Korrrrr. I'm writing you a review! Watch this space. :mrgreen:
EDIT:
Okay, to start off, I love you. :] I technically still owe you reviews on like, everything you’ve written. Ever. But uh, I’m going to write you a review for this because it’s pretty short and I think I can actually manage to keep my promise today! Like usual, I’m spellbound by your writing. You couldn’t have done a better job of enticing me if you were doing it on purpose, because I’m THE WORLD’S BIGGEST sucker for stories that involve traveling, specifically road trips, with that sense of inertia and being out of control. Obviously this piece sucked me riiiiight in from the first lines:
Gerard drives, with one hand on the wheel and one hand on the clutch, shifting whenever pavement starts to slope up and dirt starts to roll down. He does it with grace, there is something so enchanting about the way he steers so easily, shifts with no problems. Frankie blinks at him through foggy green eyes, a little smile curling at the corners of his lips. Gerard looks over at him questioningly, but Frankie doesn’t say anything, he just turns the radio off and rolls the window down.
Your beginning is perfect because it’s so abrupt. You don’t waste any time with stupid shit, you just start off with “Gerard drives,” which isn’t the most dramatic thing in the world, but it catches attention because the reader wants to know where he’s going and why. It sets the tone for the rest of the piece, which is a feeling of movement and motion. I got the feeling there were two different types of motion: Gerard’s careful, measured driving – he’s shifting with ease, keeping his speed normal even though he’d rather pull over – and Frank’s chaotic, childlike pinwheeling in the next paragraph:
Gerard pretends to keep his eyes on the road, but really, his caramel irises are sliding to the corner, watching Frankie’s every move. It seems like everything Frankie does is clumsy and uncoordinated, yet still beautiful and somehow childish; like Frankie just needs someone to protect him, and Gerard doesn’t mind at all.
Frankie winds the window down a little more just as Gerard shifts gears, moves through the green light, and hits I-80, cars surrounding him, newer, bluer, happier. Frankie’s lips curl into a grin, and he unbuckles his seatbelt. Gerard gets a little nervous, but keeps his speed normal, instead of coming to a complete stop, like he really wants to.
The paragraph above is one of my absolute favorites. I was already enjoying the story, but after these lines, I was completely hooked. Something about the word choice in the first sentence, starting with “Gerard shifts gears, moves through the green light…” just gives the best description of highway driving I’ve ever read. My family does a tonnnnnn of long car trips and personally, I love driving, and for some reason your description just struck a chord with me. Like I said, I adore road trip stories. I don’t even know, I’m just going to keep rambling. :tehe: I love that sentence; it just flows so perfectly. I feel like I’m in the car with them. Asdfghhjgkl. I love the image of the “cars surrounding them” because it’s perfect too, and “newer, bluer, happier” made me :cheese:. I can feel Frankie’s childish joy so well in this paragraph. It’s beautiful.
Frankie crawls up to the door and then slowly eases his body out the window, until his head, arms, and half of his torso are hanging out the window, feeling the wind hug him tight, carry him down I-80 with carefree ease. He giggles, waves his arms around and hums just a little, looking at Gerard through half-lidded eyes, shouting, “It’s fun, Ger, I swear.”
Gerard shakes his head; Dear God, pleasedon’thurthim. Finally they reach their exit, and Frankie brings himself back into the car, resting against the cheap vinyl seat, running a hand through his tousled hair. “You look like you just woke up,” Gerard says, and Frankie just grins.
More childish glee. :tehe: It’s powerful because even though he seems so happy and adorable, you can tell from Gerard’s edginess and concern that something is wrong. There’s just enough ominous foreshadowing in these paragraphs to let the reader know that they need to be on their guard. I especially love the way Gerard thinks “Dear God, pleasedon’thurthim.” It’s… different. There are a thousand ways you could have written that line; when I read it, I was expecting to see “Don’t let him hurt himself,” or something. But I think it says something about Gerard’s views on God, in a subtle way, that if something happened to Frankie, he wouldn’t blame Frank or even the drugs, he would blame God for hurting him. It’s really powerful to learn about the characters in such a subtle way. Makes me feel like paying even closer attention. :3
Gerard drives for a long time, passing by miles and miles of animals and grass and trees and country homes, all the while listening to Frankie sing with the radio. “Ger,” Frankie slurs, and Gerard knows the drugs are wearing off, sweating out of his system. “I’m sleepy.”
