#whitegradations

OOC: A gift for @whitegradations!

I have been waiting for this game to come out for WEEKS! And once it finally did, I knew I had to make Vanessa Marianna-Fisk! 

For the first one I was particularly inspired by @whitegradations own inspirations of Vanessa, so I decided to give her a Greco-Roman looking dress. 

For the second one, out of spite I made it creme colored (because her original was CREME, not WHITE!). Nevertheless, I was also inspired by the same lovely account and their backstory for Vanessa. So I went for a more traditional Italian lacy number. I love the veil, but I wish the flowers weren’t over it. 

Finally, the most moda (idk the word in english) look! I really wasn’t a huge fan of Vanessa’s actual dress, so I made this and actually made it white. 

        *   @whitegradations

001,   what attracted wilson to vanessa:   i think for as complicated and conscious as wilson is, what attracted him to vanessa was very simple and almost serendipitous in the fact that it worked. that they worked. 

fisk in season one is trying to overcome his own loneliness and depression, both of which was inflicted upon him, in some way, by hell’s kitchen      and while his way of trying to reach spiritual gratification by rebuilding hell’s kitchen was naive, i don’t think he was inconsiderate of the fact that trying to build a future will amount to nothing if he continues to isolate himself to a degree that he has no one to share it with. reaching out for love is a pretty no - brainer step, which is why i call it simple. i call it serendipitous because i don’t think that wilson had any kind of clue how perfect and good vanessa was going to be for him, or with him, but they’re very obviously aligned with one another from their first appearances on screen: 

“people always ask me, how can we charge so much for what amounts to gradations of white.”  in a way, i think that this is an analogy for the unexpected contextual role that fisk is going to play in the story of season one without forfeiting any of the mystery to the scene. think of it in the same tone of: how can fisk justify the means of his ambitions, all the ruination of hell’s kitchen and the lives that will suffer at his hand to the point that there will be almost nothing of it’s original personality and spirit left? 

this, of course, speaks to fisk because vanessa has separated herself from that cynicism by saying ‘people always ask me’ and goes further to say, “i tell them it’s not about the artists name or the skill required … not even about the art itself. all that matters is how does it make you feel?”  which, at the end of the day, how hell’s kitchen makes him feel is the whole point. the inner endgame trumps the physical means of achieving it to him. so of course, fisk is going to be drawn to the mentality that vanessa exhibits because there’s a paralleling passion to the way they look at the world. 

002,   vanessa bringing a gun to their second date:   this is actually really important because like a lot of the scenes between vanessa and wilson that happen prior to their interaction in shadows of the glass, i think it transcends their individual dynamic and is a very explicating exchange. fisk did not like the fact that vanessa brought a gun. what fisk didn’t like even more than that is that she felt the need to do so for her own safety, because to fisk thats a mistranslation of his intentions. 

at this point fisk is still having a pretty terrible identity crisis around his own character, and while he’s assured about what he has to do, he’s not consoled by the “rightness” of his measures, which is why he stresses the fact that,  “i’ve hurt people, and i’m going to hurt more. it’s impossible to avoid for what i’m trying to do.  but i take no pleasure in it.  in …   cruelty.”  peep my url lol. 

i literally don’t even have a word to describe the way it makes me feel when vanessa opts to give fisk the gun instead of just saying that she understands and trusts him. not only did she recognize the dangerous aspects of him from a demonstrable point of view that could very well be a risk to herself, saying, “i believe you,” but she literally placed that power in his hands as if to take it one step further by surrendering her own sense of security into his hands, almost as if to say, “i believe in you.”

EXHAUSTION RUNS THROUGH HER OWN BODY AS SHE TAKES A SEAT OPPOSITE HIM– this man had proven himself to be as loyal and true as any friend might do, at least as any friend worthy enough to keep, and James Wesley had proven himself to be quite worthy, but most importantly, he respected Wilson Fisk, not out of fear or anger, but actual,genuine respect, and this was enough for Vanessa to immediately catalog him as worthy. “He seems to be adjusting well to my stay here,” She words carefully, knowing fully well that she was the new, intruding party to their previously established routine. “But nothing brings the mind more peace and comfort but change, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Wesley?”

normally, she hated doing small talk with her clients -- marci has always been the type to go straight into business -- but small talk often made clients feel comfortable, and so she made up something about wanting to look for some art. the client had redirected her to the scene contempo gallery, and marci had decided to give the art gallery a visit anyway. 

upon walking in, she could already tell that the collect had an impeccable taste in art. it’s nothing as boring as just plain old landscapes or people -- it’s colours and shifting shapes and just what marci likes about art. 

she was looking at a blue painting -- shifting from a sky blue to white lines, almost like a snowflake, when marci noticed a woman in white. judging by her book... 

Wesley did not dislike Vanessa by any means. Dislike was much too emotional for his position. It was his responsibility to be indifferent, deal with Fisk’s needs and nothing more or less. That was what Vanessa was. A need for his boss, keeping him level when the emotion was too raw, too real for Wesley to be able to efficiently handle it. He could do anything when it came to cleaning, but emotional connection was above him, or perhaps, pushed so far down he’d almost convinced himself that he couldn’t feel.

He understood his employer’s unwillingness to have her left alone, despite her inner strength and how unfazed she seemed to be by their business. With their connections and Wilson’s current mood, it would undoubtedly be too risky to let her carry on without a watchful eye over her to prevent any repercussions. She dealt in art, after all, a profession so far from their own. 

The art dealer had obviously seen the familiar black car pull up towards the curb, as by the time he’d exited the car she was stood on the pavement, already waiting for him to open the door. Wesley had little doubt in his mind that she was expecting his boss, not him, but she didn’t show any clue to him that she was fazed by his appearance or even disappointed.

“Sorry to give you so little notice, but Fisk asked for you,” he spoke, voice even so as not to betray that he wasn’t entirely telling the truth. His employer hadn’t asked for her in so many words, but he knew she was what was needed. 

Ushering her into the car quickly, he closed the door behind her and nodded for Francis to begin to drive. New York was busy though, as it always was wont to be, and the drive seemed to so far be taking longer than it did on the way here. One of the many reasons that he disliked this city. All of the congestion only contributed to that film of filth that clung to the skin of the inhabitants here.

Pacifica’s hand tightens around Vanessa’s, holding onto her for dear life. She feels like she’s drowning in all the tears she’s spilled over Mason in the last week. Mason Pines, the love of her life. They couldn’t get her on any crimes, her husband was dead, and her parents’ mansion felt so much more empty with him and the lackies gone. She contacted them for the first time in decades, told them she was leaving the mansion and they’d be safe there again.

She was in New York, with Vanessa and Wilson, the only other two people in the world who knew what she and her husband could be. She could only think of two other people in the world that she even considered friends.