|Reviews for Incarcerated|
| Gasaway Alley chapter 2 . 9/9/2009
Oh, my deliRIEous dandelion. What light beckons in yon windowslide? Tis, you. Shining and camming us to your will and brille. As with any times, trial, and tribulations, you timelocked and timestopped a Jasper worthy of piquant interest. There are more spun lines of creonine webs and tribe than I can keep up with. And, you had to divide this in twain?
History, his. Gettysberg, grimmling.
Jasper's cowardice, and self grovelence, were painful to read in his dealing with the Grasping Granddame. Your detail to light, dark, temperature and texture were a railroad of sensual cream and ladyfinger delights.
Splendid and sordid, you spin it, reel it, and cram it in through our olfactory senses and nerves. What a worthy win of every Jasper history piece ever thought, dreamt, wished, or yearned for.
Clip clop - Tick tock, indeed...
| Viola Cornuta chapter 2 . 9/9/2009
I just read both chapters again, as it feels wrong to read any without reading all. The story has life and vibrancy of spirit, even if the three are dead and sick at heart.
| AshLove83 chapter 2 . 9/9/2009
As usual, you have left me speachless. Amazing, wonderful, fantastic... what else can I say?
| clairdeluneisgreat chapter 1 . 9/9/2009
I like this Edward and I loved your beautiful words.
| frol chapter 2 . 9/9/2009
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Nay, thou art deeper, darker, and more lovely. You are mists on the moors and black tidepools of swirling, wet sea life.
"I was young and untouched but for the chaste kisses and hasty contact I stole while I said adieu to Delilah, my betrothed. Hoping simply to live, to keep marching through the endless seasons of this war on stiffened frostbitten feet, wet with rot, surviving gangrenous wounds seeping puss; deveined, not at all glorious, and just needing to make it back to my affianced so that I could make an honest woman of her."
Aw the glory of war. Starving soldiers, poor supplies and the simple longing to get home. Seems so small a request, and yet we still ask this of young men. Of course now we ask them to bleed and leave their youth in countries they would probably never otherwise see. Away from everyone so we are not shamed by the things we ask of them.
"So close to home I could taste the cool, tangy, mint juleps drunk beneath the scorching afternoon sun. I could feel the concentrated flesh of gamey wild roasted quail upon my tongue, smell the scorch of potatoes dug only an hour ago from the earth, packed deep in coals, and blackberry cobbler warming on the cast iron stove. Scant miles away, the sights, sounds, and scents of home reached me on the night-dark breeze that threw hazy skeletal clouds across the golden harvest moon. With filial knowledge, I knew that my mother was on the back porch, looking up at the starlit sky as we each promised to do every night. Naming constellations and calling me home."
Such a gorgeous and heart rending description of home. A mother waiting for her young soldier, looking at the same sky and asking the heavens to allow him to get there. Lovely, painful, and simple. The tastes we miss, sounds and smells. Our strongest memories are those that invade our senses.
"propelled delicate silver yarns of poison back in"
Ahh...this is creepy and still so eerily beautiful. Silver yarns, for Maria, it's really her puppet strings she is attaching to our poor dear Jasper. Severing the apron strings of his earth mother wishing on her back porch.
"The unheralded foreign itch in my throat, a want for the bitter salve of iron,"
I do not think I have ever read such a poetic, dark and beautiful description of the thirst. Your words are the dark waters that bring forth life from brackish waters of death and disease of a long grown over battlefield.
The watch! A relic of humanity! Holy connection to mortality! Life, family. LOVE. An entire universe in a small silver case.
"Ripe like full fruit, but hard as the pit of a peach" Stony perfection!
"My innocence discarded in the field yonder, I darted all over her flush body! Shredded the vest, hurled the watch against the thick canvas sides of the tent,"
Sadly his innocence was gone even before the succubus came across him in the field. And to see the watch tossed, discarded along with humanity - an amazing image that completely encompasses his transformation.
"She whimpered as my simple gaze and murmured words of love and hush calmed the wee one, " I love this almost as much as Eddie calming the cat out in the swamps. The draw and skill of a true predator. Gorgeous in its primal ugliness and yet tender, as of thankful for the bounty.
"My soul was an empty silo. Grainy images of all the people I killed hunted me. Like the eradicable scars that stained my skin, bites and tears from the recruits I gathered as we took over the southern territories, I was blemished, littered with spumes of wrath and vitriol, ingrained with murder."
Love the silo image. Especially in contrast the the golden images we usually get of Jasper. Wind blown wheat and sunshine; his soul empty of its golden glow. Instead simply a want, a void, a shell waiting to be filled with love and sustenance. And the use of the word grainy? Perhaps not intentional in reference to the silo, (or perhaps it was, you clever word painter) but perfect nonetheless. Empty of grain, losing the tintype brain photos of his human life. Lovely dark and deep.
