident?” Louis asked, and Luka’s eyebrows raised slightly at the astute comparison.

“Exactly,” Luka smiled. “All right, your dad should be here any minute. While we wait, you want me to show you one of those guitars you were looking at earlier?” Louis’ eyes brightened, and Luka grinned. “All right then.”

***

He’d been working with Louis for about a month when he met her. Normally, Adrien brought Louis to practice and picked him up personally, but for some business reason or other that Luka hadn’t really bothered to listen to, Louis’ mother was going to pick him up from practice.

They weren’t quite finished when Luka’s doorbell rang. He left Louis in the studio and went to answer it.

Luka opened the door and felt the breath leave his body like he’d been punched in the gut. The dark-haired, blue-eyed woman standing there in a crisp, well-fitted business suit smiled and his pulse pounded in his ears so loudly that he missed her greeting.

Shit, he needed to get it together. He took a deep breath and focused on what she was saying.

“I’m, um, I’m here to pick up my son?”

“You’re Louis’ mom?” he said stupidly.

She raised her eyebrows slightly and God, her eyes were so blue. “Yes, I’m Marinette Agreste.” She put out her hand.

“Right,” Luka rasped, and then cleared his throat as he shook her hand. “I’m Luka Couffaine, Louis’ teacher. Obviously.” He tore his eyes from hers in an effort to reboot his brain and in the process, looked down at their joined hands. A flash of color caught his eye. She had a small, brightly-colored ladybug tattooed on the heel of her hand, just below her thumb. He managed to pull himself together enough to let go of her hand and say, “Please, come in, we’re almost done. Um, I’m sorry to ask you this, but since we’ve never met can I check your ID please?”

She actually looked pleased rather than offended as she complied. The ladybug flashed at him again as she handed him the card. Cute.

“Great, thanks.” He handed her ID back to her with an apologetic smile. “Can’t be too careful. Studio’s back here, just follow me.”

As they approached the studio door, Luka slowed, listening. He held a hand up to stop Marinette, turning towards her for a moment to put a finger to his lips. Very quietly he opened the studio door.

Louis didn’t notice, absorbed in his playing. Luka felt a satisfied smile spread across his lips. The boy was finally playing with his whole heart.

He heard Marinette’s breath hitch at his side, and he glanced down at her. She had one hand over her mouth but he could see the way the smile beneath crinkled the corners of her eyes—eyes that shimmered as he watched. He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly, then slipped into the room, sliding next to Louis on the piano bench. He didn’t say anything and Louis only glanced at him and continued to play. For a moment, he listened and Louis played, and then Louis’ hands fumbled to a stop.

“That’s as far as I can go,” Louis said quietly. “I don’t know the rest yet.”

Luka held up his fist. “That was awesome. Pound it, little man.” Louis grinned, and met Luka’s fist with his own. Then to Luka’s surprise, Louis threw his arms around Luka’s waist and hugged him, something like a sob escaping him. “Hey, it’s okay,” Luka rubbed the boy’s back. “It feels good, right? To get it out. That’s what the music is for. Now you go home and cry if you need to, but remember what that felt like just now. That’s what you want, okay? That’s what makes it music and not just noise. It’s not about perfection, it’s about emotion and connection.” Louis nodded, face still hidden in Luka’s shirt. “I’m proud of you, kid. I know that was hard. And I think someone else is proud of you too.”

Louis lifted his head and Luka nodded toward Marinette, still standing frozen outside the door. Louis straightened, scrubbing at his face. “Maman, I—“

Marinette just held her arms out, a beaming smile on her face that made Luka’s heart seize up. Shit, what the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t even know this woman.

Louis went running into her arms. Marinette squeezed him tight, with no regard for the way he was surely wrinkling her suit. Luka couldn’t clearly hear whatever she whispered, but he could hear the love and pride in her voice. He smiled to himself. Louis might be having a rough time coming to terms with the divorce, but with both parents loving him as hard as they did, Luka wasn’t worried for him in the long term. He’d be just fine.

Then Marinette straightened and turned that blinding smile on him and he actually felt his IQ drop sharply.

“Thank you, M. Couffaine,” she said feelingly, and it took him half a breath longer than it should have to recognize his own name.

“Call me Luka, please.”

Pink touched her cheeks. “Luka. Thank you. I’m happy to see Louis finding his passion for music again. Adrien was right to say we should bring him to you before we gave up.”

Luka shrugged slightly and smiled. “It’s my job. And my pleasure. Louis is easy to teach. He knows his basics so well, we get to spend most of our time on the fun stuff.” He winked at the boy, who gave him a small smile back.

“Still. I was skeptical when Adrien wanted Louis to continue, and I can see now that he was right,” Marinette said, laying her hands lightly on Louis’ shoulders. “So thank you. I know I don’t need to tell you how much music means to him and his father, but—well. Thank you.”

“Mom,” Louis whispered, “You’re being weird.”

The pink in her cheeks darkened and Luka pressed his lips together to hide his amusement. “We should go,” Marinette said, nudging Louis. “It was nice meeting you, M—Luka.”

“It’s been my pleasure, ma’am,” he said, walking them to the door.

“Marinette is fine,” she said brightly, and if she’d been pretty before when she was composed and professional, she was stunning now that she was effervescing with happiness. Luka opened the door for them automatically, his brain temporarily offline. “Until next time!” she chirped as they left, and Luka watched them until they were back in their car and pulling away from the curb. He stepped back inside and closed the door carefully. He leaned his forehead on it and tried to calm his racing heart.

What the hell was that? He hadn’t been so instantly attracted to anybody in...a long time. A very long time.

Luka turned his back to the door and frowned. Surely, he’d met Adrien’s wife before. He’d been at the wedding, for crying out loud. Although, he hadn’t stayed long. Even the best weddings were awkward, and this one hadn’t been the best, huge and pretentious and full of stuffy people he’d had no interest in. He did vaguely remember meeting the bride and shaking hands with Adrien, but was only a few seconds. He remembered thinking she was beautiful but wasn’t every woman on their wedding day? He probably had barely looked her in the eye, now that he thought of it, eager to pay his respects and be gone, too lost in his own concerns to really be at ease in the stilted atmosphere, especially with Gabriel Agreste watching Adrien’s every move.