“Sleep,” Gerard says, sliding his gaze to the slumped, sweaty, shaking form of his lover, friend, and partner-in-crime. But Frankie shakes his head, and when he looks up, his eyes are glazed over with need, obsession, addiction.
I love the repetition of “Gerard drives.” IT’S JUST LIKE THE BEGINNING! [/captain obvious] :lmfao Seriously, though. It ties back to the start and gives the story a real sense of coherence. And then you describe the setting again, but without going overboard. I really like the simple details, like the country homes, because I can see what they’re seeing but it’s not a sensory overload. They aren’t paying the scenery much attention, so there’s no reason for you to describe it too deeply. I smiled at Gerard’s response to Frankie’s “I’m sleepy” It’s just so… direct, and it really helps characterize Gerard. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to describe what I got out of it. :’] It’s kind of like… you can tell that he knows whatever he tells Frank makes no difference. It’s obvious he’s been through this multiple times before; you write “…and Gerard knows,” making it clear he can already see how things will play out. So he answers Frank with the most obvious one-word reply, knowing it doesn’t really matter what he says.
“I don’t want to sleep, I need more –“ Gerard cuts him off with a sharp look, and his lips form a tiny O, and blow out a sigh, his sweet breath floating over Gerard’s face.
:cheese: :cheese: :cheese: Another of my favorite lines. I love that he doesn’t get angry at Gerard, that again, you can kind of tell they’ve been through this routine many times. The image of Frank’s lips forming an O, and the sweet breath… I don’t know what to say about it, I just absolutely loved it.
“We don’t have that much until we can get to where we’re going,” Gerard says, determined not to give in, because he doesn’t like Frankie when he’s high, doesn’t like when his pretty green irises are glassy and foggy with the effects off the white powder sitting in the glove box. He doesn’t like that Frankie, who sticks his head out the window and always wants to go faster, faster, faster.
I’m not totally sure about what Gerard says at the start of this paragraph. It’s a little unclear whether he means they’re almost at their destination, or there aren’t a lot of drugs left, or… yeah. So, just a tiny bit of concrit, I’d probably clean that dialogue up a little. Other than that, though, this is probably a good time to mention that your dialogue is generally amazing. :3 It’s simple, but really believable. I’m never left doubting that a character would say what they say. Gerard’s concern for Frank is wholly realistic, and so is his guilt.
Because the Frankie he fell for was normal, he was gorgeous and funny and lovable, he took his time with every project, everything. He never let Gerard move too fast, never let him go further than the line was drawn. The Frankie that’s hidden and lost somewhere didn’t need white powder and coffee and no money at all; he needed family and friends and work.
But Gerard knows it’s his fault they’re in this situation, Gerard knows he got Frankie into designer drugs and running away and Gerard knows he got Frankie to go fasterfasterfaster. And Gerard knows he can’t get Frankie to stop, either. Gerard knows it’s all his fault, and it makes Gerard’s stomach twist and clench, until he feels like he might throw up. It’s like one of those pinwheels on all the older ladies in his neighborhood’s lawn, that spin faster with the wind, so fast that you can’t stop them, so fast that it makes you dizzy. Frankie is fast. And Gerard spun him, but he can’t stop him.
LOVE. THIS. Again, completely realistic sentiments. I love the repetition of “Gerard knows,” because he really does. The problem isn’t that he’s too blind to see how messed-up Frank is, or that he’s enjoying the feeling of being out of control and going too fast. The problem is that, even though he realizes what’s wrong, he can’t do anything about it. And that’s really interesting and deep. :tehe: It does raise a lot of questions. Like, is Gerard right, or is he avoiding the truth? Because by deciding that there’s nothing he can do, he’s kind of taking the pressure off himself to try, and it’s less likely he’ll ever try to ‘fix’ Frank. But on the other hand, he could be right; it could be hopeless. Iiiinterestinggg. :weird NOT TO MENTION THE PINWHEEL METAPHOR. I don’t know what I could possibly say about it… it’s fantastic, Kor, christttt. :cheese: :cheese: It fits PERFECTLY. :O
The line “those pinwheels on all the older ladies in his neighborhood’s lawn” is a little awkward, though. Maybe try “those pinwheels on the lawns of all the older ladies in his neighborhood” or something?
