Jesus Christ. I thought that maybe with the overload of Cesc/Joaquin that this wouldn't have as much of an effect, but it's fantastic and warm and so Joaquin it almost hurts.
Or maybe: No, no. It's his laugh that does people in. When he throws his head back, teeth showing, white and sharp, the line of his neck and jaw dog - no - wolf-like. He doesn't laugh politely; it's rude and loud and full as if it has traveled all the way up from his abdomen before spilling out from his mouth into the air.
I love that, love that more than words can say. Just hearing him speak in real life and seeing that smile, blinding white teeth and burnt red cheeks, and I got the same feeling from this - and the images of ships and salt. It's all lovely.
sorry, can't read this now, too busy panicking (but ILU and *headbash* and lots of promises that I hope won't turn out to be empty because I'm freaking out too much to be rational)
Ah, this bit is interesting! I think it shows the barrier between the two (Joaquin and Francesc) that you've been working on for the last few stories (concerning this canon--yeah, I've been reading even way before I got my own lj). It's a good, intruiging opener.
The characterization is so...insightful that it burns. the young are seldom kind. It shows all the nuances of the character's personality, and you've written him as all cold fire, angry (?), he's almost scary and yet still rather innocent in his intentions.
<"What does it feel like to never stop underachieving?"> I laughed. Double entendre. Poor underachieving Spain, hilarious "underachieving" Joaquin!
<"Fucking globalization,"> I thought it was funny that Joaquin would say this, after all, his rice bowl dependes on it. And you'd think that after all these years of good living, he'd be used to it...I liked this piece of dialogue as it shows a deep loyalty to the place in which he grew up. It contrasts nicely with Francesc who is losing his Catalan accent as you wrote
( ... )
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Or maybe: No, no. It's his laugh that does people in. When he throws his head back, teeth showing, white and sharp, the line of his neck and jaw dog - no - wolf-like. He doesn't laugh politely; it's rude and loud and full as if it has traveled all the way up from his abdomen before spilling out from his mouth into the air.
I love that, love that more than words can say. Just hearing him speak in real life and seeing that smile, blinding white teeth and burnt red cheeks, and I got the same feeling from this - and the images of ships and salt. It's all lovely.
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Ah, this bit is interesting! I think it shows the barrier between the two (Joaquin and Francesc) that you've been working on for the last few stories (concerning this canon--yeah, I've been reading even way before I got my own lj). It's a good, intruiging opener.
The characterization is so...insightful that it burns.
the young are seldom kind. It shows all the nuances of the character's personality, and you've written him as all cold fire, angry (?), he's almost scary and yet still rather innocent in his intentions.
<"What does it feel like to never stop underachieving?">
I laughed. Double entendre. Poor underachieving Spain, hilarious "underachieving" Joaquin!
<"Fucking globalization,"> I thought it was funny that Joaquin would say this, after all, his rice bowl dependes on it. And you'd think that after all these years of good living, he'd be used to it...I liked this piece of dialogue as it shows a deep loyalty to the place in which he grew up. It contrasts nicely with Francesc who is losing his Catalan accent as you wrote ( ... )
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Joaquín is still Spain. That's the difference.
You're fantastic. The end.
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