I practically grew up meta-ing Kris’s characters so there’s really no reason I should stop now.
Paige Meta’s my characters…AND MAKES ME CRY
I had to add more thoughts to this because i just can’t stop thinking about this song and about John
Going to go stanza by stanza
Where is your little son lost, John
Tears, John
Tears, John
Bruised in the rain
With his overalls torn
With one shoe off
One shoe on
Throughout the entirety of the song we get the theme of a little son lost and a father, but—as Paige said—the son is equated to John’s childhood and innocence he lost. The self that had hope once. And the father is adult!John.
So where is liilte!John lost? The entire description here is one lost and ragged, bruised and in the rain. This is the little orphan boy who was often abused by his foster parents. This is a boy trying to have hope (one shoe off/one shoe on) but he’s so beaten down and, for a time, homeless. This is not only depicting what he looked like at the time but an apt depiction of his shredded hope; the little orphan boy.
Tears, John
Tears, John
Anytime we hit this part I just really image him crying quietly.
And where will your little son sleep, John
Under the smoke stacks
Under the heap
Under the tent where the canopy leaks
Where does little!John sleep? Under the smoke stacks: John constantly smoking cigarettes in an attempt to numb himself in his day to day struggles, in this life he leads. Under the heap—s of bodies, of the people he’s had to kill. He was blooded too young and that innocence is buried under people he’s murdered. Under the tent where the canopy leaks. Again with the homeless John, the little boy who camped out in an abandoned house full of holes. The boy he was began dying there because that was the place James started to change, where John began to feel more isolated and more frightened. Where his hope finally starts to leave him. He was only 9.
Tears, John
Tears, John
You’re drowning in the grief
Of Jupiter’s water
Let me open my teeth
And cradle you there
There’s a bed for the boy
And rope for the father
Both orphaned by Heaven
Where no child is spared
This one is interesting and I’ve been trying to wrap my head around the symbolism of this. Obviously it means drowning in grief and tears. But there isn’t exactly water on Jupiter (though there was talk of a comet that deposited some in the atmosphere). Basically drowning in the grief of Jupiter’s water…is massive depression—biggest damn planet, massive gravity, ergo the magnitude of this grief is overwhelming—but run dry of tears. Like there are no more tears left to cry but the intense grief for all his sins is still tight in his chest though he can’t cry. Let me open my teeth and cradle you there…this is the devil in the song, but for me and for John, it feels like Death as well as grief, ready to devour him.
A bed for the boy, for his innocence already dead and a rope to hang himself with, both orphaned by heaven, he was literally orphaned and alone, even by heaven…fitting since his mother was daughter of a preacher. It’s like, to him, he’s been abandoned by everything, family, life, innocence, goodness.
To who will your little son pray, John
Dark are the strangers
That sleep on the train
There’s blood on their cots
And bones on their plates
To who will the innocence that was innocent!John pray? Dark strangers sleeping on the train, again speaking to his and his brother’s loneliness, their isolation from all people and authority. They could trust no one. James was sure to impress upon it, but the man James was becoming was a dark stranger to John. Though, really, James has always been like a distant stranger to John—in his mind at least. Blood on their cots and bones on their plates. This is not only the fact that everyone he knows is a murderer and has blood on their hands…this is everyone who ever mistreated him. This is the authority figures that handed him over to abusive foster parents. This is also James who, during the time of their homelessness started to change and made his first kill, beating a rabid dog to death. Something snapped in his brother and he had blood on his hands. That’s when John grew wary of his own brother.
Tears, John
Tears, John
Who, then, will tend to the sheep, John
My treads in the place
Where the vicious gods preach
Where claws come in sharp
And on wolves in white fleece
Who will tend to the sheep. The sheep are often seen as the good and the innocent, especially in the Christian symbolism where this will all be relevant. A lot of the assassins in the story were named for apostles. I was bastardizing the religion in this, throwing it in a dark light. The lamb are the innocent people they claim to save and certainly Kate who is the epitome of innocence in John’s eyes. He’s wondering who will protect her (them) if he can’t? Because he did fail to protect her more than once and he has started questioning if his killing “bad people” is doing any good. The Agency is like a religion in this sense. And they are preaching that they are saving good people by going out and destroying murderers and rapists and drug lords.