“P-please,” Frankie whispers. “Please, I need more.” He fidgets in his seat a little, and looks at Gerard long and hard, until Gerard takes his eyes off the road and turns his head and looks back.
“Frankie, please, don’t make me stop right now.” He reaches for his smokes, pulls one out, and offers the pack to Frankie. Frankie shakes his head and lights Gerard’s smoke with a Zippo for him. Gerard takes a drag and shakes his head. “Just not tonight, Frankie, please just not tonight.” But one look at Frankie and Gerard knows it’s too late, Frankie’s mind is completely attentive to the drug, and only the drug, and the only way to get him to stop whining is to pull the damn car over, and let him have what he wants.
Frankie’s insistence is perfect, as is the way Ger tries to placate him with cigarettes. And of course it doesn’t work. My heart broke a little for Gerard, and his desperation. He just wants one night with the Frankie he remembers, but of course he can’t have it. It’s so spellbinding, the whole situation. If he got Frankie into drugs, this is all his fault, and so far he’s the one suffering worst. Frankie at this point seems pretty content, but Gerard effectively ruined his own life because now he can’t get Frankie back.
So he pulls the car over, and Frankie bounces in the seat while he opens the glove box and pulls out the tiny Ziploc bag, and Gerard rests his head on the seat, listening to the sound of Frankie’s eagerness, praying to God that this will end one day.
It’s so bitter and ironic that Frank is so fucking happy, even if it is fake, and that’s exactly what Gerard hates. Obviously he can tell that it isn’t normal and it isn’t right, but from the reader’s point of view, it’s awful irony. I mean, that must be so sickening for Gerard. :twitch:
… I love the irony. >:]]]]]]]]
But Gerard knows the only way it can stop is if the dizziness wears off and he can reach out, touch a finger to Frankie, and make the spinning stop.
And he doesn’t even know if that’s possible anymore.
Perfect metaphor. Perfect closing. I’m not going to ruin it by saying anything stupid. You’re one of my favorite writer’s on mibba… I don’t read nearly as much as I should, but I think that still means something. This story incorporates my favorite elements, and it’s incredible. Your stories are always so heartfelt and unique, it just blows my mind. There’s always a particular… something, I can’t put my finger on it, but I’d always know if it was your writing. Beautiful.
EDIT:
Okay, to start off, I love you. :] I technically still owe you reviews on like, everything you’ve written. Ever. But uh, I’m going to write you a review for this because it’s pretty short and I think I can actually manage to keep my promise today! Like usual, I’m spellbound by your writing. You couldn’t have done a better job of enticing me if you were doing it on purpose, because I’m THE WORLD’S BIGGEST sucker for stories that involve traveling, specifically road trips, with that sense of inertia and being out of control. Obviously this piece sucked me riiiiight in from the first lines:
Gerard drives, with one hand on the wheel and one hand on the clutch, shifting whenever pavement starts to slope up and dirt starts to roll down. He does it with grace, there is something so enchanting about the way he steers so easily, shifts with no problems. Frankie blinks at him through foggy green eyes, a little smile curling at the corners of his lips. Gerard looks over at him questioningly, but Frankie doesn’t say anything, he just turns the radio off and rolls the window down.
Your beginning is perfect because it’s so abrupt. You don’t waste any time with stupid shit, you just start off with “Gerard drives,” which isn’t the most dramatic thing in the world, but it catches attention because the reader wants to know where he’s going and why. It sets the tone for the rest of the piece, which is a feeling of movement and motion. I got the feeling there were two different types of motion: Gerard’s careful, measured driving – he’s shifting with ease, keeping his speed normal even though he’d rather pull over – and Frank’s chaotic, childlike pinwheeling in the next paragraph:
Gerard pretends to keep his eyes on the road, but really, his caramel irises are sliding to the corner, watching Frankie’s every move. It seems like everything Frankie does is clumsy and uncoordinated, yet still beautiful and somehow childish; like Frankie just needs someone to protect him, and Gerard doesn’t mind at all.
