this was incredible and heartbreaking. I love your writing style so much, the borderline stream-of-consciousness and undifferentiated quotes. it makes this all the more introspective and visceral. thank you for sharing :)
thank you for reading! i'm glad the dropping of quotation marks worked for you; was kind of afraid it would be messy and difficult. but hey, the melding of minds is always a way to go. thank you for your lovely comment :)
thank you for such an insightful comment! i'm happy you didn't find it overdone, what with Sam killing himself over and over. was worried that it would become repetitive. the brothers' relationship is the stuff of nightmares and yet, is a writer's dream. thank you for reading :)
I'm not really sure what to say about this but I loved it -- the sense of hopelessness and despair and willingness to die, to use that willingness as a weapon.
This was my favourite, when it really got -- I dunno, viscerally painful for me, just absolutely desolate:
But I am awake, he thinks, or so he hopes and then despairs at the knowledge, I am alive, before he fades out again and there are ropes of arms around his bare waist, fingers pressing into his jutting hip bones, and the water is turned off.
He panics, fumbles for the shower knob, before Dean closes one hand over his and smacks it away, yelling something incomprehensible. Dean doesn't understand, he needs this water, needs it to go as hot as it will go, to scour off the chill that digs into his bones.
thank you! i'm not sure what i feel about this fic either. it's difficult. but that section was the one that was first written, and was basically the reason this entire rambling mess of a fic was written around it, and it was also the part that i felt most strongly about.
thank you for reading, and for all your support thus far. i have not warranted it, but i love it dearly all the same.
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This was my favourite, when it really got -- I dunno, viscerally painful for me, just absolutely desolate:
But I am awake, he thinks, or so he hopes and then despairs at the knowledge, I am alive, before he fades out again and there are ropes of arms around his bare waist, fingers pressing into his jutting hip bones, and the water is turned off.
He panics, fumbles for the shower knob, before Dean closes one hand over his and smacks it away, yelling something incomprehensible. Dean doesn't understand, he needs this water, needs it to go as hot as it will go, to scour off the chill that digs into his bones.
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thank you for reading, and for all your support thus far. i have not warranted it, but i love it dearly all the same.
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