But underneath all that, they kill good people to keep their Agents in line, they kill people who could even remotely be a threat, no matter how harmless they seem, they will kill all they need to hide their secret project of human testing and arms dealing. They employ previously bad people while still claiming to do good. They are a very corrupt and sour and dangerous system. They are the vicious gods preaching goodness while murdering innocents. The wolves in white fleece is another depiction of this, claiming to be good, but they are the wolves, the predators. All the Agents are wolves working under a false pretense of good.
Tears, John
Tears, John
Swing from my limb
Render your tears
The more that you shed
The deeper it is
Two little hands
Push the chair from your feet
Drown in your beautiful grief
Here we have John seriously contemplating suicide, even on a subconscious level, which is quite true. Though he does often wonder why he isn’t dead yet. Swing from my limb= hang yourself. Render your tears. Keep crying, succumb to all of it, all the pain. The more you shed, the worse it feels. Then this image of his innocence pushing the chair from his feet is just…the innocence truly giving way. John tried for so long to continue to believe in good and innocence, that he was protecting it. But the moment he give up on that belief—which is quite thin at best—he will have nothing left to live for. It’s the only thing that keeps him going: flimsy hope that he’s doing some good. If that’s gone, he will drown in his grief and die. Either getting himself killed by the Agency or on the job, or by killing himself.
I have so many damn feels about John, it’s not even funny and this song—this fucking song—is just…the most fitting thing for him. It really is. I love it and I hate it all at once. Because it’s painful.
(finally putting my stuff up in AO3 (Thank you Allie). And thus did i have feels reading over it again and putting it up.)
summary: After separation and upon learning that Rose was deposited once again in the parallel world with but a mere copy of the Doctor, in a rage Loki demands to be released so that he may return to her in his powerless form, insisting on this banishment. Rose and Loki learn once more to be together and attempt to forget their pasts and struggle to start a life together.
The Beginning of Something
It was a simple thing, innocent really; the brush of her hand on his when she handed him his cup of coffee as per the usual morning routine. Her finger touching his briefly, sliding along it for the shortest of moments that, on any other day, he would not have noticed. This morning, however, his eyes caught sight of it, the soft sensation startling him out of his usual brooding.
He held his breath and slowly lowered his mug to the table, watching her as she sat across from him. He swallowed, confused by the sudden racing of his heart. She smiled across at him; that bright smile that always tugged t something deep in his chest, that smile that inexplicably lightened his mood no matter what he was brooding about.
She teased him, saying she hadn’t very well poisoned the coffee, that she thought he’d trusted her by now. And he did, unconditionally, but he couldn’t explain why. But she’d been joking so he didn’t say so, just smiled, if a bit distractedly and sipped on his coffee, remaining silent.
She called his name. Loki. The way she said his name, so softly, it made him shiver, made his heart beat just a little faster than it should. Then she reached across and touched his hand, more fully now, the look on her face one of concern as she asked him if he was feeling alright. He nodded slowly, assuring her in low clipped tones that he was fine, nothing to worry about but Rose…Rose always knew. There was no doubting that studious gaze as she looked him over.
In all his time here—three months or so, by his count—he hadn’t relayed that much to her of his past. Just that he fell. Trouble with the family. Awful mistakes he didn’t want to talk about. Nothing more than that really but she was always there and listened to the little he said otherwise she was a silent comfort or a distraction. She’d been annoying at first, just a nosy Midgardian girl, nothing more and nothing less. Gradually, however, she grew on him.
He wasn’t sure why exactly, only that he felt less angry and she was amusing to be around. He remembered the first time she dragged him out of her flat, an adventuresome sightseeing tour of London. He got them a free pass to the top of Big Ben, transporting them both there. He hadn’t known why he’d done it really, perhaps a bit of a thank you for the day she’d given him.
Now though, sitting across from her, her hand so warm and gently holding his, another feeling was washing over him, one he’d been too petulant and angry to notice until now. Now that she had worn away some of his edges, smoothing them down with gentle touches and a warm smile.
Loki had allowed himself to fall into an easy routine with Rose. He’d allowed himself to like her in the smallest of measures. As company. As a distraction. As even a minor caretaker. Of course, in this process, he’d allowed something else to grow; something in all his long years he’d never once thought possible and especially not now after his fall. He’d allowed himself to fall in love with her.
It terrified him, this feeling. This sudden understanding of what had developed. She would not stay. She was on the path to finding a man that travelled the stars in another universe, someone he knew for certain that she loved—but who he also knew had broken her heart though she never spoke a word of it. He knew her nightmares as well as he knew his own, waking to her tears in the night, letting that infinitesimal whisper of concern grip him though he’d stayed in his bed. And now he found himself in love with her.