Frankie winds the window down a little more just as Gerard shifts gears, moves through the green light, and hits I-80, cars surrounding him, newer, bluer, happier. Frankie’s lips curl into a grin, and he unbuckles his seatbelt. Gerard gets a little nervous, but keeps his speed normal, instead of coming to a complete stop, like he really wants to.
The paragraph above is one of my absolute favorites.
Frankie crawls up to the door and then slowly eases his body out the window, until his head, arms, and half of his torso are hanging out the window, feeling the wind hug him tight, carry him down I-80 with carefree ease. He giggles, waves his arms around and hums just a little, looking at Gerard through half-lidded eyes, shouting, “It’s fun, Ger, I swear.”
Gerard shakes his head; Dear God, pleasedon’thurthim. Finally they reach their exit, and Frankie brings himself back into the car, resting against the cheap vinyl seat, running a hand through his tousled hair. “You look like you just woke up,” Gerard says, and Frankie just grins.
More childish glee. :tehe: It’s powerful because even though he seems so happy and adorable, you can tell from Gerard’s edginess and concern that something is wrong. There’s just enough ominous foreshadowing in these paragraphs to let the reader know that they need to be on their guard. I especially love the way Gerard thinks “Dear God, pleasedon’thurthim.” It’s… different. There are a thousand ways you could have written that line; when I read it, I was expecting to see “Don’t let him hurt himself,” or something. But I think it says something about Gerard’s views on God, in a subtle way, that if something happened to Frankie, he wouldn’t blame Frank or even the drugs, he would blame God for hurting him. It’s really powerful to learn about the characters in such a subtle way. Makes me feel like paying even closer attention. :3
Gerard drives for a long time, passing by miles and miles of animals and grass and trees and country homes, all the while listening to Frankie sing with the radio. “Ger,” Frankie slurs, and Gerard knows the drugs are wearing off, sweating out of his system. “I’m sleepy.”
“Sleep,” Gerard says, sliding his gaze to the slumped, sweaty, shaking form of his lover, friend, and partner-in-crime. But Frankie shakes his head, and when he looks up, his eyes are glazed over with need, obsession, addiction.
I love the repetition of “Gerard drives.” IT’S JUST LIKE THE BEGINNING! [/captain obvious] :lmfao Seriously, though. It ties back to the start and gives the story a real sense of coherence. And then you describe the setting again, but without going overboard. I really like the simple details, like the country homes, because I can see what they’re seeing but it’s not a sensory overload. They aren’t paying the scenery much attention, so there’s no reason for you to describe it too deeply. I smiled at Gerard’s response to Frankie’s “I’m sleepy” It’s just so… direct, and it really helps characterize Gerard. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to describe what I got out of it. :’] It’s kind of like… you can tell that he knows whatever he tells Frank makes no difference. It’s obvious he’s been through this multiple times before; you write “…and Gerard knows,” making it clear he can already see how things will play out. So he answers Frank with the most obvious one-word reply, knowing it doesn’t really matter what he says.
“I don’t want to sleep, I need more –“ Gerard cuts him off with a sharp look, and his lips form a tiny O, and blow out a sigh, his sweet breath floating over Gerard’s face.
:cheese: :cheese: :cheese:
Another of my favorite lines. I love that he doesn’t get angry at Gerard, that again, you can kind of tell they’ve been through this routine many times. The image of Frank’s lips forming an O, and the sweet breath… I don’t know what to say about it, I just absolutely loved it.
“We don’t have that much until we can get to where we’re going,” Gerard says, determined not to give in, because he doesn’t like Frankie when he’s high, doesn’t like when his pretty green irises are glassy and foggy with the effects off the white powder sitting in the glove box. He doesn’t like that Frankie, who sticks his head out the window and always wants to go faster, faster, faster.
I’m not totally sure about what Gerard says at the start of this paragraph. It’s a little unclear whether he means they’re almost at their destination, or there aren’t a lot of drugs left, or… yeah. So, just a tiny bit of concrit, I’d probably clean that dialogue up a little. Other than that, though, this is probably a good time to mention that your dialogue is generally amazing. :3 It’s simple, but really believable. I’m never left doubting that a character would say what they say. Gerard’s concern for Frank is wholly realistic, and so is his guilt.
