Oh, this is lovely! Dark and sexy like the original, but with an added melancholia sneaking through the whole thing that's quite delicious, and not something we see a lot of when it comes to Jack.
This is what's so great about remix, when you get someone doing an excellent remix of a story that was excellent to begin with.
I love your eye for language and how you play with your words. skimming the mud of twisted streets that reek of saltfish and drudgery is particularly beautifully stated and evocative.
You manage to walk a fine line with your Jack between the more jovial tone we're accustomed to and a seriousness and uncertainty about the relationships between himself, Will, and Elizabeth. Your Jack is more pensive than the norm, but in a way that's still totally in keeping with his character.
He pushes the thought away, as it’s his habit to steal only trouble he can touch - and he is, admittedly, a creature of habit. Small ones, the ones he can afford, like stowing his cock to the right and a stiletto in his left coat pocket. See. It's got a hint of humor and a bit of snarky aside, but it's also one of Jack's Great Truths and he means it seriously. Likewise this next bit: He doesn’t know what that might cost him, and Jack has learned to weigh his coin before reaching for things that shine. Stealing, always his preference, is not an option here.
I love Jack's observation about the way Will smells being comprised of the things that hold him on shore with Elizabeth.
I love Jack's honesty and Will's pretense of not knowing it for what it is in this bit: “I would, you know ... Take you away with me on the Pearl. See the whole world, mate.” He’s telling the truth, as he often does, and Will knows him well enough to see. He knows him well enough to pretend he’s blind, for both of them - just now, the stakes of truth seem too high.
I love the hint of sadness in Jack never enjoys this soliloquy, and knows it’s the crux of the play and the dissatisfied unhappiness of how he misses Will's hands on him when instead they're fettered.
I get a little achy in the heart for dear Jack when he gets to the part of the game he really wants, and it's not the sex or the knifeplay, but getting to touch Will and press up against him and please him. This is what Jack craves, the power of it, and something more he refuses to name, some remedy for loneliness on starless nights, in empty rooms. And I'm a total sucker for those sorts of hints at the mushy romantic love type feelings that Jack doesn't like to own up to.
But if I had to pick one section that sums up the entire feel of the piece to me, it's this: A run that shouldn’t have ended here, his crew near mutinous at the delay in reaching more amenable ports. Jack refuses to dwell on the reason he’d risked it, and buries yet another uncomfortable truth. He thinks he's running short of shovels, and dirt - that it might be him that breaks first. There's Jack, who prides himself on being a mystery to those around him, and he's not quite facing the truth, but admitting to its existence. Delicious!
And then because of the wistful quality of the whole thing, the amount of hope that comes in at the end from just the idea of two pairs of boots on the stairs is wonderfully unexpected and makes me a happy happy reader (and one who doesn't usually go in for J/W/E at that).
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This is what's so great about remix, when you get someone doing an excellent remix of a story that was excellent to begin with.
I love your eye for language and how you play with your words. skimming the mud of twisted streets that reek of saltfish and drudgery is particularly beautifully stated and evocative.
You manage to walk a fine line with your Jack between the more jovial tone we're accustomed to and a seriousness and uncertainty about the relationships between himself, Will, and Elizabeth. Your Jack is more pensive than the norm, but in a way that's still totally in keeping with his character.
He pushes the thought away, as it’s his habit to steal only trouble he can touch - and he is, admittedly, a creature of habit. Small ones, the ones he can afford, like stowing his cock to the right and a stiletto in his left coat pocket.
See. It's got a hint of humor and a bit of snarky aside, but it's also one of Jack's Great Truths and he means it seriously. Likewise this next bit:
He doesn’t know what that might cost him, and Jack has learned to weigh his coin before reaching for things that shine. Stealing, always his preference, is not an option here.
I love Jack's observation about the way Will smells being comprised of the things that hold him on shore with Elizabeth.
I love Jack's honesty and Will's pretense of not knowing it for what it is in this bit:
“I would, you know ... Take you away with me on the Pearl. See the whole world, mate.”
He’s telling the truth, as he often does, and Will knows him well enough to see. He knows him well enough to pretend he’s blind, for both of them - just now, the stakes of truth seem too high.
I love the hint of sadness in Jack never enjoys this soliloquy, and knows it’s the crux of the play and the dissatisfied unhappiness of how he misses Will's hands on him when instead they're fettered.
I get a little achy in the heart for dear Jack when he gets to the part of the game he really wants, and it's not the sex or the knifeplay, but getting to touch Will and press up against him and please him. This is what Jack craves, the power of it, and something more he refuses to name, some remedy for loneliness on starless nights, in empty rooms. And I'm a total sucker for those sorts of hints at the mushy romantic love type feelings that Jack doesn't like to own up to.
But if I had to pick one section that sums up the entire feel of the piece to me, it's this:
A run that shouldn’t have ended here, his crew near mutinous at the delay in reaching more amenable ports. Jack refuses to dwell on the reason he’d risked it, and buries yet another uncomfortable truth. He thinks he's running short of shovels, and dirt - that it might be him that breaks first.
There's Jack, who prides himself on being a mystery to those around him, and he's not quite facing the truth, but admitting to its existence. Delicious!
And then because of the wistful quality of the whole thing, the amount of hope that comes in at the end from just the idea of two pairs of boots on the stairs is wonderfully unexpected and makes me a happy happy reader (and one who doesn't usually go in for J/W/E at that).
Very nicely done, indeed!