He took another deep breath and let it out slowly. It didn’t matter. She was a client. He wouldn’t see her very often. He could keep a lid on this. They’d see each other only professionally and not very often, so it would be fine.

He would be fine.

***

“Luka, hey. I just wanted to check in on things since I wasn’t able to be there this week. It seemed like things are going well?”

“Yeah, I think Louis had a bit of a breakthrough this week. He’s letting his feelings back into his music.”

“I heard. You made an impression on Marinette. She was practically gushing when she dropped Louis off.”

“Oh. That was just...lucky timing, I guess. It wasn’t really me, it was Louis.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. That’s the first time she’s admitted I was right about something in years.”

#quickspins #beautiful dreams #buckle up buttercup here we go #angst with a happy ending #lots of fluff #single parent au #moving on #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #birthday big bang

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dreaming-gamer · 4 years ago

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DMC Week day 5: Hurt, Heal, Happiness – Nico & V

This work is lightly tied to my day 2 & 3, but can also be read as a standalone fic. Hope you enjoy!

No warnings, just fluff ahoy, no shipping.

V turned carefully in his bed for what felt like the thousandth time and yet only 10 minutes had passed since he last laid eyes on the clock. This was not a phenomenon he was too familiar with. Pushing forward while having slept too little had been common in his life, but not staying awake when he had the opportunity to sleep.

Shadow was curled up by his feet, a warm lump of fur, he didn’t know how many times his feet had brushed against her every time he needed to move. And yet V couldn’t tell why he felt this need, why he simply couldn’t just fall asleep as he was supposed to. Night reigned outside, cloaking the room in darkness, except for the lamp in the hall that Kyrie always made sure was on, in case any of the boys woke up. The youngest supposedly feared the dark, even asked V to check under his bed for monsters once, instead of Kyrie or Nero. V had checked, assured him it was nothing to be afraid of, when Griffon had chimed in with a helpful “The real monsters are outside!” With the bird banned from the children's bedtime stories from now on, it took about 15 more minutes for the child to calm down. Said bird was currently sprawled out over the other pillow, snoozing soundly.

It surely wasn’t the idea of monsters under the bed that kept V awake, he had been tired throughout the day, but now any sense of heaviness in his eyelids was just gone.

Finally, he gave up, letting out a sigh as he lifted his legs over the edge of the bed. The motions sent a feeling of ache through the bruises decorating his body, but the arm sling kept his arm where it should. It didn’t hurt as badly anymore, the red swelling having died down along with most of the pain, but Kyrie insisted he kept taking pain relievers so he could rest easier. Bless her warm soul, V could see why Nero got along well with her.

Shadow moved as V got up from the bed, leaving her spot to join him. Perhaps a cup of tea or simply a change of room would make him more inclined to sleep in a little while.

“Hihi, fry...” Griffon half snickered in his sleep, his master shaking his head with a smirk. What did a nightmare even dream of? Perhaps he should ask in the morning. His feline familiar and his cane supporting his slow steps, V made his way towards the kitchen.

The lamp on the hallway table lit up just enough for him to not step on one of the toys that the kids always seemed to leave loitering about. Shadow grabbed it in her mouth, moving it to the box of toys with her tail standing up straight up. She enjoyed order, he had learned and keeping an eye on the little ones was her forte, whenever V didn’t need her immediate assistance.

A picture was put up on the hallway wall, of a younger Nero and Kyrie, along with the children even younger than they were now. Kyrie was smiling, Nero looking a tad defiant into the camera, as if he’d dare the photographer to lay a hand on Kyrie or any of the kids. V got the feeling the Nero in the photos were much angrier than the one he knew and that said something. With interest, V’s green eyes continued to take in details, spotting the beginnings of a drawing on the wallpaper behind Kyrie’s white dresser.

There were just signs of a living family everywhere he looked and though V had been reluctant to impose upon them like that, they had still allowed him to stay, while he searched for a home of his own. He envisioned himself having a library, just a quiet space to read between missions because sometimes that was severely lacking in this house, with three lively children.

A kitchen such as Kyrie’s, old but cozy with a small walk-in pantry truly didn’t sound so bad, even though his expertise in the kitchen was certainly nothing to brag about. Kyrie had taken it upon herself to show him some of the basics and V found her teachings much more helpful than the occasional recipes he did try to follow.

As he opened up a cupboard, the smell of tea drifted towards him, a selection of flavors on display, perhaps chamomile would allow him to wind down enough for some sleep. Being limited to only one hand was making itself known now, as he had to do every step one at a time. As he moved to start the electric kettle, setting it in the sink to start the water, he was surprised to hear footsteps coming towards the kitchen. Was he not the only one having trouble sleeping? At first, he suspected one of the children as Kyle had a tendency to wake up during the night and head for Nero and Kyrie’s room, but the footsteps were not light enough.

“Oh-hee, I didn’t take you for the nightsnack kinda guy V.” A cheerful voice suddenly said, followed by a yawn as Nico stepped into the kitchen, dressed in a light top and pajama pants. Her black hair was exceptionally wavy, not put up in a ponytail or held back by the plaited hairband for once. It was unusual to see her like that, but V found it to suit her.

“I would not say that I am.” He admitted with a small smirk. “I was just thinking of having some tea. Would you like some?”

“Sure. Trouble sleeping?” Nico wondered, glancing at what he was doing.

“Yes.” V admitted, some stray water droplets hitting his hand as he turned the faucet on. “You as well?”

“Nah, I’ll probably fall asleep in minutes if I lay down again. After a snack that is. Rice crackers?” She grinned, opening another cupboard and grabbing a colorful plastic package, crackling in her hands. Cheese-flavored was printed on the front.

V gave her a little nod, the electric kettle starting to heat up from the flip of a switch, all they had to do now was wait. Nico pulled out cups for them, setting them on the counter as V leaned himself towards said counter, just for a bit. His muscles ached slightly, but it felt more as if it was because he was stiff from the lack of moving the last week, rather than actual pain.

