*snickerfit* Left field is all you've got? Rune, nobody else ventures *into* left field. They know they don't stand a chance. XD
Okay, hon, I know you *say* this is your first porn, but I suspect the existence of practice pieces hidden on your hard drive. Or possibly deleted right after birth. Whatever you did...(just a lot of research? *G*)...it worked. KA's right, this ROCKS. It's so...well...evocative. Brings true feeling of the quill points, the cold feather tips, the works. And the darkness. A lot of night-set fics forget about that after saying it once, and so the lights sorta click on halfway through, as the reader forgets to pay attention to the lack of light. Here, we can't do that--you emphasize the shadows, and the effect they have on Sanzo's perception, to prevent that. (And talk about mood! ^_^)
I said it before, I record it here for future reference: I love fics that create striking images and lines (collections of sound, the way it rolls off the tongue, meaning included) with very little fancy footwork. This one does--the two lines I like best to this end are
Downy softness brushes his cock and the fleeting thought that feathers don’t bend like that is cut short by the unrelenting stroke of feathers that do.
He has time to laugh just once before the sickening fall through air filled with nothing but feathers steals his breath away.
Another thing I like is inventing adjectives, which you do two or three times in this sentence:
None of it is enough, though, to remove the expression of absolute loathing from his face until the almost-pain of quill-sharp roughness scratches the skin of the hollow just below his hip bone.
And the location--playing to Sanzo's strengths, certainly. Skinnyass monk. ^___^
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Date: 2005-07-29 06:09 am (UTC)Okay, hon, I know you *say* this is your first porn, but I suspect the existence of practice pieces hidden on your hard drive. Or possibly deleted right after birth. Whatever you did...(just a lot of research? *G*)...it worked. KA's right, this ROCKS. It's so...well...evocative. Brings true feeling of the quill points, the cold feather tips, the works. And the darkness. A lot of night-set fics forget about that after saying it once, and so the lights sorta click on halfway through, as the reader forgets to pay attention to the lack of light. Here, we can't do that--you emphasize the shadows, and the effect they have on Sanzo's perception, to prevent that. (And talk about mood! ^_^)
I said it before, I record it here for future reference: I love fics that create striking images and lines (collections of sound, the way it rolls off the tongue, meaning included) with very little fancy footwork. This one does--the two lines I like best to this end are
Downy softness brushes his cock and the fleeting thought that feathers don’t bend like that is cut short by the unrelenting stroke of feathers that do.
He has time to laugh just once before the sickening fall through air filled with nothing but feathers steals his breath away.
Another thing I like is inventing adjectives, which you do two or three times in this sentence:
None of it is enough, though, to remove the expression of absolute loathing from his face until the almost-pain of quill-sharp roughness scratches the skin of the hollow just below his hip bone.
And the location--playing to Sanzo's strengths, certainly. Skinnyass monk. ^___^
Wow I'm rambling. *pounce* GOODFIC. XD