This is the point where I'm like, "Oh, okay. It's going to be one of those painfully brilliant fics."
Adam has died by every ocean and major lake in the world
And still you continue...
His story is a string of small deaths between the larger and more exciting ones. In many ways the smaller ones are worse. Adam is just like everyone else in that aspect.
...and continue absolutely breaking my heart.
This man has been in love with heroes and has a way of walking that’s left over from wearing samurai armor in his formulative years.
Oh. Oh.
First ashes; then embers: the petals are burning, burning, burning his blonde head with them, and he runs his tongue over his teeth and tastes something holy.
AHRG!!! I'd quote more, but I realized it was a lost cause since I'd never finish this thing before I have to go out, and I did so want to finish it!
I agree with top hatted. You laugh and cry whilst reading this. I'm favouriting it instantly and retreating, slowly, because something about this feels delicate and I want to come back later and reread and glean more wonders then than I did now.
no subject
This is the point where I'm like, "Oh, okay. It's going to be one of those painfully brilliant fics."
Adam has died by every ocean and major lake in the world
And still you continue...
His story is a string of small deaths between the larger and more exciting ones. In many ways the smaller ones are worse. Adam is just like everyone else in that aspect.
...and continue absolutely breaking my heart.
This man has been in love with heroes and has a way of walking that’s left over from wearing samurai armor in his formulative years.
Oh. Oh.
First ashes; then embers: the petals are burning, burning, burning his blonde head with them, and he runs his tongue over his teeth and tastes something holy.
AHRG!!! I'd quote more, but I realized it was a lost cause since I'd never finish this thing before I have to go out, and I did so want to finish it!
I agree with top hatted. You laugh and cry whilst reading this. I'm favouriting it instantly and retreating, slowly, because something about this feels delicate and I want to come back later and reread and glean more wonders then than I did now.