“Are ya hurtin’?” She wondered, standing beside him. “That’s what’s keeping you from sleeping?”

V wondered if he was seeing concern, behind her red-rimmed glasses.

“No, Kyrie handed me a painkiller before bed. I simply feel as if... I have passed a threshold. Earlier, I was tired but I did not act on it. Right now on the other hand, I should be tired but sleep fails to claim me.”

“Whatcha talking about, can happen to anyone really.” Nico pointed out, her hand slipping to where her belt used to be but stopped when she realized no cigarette was available.

V hummed in thought.

“I admit it to be a new experience. I don’t mind the quiet of the night, but I know I should sleep…”

“Maybe ya just need a hug?” Nico said, tone teasing yet sincere. So sincere in fact that V was unsure of what to answer, straight away. Was that… alright to ask for? He had so little experience with human contact of that kind, yet he could not deny an interest in it.

A laugh slipped out of Nico when he realized his answer was overdue, his gaze upon her probably showing more of his inner thoughts than he meant for it to.

But her laughter wasn’t ill willed, in fact there was just a tone of mirth to it that he had come to associate with Nico.

“It’s not rocket science, come here!”

And then, her arms were around him. Just like that. Warm, careful because of his injured arm but oh so… soothing nonetheless. V carefully maneuvered his other arm over her back, holding on. It felt like she didn’t mind and he liked to return the favor. The sense of warmth, spreading in his chest. Her hair smelled lightly of shampoo with a spicy scent along with just a trace of tobacco and oil.

“Feels nice huh?” She said against him, V didn’t need to see her face to know that she was grinning, her jolly tone said it all.

“Yes. It does.” He spoke softly, holding on for just a little longer. The ache and pain he had faced this time felt so minor, compared to the terrifying feeling of falling apart. And yet this gesture felt like it soothed so much of it. Like the balm Kyrie had helped administer over the healing cracks in his skin, just on a deeper level.

“Thank you… Nico.” A soft vibrating feeling as she let out a light laugh under his hand.

“Anytime, ya hear?” Bubbles assaulted the inside of the electric kettle for a second, until the device shut itself off. “Let’s get that tea ready, we’re moving to the living room.” The mechanic added as she slowly let him go.

“We are…?” V asked, puzzled.

“Yep, I’m gonna show ya a little somethin’.” She told him, grinning from ear to ear. V knew not what she could possibly mean, but the fact that she was willing to spend some more time with him, in the middle of the night when she really could go and sleep some more was very thoughtful. To the point where he didn’t want to ask it of her, but Nico was already moving. She poured hot water into their cups and added the teabags, passing the rice cracker package to V and grabbing the cups herself, leading the way to the living room. V slowly followed, making sure to have his cane make as little noise as possible as he stepped through the hall. Shadow walked beside him, quiet but approving of the fact that Nico had chosen a cup with a black cat on it for V.

Gleaming moonlight touched the wooden surface of the living room table as Nico put down their cups and moved on, crouching by the TV. With a quizzical look, V followed her movements.

“Are you suggesting we watch… TV at this hour?” He asked, puzzled by the idea. Would not the noise wake the rest of the household?

“Uh huh, a Disney movie might just do ya good. Pinocchio sound okay?” Nico looked up, the grin on her face barely visible from the mere amount of light the moon granted them.

“I don’t recognize the title.” He answered truthfully, setting the package on the living room table.

“But ya know Disney?”

“Only that the children seem to enjoy those movies.”

“Hoo boy V, we’ve got something to catch up on here then, whenever ya can’t sleep. Go on, sit!” Nico half ordered him.

Thinking it was probably just for the best to play along for now, V lowered himself onto the couch, moving a toy figure of a… turtle on two legs(?) from one of the cushions, lest he would sit on it.

“Will this not wake the others up?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep the sound low!” Nico assured, the TV flaring to life with the push of a button and she came back to the couch, nestling herself down beside him, on his good side and grabbing for the quilts. The warm quilt that Kyrie always used was suddenly put over V, while Nico spread a yellow one over herself, while the movie was starting itself up.

This was certainly not a situation V had imagined himself ending up in, when he had found himself unable to sleep…

“If yer not gonna sleep anyway, might as well do something productive!” Nico stated, tearing a hole in the noisy rice cracker package and offered him a bite.

“Productive might not be the word I would use.” V admitted, but he nevertheless took a cracker.

“Relaxing then. Enjoy yer first look at kids movie history.” Nico said.

And enjoy it V did, sitting alongside a friend in the middle of the night, watching the story of a puppet who wished to be a real boy unfold, between sips of tea and one or two salty crackers and Nico’s commentary. Shadow laid at their feet, keeping them warm.

Slowly, oh so slowly the colorful pictures let his brain relax itself, the narrative turning no less interesting, but the cozy quilt, company and relaxation creeping up on him. Nico’s head rested against his shoulder, a comfortable, anchoring weight. Eyelids finally feeling heavy, V let his head dip, slowly against hers, the sounds of an old animated movie guiding the last of his conscious to a soft sleep.

What awaited Nero and Kyrie when they woke up the next morning was the words of the youngest orphan, being sad he hadn’t been invited to movie night, as well as the sleeping figures of Nico and V, resting against each other and the TV showing the loop of the movie's main menu since hours ago.

