#ship: teacup & handmade socks

[leafenclaw]

For the “Ask questions about my WIPs!” game

@inkstainedfingers97 asked:

“Perchance would you be willing to send me a brief summary of the premises of "Gem" and "Fearful Symmetry" ?”

First of all, thank you for asking! ^^

Gem is actually one of my earliest Mentalist works, one of several character studies I wrote in preparation for another story called Visions (which I was supposed to go back to right after Chasing Storms, but then Kindred happened x3). The concept was quite simple, a long drabble in which Lisbon was pondering all the ways Jane reminds her of a diamond (the dazzling smiles, flashy tricks, cutting edges of his personality, the fatal flaw at heart, etc.). That said, 400-ish words in I realised I was pushing that metaphor just a little bit too far? XD So unless I recycle parts of it for Kindred at some point (perhaps for 2x09, with that subplot about a diamond Jane lost in the bullpen? ^^), it’ll probably never see the light of day and to be honest I’m pretty okay with that. x)

Fearful Symmetry is a different animal entirely. I don’t know if you remember 2x10 well, it’s the episode where Jane gets hit by a baseball and gets a concussion, so he spends the whole episode fainting and having intrusive memories of his father? And in one of those memories, you see him and his father conning an old lady and her dying granddaughter. For some reason as I was watching I started thinking on that kid, wondering what would happen to her if she survived after this. Would she think the crystal really saved her, or would she know it’s a con and resent the Janes for it? I followed those thoughts for a while, got mislaid by a few Shakespeare references, and ended up with a story in which Celia (the dying girl) is Red John, because the application of the crystal nearly killed her and she wants revenge on the boy who lied to her. x)

It’s not a happy story. Written in 2nd person from the POV of an extremely unreliable narrator, it’s meant to be an illustration of how a healthy mind can sink into really unhealthy thought patterns because of a single event, how holding onto hate and a desire for revenge usually ends up poisoning your own life, and (as the title implies) it was also meant to be a commentary on thematic parallels between Jane and Red John, how similar they are, how you just need to fill in a few blanks to realise they have the same nature.

Anyway. x) It was SUPER cathartic to write and I was all set to publish as soon as it was done... until a computer mishap ate half my progress (more than 5k gone, I had almost 12k by then), including a scene I struggled a lot on, so it never recovered. I’m still keeping that one on the back-burner though, it’s one of ten stories across all my fandoms that I definitely intend to come back to and complete.

Excerpt under cut. Trigger warnings for obsessive thoughts of hatred and revenge, graphic descriptions of pain, some internalised ableism, and violent rejection of morals and religion. (There may be other things, as I said it’s not a happy story.)

(Feel free to comment but please don’t reblog.)

*****

Fearful Symmetry

*****

"Breathe," says your grandmother softly.

And you do, one laborious inhalation after the other, even as the wet, squelching sound makes you shiver, and the pain tears you apart. You do, and you clutch the crystal against your chest – because it will help, won't it? It must. Your grandmother says so, and the Carney man at the fair said so, and the boy. The boy said so. The beautiful boy who cried for you, with the golden curls that makes you want to giggle and sigh and feel their softness under your fingers. He said so.

"Breathe," repeats your grandmother, and you do – again and again and again and why isn't it working?

"I'm sorry to tell you, ma'am. You were robbed," says the doctor, shaking his head. "Crystals aren't magic. They can't heal anything."

But neither you nor your grandmother will listen to those lies, because you saw it. You saw the blister on the boy's finger heal with your own two eyes. How is that not magic? So you breathe, and breathe again, and cough up phlegm until even your grandmother pales and shakes her head.

*****

"What if – " you ask, then cough some more. "What if it needs to be inside?"

"Direct application," whispers your grandmother, eyes feverish. "Yes! We could put it in your oxygen tank – that should work. It will work, Celia. I promise."

Of course, no doctor will allow her to put a foreign object in your oxygen tank, not even a magic healing crystal that could save you. You should have known. They never took you seriously, even in the beginning. That's why the cancer was allowed to spread so far.

But you and your grandmother know what you're doing. You've seen it work. And when it does, when you're healed, you will walk back to the county fair on your own feet and kiss that boy right on his generous mouth to thank him for everything he did.

