this is the end
I was going to post this for Alison but then I couldn't and now it's like. . .fuck. all.
I don't know.
Fourth and Final Part of the Doubledeck Bus series aka Riding in Buses with Boys.( Read more... )
I don't know.
Fourth and Final Part of the Doubledeck Bus series aka Riding in Buses with Boys.( Read more... )
Comments 10
Fuckfuckfuck.
I'm weeping, and I can't stop because it's beautiful and it's absolutely perfect.
I started laughing (through my tears, for some reason) at Do they know any other poems? because don't we all ask that? But then I read "That's exactly right," says Pete and that's his cue to go. AK rushes out. and I began crying again because AK doesn't deserve it.
I love this so much because it's heartbreaking and even though you can tell what is coming (which is true of all non-AU amazing Libs!fic) you're just sucked in by the simplicity of the writing and the easiness with which you've managed to write all the characters.
Just. Fucking hell. It's absolutely wonderful and I really can't think of anything else to say.
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I do have a question about this though:
even though you can tell what is coming
I'm not trying to be snotty here, but what is that exactly? When I originally started writing this part, it had the makings of this turning into a huge series- I mean it was massive, there was this huge scene with Tim Jonze and it was out of control. And I couldn't commit or finish it. So this one happened instead and I think I like it better. Uh, where I was going with this is that I didn't have a clear ending in mind really, I was just writing so I would stop thinking. So I'm kind of wondering what you knew was coming.
Thank you. I'm really pleased that you like it.
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This ending could not be more perfect.
Do they know any other poems? - I snerked mightily here, because, yeah, I think we all were starting to think this.
and they reach their pinnacle and explode into star dust....just, wow. I wish I could write something coherent and proper about this, but I could not do it justice. You have an amazing, amazing command of language that bowls me over, as if every word is so precisely used for an effect. I don't expect it, but these little phrases everywhere just rush up at me and leave me breathless without perfect they describe each feeling ( ... )
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Everytime I hear "oh Pete's going to recite a poem!" I know it's that Sassoon poem. And it drives me crazy, because they're hailed as these great AlbionArcadianPoetryahoy! heroes and it seems like they know one poem. It's a great poem, sure. But c'mon.
And all the stuff you said about my writing has floored me. I honestly don't know what to say, except thanks.
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although I felt too emotionally upheaved to read the responses, scrolling down 1 word cauht my eye
"raw"
and that's 100% right because it is, and thus its true and more painfully, heartachingly beautiful because of it, even if it is senseless at the same time
And I'm literally sitting here in the school library with tears running down my face and smudging my eyeliner, but I really dont care...
And it hurts unbelievably much, but there you go, exploding into stardust is it, and I'm afraid this is an absolutely shocking review in its nature of incoherant half-known misery, but there you go, it's all I can manage
"look up and and swear by the green of the spring that you'll never forget"
(Sassoon, Aftermath)
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I'm not sure what else to say, except thanks. I need to go read some Sassoon now.
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he's my key war poet this year, so I could possibly out-Sassoon even the Bilo
and I know it wasnt darling - I just thought you might like to know that it was very effective :D:D:D:D
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Thank you!
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