#dmcweek #dmcweek2020 #devil may cry fanfiction #devil may cry v #devil may cry nico #fluff #day 5 #my writing #dmc5 v #dmc5 nico

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markusblogbois · 4 years ago

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In this panel, it shows a boy attempting to enter a hole in the mountain that happens to be his exact measurements. Junji Ito is very good at using line work to add atmosphere to some of his panels as evidenced by how in this image the facial expressions the boy is making is emphasised by the several lines that make up the shadows of his eyes. Ito doesn’t draw out the eyes and instead uses the lines to make the shape of his eyes.This adds to the moment as it helps shows the desperation in his eyes and how he isn’t thinking clearly. Within this piece/novel Ito comments on the desperate need as a society to fit in and how it can sometimes be our downfall. He shows this by telling a story about people climbing into human shaped holes that happen to mysteriously be their exact measurements, and once they were in, they would be consumed by the darkness that laid further in the hole disfiguring them. This physical and metaphorical darkness is illustrated through Itos use of lines and cross hatching seen on the panel, the further the hole goes the thicker the hatches get eventually being a solid black. On the last panel it shows the boy entering the holland in doing so the reader can see that it's a perfect fit, a small crack can be seen between the hole and the boy. This creates a certain uneasiness as it reminds the reader of the unknown void that they are about to enter, almost showing us the tiny hope of the boy returning, decreasing as he goes further. Another strong theme that is explored in this piece is ‘compulsion’, this is evidenced throughout the novel as once a person has found the hole with their exact same measurements they are suddenly taken over by this desire to want to enter it despite knowing the danger it provides.

image 2:

In this panel the characters seen cowering from the giant heads are currently being attacked by balloons that resemble the people that they target. In this page Ito has the top half of the panel showing the heads from a distance making the reader feel that the characters are safe staying in the house but in the last panel a close up of the heads is shown, showcasing the serious threat they impose to the characters shown in previous panels. This is Ito effectively using the layout of his panels to increase the tension in the scene. In this book Junji Ito explores the fear we have as a society of being assimilated into the masses and being forgotten as individuals. The balloons also started appearing at the time a student at a school hangs herself, the balloons heads representing the villages inflated feelings towards wanting to forget the student who had committed suicide. In the last panel the crooked smiles and widened eyes can be seen clearly and given a closer look, all the eyes of the balloons drawn to be pointed at one point of the page, this gives the effect that they are staring directly at the reader, feeding more into the unsettling nature of their appearance. Junji Ito also decides to only shade using the means of lines and mark making techniques like cross hatching. This helps add to the creepiness to the already terrifying imagery as it’s simplistic line work helps emphasise certain features whilst not adding too much to the image. An example of this can be seen through the eyes of the balloons, everything on the faces are drawn with very deliberate thin lines whereas the eyes are very thick and the patterns made up by the lines are more complex. This helps create a focal point on the faces helping the reader notice that the eyes look like they are staring right at them.

image 3:

This particular panel is from one of Junji Ito’s most well known work ‘Uzumaki’. A town is cursed with the obsession with spirals, to the extent that even the residents purposefully deform themselves to create a spiral formation as seen in the picture. Junji Ito is a master in body horror, using his skill in mark making and precise inking, he is able to bring to life these images that would otherwise be too distorted to believe would be possible, to the point where you wouldn’t find it scary. What makes this panel so effective is the sheer amount of detail put into the face and body using his knowledge of inking skills. Despite being in what seems to look like a perfect spiral, you can still tell that what the reader is looking at, is a man. The horror is further emphasised in the facial expression, eyes rolled over making it clear he is no longer alive and his tongue out of his mouth, showing that his insides are clearly in the same sort of state as his body. Ito’s effective use of shading captures the suffering in the man’s face quite well, with every wrinkle and shadow looking realistic enough to identify yet distorted to give use this horrifying imagery show in the panel. In this novel Junji Ito explores heavily on the themes of inevitability, even visually he explores this with the spiral shape, no matter where you look on the shape it always leads to the middle where the spiral converges on. Just like how in the story, no matter what our characters do to avoid and stop this curse, it is inevitable for the village to fall under the influence of the spiral dooming the residents.

image 4:

This panel is picked out of Junji Ito’s Black bird, this story follows a hiker that has fallen down on a hike and broken his leg, unable to move he stayed in the forest for days. What kept him alive was this woman with extraordinary features who kept feeding the hiker with flesh that was taken from an unknown source. Later it is revealed that the flesh that was given to him belonged to himself from the future. What is perhaps the most unsettling part about this story is the woman’s design. Ito draws her with plain eyes with no pupils, this adds a lifeless feal to her face, giving the reader the idea that even though on a surface level she may resemble a human, she is in fact far from it. This is further explored by how her mouth and lips are irregularly large and puffy and how she uses her mouth to feed the hiker the flesh that sustains him just like a bird. Black clothing and darker colours in general come off as quite monotone in the pages, the bold colours add impact to certain objects making it harder to miss. This can be seen with the blood that pours from the hiker’s and woman’s mouth, this is quite effective as even though the sight is quite gruesome and disgusting visually it is hard to not want to look at it as the colours, in contrast with everything else, are quite bold. This story plays off of the fear of being completely helpless, this is clear with how the hiker, unable to move from his injury, has no choice but to succumb to being fed by the woman as it is his only way to survive starving until help finally arrives, this theme is further explored later on the story when the woman starts to attack the hiker in the future once he is able to walk again.

image 5:

This page is taken from Junji Ito’s novel ‘My dear ancestors’. This story comments on Japan’s obsession with familial pressures that society puts on themselves and how it can not only affect their children, but their spouses as well. This particular panel/page is seen when the reader flips the pages revealing this grotesque image of one of the characters Shuichi’s father laying in bed ill. Manga writers like Junji Ito utilize the page turn well and this is one of the cases where it adds more to the experience of a horror manga, this is because it forces the reader to have to voluntarily turn the page that conceals the horror that can be seen on the other side. It turns out that in shuichi’s family when the eldest die their scalp falls off and attaches onto the head of the next oldest in line within the family, creating a form of hive mind. This explains the story behind the design of this iconic example of body horror in manga. The horror that the design provides is partly due to the patterns of the scalp and how something as normal as someone’s forehead can be turned into something that looks monstrous and completely unnatural. This is done by have the thin lines on the forehead quite prominent and by having it repeat without any sort of differentiation in it’s pattern, it creates this uneasy visual which is almost hypnotising when you look more into the image. Which is in my opinion quite genius and is a example of why horror is so interesting in novels, as even though the imagery is horrible and disturbing, we can’t help but keep looking due to curiosity. This is also because the more we look the more things you can find horrifying about the image, for example if you look closer, the heads spanning out makes it look like a centipede, which is further enforced by the fact that the hair on the multiple heads look like little insect legs. The cross hatching on the walls compliment the image well as it helps give this gritty and gross atmosphere. The lines are also quite close to each other giving a more darker tone which helps to emphasise the father as there are a lot more whites present on the figure, making it harder for the reader to try to ignore the horrific imagery.

sources

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=am-q7xFs7f8&ab_channel=CJMac

https://thecomicwonk.com/index.php/2019/10/22/the-enigma-of-amigara-fault-the-horror-genius-of-junji-ito/

https://imgur.com/gallery/ceWVQzq

https://www.sfsignal.com/archives/2012/10/words-and-pictures-horrific-geometries-in-junji-itos-uzumaki-2/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oy1xO07Ui70&ab_channel=CJMac

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samayla · 4 years ago

Text

An Utterly Impractical Magician

Chapter 10

A Jane Eyre/Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell fusion fic.