One day. If you dare. You need to heal first, for that to happen.

So you and your grandmother talk about it, and come to a decision.

Forget about the doctors.

Trust in the crystal.

Trust in the boy.

"Keep your eyes closed," whispers your grandmother, a handful of carefully grounded crystal in her palm. "I will blow it toward you. And when I say so, take a deep breath, as deep as you can. Are you ready?"

You nod.

"Now!"

You open your mouth wide and breathe, and cough, and open your eyes because it hurts so much, and dust flies in your eyes and your mouth is burning, your eyes are burning, your lungs, NO, burning scratching burning bleeding leaking painpainpain –

You scream.

*****

"What were you thinking!" bellows the doctor, somewhere on the other side of the door.

Your grandmother is crying, all hysterical sobs and blubbering mess, incoherent words of desolation falling out of her mouth like a waterfall. You want to tell her it's not her fault – it's not her fault, it's the boy's. The lying boy with his lying tears and those lying curls of shining gold you still want to feel under your fingers, except now you want to feel his lying throat bobbing up and down as you squeeze it just as much.

You want to tell her, but they hooked you up to your oxygen tank and you can't say a word, and you can't reach out to her either because you can't see with all those bandages covering your eyes.

Can’t, can’t, can’t do anything, anything at all.

"It's a miracle it didn't kill her on the spot!" yells the doctor again.

You can hear the angry breath he takes and releases, almost covering your grandmother's cries.

"Your crystal dust buried itself in the tissues, scarred her lungs and cornea," the doctor adds, so quietly you have to strain your ears to hear him speak. "If she was to live, it would be a miracle for her to escape pneumonia and infections. But as it is..."

You shouldn't be listening to this. But you do, you do even if you're not supposed to, even if you're supposed to be sleeping, and resting, and recovering. That's what they told you to do, anyway. Rest, and don't bother your pretty little head with grown-up talk.

Rest.

Rest in peace.

"Her last days will be painful," concludes the doctor. "Dying will be a kindness."

Your grandmother's wail covers every other sound.

The pang of shock in your mind covers every other thought.

Until shock turns to helplessness.

Then anger.

Then hate.

*****

You lie on your back, eyes closed as the priest anoints your forehead with oil, muttering blessings for your soul. Your grandmother cries softly by your bedside as you take one painful inhalation after the other. They've all given you for dead already, talking about you in past tense, hushed murmurs and sniffles in every corner of the room.

You don't care.

You're such a raw mass of unending pain. Nothing else matters but the burning in your lungs and the fever in your eyes and the pounding in your head that erases all ideas, all thoughts, all emotions.

Except one.

And the growing thirst for revenge sustains you in a way nothing else – no medicine, no prayer, no crystal – ever could.

*****

You never knew there was an emotion so powerful as to conjure up miracles – but if you had, you would have bet on love.

And you would have been wrong.

Love, in the end, wasn't enough to save you. Be it the love of God with its many prayers all through the night, or the love of Science on the altar of which you sacrificed your hair – both utterly failed you. Even the love of your grandmother only brought you worse suffering instead of the promised peace and relief.

Love wasn't enough.

But hate is.

Hate allows you to survive night after night until a full month passes. Hate allows you to hang on by a thread until breathing comes easier, until pain ceases. So slowly at first nobody notices you healing. So slowly at first you don't even notice it yourself.

Until you do.

Until they do.

"It's a miracle. Praises be to God," says the priest, and you want to tell him to shut up shut up shut up, because there is no miracle, there is no God, there is only hate burning bright and hot inside you, turning the cancer to cinders and coal dust.

"It was the crystal. It gave her back her life," says your grandmother, and you want to tell her to shut up shut up shut up, because the crystal nearly killed you, the crystal scratched your eyes away and even hate couldn't give you back your sight.

"It was the treatment. In a few months, we may be able to graft her a new cornea," says the doctor, and you want to tell him to shut up shut up shut up, because the medicine was never helpful to begin with, they didn't even bother treating your eye infection properly when they thought you were dying, and when you finally get out of here you will never trust a doctor again.

But you don't say a word – because you may be healed but you're still weak, and arguing over what exactly saved you would be a waste of time, a waste of energy. Instead you let hate eat away at any warm emotion you once felt, shield your mind with its cold, hard shell of frozen magma.

