|Reviews for JxHQ: Glimpses|
| AZ-woodbomb chapter 7 . 9/25/2009
This is incredible. It feels a bit like how a religious person might describe their god. And she’s so free from everything, so perfectly happy despite all the horrific sides of the relationship. This is, well, perfect.
| VixenPro chapter 7 . 7/27/2009
| Window Girl chapter 1 . 7/17/2009
I think that's an interesting theory: that Harley loves the Joker because she can be great through him. I think it's true to some extent.
| Hysteric1234 chapter 7 . 7/17/2009
Good to see you're getting back into the swing of it dear, is a pleasure as always. Your trustworthy cheerleader Holly is here, ready to.. cheer you!
Nice little piece, I rather like how relatable, to a point, it is; we all feel the weight of those social faces we put on, and the endless minutia of those rules enforced on us. When I think about it, I do feel a sense of both terror and desire for a lack of rules. It makes sense then that someone relying on rules to guide her own behaviour like Harley, would be so very gratified by the Joker. Ah it is a good little tid bit, you deserve all the encouragement you can get!
How does this live journal thing work anyhoo? P
| KagomeHig715 chapter 7 . 7/16/2009
OH MY GOD! I MISS YOUR WORK! AHh and it's alright everyone needs time. So NO PRESSURE...but I can't even write all the words I want to here...
1) Because I'm tired
2) It's to long
3) I wouldn't know what to say...
| EmperorJoker09 chapter 7 . 7/16/2009
This was so simply written, and yet so deeply displayed that it had my own mind boggling and screaming in a 'YES!'
I have ALWAYS thought that this is exactly why Harley stays, of course for other reasons too, but because of his rules, although sudden and somewhat precise, Harley always wanted those type of rules to begin with.
I figure Harley always hated rules when she was younger and growing up, hating to fit in but feeling it to be quite exhilarating at the same time, knowing you've been accepted into a group or cliche. But the strain of knowing you could mess up at anytime, truly show yourself once and indeed have a glowing aura of 'imposter' and be, consequently, shunned...well I believe it's a worry most have.
And finding The Joker, she just doesn't ever have to worry about rules. Because like you brilliantly exemplified...they don't feel like rules at all.
Congratulations on a magnificent piece once again, I can't wait to read what you hand us next. I'll most likely be drooling in anticipation.
| DCoD chapter 6 . 12/15/2008
Scars are meant to tell stories.. Harley certainly has an entire series written upon her. Wonderfully done! :)
| KagomeHig715 chapter 5 . 12/14/2008
OMG! I'm so mad I haven't gotten the chance to read any of your stories in a while! I missed your stories.. And Im diening to read the continued SNUFF.. Lol Your stories are freakin incredible! I love them.
Great Chapter by the way! You dig so deep in the characters psych its amazing!
| Hysteric1234 chapter 5 . 12/14/2008
Love it, as always. Little else to say than that, very exact and as always I can visualise it perfectly! Enjoy your break; have tea and scones, they are the best. P
| alocin chapter 5 . 12/13/2008
Aww, I like - a wonderful welcome back from your break. Hope you've had a nice rest from the excesses of November and NNWM!
| DCoD chapter 5 . 12/11/2008
Lovely. And I definitely see this being a rule rather than an exception for them as well. Harley will do anything to keep the Joker's attention on her, and the Joker would make sure Harley doesn't smear his image.. Very nicely executed! :)
| pressurehinges chapter 3 . 11/20/2008
That you used this line thrills me.
To offer oneself entirely, without reservations, to allow nother complete control- one could argue this is the highest expression of not only trust but of freedom. V. IC And already I'm diggin the quasi-religious overtone to the whole thing.
I mean to say, she's a sort of nun. His nun, focused entirely on her duty of serving him. Her purity is based on how well she
performs this task. Nuns lose their autnomy willingly, know they sacrifice it for a higher power, that their own identities, their own lives mean nothing save to be vessels for the work of good.
They leave the world (as Harley left it) and are sequestered
entirely behind- and this here is the key, I suppose, despite the constant risk she faces- safe walls.
She makes of herself the most precious gift to demonstrate the
power of her love.
I love that you used this too. D
A sacrifice ismeant not only to pacate, to bargain, and to glorfy, but to express devotion. Whihc is why sacrifical victims respresent the greatest value within a community- often children, often warriors. The young and valuable, and most needed. To give this up, and willingly, is to prove the lengths one wil go todisplay devotion, love, and trust- sacifices are not made, usually, out of vengeance. They are acts of love. Of communion. To be chosen as a sacrifice is a reward, a reflection of your inherent value.
Milton said that hell is not a place filled with fire and torment- hell is simply the absence of god. The knowledge that god has turned his face away. No other pain can compare. So these lines I like
This is how she knows Hell must truly be ice.
This final line I really like. Nice Dante ref in there, and it
expresses the chill of isolation. The despair of ever being warm agin. Being cold hurts in a way that being hot does not, and without a longed-for touch, emotionally, you can freeze to death.
| pressurehinges chapter 4 . 11/17/2008
Well I can't say I'm not imesnaely gratified by this inclusion, but this doubtless my ego at work, so. XD I do think it makes for a lovely introduction to the purpose of the piece. I, personally, would have gotten all sort of meta phorcal with the actual description/effects of such abuse, but this is hardcore a style thing and I am in no place to making such suggestions
I like how you portray him as compelled here. I've always thought he IS an artist, and you know how artsts can be. ;p The only suggestion here is to maybe make it a littele more overt. 'Thegrand joke' okay, but anything ekse? Anything more pesonal, even if he doesn't necessarily want it to be too overt to an
Perfact description of her mindset. She recognizes her own worthless without his input, without his makingher over inot a thing of beauty. She is covered with the marks of his violence- all art, all creation, can be analogized to birth, and there is nothing that is not born in blood.