Also on AO3

Summary: When John Reed burnt Thomas Godbless’ book of magic to spite his cousin, he had no idea how drastically he would alter both her fate and that of English magic.

@majorxmaggiexboy @shygaladriel @bookhobbit @wolfinthethorns @kaethe-nicole @warsawmouse @cassandravision @mythopoeticreality @jmlascar @seriouslythoughguys @isawatreetoday @rude-are-food @the-stars-above28 @the-candor-shadowhunter

Let me know if any of you would like to be added/removed in the tags list. I know updates have been super sparse, so if any of you want to be removed, I'll totally understand.

A Child at Hurtfew

Hurtfew Abbey, July 1805

Jane could smell Lowood School. Its muddy, sickly stink clung to her clothes and skin and closely-cropped hair. It had gotten all over the mossy-green bed linens in the night, and the damp cloud of it surrounded her and marred the clean, soapy freshness of the servants’ hall and the warm, exotic spice of the cinnamon Mrs Porter had just sprinkled over Jane’s porridge.

“Eat up, dear,” said the cook, adding a handful of raisins to her bowl for sweetness. “I daresay you’ve missed quite enough meals already.”

Jane obeyed, though the stench of mold was making her ill, and her fingers were stiff and sore around the handle of the spoon. Mrs Porter stayed to watch her eat several bites, then returned to her work in the kitchen as Childermass lurched into the hall, looking nearly as haggard as Jane felt. He took a seat across from Jane and bid her a good morning. “I hope you slept well, Little Miss, or at least better than you did in the carriage last night.

“I did, sir. Thank you,” was her quiet reply, though in truth she had slept very ill indeed. All night she had been plagued by disturbing dreams of Mr Norrell storming into her room in a fit of rage. In some dreams, he transformed into Mr Brocklehurst, red-faced and spitting sparks, lording over her as the damp smell of that rotting chapel clogged her nostrils. In other dreams, he became Childermass, his hair a churning thunderstorm, come to say that his cards had been mistaken, and he’d have to take her back now. Then he’d become Norrell again, lamenting time and effort wasted, and he’d open the door to a library, but instead of bookshelves, it was the yellow-white lambs on peeling green plaster. They grew jagged teeth as she watched, and he’d shove her through to be consumed, starting with her hands.

Childermass appeared skeptical of her polite lie, so Jane made herself eat another bite of porridge, hoping that would appease him. He watched the clumsy way she managed the spoon, then swapped his plate of buttered toast for her bowl and spoon. At her clear bewilderment, he made a pinching motion with his free hand. “The toast’ll go easier for now, until the swelling’s gone down some. Tuck in.”

He took his own advice and made short work of the porridge, leaving Jane to nibble nervously on the toast. As he’d predicted, the toast was indeed far easier to manage than the spoon, and she quickly discovered that it settled her churning stomach as well.

“Good morning, dears,” Hannah chirped as she bustled into the servants’ hall with a tray of used breakfast things from upstairs.

Jane and Childermass chorused their greetings in return.

“Mr Norrell is in the library, Mr Childermass,” the housemaid said. “He expects you and Miss Jane presently.” She offered Jane a warm smile, but Jane found she could scarcely return it. Her last bite of toast sat like lead on her tongue. She tried to keep her sudden anxiety off her face, but Childermass caught it.

“Easy, Little Miss,” he said soothingly, pushing her cup of water closer. “I know he gave you something of a fright last night, but you’ll learn soon enough not to put too much credence to Mr Norrell’s moods. My master is the sort of fellow who likes nothing better than a good, righteous vexation — and me disappearing on him for nigh on a fortnight, then turning up —”

“— at the wrong door —” Hannah put in with a sly smile.

Childermass smirked but continued earnestly, “— with a stray child in tow… Let us just say I gave him enough cause to be well and truly vexed, and it should have put him in fine spirits this morning.”

“He’s a bit quarrelsome yet,” Hannah offered, setting her tray down beside Jane’s place at the table, “but that’s just his nature. You make it through this morning, and I expect he’ll mostly forget you’re even here, unless we march you through the library once a month to remind him.”

Jane giggled at the mental image of the short-sighted bogeyman of last night’s dreams peering dazedly up at her over a heap of books. Her hands flew to her mouth in horror, but Childermass was smiling as if he could see it too. “That’s the spirit, love.”

Hannah gave Jane’s shoulder a squeeze. “Would you like me to come along, dear?” she asked in a conspiratorial stage-whisper. “We can’t count on these foolish menfolk to think of everything that will need doing now that you’re here.”

Jane smiled in earnest, even as she glanced up to make sure Childermass still hadn’t taken offense. He caught her looking, and she blushed. “That’s a fine idea, Hannah,” he declared.

They made an awkward procession as they made their way through the big, empty house. Childermass took the lead, and Jane followed with Hannah, her arm laced through the maid’s, leaving her attention free to wander and take in her new home. The whole place had a strange air about it. Not quite neglect — it was far too clean for that — but disused, Jane decided. Like a pressed flower, it was perfectly beautiful, but at the same time brittle and somehow faded in something other than color. Like the memory of a place.