"Clip clop. Tick tock."
GOD! The gorgeous sound of the horse hooves and the relic watch. The marching of men and time and humanity into the darkness. The metronome of a lonely new song. A solo Jazz being played by the harpy.
"And the tick tock of my watch carried on, a useless reminder that I would never age and never know a soldier’s homecoming. Time was an indifferent bedfellow; lost life was an apathetic companion"
Time is the enemy of all creatures, human and vampire it seems, just for different reasons. tick tick tick
"Smooth, cold, wet, and ready. Inches in, long, long inches in, and seconds, earthbound seconds out."
tick tick tick
"Clip clop." the woods are lovely, dark and deep.
"Along the less walked roads," yes, less travelled. A vampire story with Frost overtones? Why yes, only you goddess could make it so.
"The Wurlitzer replaced the Howitzer. A rampant tinkle of music and melody sent me forward. The Charleston switched with the Jive. Roaring Twenties, Dirty Thirties, the thriftiness of the Depression; they all passed and found me in the Forties."
The sweet metronome of time, tick tick tick.
"a tattoo" tick tick tick...drum beats, snare drums of battlefields human and not
"I later learned that part of it was due to his one-of-a-kind ability to read minds. All but mine." Nice! Death to canon! All Hale ;) the new silence for Edward in sweet, golden sunshine of Jazz. The music of his soul.
As always Rie...a thousand gorgeous phrases and images. Your words spin me and make me want to write and sing and dance. Such sweet sweet reading. My heart swells.
| slobber-monkey chapter 2 . 9/9/2009
Rie, you just amaze me that is the only thing I can say! You paint such a marvelous picture with your words and you had me turned on, angry, sad, and turned on again in one short chapter... I love the back-story to Jasper, I'm addicted already.
“Oh fuck! Oh, J…Jesus,” and I knew that my name was on the cusp of his tongue.
| AshLove83 chapter 1 . 9/4/2009
Wow, just wow. I can't put into words how great that chapter was, as I am only a infitesimal fraction of the writer you are. You know I will be reading the chapter 2 teaser on the threads and anxiously awaiting more. Amazing.
| 4Lj2x93s chapter 1 . 8/26/2009
This is... fantastic. Wow. I'm going to have to read it again. I like your prose-that's-not-quite-prose. So dark and sensual and almost maniacal in Edward's obsession and agony. Love, love, love.
| frol chapter 1 . 8/20/2009
Aw baby first let me say that if I inspired you in any way, I am beyond flattered because you blow me away with every single thing you write. I swear your keyboard is crystals and seashells and magic peyote buttons that spew forth all things sublime.
"Flesh that did not belong to this earth. And would never know Heaven."
Even your Darkward is so canon is his self-hate and self-enforced exile. Dark, lonely, lone and gorgeous in his swirling ennui
"I was that thing that went bump in the night. Sleepless. Insomniac. Troubled by time that tripled and tainted and haunted my essence…effervescent with absolutely nothing."
You know how I love the images you play. Dryness, cold, sea and dirt. Effervescent with nothing? How much more dry and stark can you get? And at the same time, he does have dark pools and eddies beneath the surface, always boiling and roiling, even though he denies all.
"Lambs to the slaughter"
Such a lovely play on "stupid lamb"
One of the many many things I adore about your writing is your use of language. Never satisfied with simple phrases that convey a meaning, you uncover poetry and sing to my brain with the words you use. Slaugherhouse? Yes, of the common. That is what you are.
"he was blonder than seraphs with the spiteful tongue of a fishwife. Her mate, her opposite, was a dark behemoth, but interred in giant bonhomie and the grand jocularity of a court jester. Coupled and united, they were yet one more nail in my creaking, pineboard coffin. Suffocating beneath the handfuls of dirt heaped on top."
Gah. I think this is the most beautiful description of Rose and Emmett ever. And there is the earth, smothering, and nurturing all in the same dank soil.
"begging for the pain to end, for life to begin anew. "
What lovely connotations of death and rebirth.
I love the description of Edward's room. Much more realistic for someone who loathes himself so fully. Denying himself all simple pleasures. A monk, outcast, and still a young boy.
"cemeteries of skeletons pelted over by dianthus and deep maroon calla lilies, I was callous. The creek trawled up sea water mixed with freshwater and dolphins innocently splashed amongst carnivorous alligators, lethal stingrays and the talons of osprey and red-shouldered hawks alike."