Excellent. She can be for all the things he cannot, will not- those pieces of him he is unwilling (snornful of, afraid of) displaying in him, yet compelled to send that message somehow.)
I like it. I think it gets the message across, paints a picture (no pun intended XD) of how this situation of 'abuse' has a purpose beyond just LOLOLOL SMACK
MY BICTH UP ZOMG RONG!1!1one
| pressurehinges chapter 1 . 11/17/2008
Okay, first off, I love this story. I just love it hardcore for so many many reasons which I will attempt to elucidate, but I warn you of this because my objectivity may be compromised simply because I think, meaning absolutely nothing but respect, that out of all four you sent, this right here is the best and most powerful and most poignant story. It resonated the strongest with me personally and I just plain love the hell out of everything about it, from the style of the writing to the themes, to everything within. That said, we proceed!
This story is...well, to me it reads more like free verse than narrative, which I dig strongly. It's got no clearly indentifiable timeline but is merely a short piece focusing solely on headspace and reflection, and these are two things I love much in fiction.
There's a despair threaded through it, but not the banal despair of ZOMG ANGST!11!1one that can get so very overdone at times. It's the quiet despair of old bomb sites, where the ruin is recognized as beautiful despite being a monument to annihilation. It's a despair that has seen itself and decided it is not worth despairing over, or is unsure of just where the despair comes from or why it matters.
It reads to me like a suicide note, tbh. "This is what my life was. This is what was good about it. This is what was bad. I am undecided on much but cannot be much bothered to make a decision either. Take from it what you will and then good night." Not that I think that's what it is, by any means- it just has that certain flavor.
It is very much a junkie mentality at work here. (That is how I relate to Harley, forgive me, so my perceptions wil always be so colored. I do project in that sense.)
It's a stark story. It's uncompromising, but not in any brutal way. It simply states what her choic ewas, how she felt about it that choice, while making it, while living it, while living in its aftermath. A more lucid Harley here, one far more concerned with an objective introspection, something we so seldom see that I am shocked and awe by it. Certain lines really stood out to me:
("Nights she felt empty, nights she felt dreamless she held him and cried but he never held her back.
Which was as well because after all they were never have supposed to have been together
Beautiful and beautifully objective portrayal of what her thought process is on that. That maybe this wasn't meant- that maybe there is no 'meant'- that is was just a thing that happened, and it was good sometimes, so good it scared her, but good has a terrible tendency not to last. Which is all right- you did have it at least for a little while, and having is always better than not.
("And he’d touched her sometimes. Sometimes, with his hands. Sometimes with his mouth. Sometimes he’d touched her. Sometimes she’d cried. Sometimes she’d laughed. And sometimes she felt that she would crumble and disintegrate beneath the weight of what she was feeling. And all feeling was him.")
This is beautiful. Honestly, it is heart-breakingly so. It's so simple, so unadorned, it rings of nothing but honesty without judgement overlaid on it.
("And it wasn’t until much later she realised.
Realised she’d been dying and all that time she’d never known.")
Again this breaks my heart. Spare, unrelenting, yet with no force behind it, no attempt to persuade or explain. A simple statement of opinion.
I'm not sure I can even process this properly, if you want the truth. I felt this story to be powerful enough that it will stay with me for a long time. Maybe because it's sad, because it talks about everything lost and wonderful and everyday-tragedy, and morbid as I am this is where my mind goes. We don't know just exactly what it is she's talking about; we're not given details beyond of course the obvious one that it's got to do with the
Joker. And details, I feel, would badly compromise such a story's beauty. We see Harley here a woman with regrets, although about what exactly neither she nor we are sure. She is not child-like here. She is not bubbly and exuberant and somehow desperate. She simply is. Harley, Alone - Girl, Interrupted.
This thing is a masterpiece. I know it's a departure in some ways from your usual, but I love it hard. It feels so personal yet at the same time so distant- the way she (and most people) think of death, and she mentions dying. Dying for a long time without ever knowing it until later, and really, this is
in a sense how we all live.
I just really love this story. I could talk for ages about it if you really want more navel-gazing, or have questions, or whatever, but if not, I will simply say again this is brilliance.
| pressurehinges chapter 2 . 11/17/2008
This is another story that I love, for many reasons.
You have portrayed the dreariness of life in an asylum perfectly, that terrible longing for color or motion, especially in one so used to it. Your description is gorgeous and powerful, and from her own store of memory, her refusal to be turned to ash, Harley conjures colors with her mind. Nature abhorring a vacuum, she fills it with her own power of delusion, and here that power is presented as strong and positive. She talks about bruises, about blood, and about violence, but this story is about reaching for life when all around you is nothing but the dull stagnance of a slow wait for death. She transforms her prison into something more amenable to her, something bearable; she changes it by imagining her past come
screaming to bright noisy life.
It's a sombre piece in some ways, but ultimately a hopeful one, a bittersweet sort of triumph. She smiles. The smile of madness, surely, but maybe sometimes, in such a place, such a madness is a blessing. It's the power and the refuge of every prisoner.
I love it. I don't know what sort of headspace you were in while writing this and 'sometimes', but they are both lovely in somewhat similar ways, and both grabbed me instantly.
I can only say that I loved it.