It's something about the way you write. You make everything so immediate. I mean, that part in the beginning where Sam just gets back to the house, and after awhile realizes Pat was about to hit him. . . I was right there with Sam. There felt like there was no gap between the action and me as the reader. It's wonderful, reading your stuff. I love the feeling of being involved, and right there. You amaze me.
he wishes he could make Dean look like this forever. Forever young, not growing to look careworn and ground down like Dad does most times. He squints at his brother, imagining Dean in Dad's place—living for nothing but hunt, and run, and never stopping—Sam's eyes prick and ache. Well, fuck that, he thinks. This Thing that's taken Dad, this Thing that's probably going to take Dean, it's not going to take *him*.
That just about killed me. Dramatic irony is a beautiful, unforgiving bitch, but, boy *whistles* do I love and appreciate her so!
Patrick's mouth drops open...his eyes dart from Sam to Dean, and a deep flush floods his cheeks, his neck…all the way to his chest, and Sam watches, fascinated by its progress. "…what…you…do?" Patrick says at last, his voice hoarse, faint…
Eeeeeeee! I was on pins and needles, hoping this wasn't The Moment of Truthiness. Phew! No one writes the tension and pain into every line like you, babe! Kudos on another job well done!!!
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4/6/09 02:25 am (UTC)he wishes he could make Dean look like this forever. Forever young, not growing to look careworn and ground down like Dad does most times. He squints at his brother, imagining Dean in Dad's place—living for nothing but hunt, and run, and never stopping—Sam's eyes prick and ache. Well, fuck that, he thinks. This Thing that's taken Dad, this Thing that's probably going to take Dean, it's not going to take *him*.
That just about killed me. Dramatic irony is a beautiful, unforgiving bitch, but, boy *whistles* do I love and appreciate her so!
Patrick's mouth drops open...his eyes dart from Sam to Dean, and a deep flush floods his cheeks, his neck…all the way to his chest, and Sam watches, fascinated by its progress. "…what…you…do?" Patrick says at last, his voice hoarse, faint…
Eeeeeeee! I was on pins and needles, hoping this wasn't The Moment of Truthiness. Phew! No one writes the tension and pain into every line like you, babe! Kudos on another job well done!!!