I can never say enough about your work, but even if I could, I'd still be speechless about this piece.
I can say with near-absolute certainty that a fic has not made my heart work this much in ages. It's definitely left an impression, despite the sand blowing away, despite the is-it-or-isn't-it and the confusion and all of it. Beautifully worded and plotted and christ I admire your skill with words and with these two characters specifically.
As though there would be any heartbeat at all in something built to last an eternity. And this, this, that their imperfections and their hardships and their fights and their running is so important, is life, that disease Arthur so desperately tries to escape. That in order to live they need to have these things, they need to see the imperfections in order to spot the good things, in order to see what they are missing and what they have missed, to breathe and to feel and to love each other.
So convinced I would set the world on fire for you, so intent on waiting for the explosions in my wake
( ... )
There's a special kind of exhilaration in receiving a comment like yours, which is so completely beyond what I deserve but does such an exquisite job of reading that it makes me want to GRAB you and SHAKE you and shout YES YES YES YOU UNDERSTAND, except that sounds condescending because it's not like this has some ~hidden depth~ that ~only the chosen can plumb~, it's more like, you understand me, is that what I mean? That you see right through the story to exactly where I'm coming from, and if there's one thing I've always wanted writing to be, it's that sort of connection-- the sense of not being alone, and that thrill makes the whole shitty effort of writing more than worthwhile.
I'm particularly thankful here, because the texture of the story is such that it's... kind of a chore to slog through it, haha >___> But seriously though. You made me really, really happy, you know. Thank you so much.
IN GRATITUDE, I WILL CAST OFF THE TRAPPINGS OF CIVILITY AND REMAIN IN CAPSLOCK THE WHOLE TIME! IF YOU WILL ALLOW ME! ...BUT THE COMMENT WILL ALREADY HAVE BEEN IN CAPSLOCK BY THE TIME IT IS POSTED, SO I SUPPOSE IT'S A SHODDY JOB OF ASKING FOR PERMISSION, BUT YOU KNOW WHAT, I MEAN THE BEST AND I WOULD LIKE TO THANK YOU IN CAPSLOCK. MONGREL EAMES ALSO THANKS YOU :')
IFRIT. I've been trying to think of a way to talk about this that isn't all me, me, me, but it's hard because I want to talk about how much your imagery aligns with mine when it comes to this pairing, this fandom. I want to talk about how I recognise your Arthur in painful ways, in, every seam he'd painstakingly drawn closed and simmered under and in Eames saying You may be overpreparing but especially, gloriously, in wasn't he uneasy with giving himself up like that for someone else to inhabit. This is the Arthur that's always in my head, and the one I built Manor House around.
And I want to talk about DESERT STORIES, my fucking favourite, and how quickly your limbo moved away from the coastline and became all about the dust, the sun, the mirage of an oasis. Desert stories are about getting lost and finding yourself, treading over the memories and watching them crumble one by one until you find the one that makes sense. (And then you swept in Tam Lin and the self-awareness of mythical underworlds, and yes
( ... )
The next level down, this would be a cage. I salivate over your writing endlessly, and any comparison you might draw to it is necessarily an insane compliment ;____; Familiarity is all I ever wanted! And when it's familiarity with regard to such an excellent specimen of talent, I am embarrassed at your regard but also way too happy to reject it outright without first cuddling it in the depth of the night and sobbing into its fur, oh god its fur is so soft------
sjkfsdhhksj damn your eyes, woman, I read this sitting at the nurses' station on the ward and I made a happy giggling noise and beamed all over my iPhone and now no doubt all the nurses think I have a sweetheart
WHICH, WELL, YOU ARE A SWEETHEART <3 My multi-shielded Arthuresque heart is so pleased that you were pleased, it's all very recursive.
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I can say with near-absolute certainty that a fic has not made my heart work this much in ages. It's definitely left an impression, despite the sand blowing away, despite the is-it-or-isn't-it and the confusion and all of it. Beautifully worded and plotted and christ I admire your skill with words and with these two characters specifically.
As though there would be any heartbeat at all in something built to last an eternity. And this, this, that their imperfections and their hardships and their fights and their running is so important, is life, that disease Arthur so desperately tries to escape. That in order to live they need to have these things, they need to see the imperfections in order to spot the good things, in order to see what they are missing and what they have missed, to breathe and to feel and to love each other.
So convinced I would set the world on fire for you, so intent on waiting for the explosions in my wake ( ... )
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I'm particularly thankful here, because the texture of the story is such that it's... kind of a chore to slog through it, haha >___> But seriously though. You made me really, really happy, you know. Thank you so much.
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And I want to talk about DESERT STORIES, my fucking favourite, and how quickly your limbo moved away from the coastline and became all about the dust, the sun, the mirage of an oasis. Desert stories are about getting lost and finding yourself, treading over the memories and watching them crumble one by one until you find the one that makes sense. (And then you swept in Tam Lin and the self-awareness of mythical underworlds, and yes ( ... )
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WHICH, WELL, YOU ARE A SWEETHEART <3 My multi-shielded Arthuresque heart is so pleased that you were pleased, it's all very recursive.
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