Auld Lang Syne - Kaydeefalls
This feedback is really just an iteration of yayness, because it's that sort of fic. It's rollicking and romping and full of quippery and anticness and madcappage and other words that I could conjugate wrong just to try to capture the frivolous, celebratory joy of this story. It IS all about the auld lang syne, and all the way through I was feeling this heart-swelling nigh-nostalgic huzzah for my fandom, for the boys (& the girls!) and the stories we've known and loved and read and written.
So yes, basically, I was much with the adoration for the story, and for the author for putting it together so perfectly, all the way through. Some specific points of yayness:
- Elijah. From his semantics of sex through his dubious facial hair, through his predictability and lack thereof, through his jack-in-the-box appearances and disappearances, all the way to his triumphant final line, the boy is pure gold smelted into the form of glee.
- Miranda. C'mon, it's me. Like I'm not going to squee about Miranda. But also, she is fabulous for swearing like a sailor, being hot and mysterious and random enough to take Liv's tease to the next (several) levels.
- Viggo. Refined and wolfish. Mmm. Bring it. *G*
Magnificent badinage, wonderful sexual mathematics... all around great fellowship. Bravo.
Incunabula - Sophrosyne
Oh Kate, Kate, you wondrous, beauteous, talented woman; luring you into active participation in this fandom was the best thing I ever did. You fill me with joy, and this story is such a fabulous showcase of your not even close to inconsiderable talents. For two spectacular reasons in particular: the word choice and the atmosphere.
I defy anyone to find someone with a wider and more full appreciation of the scope of the English language than this woman. And the clever thing managed to work it into the concept of the story, imbuing the very concept of word choice with overarching resonance as Billy is pestered by select specimens of words, of which even the most mundane twang with tension. Those blatant choices mask, while at the same time enhancing, the choice of words the characters make in their dialogue, and that the author makes in the narrative. We become aware of the importance of language, and it weighs every sentence.
It adds to the atmosphere, and what atmosphere that is! Metaphorical and physical, for the pressure builds with the heat, and the clouds lower, and it's too much, too damn much, it has to break. I never get bored with weather as metaphor, and it's done here with such delicate saturation. Oh, the imagery. Oh, the way the tension mounts and the glass drops.
This story is a gorgeously beautiful piece of prose that also happens to be a Lotrips fanfic. I adored it.
I now declare I shall flick through to further towards the back of the book, because it's not fair, these first-comers getting lots of feedback while the rest of us languish in the middle or back. *G*