for the "end of the year content meme" !
π a line or paragraph iβm really happy with π‘ a paragraph/section that gave me a lot of trouble
thought i'd give you both ends of the spectrum there XD β₯
I just answered the first one for @bnessz <3. But it's okay. I've got more than one story! Hope you're having a good holiday season, Gen!
π a line or paragraph iβm really happy with:
From the same fic, valuta:
Law's mother folded his fingers around the coinβa piece of copper, not worth much, except for the fortuitous square hole in the middle. "Keep hold of that," she said. He'd unfurled his fingers and she turned the coin in his palm. Streaks like whitebait flitting upstream hadn't marred his skin yet. "It'll help you focus." Lifting the coin and peering through the square, she blinked against the room's light.
I like the whitebait line. I debated including or cutting it so many times. I'm glad I kept it. That whole Law section isn't in the zine, btw, and maybe for the better. I dunno, story might be a bit busy with his scenes, but I like it.
π‘ a paragraph/section that gave me a lot of trouble Also from the same fic (to tell the truth, I don't think I wrote so much last year! [that I can remember]):
Maybe all of this, but especially entering the hovel (although the image of extract the pouch with the coin in it from a splintered, rotted door frame was strong in my mind):
A beetle scuttled across the greenery away from the shadow of the small body falling to the lawn. Granules of dirt and blades of grass pushed into Rosinante's mouth as a human smashed a staff across his back. He needed one of those bubble helmets to help with breathing more than anything, but they'd left them all at home. They'd never used them anyway. But maybe if they had, his throat wouldn't be a mess of snot and bile and salt. A bone cracked, arm or skull, not his own. Doflamingo's howls and curses punctuated the dull lift and fall of a body kicked for sport. After they'd paid the price for stealing bread, the brothers limped home, Doflamingo's good arm slung around Rosinante's shoulder. Rosinante's hand slipped on the doorknob. Rancid air rushed to meet Doflamingo's angry breath, wet against his brother's neck, as they stepped inside their hovel. Shaking, Rosinante paused by the entrance to pull a moth-eaten pouch from a splintered recess. Sleep would ease his brother's bruises and tremors; turning the coin, would ease his own.
It still needs some work. Ahahahaha.
After sales for the zine still open, for anyone interested!
And anyone interested in the meme, here's the link!
