Fanfiction: Enjoy the Silence: Chapter 2 (Loki's pov)
Title: Enjoy the Silence: Chapter 2 (Loki’s pov)
Pairings: Mako x Loki
Fandom: Deadman x ex-Sugar/Konig
Rating: PG
Author: Eden, lieburied
Summary: They grew up together with different ideals and teachings that torn them apart, but there's one thing they both learned growing up.
Notes: Collaboration with Miko, nelly_d, who is providing Mako’s parts. I’m excited about this! I haven’t done a collaboration in forever.
Chapters: #1 (Mako’s pov)
#3 (Mako's pov)
As a child, we learn quickly from our parents. Simple tasks are often the ones that are easiest to pick up. Yet, in my family, those simple things were always left to fate. I learned quickly how to manipulate situations to my benefit. All it took was watching how my mother moved in a room full of people who lapped up every drop of attention she gave them like starving kittens at a bowl of cream. Words were weapons. Each stinging remark from her perfect crimson lips was more deadly than any blade or bullet. My brother learned the value of words far quicker than I did. That was no real surprise if you knew the depths of his soul.
It was my father who taught me the two things that would define my life for the rest of my adulthood. Sex and death were the only constants in a world where nothing ceased to change. His lessons were rare and harsh instead of the lush, grand notions of my mother. As an teenager, I decided to study fashion in secret. Pyschiatrist, novelist…why wouldn’t I be like my brother? Why couldn’t I be? There were a lot of things that I would never be. I couldn’t be my brother no matter how much they wished for me to be. Our parents drove a wedge between us that still has not been filled. I often wonder where he is or what twists his life has taken. Thinking of his life and the past has never served me well.
Soft pale skin rested against my own as I shifted against the makeshift bed of silks and various fabrics. I knew every curve of the body next to mine. After all, I had designed clothing for the beauty since before she’d become a famous actress. My fingertips slowly traced over the swell of her womanhood causing her to stir in her slumber. Behind me, the strapping young man she called her fiance curled himself closer. Had I successfully corrupted them both? He’d cried out for my touch even as I brought the woman he pledged his love to crashing into her orgasm. Most men would hate to think of anyone else touching what ‘belonged’ to them. Ahh, but wasn‘t I once a belonging as well?
I moved from their embrace slowly, not wanting to really stir them from the web I’d spun the night before. My movements were graceful as I walked across my studio. Nudity had long since ceased to bother me. Picking up my latest designs, I leafed through the notebook. They were mediocre at best, but to anyone else they would seem inspired. Part of me wondered whether I was losing my touch. I need a break. The castles of Europe suddenly called to me. I knew in that moment that I needed to find a way to get there no matter what the cost.
Several hours later, my guests had gone and I was making preparations to embark on my quest to Europe. I had no reason to go there. I had no way of knowing what would lie ahead. All I knew was that Europe was where I needed to be. I would tour every gothic institute I could find whether mundane or extraordinary. Architecture was in so many ways similar to clothing design. After all, wasn’t the body merely architecture covered in makeshift paint much the way a building was? A friend would be watering the plants and caring for my feline companion. There would be nothing to worry about while I would be away. I could at least take solace in that. Couldn’t I?
The flight was a long, but welcomed distraction. Even though my designs were famous, my face was not. At least, it was far from famous without the makeup and costumes that I tended to hide behind. Who would look for a famous gothic designer when he was dressed down in a plain tshirt and jeans? No one would have believed that I even owned a pair of jeans. Paris was far more beautiful in the dark than it had ever been in the daytime. Rather than take a cab to the hotel, I opted to walk part of the way. One suitcase wouldn’t slow me down. With each step, I felt as if there was something pulling me. Was it something in this city? Was it something in Europe? I didn’t know for sure. My thoughts were suddenly drifting to my brother. Mako…can you see these stars?
Pairings: Mako x Loki
Fandom: Deadman x ex-Sugar/Konig
Rating: PG
Author: Eden, lieburied
Summary: They grew up together with different ideals and teachings that torn them apart, but there's one thing they both learned growing up.
Notes: Collaboration with Miko, nelly_d, who is providing Mako’s parts. I’m excited about this! I haven’t done a collaboration in forever.
Chapters: #1 (Mako’s pov)
#3 (Mako's pov)
As a child, we learn quickly from our parents. Simple tasks are often the ones that are easiest to pick up. Yet, in my family, those simple things were always left to fate. I learned quickly how to manipulate situations to my benefit. All it took was watching how my mother moved in a room full of people who lapped up every drop of attention she gave them like starving kittens at a bowl of cream. Words were weapons. Each stinging remark from her perfect crimson lips was more deadly than any blade or bullet. My brother learned the value of words far quicker than I did. That was no real surprise if you knew the depths of his soul.
It was my father who taught me the two things that would define my life for the rest of my adulthood. Sex and death were the only constants in a world where nothing ceased to change. His lessons were rare and harsh instead of the lush, grand notions of my mother. As an teenager, I decided to study fashion in secret. Pyschiatrist, novelist…why wouldn’t I be like my brother? Why couldn’t I be? There were a lot of things that I would never be. I couldn’t be my brother no matter how much they wished for me to be. Our parents drove a wedge between us that still has not been filled. I often wonder where he is or what twists his life has taken. Thinking of his life and the past has never served me well.
Soft pale skin rested against my own as I shifted against the makeshift bed of silks and various fabrics. I knew every curve of the body next to mine. After all, I had designed clothing for the beauty since before she’d become a famous actress. My fingertips slowly traced over the swell of her womanhood causing her to stir in her slumber. Behind me, the strapping young man she called her fiance curled himself closer. Had I successfully corrupted them both? He’d cried out for my touch even as I brought the woman he pledged his love to crashing into her orgasm. Most men would hate to think of anyone else touching what ‘belonged’ to them. Ahh, but wasn‘t I once a belonging as well?
I moved from their embrace slowly, not wanting to really stir them from the web I’d spun the night before. My movements were graceful as I walked across my studio. Nudity had long since ceased to bother me. Picking up my latest designs, I leafed through the notebook. They were mediocre at best, but to anyone else they would seem inspired. Part of me wondered whether I was losing my touch. I need a break. The castles of Europe suddenly called to me. I knew in that moment that I needed to find a way to get there no matter what the cost.
Several hours later, my guests had gone and I was making preparations to embark on my quest to Europe. I had no reason to go there. I had no way of knowing what would lie ahead. All I knew was that Europe was where I needed to be. I would tour every gothic institute I could find whether mundane or extraordinary. Architecture was in so many ways similar to clothing design. After all, wasn’t the body merely architecture covered in makeshift paint much the way a building was? A friend would be watering the plants and caring for my feline companion. There would be nothing to worry about while I would be away. I could at least take solace in that. Couldn’t I?
The flight was a long, but welcomed distraction. Even though my designs were famous, my face was not. At least, it was far from famous without the makeup and costumes that I tended to hide behind. Who would look for a famous gothic designer when he was dressed down in a plain tshirt and jeans? No one would have believed that I even owned a pair of jeans. Paris was far more beautiful in the dark than it had ever been in the daytime. Rather than take a cab to the hotel, I opted to walk part of the way. One suitcase wouldn’t slow me down. With each step, I felt as if there was something pulling me. Was it something in this city? Was it something in Europe? I didn’t know for sure. My thoughts were suddenly drifting to my brother. Mako…can you see these stars?