#going to work to pay the bills vibe. she finds it tedious and would much rather mess around and play and engage more

[fjordfolk]

me after running very conservatively for 3 weeks: wow we should really get into canicross (proceeds to never get into canicross)

[herstarburststories]

catastrophic night. — Dick Grayson x Reader

A/N: Hello, I’m V and love Batboys requests, keep sending them. Thanks. Hope you like it!

Beta: @lyss-91

Request: Hey there! (If you’re still doing asks/requests) could you do a Dick Grayson x reader where by day they’re best friends/crushing on each other and by night reader works for the League of Assassins and they’re enemies? Secret identities, of course😉 thank you! Love your writing!

+ Damian has a sister x brother relationship with Reader

﹏

“Do you have plans for tonight?” You asked in a tedious voice, as if it was just a simple question inside a ordinary conversation. That would probably trick anyone, but not Dick Grayson, the person who had known you for a long time and, of course, is the son of the world’s greatest detective and a detective himseld. Not that you were aware of that Batman’s part.

“(Y/N)…” He tried, knowing exactly what you had in mind. You just rolled your eyes and let your back rest against the chair you were sitting on. Having someone who knew you as deeply as he did was such a blessing, especially when the said someone was your best friend. You often didn’t need to look for pretty words and babble until he found out what was bothering you, Dick somehow was aware of the way you reacted to things. How your feelings worked, most of time. He was very considerate, loving, and sweet. Then, no surprise he was always surrounded by applicants. The former acrobat was full of positive traits in his personality. And the way he looked? Yeah, no way he wouldn’t be everyone’s type.

Which included you. No, it was not part of the plan, falling in love with him was never a situation you looked forward to. You just couldn’t help it. And God, did you demand yourself to stop. Even ignoring him for a couple days, though you weren’t able to keep it up. The way his blue eyes followed every move of yours after one week of avoiding him, somewhere between hurt and confused, trying so hard to find out what happened, if he did something wrong, just too much for you to bare with.

And here you were. In love with the man who had become your best friend, whom was also your well known friend, Damian Wayne’s, brother.

“Come on. Don’t give me that judgmental glare, Golden Boy.” And that subject emerged from nowhere once again. Why couldn’t he just let it off and accept your denial state? “We could pick up Damian and go to McDonald’s. They have a vegetarian hamburger now, and I promised Damian I wouldn’t try it without him." 

”(Y/N), I know why you are calling me to go hang out today.“ You sighed, dodging your eyes from his. You wouldn’t admit it. "I know you don’t want to have dinner with him, but you could at least give him a chance.” Since you met your sister’s girlfriend, you were sure something was off with that girl. Amaya, or whatever her real name was, could be very charming with both talking and appearance wise, but her tattoo showed another side of her. The symbol carved on her skin until death screamed a position: League of Assassin’s member. You couldn’t tell Dick about that, clearly. He did not know about your night life, only his youngest brother was acquainted with that small, big information. Yet, you hadn’t tell Damian about that little surprise at home either, as much as he would not be surprised but pissed for you. It was a typical warning from the League, their most gentle way to reminder you to keep your loyalty, to finish the plan. “I trust your instincts, but you can’t just hate the woman your sister is in love with because you felt bad vibes from her. She needs your support.” You had to admit that was such a lame excuse you gave Dick to hate on Amaya, but that was all you had. Wasn’t a completely lie, as well. “Hey.” Grayson put his hand on your cheek, giving you that warm smile that only he could’ve as you finally let your eyes be pleased with the sight of him. “If you want, I could go with you. Maybe call Damian.”

“Thank you, Dick. But you are right, I have to give her a chance. (Y/S/N) does seem happy. And I should be there for here.” You smiled at him, not really going to give Amaya a chance for obvious reasons, like her capacity of murdering your whole family if you blinked the wrong way, but appreciating his sweet support. Dick felt your cheek get bigger on his mouth as you face showed an amused expression, and it made his own corners of the mouth turn up in full happiness. He could literally feel the woman he was in love with showing a lovely grin, that was enough to make his worst day worth every breath. Although you were going to give Amaya a chance and spend time with your beloved family. You would be happy, so would him, then. Even though Dick would miss that meeting at McDonald’s. “Still, McDonald’s tomorrow for lunch?”

