Regret encouraging you? When would that EVER apply?
Raddest pep talk ever? Awww.
Part of this – there are many lines that hit me particularly hard because I *know* where this is going, and the foreboding is just … guh. Gorgeous.
Coward! Coward! Ok, YES, and I'm "scuffing shoes" seeing some Mojo!Hans here, mmm.
There's this thing, I think you were worried about, about making them too in love and not letting the truly nasty elements of their personalities shine through – which was utterly ridiculous, because you hit it over and over again, in this sneaky little way that's a pure pleasure to read. Coward's thoughts, his reactions to people, they're so, so – contemptuous and disgusted and seeing people as tools and inferior beings, and yet he's got this sort of smothered need for approval and acknowledgement of how much *better* he is than them, and it's all filtered through this layer of disconnect, that he'd become a really irredeemable character if he could be bothered to actually care about any of the things I mentioned above – and maybe he did, before Blackwood, but now everything he has is wrapped up in Henry. And actually, that's a bit more terrifying than if he *was* as nasty as that.
That it's happening again, that is can happen again. Oh. Just, yes a million times, but no, because while I'm all 'daawww' at Coward, I'm all like, noooooo, heartbreak, I sees it. You're pulling a me: bringing them back only to KILL THEM AGAIN.
Well, that could almost be rococo, couldn't it? And here's something else I love about this piece. (ok, what don't I love?) This – this sense of dream/nightmare. There are these long drawn moments of this dreamlike, giddy, unreal state, in which the only important things are them, and them, and them, and it's lovely and gives me this ridiculously wide smile of kind of hopeless love for them, all wrapped up in themselves. And then, lurking underneath it all, poking through every now and then, the reality of it shows, ugly and bitter and sharp and painful, these half second glimpses of real 'no have to ignore it no no no'.
Then there's a point where it switches. And the reality is what's lying on the surface, with the little moments of giddiness hidden underneath – just when I think a passage can't get any more grim and miserable and heartbreaking, there's a second of that hopeless giddy love from them, struggling to surface, and oh, it kills me.
And their love! I mean, it's just, it permeates everything, every sentence and every action and every word and every thought – it's not in your face obvious pointed, but it always there, and it's just, delightful and warm and unbearably sweet – not because it's too sweet, but because you just *know* that nothing that good can last, and you don't want to see it come falling down.
How much do candles cost? I laughed out loud right there. Spot on. Yes. Yes, a million times, Coward not knowing, never having needed to know, and not knowing would irritate him normally but he's still high on relief and so it's amusing instead … and then you call back to it later, with tea and sugar and milk and sausages, and every time it chips away at the dream a little more, while his pride in accomplishing such things grows and is painful to watch.
Gloves. GUH.
Conversations in the silences. YES. And, there: Coward's laughter gets all mixed up with the tears he can no longer blink back. and there: grabs onto the fierce weight of that word in Blackwood's mouth - exquisite.
Coward, on Holmes, oh, oh, I want a version of this where they WIN and he does that. Where he does all of that. And Blackwood watches. And and and… Kisses him like a reward, like he's done something to be proud of., oh Coward, you're so needy. How can you bee so needy while so very much in control? How can he be so in control when everything about him is so fragmented? I mean, it works like WHOA, but how, how?
"No," Blackwood says. "It will be better." Don't. Just, don't. No. You're killing me, killing me. I may have totally started tearing up here. I take that back. I started tearing up here: He should be quicker to get Blackwood out of his things … no. no, please, no.
no subject
Regret encouraging you? When would that EVER apply?
Raddest pep talk ever? Awww.
Part of this – there are many lines that hit me particularly hard because I *know* where this is going, and the foreboding is just … guh. Gorgeous.
Coward! Coward! Ok, YES, and I'm "scuffing shoes" seeing some Mojo!Hans here, mmm.
There's this thing, I think you were worried about, about making them too in love and not letting the truly nasty elements of their personalities shine through – which was utterly ridiculous, because you hit it over and over again, in this sneaky little way that's a pure pleasure to read. Coward's thoughts, his reactions to people, they're so, so – contemptuous and disgusted and seeing people as tools and inferior beings, and yet he's got this sort of smothered need for approval and acknowledgement of how much *better* he is than them, and it's all filtered through this layer of disconnect, that he'd become a really irredeemable character if he could be bothered to actually care about any of the things I mentioned above – and maybe he did, before Blackwood, but now everything he has is wrapped up in Henry. And actually, that's a bit more terrifying than if he *was* as nasty as that.
That it's happening again, that is can happen again. Oh. Just, yes a million times, but no, because while I'm all 'daawww' at Coward, I'm all like, noooooo, heartbreak, I sees it. You're pulling a me: bringing them back only to KILL THEM AGAIN.
Well, that could almost be rococo, couldn't it? And here's something else I love about this piece. (ok, what don't I love?) This – this sense of dream/nightmare. There are these long drawn moments of this dreamlike, giddy, unreal state, in which the only important things are them, and them, and them, and it's lovely and gives me this ridiculously wide smile of kind of hopeless love for them, all wrapped up in themselves. And then, lurking underneath it all, poking through every now and then, the reality of it shows, ugly and bitter and sharp and painful, these half second glimpses of real 'no have to ignore it no no no'.
Then there's a point where it switches. And the reality is what's lying on the surface, with the little moments of giddiness hidden underneath – just when I think a passage can't get any more grim and miserable and heartbreaking, there's a second of that hopeless giddy love from them, struggling to surface, and oh, it kills me.
And their love! I mean, it's just, it permeates everything, every sentence and every action and every word and every thought – it's not in your face obvious pointed, but it always there, and it's just, delightful and warm and unbearably sweet – not because it's too sweet, but because you just *know* that nothing that good can last, and you don't want to see it come falling down.
How much do candles cost? I laughed out loud right there. Spot on. Yes. Yes, a million times, Coward not knowing, never having needed to know, and not knowing would irritate him normally but he's still high on relief and so it's amusing instead … and then you call back to it later, with tea and sugar and milk and sausages, and every time it chips away at the dream a little more, while his pride in accomplishing such things grows and is painful to watch.
Gloves. GUH.
Conversations in the silences. YES. And, there: Coward's laughter gets all mixed up with the tears he can no longer blink back. and there: grabs onto the fierce weight of that word in Blackwood's mouth - exquisite.
Coward, on Holmes, oh, oh, I want a version of this where they WIN and he does that. Where he does all of that. And Blackwood watches. And and and… Kisses him like a reward, like he's done something to be proud of., oh Coward, you're so needy. How can you bee so needy while so very much in control? How can he be so in control when everything about him is so fragmented? I mean, it works like WHOA, but how, how?
"No," Blackwood says. "It will be better." Don't. Just, don't. No. You're killing me, killing me. I may have totally started tearing up here. I take that back. I started tearing up here: He should be quicker to get Blackwood out of his things … no. no, please, no.