The thing is that I could quote any sentence of this back at you and tell you why I love it because it is all so great and gloriously in character. I love all the stuff about their names, how Stannis is rarely ever just Stannis and how he rarely calls Jon by his given name, either. And the intimacy of it which is about them allowing themselves to be themselves and to just have what they need is wonderful. Also, you finally wrote Stannis petting Jon's scars. YES.
All of Jon's imaginings about a younger Stannis were fantastic but particularly: He couldn't even imagine what a younger Stannis might have dreamt of, what he had hoped for, before he had realised that no one cared about his dreams or wishes, and resigned himself to his duty. Because my god does that just sum up how depressing Stannis' life is and how heartbreaking and also how fucking strong and great that he's made himself into a worthy king because that's his duty, it's what he needs to be. And it could be so so depressing, this fic, because it acknowledges all of that but it isn't because they have each other, if only for a little while. Ugh. Gorgeous, basically.
And, like, just why did I even just write all that because your fic says it all perfectly. Because: Jon would have almost called it tender, as tender as Stannis' hands ever managed to be, hard as they were, so unused to touching anyone, too rough at one moment, too careful the next, always expecting rejection, anticipating it one moment and trying to fight it the next. It made Jon feel like there was more to this than two angry desperate men who were fighting a lost war, and even though he knew that none of this mattered in the great scheme of things, it made him feel safe, if only for a short hour in the middle of the night. BECAUSE THERE IS STANNIS, CONSTANTLY AFRAID OF REJECTION AND KNOWING HE'LL LIKELY LOSE THE WAR AND KNOWING, JUST AS JON DOES, HOW POWERLESS HE IS AGAINST THINGS GREATER THAN HE IS BUT THEY HAVE THIS.
The closing tableau is glorious, too, because they're still in bed, sleeping longer than they perhaps ought to, and oh god the spooning and Jon's hand on Stannis' and all is well with the universe for a little while longer at least. Thank you, Linn, for this ship, for writing it and making me write it and for all the feels I am having write now about these two fucking miserable idiots.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2013-06-08 11:27 pm (UTC)All of Jon's imaginings about a younger Stannis were fantastic but particularly:
He couldn't even imagine what a younger Stannis might have dreamt of, what he had hoped for, before he had realised that no one cared about his dreams or wishes, and resigned himself to his duty.
Because my god does that just sum up how depressing Stannis' life is and how heartbreaking and also how fucking strong and great that he's made himself into a worthy king because that's his duty, it's what he needs to be. And it could be so so depressing, this fic, because it acknowledges all of that but it isn't because they have each other, if only for a little while. Ugh. Gorgeous, basically.
And, like, just why did I even just write all that because your fic says it all perfectly. Because:
Jon would have almost called it tender, as tender as Stannis' hands ever managed to be, hard as they were, so unused to touching anyone, too rough at one moment, too careful the next, always expecting rejection, anticipating it one moment and trying to fight it the next. It made Jon feel like there was more to this than two angry desperate men who were fighting a lost war, and even though he knew that none of this mattered in the great scheme of things, it made him feel safe, if only for a short hour in the middle of the night.
BECAUSE THERE IS STANNIS, CONSTANTLY AFRAID OF REJECTION AND KNOWING HE'LL LIKELY LOSE THE WAR AND KNOWING, JUST AS JON DOES, HOW POWERLESS HE IS AGAINST THINGS GREATER THAN HE IS BUT THEY HAVE THIS.
The closing tableau is glorious, too, because they're still in bed, sleeping longer than they perhaps ought to, and oh god the spooning and Jon's hand on Stannis' and all is well with the universe for a little while longer at least. Thank you, Linn, for this ship, for writing it and making me write it and for all the feels I am having write now about these two fucking miserable idiots.