The Great God Pan Is as Dead as Disco [Supernatural/American Gods]
Title: The Great God Pan Is as Dead as Disco(2 of 2)
Series: Supernatural/American Gods
Word count: Approx. 13,500
Rating: R (very hard R)
Summary: In which a bet is placed, a trap is set, and questions of ownership and birthdays prove to be far more complicated than originally thought.
( Dude. We're going up against Zamfir? )
Series: Supernatural/American Gods
Word count: Approx. 13,500
Rating: R (very hard R)
Summary: In which a bet is placed, a trap is set, and questions of ownership and birthdays prove to be far more complicated than originally thought.
( Dude. We're going up against Zamfir? )
Along with the great plot, you had the character voices down. Dean and Sam were right on, especially in the banter and the unspoken things they say, and the gods had the perfect mix of playfulness and snarkiness, laced with timelessness and hints of malice. I really love your writing style; it's sharp, succinct and clever. There are so many great lines, but these are my favorites:
"To two of the most fucked up, fucked over, and just plain fucked people who are traipsing through this happy world of ours."
Perfect, that is the Winchesters in poetry.
Dean went from the kind of quiet that said he was waiting for the right moment for a quip to the kind of quiet that was a hunter's quiet, the kind of quiet that came from not wanting to scare off the game.
I love this line; it's a beautiful description of Dean's layers and the depth of understanding they have even in their silences.
Or maybe it was something about the way the story was being told, distant and dreamy, as if Sam was talking about something that had happened to someone else, somewhere ages ago and miles away. Which, in its own way, was exactly what he was talking about.
Lovely reminder of how much Sam's changed.
Dean took a quick, panicked look down at his chest, then grimaced and shook his head, no doubt pissed at himself for having letting the reaction slip.
That's my favorite kind of Winchester love, subconsciously shown and quickly left behind.
It was the sort of place where a Sam Adams or a Corona was considered a "fancy" beer, but somehow they'd managed to come up with a chocolate martini for the band's sound guy.
This is a great sentence; it says all we need to know about the kind of bar it is, and craftily identifies the Trickster's infiltration.
She began to drum out a rhythm on the bar, palms slapping wetly in the spill of beer that had pooled on the varnish.
That's just plain hot. The whole bar orgy is fantastic; it's funny, sexy, creepy, and I do love that Sam finally gets some.
"Let's go before the police get here." Sam stalked out to the car, doing his best to ignore Dean calling after him and telling him if he wasn't careful, his face would freeze that way.
I love how this breaks the tension after Dean's possession; not only is he he joking again but the reference to earlier in the fic emphasizes that he's really his old self.
"They'd just mispronounce Latin at it until I got bored and went home."
LOL!
It was a big jolt, a big noise; there was now hope in Hell, and millions of souls were now keeping their eyes (or what was left of them) peeled for their own chance at escape.
I love that John is the folk hero of hell; it gives it a whole new optimism.
And in closing, I have to say how much the ending has stuck with me. I love the way the truth keeps whispering to Sam, but he just can't hold onto it. It's drowned out by his focus on his brother, his simple glee at winning a point in the fight, and laughing too hard to notice anything else. It's so beautifully human; even though he's been outsmarted by the much savvier gods, he's so blissful in his ignorance that it doesn't matter. It's a brilliant note to go off on, and it suits the whole wonderful story. I enjoyed it so much; thank you so much for writing it!
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Thanks again for leaving such a generous review - it was a wonderful thing to come home to today.
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