Who cares what they all think anyway? You know the truth, and at night you dream of a thousand humiliations and pains for the boy who grievously betrayed you.

[acasaconmanu]

La collezione di acasaconmanu contenente faux florals

Pink maxi dress, €100 / Party of 5 yarn by, Tough Love Sock Yarn, Sweetgeorgia Yarns, Sea to..., €34 / Weekend bag, €28 / Amethyst jewelry / Green bangle, €46 / Pink jewelry, €42 / Silver jewellery, €37 / Pewter jewelry, €26 / Quartz jewelry, €22 / Necklace / White jewelry / Masquerade prom hair accessory, €38 / Lightweight scarve, €21 / Tablet sleeve, €17 / Pink hair accessory, €5,05 / Mens scarve, €70 / Body cleanser, €6,09 / Gingham bedding, €220 / Home decor, €89 / Purple bowl, €14 / Faux floral, €5,58 / Geometric Baby Quilt, Modern Baby Quilt, Gender Neutral Baby Bedding,..., €140 / Moon and Star lamp upcycled handmade night light FREE SHIPPING pink..., €58 / uvarovite garnet pendant, €130 / DesignsbyPolina / Shelley Yellow Rose Vintage Teacup and Saucer, Floral Tea Cup and..., €52 / Lampwork Glass Leaf Headpins (6 Handmade Lampwork Glass Beads, Hawaii..., €17 / Yellow Macrame Plant Hanger Indoor Outdoor Romantic Decor Small..., €4,55

[leafenclaw]

She runs like a wild mustang, chestnut ringlets bouncing down her back, so quickly he struggles to follow. Flying over the ocean, unhindered by laws of physics, she changes directions on impulse, crests of water soaring in her path. Then she glances behind her, lets him catch up – and they race side by side, grinning at each other when one of them takes the lead, only to be outrun in the next moment.

(The excerpt of “Fantasia” that inspired the pose.)

For @sunnymentalist​, who wanted a cute beach moment between Jane and Lisbon after they got together.

[leafenclaw]

Hey peeps, guess what. :p

[leafenclaw]

Tagged by @almostshadydelusion on two different answer games, thank you! ^^ Although I’ll admit, as I’ve been living in near complete isolation for 8 years half my answers for the first one are extremely boring, and the other half are questions about my living situation that I don’t feel comfortable answering in public. Sorry!

The other one I’m super happy to do though. =3

Rules: bold which trope you prefer (or, in some cases, maybe just hate the least!) out of each of the following pairs.

Slowburn or love at first sight

Fake dating or secret dating

Enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers

Oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence (How am I supposed to choose??? D:)

Hurt/comfort or amnesia (Amnesia usually is a form of hurt/comfort though.)

Fantasy au or modern au (*shrugs* as long as the story is good)

mutual pining or domestic bliss

smut or fluff (Both can be good but I usually need my fluff tempered with angst)

Canon-compliant or fix-it (Both can be good, but as a writer I have way more fun trying to make my own scenarios fit within the rules and events of canon. I think it provides me with a structure I have trouble coming up with on my own? It doesn’t mean canon-compliant stories cannot fix stuff that canon dropped though. *casual thumb pointing at Kindred*)

Reincarnation or character death

One-shot or multi-chapter

Kid fic or road trip fic

Arranged marriage or accidental marriage

High school romance or middle-aged romance

Time travel or isolated together (OH MY GOD HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE BETWEEN MY FAVOURITE TROPE AND THE THING I’VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH SINCE CHILDHOOD)

Neighbours or roommates

Sci-fi au or magic au (*shrugs* see previous answer about AUs)

Body swap or genderbend (I love both. I’m also not sure why those two genres are so controversial lately. Two of my top favourite TM fics fall under those labels. One of them is an extraordinary Sapphic Jane/Lisbon canon-compliant retelling in three parts. It blows my mind every time I read it again and it was a huge inspiration for Kindred, which is arguably my most popular story. The other is the second instalment in an action-packed Steampunk!AU and involves Jane and Van Pelt accidentally swapping bodies. It briefly touches on issues of body/gender dysphoria and imho does it more comprehensively than most X-character-is-trans!AUs I’ve read, and as your resident non-binary pal I’ve read a lot of those.)

