Red, Chapter 8/Between the Ribs
Huff and Puff: Gen, PG-13, loads of sordid, violent, and downright creepy scenes, swearing laid on pretty darn thick, and Sam running around like a chicken seeking revenge for its missing head. Canon characters belong to the canon gods; words and other characters belong to me. Me! You heard that Kripke? WIP, but
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Okay. I got it.
I hate you.
That's it in a nutshell, yep. Hate you for so many reasons. Partly because you actually stopped instead of giving me all of this, like something I can fit inside ME. But also because, well, quite frankly, you're so good I'm pretty much all jealousy at this point. It's not a flattering self-portrait, but I'm being all honest and shit, and yeah. This story is so well-crafted, so meticulously detailed, three separate-but-related plots all dovetailing together until we get to the trip-beating heart of it, this perfectly synchronized mashup of 13 and 18 and now.
I never thought of myself as much of an ego critter -- just kinda do my thing, enjoy it when others do theirs, and Puff the Magic Dragon and all that happy sixties stuff. Peace, love, brotherhood. But you -- you make me JEALOUS.
Enh. Which doesn't change the fact that I jumped on this chapter with all the unseemly haste of a horny seventeen-year-old boy with his pretty prom date, of course. Still. This is not a flattering portrait of myself. I love this story and you and I hate this story and you. Because you're so damn good I just sorta want to fling up my hands and storm away and sulk in my bedroom. WIth occasional peeks outside to see when you put up the next chapter.
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So unless you actually creep out of your bedroom to do me physical damage, I'm just going to take all your stunning words as compliments. Because, yeah, my ego's like that.
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