Loki stood suddenly, restless and desirous all at the same time; fighting himself on what he should do. What he wanted and what he knew would inevitably happen. Even if she stayed, she was mortal and he was not. It was for the better that she left and never knew—but he wanted her.
Rose stood too, concerned, as she always was about him, once again asking him what was wrong. He could not answer her, he did not know what to say or if he even should say it but before he knew it he had gathered her in his arms and pulled her tight against his chest.
For a moment, she didn’t move, she simply stood there, frozen, but soon her fingers were curling into the cloth of his shirt, returning the embrace. He felt her tears dampen the front of his shirt as she cried. This only served to worry him but as she lifted her gaze to meet him, she was smiling, one hand reaching up to cup his cheek. He pressed his forehead to hers and let his own tears fall, slow and silent.
It was the beginning of something and, no matter the outcome, he would treasure these moments for the rest of his life.
I practically grew up meta-ing Kris’s characters so there’s really no reason I should stop now.
Paige Meta’s my characters…AND MAKES ME CRY
The Man in Black
“You’re right,” he said finally, his tone heavy with leftover emotion. “It never got easier.”
“You…were in pain,” she ventured cautiously, taking a singular step toward him.
He looked up at her again and stared a moment before nodding at the floor. “But I am still a murderer.”
“You feel guilty,” she added, hating to see him so torn.
James moved slowly towards her, still mentally struggling with himself on the decisions he’d reached on his drive. “Yes.” He stopped in front of her, searching her eyes; “I don’t want your forgiveness. Not for that.”
“You would have me hate you,” she murmured, unable to meet his eyes.
“Yes.”
Kate shook her head, turning to look up at him, “I don’t.”
“You should,” he insisted tiredly.
“Well, I can’t and I won’t.”
James considered her quietly; her eyes seemed brighter but that was probably from the tears he’d caused her to shed though they were no longer red. It had been cruel of him to make her cry to begin with and even worse that he’d left her to cry alone because he’d been too afraid to face her. That was done with now; he wouldn’t run anymore.
“Nothing will change,” he said again, another emotionless protest in his attempt to reason with her.
“I know,” she agreed, reaching up to touch his face.
His eyes closed at the feel of her hand on his cheek. “Kate…you could get killed. If something happens—”
“I believe in you,” she answered gently.
“Then you are a fool,” he said sharply.
“Love makes fools of us all.”
“There is no arguing with you,” he admitted.Kate couldn’t help the light smile that crossed her lips.
The Man in Black
“Please don’t look for love in me. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then stop pushing me away,” she begged.
“I am no good for you.”
“Stop saying that! You are so good to me; no one has ever been this good to me before,” she insisted sweetly, reaching for him.
He coughed out a scathing laugh, denying her touch. “You have no idea how your kind words and pretty smiles wound me. Your love is like a dagger in my heart.” He knew his following look was cruel but he could no longer stand this. “Stop poisoning me with your affections. If you love me, you will stop this foolishness. You only wound us both.”
Her eyes glittered with tears she wouldn’t spill, tears he knew that he had caused. The words were double-edged, searing him when he spoke but he had to make her see; it was the only way.
The Man in Black
James Alastair Smith: Assassin
Kate Marie Williams: Photographer
“Yes. Well, it seems you know all about me; what about you?”
James shifted slightly in his seat and took another drink from his clear glass, “What about me?”
“You know all about me, and I don’t even know your name,” she replied, leaning forward earnestly.
He took a measured breath, setting his drink down on the table as he prepared himself to answer her. “My name is James Smith and you already know my profession.”
“You do too much for me, James.”
“I would have said that I do not do nearly enough.”
The Man in Black
They had issued him the order. He had meant to kill her. He couldn’t. Now, fighting alone against the might of the Agency, James must protect her.
Can he keep it professional? Will a desire unlike he’s ever known push him into the arms of the one person who can save him? Or will his personal demons stand in the way?
30 Day OTP Challenge
Day 6: Wearing Each Other’s Clothes
Day 9: Hanging Out With Friends
Day 15: In a Different Clothing Style
Day 16: During Their Morning Rituals
Day 18: Doing Something Together
Day 22: In Battle, Side by Side
Day 25: Gazing Into Each Other’s Eyes
Day 27: On One of Their Birthdays
