heaven gives me migraine (fanmix + fic preview for elle!)
■ for my pretty baby, wintercreamed I didn't get the chance to make a voice message so here is my present to you: a nana-centric fanmix that doubles as a soundtrack to my possible nana/jaejoong!hades/persephone fic. I think the fanmix is too little so I guess I'll post a snippet under here xx
CLICK FOR FANMIX @8TRACKS
“To clarify your worst suspicion, my dearest,” she speaks to clear the dreaded silence, “I have been revoltingly unfaithful to you for most of the twentieth century.”
Jaejoong is still in the awakening of his fury, he remains an image of morbid elegance but she is his wife and a wife learns the little twitches of the rough hands, the depth of darkness in a man’s eyes, the fume of an explosive temperament that wages wars and split lands. Still, Nana goats him - for centuries, she teases him and curses him and leaves him and comes back to him. And for centuries, he falls on his knees, time and time again, to beg for her complete devotion.
“I’m surprised you didn’t bring some home with you,” he replies, entirely unimpressed, “The new generation of boys not to your liking then, I take it?”
Nana laughs at that, clicking her finger at the maid for refill of the wine. “I was afraid you would tear them all limb from limb.”
“I never said I wouldn’t,” Jaejoong says, a sly smile sneaking its way across his pale face, “Did you enjoy it?”
“Enjoy what?”
His smile widens but darkens. “Feeding on their souls”
Nana is fully frowning now. “You’re quick to make assumptions, husband, I might have simply enjoyed their company.”
Jaejoong’s eyes narrow, the ballpoint pen in his hand snapping into two, unable to withstand his iron grip. The tar black ink leaves its mark on his face, a minuscule smudge on his cheek from where she’s sitting.
“Do you take me for a fool?” He snarls, taking a greedy gulp of the blood red liquid and maybe it is blood, she thinks, maybe, “The trails of body you leave is enough to make the angels weep.”
“Do they weep?” She asks playfully, waving his anger off, “I know you do associate yourself with the angels and the cupids and to think mortals go on and on about your hatred for each other.”
Jaejoong looks up at her from across the oak wood table that drags on for miles, the comical abruptness she once found with his timing to seize the pause is lacking so she remains smiling, her chin resting on her boney knuckle.
“Positively foolish,” he chides, the cruel nature of him is deep rooted but he’s gazing upon her with evident amusement, “All those lovely bones you’ve devoured in your quest to for the souls won’t ever come to feed your own.”
Nana is close to impressing upon him the viciousness of her ways but she will save that for later on, she decides. He speaks the truth and by now he should know never to speak to her, the truth.
“How’s that?” She asks, challenging him as she tips back her glass.
Pushing back in his arm chair slightly, he declares smugly, “Because dear wife, the pieces of your soul are kept in boxes - locked in heaven, buried in hell and hidden on this land.”
CLICK FOR FANMIX @8TRACKS
“To clarify your worst suspicion, my dearest,” she speaks to clear the dreaded silence, “I have been revoltingly unfaithful to you for most of the twentieth century.”
Jaejoong is still in the awakening of his fury, he remains an image of morbid elegance but she is his wife and a wife learns the little twitches of the rough hands, the depth of darkness in a man’s eyes, the fume of an explosive temperament that wages wars and split lands. Still, Nana goats him - for centuries, she teases him and curses him and leaves him and comes back to him. And for centuries, he falls on his knees, time and time again, to beg for her complete devotion.
“I’m surprised you didn’t bring some home with you,” he replies, entirely unimpressed, “The new generation of boys not to your liking then, I take it?”
Nana laughs at that, clicking her finger at the maid for refill of the wine. “I was afraid you would tear them all limb from limb.”
“I never said I wouldn’t,” Jaejoong says, a sly smile sneaking its way across his pale face, “Did you enjoy it?”
“Enjoy what?”
His smile widens but darkens. “Feeding on their souls”
Nana is fully frowning now. “You’re quick to make assumptions, husband, I might have simply enjoyed their company.”
Jaejoong’s eyes narrow, the ballpoint pen in his hand snapping into two, unable to withstand his iron grip. The tar black ink leaves its mark on his face, a minuscule smudge on his cheek from where she’s sitting.
“Do you take me for a fool?” He snarls, taking a greedy gulp of the blood red liquid and maybe it is blood, she thinks, maybe, “The trails of body you leave is enough to make the angels weep.”
“Do they weep?” She asks playfully, waving his anger off, “I know you do associate yourself with the angels and the cupids and to think mortals go on and on about your hatred for each other.”
Jaejoong looks up at her from across the oak wood table that drags on for miles, the comical abruptness she once found with his timing to seize the pause is lacking so she remains smiling, her chin resting on her boney knuckle.
“Positively foolish,” he chides, the cruel nature of him is deep rooted but he’s gazing upon her with evident amusement, “All those lovely bones you’ve devoured in your quest to for the souls won’t ever come to feed your own.”
Nana is close to impressing upon him the viciousness of her ways but she will save that for later on, she decides. He speaks the truth and by now he should know never to speak to her, the truth.
“How’s that?” She asks, challenging him as she tips back her glass.
Pushing back in his arm chair slightly, he declares smugly, “Because dear wife, the pieces of your soul are kept in boxes - locked in heaven, buried in hell and hidden on this land.”