Cemeteries overrun with life. The past covered with new green and of course the mix of water and the predators and prey. Death and life, the cycle repeating.
"silk and sackcloth combined was a scent deep as earth with its musk. Tang of salt wind and brine. Soil and sea."
Death and birth, rot and nuture. Water and soil can give all and take all. Erode, decay and renew.
"speared me, throwing me into undiscovered forests damp with decaying vegetation, and into the surly curls of the ocean’s roiling surface."
Like a primitive fisherman getting his meal. Hunting with only spear and his wit. Fish that come to the surface to feast on the plants that grow toward the sun and spoil on the surface. Surly curls? Seaweed and semen.
"my palm begged me to place it upon that triangle of skin"
Picturing the hand he places on Bella's chest in the meadow scene from the film. Searching for heat and heart.
"ripe wheat swaying in an unending field"
Yeasty sweetness and a sea of golden waves swaying and beckoning. Gorgeous.
"tones of gravel roads and twang of Rodeo, “How do you do, Edward?” I faltered, feverish, frightened! I nodded my head and held dearer to that hand while he carried on, a bit nonplussed, “I’m Jasper.” Yellow, silica, Jasper. Gemstone, lodestone. Jasper. The strength of his clasp was not surprising, but the gnawing of it caused fresh wounds and fantasies of his knuckles brushing my nipples and that embrace, cool and hard, wrapped around my cock."
Gravel voice and mining of the soul? Woman though art the miner of my soul and you uncover the perfect semi-preciousness of Jasper.
"I felt like an amputee with the ghost of a limb itching, tingling"
Perfection. I love the imagery of ghost nerve feeling. So perfect for Edward. Never before knowing and yet KNOWING
"Swarthy, gritty, crops burgeoning. And always the cresting of the sea over sooty sand."
What is so tasty about this is the thought that salt will cause earth to stop bringing forth crops, and yet it is the salty sweat of effort that brings bounty. Sea, sand, salt, silica. Seduction and sweetness.
"moth wings barely touching."
And ever struggling to reach heat
"Poison to palm, lifting up the tiny droplets and working them into the swells of my palms, the fleshy rigid bits of my fingers, rubbing it in, I wrapped my hand at the root. Like a wild thing he clasped me, his hands were beasts that worked in escalating circles, rotating over my turgid dick, pulsating upon the thick heavy lengthwise vein, fingering each ridged ripple of tissue all the way up and all the way down. Down. Down. Over my sac, that he handled with a knowing rolling touch, a push down on the steel-tense bridge of skin between my balls and my ass. Up up up. Swirling the pad of his index finger round and round the lip of my head while his thumb and forefinger nickel and dimed the rarified weeping slit atop, sucking out the inner tiny lips, that he met with a deep French kiss. The tip of his rooting tongue tucked just slightly inside, opening my cock to him. "
This makes all my body weep with all kinds of want. And why oh why am I thinking of fingers pushing into soil to plant seeds? Hmm perhaps to bear fruit? To ripen and harvest new desire?
"Jasper was a killing machine, murderer, mercenary, a legion of loss now reformed; a vegetarian vampire, lover, husband and gentle soul who was light and breezy, easily humored, deeply intelligent and empathetic, except when reminded of his bloody history of human and immortal wars."
A bringer of death and then life. Grief and love
"Was it worse to feel this alive and untouched, or to be inert, a fossil, an insect caught in liquid hardening amber, still and untouchable? Intact but for this shard of ice that was my heart breaking apart with each meeting."
Liquid that makes a stone. Gorgeous. Liquid also breaks stone, erodes, washes away and makes way for new growth in barren fields.
"“I could leave you alone, Edward,” he stated in that honey husky hallowed voice.
No, you cannot. “Don’t,” it was barely a whisper of barley and sun and hollow."
Loving the amber and gold images. Heat against ice. And such a lovely play on the canon as well.
"le petit mort, inside of her sluice"
I have always always always loved that orgasms are called little deaths and it's so perfect here.
sluice - for mining, for finding precious metal, the ingots of Jasper's eyes. "Starving to slither into a fissure in the earth’s mantle" into the earth where all precious things are mined. Uncovered by water and time. Water pushes earth.
I myself am a lazy kitten at your feet. Licking and uncovering each little nugget you provide. The languid purring? That is me, belly taut, swollen into satisfaction.
| vampirelover44 chapter 1 . 8/20/2009
"...vague waves of his hair were like ripe wheat swaying in an unending field..."
This is poetry... Well for me it is. I like the bombardment of visual imagery your writing evokes! sublime, excellent work!
| pixiekat7 chapter 1 . 8/19/2009
Good chapter, update soon! *snorts* Yeah, I went there, I’m such a feisty kat aren’t I? You know you love me & there’s another review, you know where to find it…
| brandj chapter 1 . 8/18/2009
So excited about this one!