“This is the way to the library,” Childermass said, drawing Jane out of her musings to find herself standing in front of a heavy oak door in a richly appointed parlor. “Mr Norrell is quite particular about his library, Little Miss, and he will not take kindly to anyone venturing into this hall without his permission.”

“I understand, sir,” Jane said, her voice choked by both nerves and anticipation. This was where her books had gone! She remembered Childermass’s words about his master’s collection, back at Gateshead. If she were very good indeed, perhaps she might even be permitted to choose a book to read. She hadn’t had a book in her hands since leaving Gateshead all those months ago, and she felt the loss like that of a limb. Its ache grew even sharper as Childermass led the way through a long hall that meandered around far more corners than should have been possible.

Jane’s skin began to prickle like the air before a lightning storm, and she drew in a shuddering breath at the thought of having one of her fits here and now. Images of the fire in her dormitory at Lowood sprang to mind unbidden. She’d be thrown out. She’d have nowhere to go. She’d —

“We’re nearly there, Little Miss,” Childermass said suddenly over his shoulder. He looked pale and unsteady in the dim hall, and it occurred to Jane that he was nervous. The realization was terrifying, but she resolved to do him proud. He had come halfway across the county to claim her; she would be brave enough for a walk to the library. She pictured her books, held the image of them steady in her mind as a talisman against the sparks she could feel gathering at the edges of her vision, more than ready to erupt into chaos.

A dull crash sounded somewhere up ahead, and then, so suddenly that Jane nearly ran right into him, Childermass brought them up short at another door. He glanced once at Jane, seemingly as startled as she and Hannah were at the door’s sudden appearance, but then he pulled it open, and they leapt back as a great pile of books cascaded into the hall. Mr Norrell stood on the other side of the heap, looking quite startled and more than a little alarmed.

Jane bent to retrieve the nearest book — Tott’s English Magic — but Mr Norrell’s voice rang out like a slap. “No, no, no! Can you not smell the mold? The damp? I will not have it so close to the books, Childermass! I cannot! Out! Out to the parlor, if you please!” And whether they pleased or not, they were herded out of the library, back down the strange hallway — which seemed somehow much shorter and strangely lacking in corners in this direction — and out in to the parlor beyond. Mr Norrell slammed the heavy door behind himself. He stood, wig askew, handkerchief over his nose, and glared at his servants.

And quite unexpectedly, Jane found herself crying.

“Do-do not cry, child,” Mr Norrell said softly, his voice almost that of a different man entirely. If Jane hadn’t known any better, she might have thought she’d imagined his outburst in the hall. He lowered the handkerchief with clear reluctance, and Jane felt even worse. The air in the parlor felt too close, the rotten stink of Lowood consuming all the air in the room.

“I did not mean to distress you.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jane choked, trying and failing to get her emotions under control. She knew she ought to dry her eyes and behave as a respectable young lady, but she found she could not move. Her hands were wound so tightly into the back of her skirt that her palms stung and her fingers throbbed in time with her runaway pulse.

“Oh, sweetling…” Hannah pulled her close, and Jane buried her face in the fabric at her hip. Hannah’s clothes smelled of lavender soap, and Jane drew in great, heaving lungfuls of the scent, releasing them on high, thin cries she could not control. She was horrified. They would send her away, surely, cast her aside like a broken doll.

But Hannah’s fingers were gentle in her hair, stroking through the uneven stubble over and over again as she murmured soft reassurances. Slowly, Jane came to realize that Hannah was not angry with her. And if Hannah was not yet out of patience, then there was yet hope for the gentlemen, if Jane could calm herself and do something to repair this ghastly first impression. With a monumental effort, she stepped away from Hannah’s side. She clasped her shaking hands in front of her, though her every instinct was screaming at her to hide them safely away.

If anything, Mr Norrell appeared to be even more discomfited by her efforts. He shook his head when she opened her mouth to repeat her apology. He offered his handkerchief, which she accepted at once, pathetically grateful for the excuse to look away for a few moments.

“I only…” he began, sounding even more unsteady than Jane felt. “I only meant that mold is a pervasive beast. Your clothing and things from that… place… are already compromised. They will have to go.” He began to sound more sure of himself as he continued. “I would not tolerate such an abominable lack of care for my books, let alone a child. Such environments breed illness like a dung heap breeds flies. It is a wonder you have not succumbed to such conditions long before now.” At Jane’s stricken look, he caught himself and withdrew at once from such dire pronouncements. “B-but fear not, child: we shall order you new things. Fresh, clean dresses. And a new bonnet free of vermin, so you might have lovely, long hair — i-if you wished it, of course…” Mr Norrell trailed off uncertainly, and Hannah took pity on him.

“You shall be pretty as a doll, sweetling,” she said, laying her warm hand on Jane’s shoulder and offering another squeeze. Tears flowed anew. She wanted her doll. Sad, crumbling thing that it was, she missed it fiercely. Sparks crackled at the edges of her vision, and Jane rubbed her eyes in an effort ot make them go away. Hannah knelt and pushed Jane’s hands away, instead using Mr Norrell’s handkerchief to dry her eyes. “For now, though, I think perhaps it would be best if you came back upstairs for a bit more rest, hmm?” She smiled encouragingly, and Jane nodded.

“Yes, yes, an excellent notion, Hannah,” Mr Norrell said, looking quite relieved. “Childermass had you out inexcusably late, Miss Eyre. It is no wonder you are overwrought this morning. I myself have something of a headache after all the excitement, though it is nothing a warm cup of mint tea will not cure.”

“I’ll send Lucy along with a pot of tea presently, sir,” Hannah offered.

“Yes, Hannah. Thank you. A cup would do Miss Eyre wonders too, I should think.” He looked quite pleased with this pronouncement. “Childermass, I’ll have your help in the library. I’ve half a shelf’s-worth of books on the floor. It was the strangest thing —”

But Childermass, who had been fiddling with something in his pocket while the other adults dealt with Jane, cut him off. “I’ve one more matter to attend to with Miss Eyre, sir. I’ll join you in the library after you’ve finished your tea.”

