DVD Commentary Meme
Hey all.

Livelongnmarry, in the interests of trying to hit their $50K donation goal, has reopened a few of the multiple-item auctions (No bidding. Buy-it-now only). For my part, the writing's going well. I hope to hit 6K words by the end of Sunday.

Thanks to ranalore, for the link to the DVD Commentary Challenge, which is exactly what it sounds like. It reminded me that I did one of these for one of my own stories the last time the meme went around, but never posted it.

So, well, waste not want not. You can find my kinky-but-smutless Farfarello/Nagi (Weiss Kreuz) story, "Once Upon a Time" with commentary below the cut. The original version is here.





Title: "Once Upon a Time"
Author: ravenbell
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Rating: R
Pairings: Farfarello/Nagi
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Um, disturbing themes, yaoi, and general naughtiness.
Prompt: FarfarelloxNagi: Must be consensual on both sides. Fluff with side of smut is best but a little dark and bondage is good too. Whatever the author feels.[Request by beanchan]

Summary: Farfarello and Nagi and a bedtime story.

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A grin appeared on Farfarello’s face, crooked, but unmistakable, when Nagi slipped noiselessly into his room, a book under one arm.

“You’re late,” he admonished, with the involuntary twitch of one stark yellow eye. Farfarello was perched on the edge of his bed, or rather his mattress. They’d stopped giving him sheets, after finding they were always shredded within hours. A knife had been stabbed into the side of one bedpost, where it stuck like a darning needle in a pincushion. The blade bore traces of blue paint, matching the bedroom wall where MAN BLEEDS, GOD FEEDS had recently been carved.

[All of this is to establish that Farfarello is still in many ways the dangerous nutcase we all know and love, even though he's gotten better. At this point you should probably be wondering why Farf's not in his usual trusty straightjacket.]

“The data report took longer than I expected,” Nagi shrugged. “Sorry.”

He didn’t mention Crawford trying to lecture him to death about “inappropriate relationships” for the better part of an hour, probably thinking he was still infatuated with the Schreient girl, Tod. Sometimes Nagi wondered if the man’s precognition was all being faked.

[Of course Crawford's talking about Farfarello.]

He handed the book over to Farfarello, and sat down on the waiting chair by his bedside. “Which one do you want tonight?”

Farfarello paged through it, making delighted burbled noises. “Sinful, beastly, awful,” he giggled. Lately, the Irishman had been more lucid than usual, the result of a new drug cocktail Estet had developed especially for the Schwartz berserker. But the sanity came at a price. Farfarello was more unpredictable than ever, moodier, angrier, and more violent. The self-inflicted injuries were a thing of the past, but his energy had been channeled into lashing out at everything else.

[I hate exposition. I always end up front-loading it, because I don't want it to get in the way of the flow of the dialogue and action later. Here, I purposely made Farfarello saner so 1) it would make sense that Farf is only acting on his feelings now, and 2) I could use it to justify any OOC behavior if I screwed up.]

Everything, that is, except for a small cache of books, which he hoarded jealously in his room, and read over and over when the rest of them were asleep.

One day Schuldig had found, aside from the fourteen different editions of the Bible under Farfarello’s bed, a volume of children’s literature. Many pages had been ripped out or marked over, but the fairy tales – “Hansel and Gretel,” and “Rapunzel” among them – were left perfectly intact.

[As a kid I had this great volume of collected children's literature. It had a pre-Charles Perrault version of "Cinderella," which really impressed me because of how gory it was. "Hansel and Gretel" and "Rapunzel" were in there too.]

The German had sneered and teased, but Nagi was secretly sympathetic. He bought a secondhand copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales that came with the darker, unedited versions, and left it for Farfarello after a mission. The Irishman had responded by storming into Nagi’s room and demanding that he come and read him the stories.

[I'm not referring to any particular collection. While I've read "Grimm's Grimmest," which is the most popular of them, I was thinking of something more like my "Complete Tales of Hans Christian Anderson," which contains everything the man ever wrote and is roughly as thick as a shoebox. I was working off various Brothers Grimm internet archives which contain the rough equivalent.]

What was supposed to be “only once” soon became “twice a week” and part of the normal routine. Crawford encouraged it, even, because the stories always left the madman in a good mood, and his whole manner steadily improved. So Nagi read aloud about “The Girl Without Hands,” and “The Boy Who Had Death for a Godfather,” and often discovered that Farfarello had memorized them and could recite the text along with him.

[Both are real stories, though the original title of the second was "Godfather Death." I tweaked it to make it sound more ghastly and fairy-tale-like.]

It was clear that Farfarello liked the darkest stories the best, and reveled in their gruesome details of incest, mutilation, and other nasty things. His favorite was “The Juniper Tree,” where a red-haired, white-skinned boy was murdered by his step-mother, then cooked into stew and eaten by his father. Nagi read that one nearly every week.