“It doesn’t sound very healthy.” He pulled his hand away with a smirk. Both of you missed the touch at the second it was taken off you, but he didn’t want to make it awkward by keeping his hand on your soft skin for too long and you didn’t want to make it weird by asking him to remain there. “I’m in. I will ask Damian to come.”

“Alright. I better go, dinner will be ready soon.” You got up your sit at the snack bar as he followed your moves, a usual gentleman act of his. “See you tomorrow.” You hugged him, receiving his arms around his body in a strong yet soft grip back. That. That felt even safer than learning combat skills from Talia, one of the best fighters you’ve even heard of.

“Text me to let me know how it goes.” Dick referred to Amaya situation and you nodded, letting go of his body another time. You held back the need of pulling him into a second hug and just grabbed your wallet to get some money. Before he could deny it as always, you put a couple dollars on the table. “(Y/N)!”

“I ate too, Dick. I won’t let you pay for it alone, I can pay my bills.” He was about to retort to you, saying it wasn’t what he meant, you just rolled your eyes, fully aware that was not the nature of this. “Don’t fight me on this, Grayson. You will lose, as always.” With a smirk and a wink, you left him.

╮

Someone who did not always lose when it came to you? Nightwing. Unlike Dick, that guy was a hard obstacle. He knew how to fight and he did that with grace and, as shocking as it seems, jokes. You otherwise used your violence like art, every movement was a brushstroke on the surface of your painting; the combat itself. No funny words slipped from your mouth, only cold, threatening phrases. This was part of your living you couldn’t erase, you would die by its life someday, but not tonight. That night was about killing another one with a mask on.

You had no idea why, as if you ever did need to, the League of Assassins wanted Nightwing, visible Robin’s partner at times, dead as soon as you could lay your sword on him. But it was harder than you would picture. You never wasted your time on mistakes, like letting one of your enemies — League’s Enemies — out of a fight breathing air. Yet here you were, already fighting that moon viligant for weeks. Yes, he was one hell of a fighter, apart from it wasn’t supposed to be so difficult. Talia wouldn’t be amused, she wasn’t by now, Amaya was a walking proof. It was like you had grown soft, sentimental to other people, an aspect that the League absolutely despised. Though, you could not help it. First, seeing Damian able to live a normal life with his father, without being trained continuously to improve his killing capacity at a young age, just craving for his mother’s affection and his grandfather approval. He was happy. The kid was her only string to her own humanity for so long and now he was genuinely happy. Not just satisfied with a new fighting skill or temporarily relaxed while spending time with you, but really daily content with his life. 

There was also Dick. He became your best friend when you visited Damian at his new house from the first time. Right, it wasn’t an immediate deep friendship, you two became closer as the months went by and suddenly a year was gone and you two experience what was like a decade of familiarity with each other. He showed you kindness, good, among with Damian, an example of someone who left the League and got a peaceful, great existence. They made you wonder what it would be like to be like this, to have it. You wanted that.

Of course you could see you family when you wanted to, and wasn’t at a mission too far away from the city they lived in aka Gotham, though it wasn’t the same thing as that. You got a kind of vocation to see Damian, how you missed him, but it extended when Nightwing mission came up. It had been a year, time for you to go back to the place which didn’t feel like home, yet was the only you knew as such. Besides, failing denoted Talia herself coming to Gotham, you didn’t want Damian facing his mother at this moment of his life.

Still, Nightwing let out a bad pun before you and him left into the well known comfortableness of the night after another hard, gaining no winners fight.

Damn it.

Text messages

(Y/N), 10:30pm: It was okay. I still do not like her, but I was sympathetic most of the time. Even mom was impressed. 

Dick, 10:31pm: Told ya, people can surprise you in a good way.

(Y/N), 10:31pm: They also can surprise you in a bad way.

(Y/N), 10:31pm: Grayson.

Dick, 10:32pm: Yeah?

(Y/N), 11:00pm: Would you hate me if I surprised you in a bad away?

Dick, 11:01pm: I wouldn’t hate you.

(Y/N), 11:03pm: What if it was really a bad surprise?

Dick, 11:04pm: I couldn’t hate you. 

Dick, 11:05pm: You are my best friend.

(Y/N), 11:07pm: Don’t let Damian read it.

(Y/N), 11:08pm: You are mine, too.