Jane cringed. If any of her Aunt Reed’s servants had spoken so impertinently, the would have been let go on the spot, without references. But however irritated Mr Norrell might have felt at the interruption and proposed delay, he did not argue. He merely nodded and retreated back through the door that led to the library, muttering to himself about dresses and shoes “and bed linens, no doubt.”

A cup of tea and rest in her own room. Not a switch. Not even a reprimand for toppling the books — for she had little doubt that it had been her fault somehow. She could scarcely believe it.

Jane started and nearly fell as Childermass appeared at her side and tucked her free arm around his own. “I’ll deliver her to the kitchen for her tea shortly, love,” he told Hannah as they all left the parlor. Though she was confused and more than a little frightened — for she was keenly aware that Childermass had come off worst in their encounter with Mr Norrell, even if it hand only amounted to an indirect scolding over the lateness of their arrival — and she would much rather go downstairs for some tea with Hannah, Jane held her tongue. She had been quite childish enough already, she decided, and it was time to prove how well-mannered and mature she could be, even if she was still struggling not to cry.

Childermass led her through the smaller, more intimate rooms along the back of the house — all well-preserved, but just as forlorn as those they’d passed through at the front — and out into the back garden. “I owe you an apology,” he said conversationally as they walked down a manicured gravel path between some low hedges.

“You cannot be held responsible for the speed of the carriage, sir,” Jane said quickly. “And you did warn me to sleep along the way.”

Childermass blinked, then chuckled a little sadly and drew to a stop. He knelt in front of Jane, who was growing more alarmed by the moment. He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew the crumbling ruin of Jane’s doll. “I’m afraid I stepped on her back in the chapel, love.” He laid the little bundle in Jane’s outstretched hands. “I’m sorry. I don't know how she got to be in my pocket this morning, but I thought you should know what had become of her."

Jane just nodded and sagged down to the gravel as it began to rain out of the clear, blue sky. She had known Helen’s sad little doll wouldn’t last forever. The leaves had been dry and fragile when she had died, but now they were mostly jagged stems, and the acorn face was split nearly in two.

“What’s her name?”

“Derwen,” Jane whispered. Helen had told her it meant oak.

“Well, Little Miss,” Childermass said, standing and ignoring the rain that was steadily soaking them both, “let’s you and me and Miss Derwen take a walk, shall we? Up you get.” He helped her to her feet and led the way in among the low, carefully trimmed hedges. He soon abandoned the path entirely and lifted Jane over those hedges that they could not walk around, until they stood in the very center of the garden, in a near-perfect circle of neatly cut grass.

To Jane’s utter bewilderment, Childermass knelt in the center of the circle and plunged his pocket knife into the ground. The rain slowed to a drizzle as he dug, first with the knife, then with his hands. The mud caked itself beneath his nails and around the cuffs of his jacket, but Childermass continued to dig with complete unconcern. “Got to be deep enough to keep the squirrels from smelling it,” he said when Jane leaned closer to get a better look.

“Smelling what?”

“Miss Derwen.”

Jane lurched back, shoving the doll behind her back, and the skies opened wide once more.

“Easy, Little Miss,” Childermass said with perfect composure. He sat back on his heels. “I mean you no harm, but your doll is broken and quite beyond help. But —” He extended a hand for the doll, and Jane, who had been at Lowood far too long to ignore such a clear command, handed her over. Childermass took her gently and tipped her to the side, his filthy fingernails prizing gently at the split in the acorn. “Look just here.”

Jane looked, and she saw to her amazement that inside the ruin of the acorn was a tiny shoot of pale pink and white.

“She’s trying to put down roots,” Childermass explained. “She may be done being your doll, love, but we can plant her out here, water her, and see that she gets plenty of sun, and one day, she’ll be a great big oak.”

“But Mr Norrell does not like me,” Jane blurted. “After the way I’ve behaved today…” She gestured helplessly at the steady, soaking rain that stopped abruptly three feet in every direction. Part of her was glad for the rain, for it hid her continued tears. “He does not mean to keep me. I know he does not, and so I will never see the tree grown.”

Childermass reached into an inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew one of his cards, careful to shield it from the rain. Two pairs of wands crossed at the center of the card. He glanced at the card for a moment, then smiled to himself. “This tells me you are to be with us a good, long time. Plenty of time to see Miss Derwen grow.”

He tucked the card away and then just waited, hand outstretched in offering, as if it was up to Jane to make the decision. Jane stared at him, kneeling there in the muddy grass as if he had all the time in the world, Jane realized it really was up to her. She had a choice, and suddenly, all she wanted in the world was to see her sad little doll grown into a great, towering oak. She nodded silently, unable to speak the words for fear of jinxing them.

Childermass asked if she’d like to keep the lace, imagining quite rightly that it was important. “I daresay Hannah could find a place for it on your new bonnet, or one of the dresses, and she’d have it looking good as new. She’s a wonder at such things.”

Jane hiccuped and shook her head. She took back the doll and ran her fingers over the sodden lace, the last piece of Helen she had. She kissed Derwen’s acorn face, then laid her gently in the bottom of the hole, careful to arrange the precious lace just so. “It is Derwen’t dress, and Derwen shall keep it.”

Childermass helped Jane fill the hole, and by the time they had finished and patted the little piece of sod back into place, the rain had stopped for good.

“Come along, Little Miss,” Childermass said, climbing back to his feet and helping Jane to do the same. “A cup of tea and a seat by the fire are calling your name.”

#Eyre/Strange Fusion #Jane Eyre #Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell #jsamn #kate writes #my writing

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apsaraqueen · 4 years ago

Note

For the ask: Love & Sleep. I started listing questions and then realised there were only 5 I missed out, so... ALL OF THE QUESTIONS PLEASE. I WANT TO KNOW ALL YOUR BRAIN THOUGHTS ABOUT LS.

