At this point I don't even know what to say anymore, except that if this was the only fic I was reading in the entire fandom, if it was the last supernatural fic I ever read, I would be satisfied just to have it and read it and carry it with me. I can't wait until it's all posted, not just because I want to read it all, but so that I can print it off and physically read it, put my fingers on the pages and trace the words... I love how the canon relationship is almost flipped here, Dean doesn't understand Sam's obligations, almost doesn't want to and lashes out because he's afraid for his brother, hates this division between them.
And Sam, Jesus Christ, Sam, he's so strong and yet so tragic, I feel that he's more trapped here even then in Bloodlines, caught between two tides and just trying to stay afloat. I love his dialogue about understanding John's choices now, and how he finally (with the help of Lakwa) begins to make Dean see.
Lissa’s a witch and Pierre, he’s a magician, isn’t he? I bet that’s why he threw his brother’s dick into your ass, to keep you in line.” This was so obscene and so painful to read, and yet so perfect and almost necessary, the kind of breakdown that had to happen.
“Hey,” Dean says. “When in Rome, right? Isn’t that what you always used to say?”
Sam’s smile, the beginnings of one, wipes itself away at that, and he looks out the window, says, “Yeah. Yeah, it was.” This is a perfect example of why I love your writing, not only is there amazing mythology, atmospheric descriptions, but the dialogue invokes so much emotion. This simple exchange speaks of so much, time lost, separation, loneliness, tentative beginnings, and reconnecting, and shared history, and love... I could go on all night. This story terrifies me because it's so beautiful and haunting, I feel like you've got your hands in my chest.
I always want to think about your comment before I reply, because I'm never quite sure how to respond at first without lots of incoherent flailing and trying to render a blush via text.
The boys in this one, man, they killed me. Sam being so stubborn and trying to do the best that he can, doing what he has to -- he tries so hard to be cold and methodical, but that's just not in him, y'know? And Dean wants to help, wants to understand, but he just can't, not yet, maybe not ever. So they're stuck at this point where neither one wants to give in and say anything that means something, until the baron comes along and makes them. I love that this Sam is so cognisant of his father -- John's in this all the time, everywhere, because Sam knows he's become what he hated in John, but now he understands his father better. Dean's seeing similarities as well, and once he actually realises he is, he'll find a better way to approach his brother.
The argument between the two of them, I did not want to write. It had to happen, though, and Dean's so out of his depth here that he's going to attack the two people connected with folk-magic/sorcery, because they aren't exactly Sam's people, but they are connected.
I used to hate writing dialogue. I still do, sometimes, but I'm beginning to see that there's so much to say using it, or not, depending on the situation. That's one thing SPN-fic has taught me, definitely, and I'm glad it's working.
As for the most amazing compliments you gave me, thank you. I just, y'know, am flailing and blushing. *Hugs tight*
John's in this all the time, everywhere Yes, exactly! Not that the other fics were exactly similar, and I've mentioned this before but it only gets more true with every chapter, but this story is so independent, it's its own entity and environment and I just can't even deal with how much I love it. I know it's easy to write meaningless compliments, but what I said about this fic, what I'll say tomorrow and the next day, I mean it, this fic has burrowed down and I just know that whatever else I read in this fandom, it will never compare to how this fic makes me feel, how it makes me think.
I know I've said it before, (or if I haven't, I should have done) but I am so thankful that I have met you, and that I found your writing.
This story is, very much, it's own universe even within 5D5D. Part of me wonders if that's because of the length -- all of the others would be wrapping up in the next couple thousand words, while this one's not even half-way posted. Still, it's complex, convoluted, intricate; writing it was almost like watching a dance at some points, because things I thought were little, in the beginning, came back again and again and I never even realised it.
I feel the same way! You are such a wonderful person, and I love your comments so much, but not nearly as much as your fic. I hope you realise I'm not letting you go anytime soon.
And Sam, Jesus Christ, Sam, he's so strong and yet so tragic, I feel that he's more trapped here even then in Bloodlines, caught between two tides and just trying to stay afloat. I love his dialogue about understanding John's choices now, and how he finally (with the help of Lakwa) begins to make Dean see.
Lissa’s a witch and Pierre, he’s a magician, isn’t he? I bet that’s why he threw his brother’s dick into your ass, to keep you in line.” This was so obscene and so painful to read, and yet so perfect and almost necessary, the kind of breakdown that had to happen.
“Hey,” Dean says. “When in Rome, right? Isn’t that what you always used to say?”
Sam’s smile, the beginnings of one, wipes itself away at that, and he looks out the window, says, “Yeah. Yeah, it was.” This is a perfect example of why I love your writing, not only is there amazing mythology, atmospheric descriptions, but the dialogue invokes so much emotion. This simple exchange speaks of so much, time lost, separation, loneliness, tentative beginnings, and reconnecting, and shared history, and love... I could go on all night. This story terrifies me because it's so beautiful and haunting, I feel like you've got your hands in my chest.
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The boys in this one, man, they killed me. Sam being so stubborn and trying to do the best that he can, doing what he has to -- he tries so hard to be cold and methodical, but that's just not in him, y'know? And Dean wants to help, wants to understand, but he just can't, not yet, maybe not ever. So they're stuck at this point where neither one wants to give in and say anything that means something, until the baron comes along and makes them. I love that this Sam is so cognisant of his father -- John's in this all the time, everywhere, because Sam knows he's become what he hated in John, but now he understands his father better. Dean's seeing similarities as well, and once he actually realises he is, he'll find a better way to approach his brother.
The argument between the two of them, I did not want to write. It had to happen, though, and Dean's so out of his depth here that he's going to attack the two people connected with folk-magic/sorcery, because they aren't exactly Sam's people, but they are connected.
I used to hate writing dialogue. I still do, sometimes, but I'm beginning to see that there's so much to say using it, or not, depending on the situation. That's one thing SPN-fic has taught me, definitely, and I'm glad it's working.
As for the most amazing compliments you gave me, thank you. I just, y'know, am flailing and blushing. *Hugs tight*
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I know I've said it before, (or if I haven't, I should have done) but I am so thankful that I have met you, and that I found your writing.
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I feel the same way! You are such a wonderful person, and I love your comments so much, but not nearly as much as your fic. I hope you realise I'm not letting you go anytime soon.
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