(Y/N), 11,08pm: Damian is still the first one, thought.

Dick, 11:08pm: I’m hurt now.

╮

“TT. I do not see any aim on this, (Y/N). Mother is going to be very disappointed if we do not train her new attack position. I must learn it by the sleep of the sun.” Said Damian, the one child around and who were responsible for since he was born. You were the third person to hold him, after Talia and the midwife who helped bringing him to this world. You couldn’t say you raised him, but you did spend a lot of his days together, predominantly training when he wasn’t with his relatives.

“Come on, Damian. It will be cool. You deserve a break, we’ve been traning hard since you could walk. Your first world was katanna.” You tried to persuade him. Damian deserved a piece of his stolen innocence, freedom back, in addition, he was the only person you cared for and trusted here. Then, seeing him obligated to fight with no knowledge on other options, how living actually looked and felt like, was rather a torture that you accepted in silence.

“I do appreciate my blade very much. And training is what made me… Me. I am the Grandson of the Devil, I require you to get up the floor and fight me until one of us beg for mercy while coughs in blood. I—” This kid acted like a grown ass man. It did break your heart a little. He was so young, yet there was no childhood to be seen. It was a right robbed by birth.

“You are getting a break and painting with me.” You stucked with your decision. Even though he didn’t get what you did at his age, you could still give him a little bit of harmless fun. After all, you did owe his one. Damian wasn’t conscious of that, or he did in silent and agreement, but he was your humanity part inside the League. And you were every good intention he ever get directed to him.

“That is useless. It will not help me to increase my fighting skills.” Damian refused, ceptical that would be any help. He was in charge of a mission, turning himself into the best. It was this way since he was born, like mother and grandfather. Having fun or experiencing something because he wanted to was not a main objective or even a thought. “TT. A coloring book? I am not a child, (L/N).”

“Should I remind you your own age, Damian?” You arched an eyebrow. Wasn’t hard to know the ideas inside his head, you just decided to not let those win. “Come on. For me. We are best friends here, aren’t we?” Damian blushed in shame for the old position he’d gave you when he was younger and naiver. “We can train for hours with no stop after that, promise. I also bought some blank papers so you can drawn if you’d wish.” You put your hands up to show you were not lying. The boy watched you for a couple seconds, analyzing.

“TT. Whatever. Since we are training to recover this unnecessary wasted time.” Damian put his sword away with a frown, crossed arms as he sat down in front of you.

╮

You continued to read your book as you felt a presence in your apartment. For someone who was trained by the League, Amaya surely didn’t show it. You could hear her steps even if you were sleeping, so loud and weak for their criteria. 

“I would suggest you to leave my house right now or I am gonna have to clean my carpet.” Oh, here you were. The cold part of your personality consistently appearing in similar situations. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to wash out blood?”

“I have a message from Talia.” She responded. No emotion found in her voice, unlike the night before at your house, when Amaya talked politely and rubbed your sister’s back as she meant something other than a work to be done. The blood in your veins ran faster, burning like toxic water inside you. It wasn’t fair with your sister that her first real girlfriend, just a little bit before she came out, would be a trained assassin ready to kill her with her hands while she kissed her. She deserve a girl who’d appreciate her, not study her. “You have five nights to end Nightwing, or she is coming to Gotham.”

“Give me one. Tonight it is going to end. You better enjoy the time with me sister while you are capable of.” You turned a page, treating the subject as the insignificant order it was supposed to be. 

“I am not weak like you, (L/N). I’m not attached to this people, but you might considered killing your precious Dick as well. Maybe so you will become the golden cold hearted murder you once were, not that piece of garbage who cannot finish a easy job.” Her words dripped envy and for the first time, you raised your head to glare her. Amaya wouldn’t touch Dick, the said facts were the problem. “We were trained to fight, not to feel. Learn that before it is too late.”

“Get out before I get tired of reading and show you how good a tongue can taste when it’s cooked with the right salsa.” There was no necessity for you to get up and show her the exit, with a blink of eye, Amaya was gone.

╮

“TT. I can’t believe I got Red Hood’s toy.” Damian huffed as he checked the present which came with his food. You grinned, finding this adorable. Dick laughed a bit.