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

There’s a lot of ways to interpret this question! In terms of substance, I wanted to write the kind of classic “the Shitennou come back” fic for Jadeite and Rei (my OTP, of course) that I’ve always wanted to read - something long and layered that deals with what happens after the initial shock, distrust, etc. of the return and delves into what the process of forgiveness and rediscovery might really look like. And to be clear, I’ve definitely read a lot of wonderful takes on this concept, it’s not new and so many other authors have done it better, but I haven’t found any that focused on my favorite couple (if there’s one I’ve missed, PLEASE SEND IT TO ME). And then stylistically, I just kind of wanted to write something...indulgent. For myself, really. Slow-paced, dreamy, gentle. I hope it hits the mark.

2: What scene did you first put down?

Boringly enough - the first scene! Where Jadeite, now called Junin, comes back, taking place on the grounds of the shrine. I had the image in my head for a long time before I started the fic.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

I...have no idea. It honestly changes all the time. I’ll just pick a random one I like. It’s of Rei watching Junin (the reincarnated Jadeite) sleep. Not creepy at all, right? I like the level of comfort between the two it implies, and it’s just a tender, quiet moment with her thinking of him, and of what draws her to him.

Junin slept on his back, one arm tucked under his nape, the other tossed across his front; the length of his legs extended several centimeters past the rumpled sheets’ edge. A book propped on his chest bore an English title that made little sense to her. She knelt by his head, suddenly concerned he might be feverish, or taken ill. He wasn’t sweating, nor ashen. The priestess touched his forehead and found the temperature not dissimilar to her own.

Under her palm his eyebrows bristled, permanently arched where hers ran like the ties of train tracks. She felt fine sun-lines there that she couldn’t see. Against her fingers his hair was dense, grown now slightly off the scalp, lightened more from working outdoors. She took back her hand, put it in her lap. From time to time it still startled her, to be able to look at him like this, unrationed. Even here at rest, she thought there was control in his features, a kind of ruthless calm she’d never been able to help responding to.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

This is really hard because I wouldn’t call this a dialogue-driven fic. Why, you ask? Because I can’t write dialogue to save my life. A lot of this fic - maybe even the majority - exists between the spaces of what’s said, so the dialogue is pretty.........formless. If I had to pick, I’d probably go with this.

“I killed you,” she said, and couldn’t help but add, “twice.”

“You were right,” he told her.

“And I didn't want to,” she went on dully. “When you came I – thought you were a ghost.”

“You wish I were?”

“I wish I didn’t remember. What we did.”

“Them,” said Junin. “Not us.”

She said, low: “I wish we’d done – anything else.”

I liked writing this because while I definitely think there’s a part of Rei struggling to forgive Junin for what his past self did, I also think there’s maybe even a larger part that wishes none of it happened at all, that their history could be erased and they could start fresh, that recognizes culpability is often complex and not as one-sided as you maybe want it to be (this of course depends on how you headcanon the Silver Millennium going down - I like to imagine it wasn’t necessarily all Shitennou=bad, Senshi=good).

5: What part was hardest to write?

Urg. Writing the first Silver Millennium flashback was pretty hard. It took me forever to figure out the right tone that didn’t sound horribly stilted and Lord of the Rings-esque. Also hard trying to convey the differences between Mars/Jadeite and Rei/Junin along with the similarities. Rei, for example, is a lot more wounded and careful with her emotions, for obvious reasons, than Mars ever was. And while Junin is still capable of being somewhat morally ambiguous, he’s also genuinely a nicer guy than the more politically-minded Jadeite could be. I wanted to get that across without getting mired in irrelevant details about the past……….which I maybe need to save for another longwinded fic altogether. *bangs head on wall*

After the first flashback things fell into line, more or less, but I must have rewritten that first one, like, ten times.

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

It’s longer than 12,000 words! AND took me more than double that to get to any smut! In seriousness, I think this is the first multichaptered fic I’ve written since, like.............high school.

7: Where did the title come from?

From the poem of the same name by A.C. Swinburne. It’s quite sexy, and the woman described in it sounds very much like Rei to my mind.

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

Normally, with most of my fics, I’d say yes...but in this case, not really. Other than the food. I most definitely drew on real-life inspiration - delicious things I’ve eaten, particularly while in Tokyo - for the food. You’ll never find me writing a fic without some gratuitous food pr0n in there for good measure. The wagashi shop the girls meet at is based on one I visited while there, actually.

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Not really. You could say this is in some ways an alternate version of another fic I wrote a while back, Tragedia? When I wrote that one I had in the back of my mind that someday I should write the same concept with a very different ending...and here we are.

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

Because I love them! And I feel like I rarely see them happy in fic (to be clear, I do love my RxJ angst, so that’s not a bad thing!). I wanted to write a story for them that felt realistic and for lack of a better word, adult - that progressed in a natural way. I wanted to challenge myself to do it in a way that was slow-burning and relatively low-drama but not boring. And I wanted to see if I could sustain the tension and intimacy that makes their relationship so interesting to write, without resorting to my usual go-tos of smut (at least not immediately!) and angst.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I’m happy with the atmosphere it conveys - sometimes moody, mostly serene. I worked really hard on that aspect and I feel like it maybe, kind of, sort of paid off!

12: What do you like least about this fic?

I wish it was wittier, more humorous in some places - I feel like it would add a sense of balance. That’s my biggest failing as a writer, I think; I really have no clue how to do comedy. I am not funny in the slightest.

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

I had just seen Call Me By Your Name when I started writing it, so a lot of the soundtrack for that. Mystery of Love in particular. Also a lot of Rhye.

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

Learn? No, I don’t think so. Just trying to put more of my OTP out in the world in hopes of inspiring more of it!

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

So much. Like I’ve noted above, this is the longest thing I’ve written in a long time and honestly I’m kind of amazed I’ve been able to stay motivated! Writing something longer requires, obviously, patience - you can’t just fire all your guns at once, you think of things you want to write RIGHT AWAY but then have to save them for later, you have to actually, ugh, have a structure………….this is all patently clear to a competent writer, but these are things I was pretty sure I’d forgotten how to do, so it’s been nice stretching myself this way.

Thank you for the ask, @coppercrane2 - this was so fun!

#fic asks #jadeite x rei #rei x jadeite #mars x jadeite #jadeite x mars #hino rei #jadeite #senshi x shitennou #shitennou x senshi #sailor moon fanfiction

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