Angst or crack (I love both, but the definition of “crack” seems to be very different depending on authors and my appreciation of the genre depends on said definition.)

Apocalyptic or mundane (I’m not sure I understand that last one, are we still talking about AUs or general fic tone? In any case, I don’t think I have a preference as long as the story is good.)

I can’t remember which of you answered this or didn’t so if you want to do it, this is me tagging you! =3

[leafenclaw]

That OTP ask thig! Jane and Lisbon- 6 Jamie and Sherlock- 15. X3

(-meme-) Hey! ^^ Didn’t expect this question to pop up, hehe. Let’s see…

6. Who would run into a burning building to save a stranger while the other calls 911.

LOL. Okay so this is actually quite funny because I expect the situation would be somewhat similar with both of those ships, with one key difference between them. But for Jane and Lisbon, it would go like this:

- Jane and Lisbon are going to interrogate a suspect. When they get there, the house is on fire.- Jane notices their suspect in the living room behind the closed window, realises what is going to happen, and freezes in horror for a very short moment.- At the very same time, Lisbon immediately takes out her phone to call emergency services.- The suspect screams, Lisbon finally notices them and realises by the time emergency services get here they’ll die. She tosses her phone at Jane, tells him to call 911, and runs right into the building.- Jane calls 911 while running after Lisbon, screaming and trying to prevent her from going into the house.- Lisbon is fearless and doesn’t hesitate going in. Jane isn’t fearless and recoils when he feels the heat of the fire on his skin. In the second it takes for him to control himself, Lisbon is inside and out of sight.- Jane runs inside the house after Lisbon, trying to find her, but there’s smoke everywhere and he gets lost.- Meanwhile Lisbon finds the suspect and pulls them along to the exit. They’re singed a little but aside from missing eyebrows and a cough, they’re fine.- Lisbon realises Jane isn’t anywhere and goes back in to find him. Meanwhile, emergency services arrive.- Lisbon follows the sounds of coughing and finds Jane crouching on the ground, trying to call for her and unable to get a sound out because his lungs are filled with smoke.- Lisbon wants to pull Jane out of the house but at this point she’s starting to have trouble breathing, and she gets dizzy with lack of oxygen.- The emergency services end up pulling them both out and treating them for smoke inhalation.- Killer or not, that suspect is going to be very sorry. x)

Bonus => with Sherlock and Jamie, the key difference would reside in the fact that Jamie probably wouldn’t even bother with the emergency services the moment she realises Sherlock is running into the fire, and from that point on Sherlock would have to physically fight her every step of the way while she screams creative insults in his face and tries to pull him out. And at some point when they’re inside Jamie would probably take the lead just to get Sherlock out more quickly, but Sherlock wouldn’t let her because he doesn’t trust her intent so they would keep fighting and lose a lot of time there, until emergency services get them all out (because the neighbours called even after Jamie didn’t). Otherwise same outcome, and I suspect Sherlock will be just as sorry as the suspect because Jamie is definitely going to make him pay as well. XD

15. Who would fight an impossible battle to give the other time to escape. 

Asdfghjkllkjhgf this is the hardest possible question and I sort of want to say… both of them? Except, it would have to be a spur of the moment thing because if asked, Jamie would definitely say she’d save herself first (but considering how she stays in jail for four whole-ass years just to be able to trade letters with him, I think canon established -repeatedly- she doesn’t really have her own best interests at heart where he’s concerned lol). And of course, unless Watson pulls Sherlock out of there herself, they’re probably both going to die together trying to get each other to escape. So, yeah. (Why would you ask that sort of question T_T)

(But also, to be fair, Jamie and Sherlock would probably find a way to out-smart whatever is getting in their way if they stay there together because who better to defeat the impossible than Sherlock Holmes and Jamie Moriarty? Getting them to work together is more likely to be the impossible thing. XD)

Bonus => uhm, Jane and Lisbon, exact same scenario. Except considering there’s two whole teams to pull them out of there, neither are going to die because nobody would let Lisbon die ever, they’d all sacrifice themselves first, and they’re also way too used to saving Jane’s ass by now. XD