So I've been trying to explain to myself, for about a week now, why I like this so much. The easiest answer: IT'S SO GOOD. But the effort to pinpoint the good beyond "IT'S EVERYTHING, ITS EVERYTHING IS JUST SO GOOD" has been thus far met with limited success. Because everything about this is just so good. The language of it, the cadence of the opening section, in all its parallels (or, as Castiel notes, imperfect parallels). The precision of its illuminations, and, as I mentioned earlier this week, that excellent, fluid way you join Castiel's conversation with Sam and his with Dean as sequential--and the latter, therefore, reactive to the first. It's not something that occurred to me as I watched, and not a way I've seen it really discussed by others, either; and I think maybe it's because in some way we're trained for parallels and contrasts and all those somewhat a temporal literary devices, and often we forget that time, indeed, does pass. There's reaction and causality--things that are at once perfectly obvious but also sorely underconsidered. But I digress. What I mean to say is, I thought that move was lovely and insightful and just a really good character moment for Castiel and for TFW.
I also love your evocation of what it feels like to wear stolen grace, and what of its original owner might remain. You always have such thoughtful sensory descriptions--and Castiel's grace here joins your description of Dean and his newfound demon eyes from one of the fics you wrote this summer as some of my favorite examples of this.
And Hannah, Hannah and her stars, her open sky! She has only the briefest presence here, but it's so full and unmistakable and latent with so much about Heaven and angels and she and Castiel. <333 And the way Hannah's decision to stay outside returns in the last paragraph, when Castiel is missing the dawn, I just love.
Also, this line: You are beginning to understand why exhaustion is so essential a component of grief. Unconsciousness is a small comfort; the illusion of an ending.
The sentences themselves are just so beautiful. And the idea they put forth is so true and so new--in spite of all our talk of death, and all our talk of tiring. This gets it in a way that most things never will, I feel like.
But as much as I love all of that--and love it I really, truly do--I think what captivates me most about this is... the position of the POV? I don't know if that's the appropriate word to use here. But Castiel's POV here occupies such an unusual space, neither particularly close (which I associate with humans and Winchesters, because it tends to be so bodily and intimate) nor wholly removed. It's just doing this interesting thing with an unusual proximity which I really like artistically, and which I really, really like on Castiel, newly graced but also remembering his brief humanity.
This is the kind of piece where I read it and think, this is so beautiful. This is so unmistakable. This is so together and insightful and elegant and controlled--this is something I would like to write like, one day. Like, I cannot overstate how great I find this. Thank you for sharing it! <3333
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I also love your evocation of what it feels like to wear stolen grace, and what of its original owner might remain. You always have such thoughtful sensory descriptions--and Castiel's grace here joins your description of Dean and his newfound demon eyes from one of the fics you wrote this summer as some of my favorite examples of this.
And Hannah, Hannah and her stars, her open sky! She has only the briefest presence here, but it's so full and unmistakable and latent with so much about Heaven and angels and she and Castiel. <333 And the way Hannah's decision to stay outside returns in the last paragraph, when Castiel is missing the dawn, I just love.
Also, this line: You are beginning to understand why exhaustion is so essential a component of grief. Unconsciousness is a small comfort; the illusion of an ending.
The sentences themselves are just so beautiful. And the idea they put forth is so true and so new--in spite of all our talk of death, and all our talk of tiring. This gets it in a way that most things never will, I feel like.
But as much as I love all of that--and love it I really, truly do--I think what captivates me most about this is... the position of the POV? I don't know if that's the appropriate word to use here. But Castiel's POV here occupies such an unusual space, neither particularly close (which I associate with humans and Winchesters, because it tends to be so bodily and intimate) nor wholly removed. It's just doing this interesting thing with an unusual proximity which I really like artistically, and which I really, really like on Castiel, newly graced but also remembering his brief humanity.
This is the kind of piece where I read it and think, this is so beautiful. This is so unmistakable. This is so together and insightful and elegant and controlled--this is something I would like to write like, one day. Like, I cannot overstate how great I find this. Thank you for sharing it! <3333