Because the Frankie he fell for was normal, he was gorgeous and funny and lovable, he took his time with every project, everything. He never let Gerard move too fast, never let him go further than the line was drawn. The Frankie that’s hidden and lost somewhere didn’t need white powder and coffee and no money at all; he needed family and friends and work.
But Gerard knows it’s his fault they’re in this situation, Gerard knows he got Frankie into designer drugs and running away and Gerard knows he got Frankie to go fasterfasterfaster. And Gerard knows he can’t get Frankie to stop, either. Gerard knows it’s all his fault, and it makes Gerard’s stomach twist and clench, until he feels like he might throw up. It’s like one of those pinwheels on all the older ladies in his neighborhood’s lawn, that spin faster with the wind, so fast that you can’t stop them, so fast that it makes you dizzy. Frankie is fast. And Gerard spun him, but he can’t stop him.
LOVE. THIS. Again, completely realistic sentiments. I love the repetition of “Gerard knows,” because he really does. The problem isn’t that he’s too blind to see how messed-up Frank is, or that he’s enjoying the feeling of being out of control and going too fast. The problem is that, even though he realizes what’s wrong, he can’t do anything about it. And that’s really interesting and deep. :tehe: It does raise a lot of questions. Like, is Gerard right, or is he avoiding the truth? Because by deciding that there’s nothing he can do, he’s kind of taking the pressure off himself to try, and it’s less likely he’ll ever try to ‘fix’ Frank. But on the other hand, he could be right; it could be hopeless. Iiiinterestinggg. :weird NOT TO MENTION THE PINWHEEL METAPHOR. I don’t know what I could possibly say about it… it’s fantastic, Kor, christttt.
The line “those pinwheels on all the older ladies in his neighborhood’s lawn” is a little awkward, though. Maybe try “those pinwheels on the lawns of all the older ladies in his neighborhood” or something?
“P-please,” Frankie whispers. “Please, I need more.” He fidgets in his seat a little, and looks at Gerard long and hard, until Gerard takes his eyes off the road and turns his head and looks back.
“Frankie, please, don’t make me stop right now.” He reaches for his smokes, pulls one out, and offers the pack to Frankie. Frankie shakes his head and lights Gerard’s smoke with a Zippo for him. Gerard takes a drag and shakes his head. “Just not tonight, Frankie, please just not tonight.” But one look at Frankie and Gerard knows it’s too late, Frankie’s mind is completely attentive to the drug, and only the drug, and the only way to get him to stop whining is to pull the damn car over, and let him have what he wants.
Frankie’s insistence is perfect, as is the way Ger tries to placate him with cigarettes. And of course it doesn’t work. My heart broke a little for Gerard, and his desperation. He just wants one night with the Frankie he remembers, but of course he can’t have it. It’s so spellbinding, the whole situation. If he got Frankie into drugs, this is all his fault, and so far he’s the one suffering worst. Frankie at this point seems pretty content, but Gerard effectively ruined his own life because now he can’t get Frankie back.
So he pulls the car over, and Frankie bounces in the seat while he opens the glove box and pulls out the tiny Ziploc bag, and Gerard rests his head on the seat, listening to the sound of Frankie’s eagerness, praying to God that this will end one day.
It’s so bitter and ironic that Frank is so fucking happy, even if it is fake, and that’s exactly what Gerard hates. Obviously he can tell that it isn’t normal and it isn’t right, but from the reader’s point of view, it’s awful irony. I mean, that must be so sickening for Gerard. :twitch:
… I love the irony. >:]]]]]]]]
But Gerard knows the only way it can stop is if the dizziness wears off and he can reach out, touch a finger to Frankie, and make the spinning stop.
And he doesn’t even know if that’s possible anymore.
Perfect metaphor. Perfect closing. I’m not going to ruin it by saying anything stupid. You’re one of my favorite writer’s on mibba… I don’t read nearly as much as I should, but I think that still means something. This story incorporates my favorite elements, and it’s incredible. Your stories are always so heartfelt and unique, it just blows my mind. There’s always a particular… something, I can’t put my finger on it, but I’d always know if it was your writing. Beautiful.