[I originally tried writing the story around "The Juniper Tree," and failed miserably. Aside from Farf's mother issues, the gore, and a few of the surface details, there's not much of a thematic connection. And it didn't lead me anywhere near slashy goodness, which "Little Red Riding Hood" naturally does, as a seduction story.]

Tonight, however, Farfarello lingered on “Little Red Riding Hood,” skimming it over at least three times. But when Nagi reached for the book, it was snatched away. “No, no, no,” Farafarello scolded, shaking his head. “It’s your turn to have a story, Nagi. I’ve chosen an awful, blasphemous one, just for you.” There was a strangely enthusiastic look in his eye that made the boy a little hesitant.

But Crawford was right upstairs, and Nagi was perfectly capable of putting Farfarello’s head through the wall if he had to. So, he sat back and played along. “Okay. What story do I get?”

[The prompt was very clear that everything between Nagi and Farf had to be completely consensual, so I put in that little moment for Nagi to show he is absolutely not being coerced.]

Gleefully, Farfarello hugged the book to his chest. “‘The Little Schwartz Boy,’” he announced with a chortle.

[In hindsight, "Little Schwartz Assassin Boy" would have been a funnier title.]

Nagi smiled in spite of himself. “Um… that sounds fine, Farf.”

The Irishman opened the book again, sat up nice and proper, and began to read without looking at the page.

“Once upon a time, there lived a wicked assassin boy named Nagi, with his two cruel, spiteful uncles. One day the German uncle gave Nagi a packet of Norwegian mid-grade plastic explosives and the American uncle gave Nagi a custom high carbon 440-C steel knife with a full tang blade. They told the boy to go take the weapons to his third mad, uncle, Farfie, who lived in the deep, dark woods.”

[The Norwegian explosives are a reference to the film "Heathers" – in the commentary track the screenwriter admitted he knew nothing about explosives, so he referred to a bomb in the film as "a Norwegian." I also know nothing about explosives, so it sounded like a perfectly reasonable solution to me. I got the knife description off an ad for kitchen knives, with some tweaks.]

Nagi was desperately trying to hide his snickering, but Farfarello either didn’t notice or pretended not to. His face was very businesslike as he continued.

“And they dressed Nagi up in a little black schoolboy’s uniform with a high collar, and told him to watch out for junkies and wolves on his way.

[I've never actually been to Tokyo and know nothing of the prevalence of junkies there. Or wolves.]

“So Nagi began his journey through the seediest parts of Tokyo, where he shortly met a big, ugly, wolf, who came up to him and asked, ‘Where are you going, little boy?’

“And Nagi said, ‘I’m taking these weapons to my mad Uncle Farfie, who lives in the woods.’

“And the wolf asked, ‘Will you be taking the midway or the bridge?’

[This is the "path of needles" and "path of pins" question the wolf asks in the original story. I replaced them with the two routes you use to get to Tokyo from one of the airports.]

“And Nagi, having been recently beaten up by his cruel uncles and still slightly concussed, told him he was taking the midway.

[Originally I was going to have Nagi actually abused or threatened by Crawford and Schuldig, which would then force him to take refuge with Farfarello. But I figured that was too gratuitous and distracting, so you just get a little insinuation here.]

So the wolf said goodbye, and took the bridge as fast as his legs could carry him, and beat Nagi to his Uncle Farfie’s house with time enough to spare. That gave the wolf the opportunity to take a meat cleaver, and butcher Uncle Farfie with it as he slept. First he decapitated him, you see, with a good hack right under the Adam’s apple – ”

Farfarello’s description of his own murder went on for quite some time, and in vivid detail, as Nagi nodded politely, to show he was listening.

[Somehow, I didn't think Farfarello would imagine his own death as something as simple as being gobbled up by the wolf. He's a professional, after all. He has standards.]

“ – and the wolf ended it by filling up a tumbler with Uncle Farfie’s blood, and piling up a plate with slices of Uncle Farfie’s flesh. He set them both out on the kitchen table, and put on Uncle Farfie’s empty skin like a suit. Just as he was hopping into the bed, a knock came at the door.”

Farfarello paused to knock three times against the bedpost, making the knife in it wobble back and forth.

[The knife in the bedpost is one of those little details I put in the beginning to set the scene, and it came back as a gag here, quite by happy accident.]

“Who’s there?” he yelled. Instead of speaking the next line himself, he poked at Nagi.

The boy stared at him blankly for a moment, before saying, “Uh, it’s me, Nagi.” When Farfarello nodded meaningfully at him, he added, “I’ve brought you new weapons from Uncle Crawford and Uncle Schuldig.”

“Come in, come in!” Farfarello crowed. “But I’m sick in bed and can’t get up to greet you. I’ve left some meat and wine on the table for your supper. Be sure to eat them all up!”

Nagi made a face. “You’d think someone would notice they’re being fed blood and raw human carcass.”

