oh, god, i'm not sure i have the words to properly describe my reactions to this fic. i think the closest is awed? i literally had to consciously force myself to breathe at some parts because i was so taken in by your words and ideas and scenes. the art sets a beautiful tone and your story conveys that so very well.
Eames misses the closeness of a slow morning where neither of them is jolted awake by an imagined threat and having the luxury of waking up with limbs ensnared. He misses it enough to experiment, and he finds that gently stroking down Arthur’s ribs causes him to curl over Eames like a touch-me-not leaf, heavy and folded. Sometimes, Arthur will murmur into his neck before stilling again. your descriptions are wonderfully evocative and in that way breathtaking, and it was such a pleasure to read it and sustain myself in those feelings.
thank you for posting--it was absolutely lovely, and you've definitely done the art justice!
OKAY. I am finally leaving feedback on this. I cannot promise it will be as coherent or worthwhile as you deserve, but here we go.
I think this is my favorite line: “You and I both know the game isn’t fortune-telling, it’s people reading. If he got it wrong it’s because you’re lying to him.”
This story is incredibly dense and opaque, and I don't mean that in a bad way. I mean it in a way like - you really leave it up to the reader to figure things out, you don't overstate anything. I feel like this is one of those stories where what's not said is just as important as what is. Where the details that kind of fall between the cracks really matter, and that's very appropriate, because thematically it also resembles the relationship you've built between Eames and Arthur. Both of them know inherently how important they are to each other, but neither of them seems to be able to bring himself to really know the other man. Like - they know these certain details and they use those details to build a picture, but the picture isn't complete.
( ... )
ugh it's taken me forever to answer this really wonderful and thoughtful review because I just want to type you've got it and draw hearts around it. I was kind of afraid it would end up too dense without enough action to build their relationship, that maybe the conclusion wouldn't be enough. So thank you so much for this review because it makes me feel like maybe I did get it right, and thanks so much for your lovely art and letting me write for it! <3333
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Eames misses the closeness of a slow morning where neither of them is jolted awake by an imagined threat and having the luxury of waking up with limbs ensnared. He misses it enough to experiment, and he finds that gently stroking down Arthur’s ribs causes him to curl over Eames like a touch-me-not leaf, heavy and folded. Sometimes, Arthur will murmur into his neck before stilling again. your descriptions are wonderfully evocative and in that way breathtaking, and it was such a pleasure to read it and sustain myself in those feelings.
thank you for posting--it was absolutely lovely, and you've definitely done the art justice!
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ps - the touch-me-not was maybe my favorite imagery in this piece so I'm really tickled someone else loved it too.
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I think this is my favorite line: “You and I both know the game isn’t fortune-telling, it’s people reading. If he got it wrong it’s because you’re lying to him.”
This story is incredibly dense and opaque, and I don't mean that in a bad way. I mean it in a way like - you really leave it up to the reader to figure things out, you don't overstate anything. I feel like this is one of those stories where what's not said is just as important as what is. Where the details that kind of fall between the cracks really matter, and that's very appropriate, because thematically it also resembles the relationship you've built between Eames and Arthur. Both of them know inherently how important they are to each other, but neither of them seems to be able to bring himself to really know the other man. Like - they know these certain details and they use those details to build a picture, but the picture isn't complete. ( ... )
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