Well. You already know how much I am in love with this. Let me tell you more.
Coward is his. Is his. Is his. That. That's gorgeous. That's painful. Because the repetition, and later, the emphasis – that's Blackwood, unable to stop himself from saying it, gripping too tight.
Coward can only hurt himself with words. And again. I see something wonderfully protective about Blackwood here. The idea of, yeah, don't have to share his voice with anyone else, but also that if Coward can't speak, he can never say the wrong thing and thus Blackwood won't have to punish him. And that's – dawwww, Blackwood
Blackwood can only rest That's tragic. Because you know he won't be able to rest, even then. I mean. Look at him. Having the furniture rearranged. So desperate that Coward won't leave him, so afraid to show it. Oh, Blackwood.
…yes. I know I'm feeling sorry for the wrong person here. Hush.
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Coward is his. Is his. Is his. That. That's gorgeous. That's painful. Because the repetition, and later, the emphasis – that's Blackwood, unable to stop himself from saying it, gripping too tight.
Coward can only hurt himself with words. And again. I see something wonderfully protective about Blackwood here. The idea of, yeah, don't have to share his voice with anyone else, but also that if Coward can't speak, he can never say the wrong thing and thus Blackwood won't have to punish him. And that's – dawwww, Blackwood
Blackwood can only rest That's tragic. Because you know he won't be able to rest, even then. I mean. Look at him. Having the furniture rearranged. So desperate that Coward won't leave him, so afraid to show it. Oh, Blackwood.
…yes. I know I'm feeling sorry for the wrong person here. Hush.