gravity wins and carries them to the soft ground in a heap of limbs. YAY gravity!fail!
But there's no instrumental crescendo, no meeting of lips, just them and their bodies, touching in a hundred places they're not allowed. SO much love for that line.
The three letters carry so much weight Brendon wonders how the word is still afloat in the air, loud and present and palpable between them, saying more than pages of lyrics ever could, and more than lips would ever dare. It's not only the point of no return; it's the point he realizes Ryan doesn't want to return. OK. Changed my mind yet again. THAT'S the best bit. <333
it's been so long since he's written with intent that he'd forgotten what it's like to see adjectives behind his eyelids, to feel verbs burning over his skin I adore how you write his whole writing process. It seems so so real.
This is -- this is it. This is all he has. He doesn't have Ryan's endless, earth-shattering words, he doesn't have Jon's fix-anything magic or Spencer's calm, keen logic to rationalize their way out of this. Music is all he has, and those few words that fit into the notes because they have to, and nothing else. Again, your characterisations are just so so so much win. This is my Brendon. This is everyone's Brendon. And ti's just perfect.
It should be beautiful, stunning, a striking photo op, Ryan's artful angles against the brilliant spread of colors on the horizon -- but instead it's maybe the saddest fucking thing Brendon's ever seen. Again, without doubt, one of the greatest images of this entire fic. You have no idea what this chapter is doing to me, I'm gushing so I'll stop and run to read the next part.
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Date: 2009-04-30 05:08 pm (UTC)YAY gravity!fail!
But there's no instrumental crescendo, no meeting of lips, just them and their bodies, touching in a hundred places they're not allowed.
SO much love for that line.
The three letters carry so much weight Brendon wonders how the word is still afloat in the air, loud and present and palpable between them, saying more than pages of lyrics ever could, and more than lips would ever dare. It's not only the point of no return; it's the point he realizes Ryan doesn't want to return.
OK. Changed my mind yet again. THAT'S the best bit. <333
it's been so long since he's written with intent that he'd forgotten what it's like to see adjectives behind his eyelids, to feel verbs burning over his skin
I adore how you write his whole writing process. It seems so so real.
This is -- this is it. This is all he has. He doesn't have Ryan's endless, earth-shattering words, he doesn't have Jon's fix-anything magic or Spencer's calm, keen logic to rationalize their way out of this. Music is all he has, and those few words that fit into the notes because they have to, and nothing else.
Again, your characterisations are just so so so much win. This is my Brendon. This is everyone's Brendon. And ti's just perfect.
It should be beautiful, stunning, a striking photo op, Ryan's artful angles against the brilliant spread of colors on the horizon -- but instead it's maybe the saddest fucking thing Brendon's ever seen.
Again, without doubt, one of the greatest images of this entire fic. You have no idea what this chapter is doing to me, I'm gushing so I'll stop and run to read the next part.
*runs to read next
last *sniff*part.