Why do I do this to myself?
I mean, really, when you're trying to write the longest fic you've ever written in a fandom that's notorious for really good fic, why would you go back and reread (for the 124th time) one of the best, and longest, stories in that fandom? 'Cause that's not intimidating or anything. But oh, yeah, it's full of lines like this:
“Be careful, Gerard. Please,” Frank said, and his voice was rough and had dead leaves in it, and clouds skittering across the sky, and the hollow sound of vast empty spaces. “Come see me tomorrow so I know you’re okay?” *
And it's all just gorgeously atmospheric and simple and honest and has the most adorable characterizations I've ever read. Sigh.
Not at all intimidated, me.
*from part 3 of Anatomy of a Fall, by novembersmith
EDIT: Oh, and metaphors like this one, too! Good lord. . . . the trees were thinner here, and the woods looked strangely insubstantial, as if the late afternoon sunlight was a thin veneer Gerard could scrape away with his thumbnail.
I like to think I'm not too shabby with the figurative language, but really now.
“Be careful, Gerard. Please,” Frank said, and his voice was rough and had dead leaves in it, and clouds skittering across the sky, and the hollow sound of vast empty spaces. “Come see me tomorrow so I know you’re okay?” *
And it's all just gorgeously atmospheric and simple and honest and has the most adorable characterizations I've ever read. Sigh.
Not at all intimidated, me.
*from part 3 of Anatomy of a Fall, by novembersmith
EDIT: Oh, and metaphors like this one, too! Good lord. . . . the trees were thinner here, and the woods looked strangely insubstantial, as if the late afternoon sunlight was a thin veneer Gerard could scrape away with his thumbnail.
I like to think I'm not too shabby with the figurative language, but really now.