“Mortals. I had been one. Afraid of the dark, as a child, and now I was that thing that went bump in the night.”
I love that imagery. Of course, Edward could bump me in the night anytime and I wouldn’t be afraid!
“From grimy boot-tips up over lanky thighs that were slightly bowlegged. Slim of hips, his torso hidden from my perusal by a chambray shirt that had been hastily rolled up muscled forearms… At his throat, his collar and three buttons open, I lingered over the pale slices on view. And my palm begged me to place it upon that triangle of skin, to slide over his strong throat, grip the nape of his neck. My tongue worked its way around my mouth, trying to flee in order to trace his prominent Adam’s apple that was a work of art in itself.
Circumventing his face, I noted that he was tall, an inch or two above me, tawny, of animals and savagery tamed. The vague waves of his hair were like ripe wheat swaying in an unending field.”
Fuck me! That is….. . The Jazz….beyond words right now. I’m afraid to see what it’s going to be like when they finally get together. Rie…your descriptions are always so through, so beautiful.
His voice was mellifluous, music and fluid, and an abyss of rhythm to my fatigued hearing, tones of gravel roads and twang of Rodeo, “How do you do, Edward?”
Okay….here’s where my mind went on this one. Jazz rodeo bucking bronco. I am dead. Seriously. Jazz on a bucking bronco…Jazz being the bucking bronco….all roads leading to the gutta!
But I didn’t know what he was really thinking.
I wanted to be inside him, be inside of him. Be.
I had no idea what he was thinking.
His peaceful mind quelled all the thoughts around him. In his presence I could swim in a still lake, the surface unrippled by the stippling utterances of others. He spread his peace to me, like a trance. Not through the power of his ability, but through the innate goodness that clamored and warred with the death-dealing artifacts of his past.
The silence was…golden.
I love that! Edward can’t hear Jasper! But man oh man…Alice is one little devil. Can she not see how hot this would be? I think we need to speak to her, seriously!
“Jasper was all man.
And I craved him”.
Absa-fuckin-lutely! Danm…next chapter, PLEASE? I am totally down for beggin!
| naelany chapter 1 . 8/18/2009
well that was truly... interesting! A very different Edward, and I kinda like it lol
| mds220 chapter 1 . 8/18/2009
I am not sure how you do it but your words grab me and pull me into the story with such force that it takes over my mind. I do not think that I can express how much I love your stories . The way that you draw the reader in is a true gift and I am so glad that you share that gift with us. I don’t care that it is about J/E, I would read anything that you write. You still own me BB! Can’t wait for more of DC and another chapter of Incarcerated!
| Gasaway Alley chapter 1 . 8/18/2009
So, I shall start this out with, Is there a drive through window at this Slash-in-the-Box? Cause I would eat there everyday!
Rie-diculous is what this is! God, Lucifer, void and vacuum. Wanting, weilding, wavering, welding.
"As if by the hand of Noah himself, another two traipsed up to this ark that was afloat as a sanctuary amidst the flood of people when so many of our kind wandered alone."
"The sight that hit me floored me, deluged me, and caused instant paralyzation." -His first sight of EOF and his black habilled Malice- paralyzing in it's stunning confundusing.(HP)
"Tiger-spun eyes"- Just when you think there can't be another way to describe their eyes...
"Loose, lush lips that looked plucked from down and velvet and pillows of kings."- I could recline and dine on those lips alone.
"I wanted to shove that burnished head between my thighs."-Yes please.
"As he released my hand, he briefly dipped down into the valleys where digit met palm, brushing against that tender secret skin. Shivers raced over me. That stroke, beneath my sac, along the private soft tendon that was a causeway from cock to ass."-Straight from palm to taint.
Tumbleweed voices and vices, eclipse of smiles and wiles, cushioned wet red curvatures...overtures in rapturous dead melodies.
Copper and motty mothy wings,lurking and jerking with phantom lips twisting until cascades of venom, ripping and spitting rang forth.
Silence was...golden-Jasper was golden and unattainable.
"I would suckle upon each muscled rib as if it was my last meal."-Shivers.
"I wanted to take heart from her shrieking visions; surely she would have lain off if there was no hope at all for me and Jasper...The two of them, coupling, copulating, fucking, Jasper and Alice entwined in maggoty, pornographic reels.- The loss of intimacy. The absolution of divinity. Alice's strenuous bond crackled and glowed with the spider webs of doubt eking out through the imperfections and chinks of her stronghold on Jasper. Desperation.