[This is where I'm indulging my inner pragmatist. But since it's Nagi, it's in character.]

“Shhhh!” Farfarello frowned. “Don’t spoil the Freudian symbolism. Freudian symbolism hurts God.”

[I don't remember if the "hurts God" phrase was actually used in the Weiss Kreuz series, but it was in every fanfic featuring Farfarello I came across for years. It practically became his fandom catchphrase. So, as this was my first time writing Farfie, I threw in my own version.]

Nagi couldn’t figure out a reasonable argument against that, so he continued. “Thank you, Uncle Farfie!” He pantomimed eating the ghastly food. “What a wonderful meal.”

"Now come into my room, Nagi, so that I might see your dear little face."

[I cut the part with the cat, who calls Little Red a "slut" and scolds her for eating her grandmother. Would have been a good place for a Weiss cameo, but I'd have completely lost the momentum.]

Nagi opened a door in the air. "Hello Uncle Farfie."

“Now undress yourself, my child.” Farfarello’s voice had suddenly gotten very soft. "And come lie down beside me."

Nagi stared at him, speechless, hands falling to his sides. The expression on Farfarello’s face was deadly serious.

He hadn’t understood. All those nights of reading fairy tales, Farfarello looking over his shoulder, putting that scarred white hand over his own to turn the pages… why hadn’t he ever noticed? He stood up from the chair quickly, and Farfarello looked away, crestfallen, but didn’t say a word.

Nagi couldn’t stop staring at him. If it were Crawford, there would have been blackmail, self-disgust, and coldness. If it were Schuldig, Nagi wouldn’t have even been asked, just pinned down and threatened, before being ripped apart. But Farfarello…

[The hate the above paragraph and I still have no idea how to fix it. Grrrr.]

"Where should I put my uniform top?" When Farfarello looked up, Nagi had already undone two buttons, revealing the soft skin of his throat.

Farfarello’s smile grew slowly, across his damaged face. "Throw it away. You won't be needing it anymore."

[This was an utterly gut-wrenching line when I read the original story. It comes off sort of playful and slightly wicked here, which I love.]

Nagi left it on the floor, before moving on to his belt. “And where should I put my uniform slacks?”

“Throw them away. You won’t be needing them anymore.”

And so it went with shoes and socks and underwear, until Nagi knelt stark naked on the bare mattress, and Farfarello looked at him, the way the old fisherman who'd netted himself a mermaid must have looked at his prize. The book slipped out of his lap to the floor, as he reached up to stroke Nagi’s face with terribly gentle hands.

[That "old fisherman who'd netted himself a mermaid" line must have been rewritten a dozen times. I wanted another fairy-tale reference, but I couldn't find a real one that worked, and the grammar gnomes refused to cooperate.]

"Oh, Farfie, what big hands you have!" Nagi laughed nervously.

The answer was perfectly deadpan. "The better to fondle you with, Nagi."

"Oh, Farfie, what big arms you have." The Irishman was undressing himself now, revealing white scars and a rail-thin body, hard and strong as a man twice his size.

"The better to hold you tight with, Nagi.”

"Oh Farfie, what a big… yellow eye you have." Nagi was not looking anywhere near Farfarello’s eye. His heart was pounding, at the sudden realization. It wouldn’t be the first time, not nearly, but his body remembered old hurts, and he shuddered.

[Yet again, I'm being careful to show Nagi knows what he's getting into and this is consensual.]

"The better to appreciate your sinful beauty with, Nagi,” and the boy found his chin lifted up, and his lips being kissed, far more tenderly than anyone had ever thought to do before. “I want to hurt everything,” he whispered fiercely into the boy’s ear. “I want God and all his angels to bleed red down on the earth, and watch it all burn to cinder and ash in hellfire.”

[And here's the religious imagery! How can you have a Farfarello story without the twisted religious imagery?]

“I know,” Nagi replied, as Farfarello lowered him to the mattress.

“I want to hurt you too,” Farfarello growled. “I’m the wolf, you know. Not Farfie, not me. You’ll bleed and you might die. Little boys ought to run away from wolves.”

[A lovely reader pointed out that Farfarello really does care about Nagi, and does have protective, fuzzy feelings towards him despite his darker inclinations. And that is why the pairing is not nearly as disturbing as it easily could have been.]

“But Farf, you’ve always been a wolf,” Nagi nuzzled against his collarbone. “And I don’t care. I’m a wicked boy, remember?”

“Wicked boys deserved to be punished,” Farfarello nodded. “Eternal damnation.” He leaned over Nagi, kissing him again, deeper, harder.

"Oh Farfie, what a big mouth you have." the boy sighed.

This time, the smile was sly. "The better to eat you all up with, Nagi."

[I'm not very good at porn, so this is where we stop. Whatever you're imagining now is better than what I could write anyway, I assure you. Thanks for reading!]

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The End