“I know, you’d rather Nightwing. Who wouldn’t?” He winked, an inside joke there made Damian murmur something and started eating his food. Nightwing’s mention, the protector of the moon as you named him at a fight, coming to haunt your thoughts and force your tongue to sneak out.

“So, it’s my last day in town.” You said right way once your when both Dick and Damian were filling their mouths with them. It did not prevent the brothers from wide opening eyes and ‘what!?’s popping up. “Work is calling me.” You explained, giving Damian a significatiful glare. He understood, nooding slight as he look down, a french frie shutting him up before saying something too emotional. Damian was aware that you could not just ignore his mother calling you back, the consequences would be disastrous. Dick otherwise wasn’t conscious of your real work, you just lied about being a photographer who followed the beauty around the world, but he knew it would kick in sometime. Celibate time couldn’t last forever.

“Why didn’t you tell me— us before?” Dick sounded hurt. You took a deep breathe. His side was understandable, you wished you didn’t put him in this position.

“Because they called me by the night of yesterday.” Half lie, half truth. All you were able to offer him, everything you would ever be able to give him. Pieces, never an entirety.

“Is that why you asked me…” Grayson referred to yesterday’s late messaged at midnight.

“Yes. I’m sorry, Dick.” Once again, untruthful letters flying in the air. “I’m sorry, Damian. I really wish I could be here.” You kept your eyes on his green ones, attempting to assure Damian your wish wasn’t leaving him. Never was. He was the closest you had of a family for tropical, astronomical, equinoctial and solar years. He was still as important as a blood related to you.

“I know. But I understand. Be sure to come back, (L/N).” His supercilious reaction appeared as an alert for you. He was sorrowful, willing to not let it show. Exactly like he was teached to.

“Will not disappoint you, best friend.” You said delicate, catching the shine of hold tears in his green eyes.

“(L/N).” Damian nodded and get up. You were ready to do the same and get the most suffocating hug from him.

“Come here.” Opening your arms, you waited for some tender platonic love showing. He didn’t squeeze you as expect. Damian’s chin trembled and you were mindful of him about to cry.

“I need to retain myself to the male toilet for a moment, excuse me.” He announced, his quick steps heading to the bathroom.

“I think I need to talk to him a bit more.” You sniffled, deciding to leave him alone for a minute or two. The boy you almost raised required some time to digest what happened. Your attention was caught by his brother, glaring you intensely. “Dick?”

“I’m sorry, I should be more thoughtful. I know it’s your job and I’m glad you are going to do what you are passionate about again. We will miss you. I will miss you.” He let it out, stitching his neck. Guilty was as clear as the ocean into his eyes.

“I will miss you too. I already am.” You admitted, holding his hand on the table and rubbing it. That was cozy, like swimming in the beach in a hot summer day.

“I never told you that I felt more than just a friend for you. And this may be a horrible timing, but I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” Dick’s hand slowly went from yours to your waist. You could back off at any minute, he was going slow so you would be sure that was what you wanted. Your wants were guaranteed when you smiled, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“Dick Grayson, you really enjoy some dramatic moment, don’t you?” You weren’t going to waste your left time with the man you loved being ridiculous enough to try to be cool or indifferent about it. You wanted him to hear it back. “I’m in love with you just as much.” He smiled and ultimately brushed his lips against yours. This soft peck suddenly turning into a deep, emotional kiss. Two of you trying to express love, guilty, miss, everything with that intimate act both had been longing for.

“That definitely will not be the most amusing last record I ever had about you, (L/N).” Damian interrupted, making you and Dick pull away a little. You didn’t really care. The two boys you loved most were here. 

“Shut up and come here.” You pulled Damian into a group hug, adoring this moment. It was sad, but it was yours. You could definitely hold that close for  a longer time.

╰

“Master Damian, you have a visitor at the door. The lady says her name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and she wishes to see you.” Alfred informed the young Wayne, who was sitting on the couch with Dick as company. Grayson glaced at his brother, eyebrows going up as he smiled. Damian was making friends! The other one did not retribute Dick’s actions. For sure, he was very excited to see you again, but Grayson on his feet while was not amusing. He had enough of his weak spot, no need of more affect demonstration.

“Do not follow me, Grayson. I will not hesitate to throw a stick on your head.” Damian threated with words that would send goosebumps down anyone’s spine except Dick. As the small boy got up and walked to meet (Y/N), his brother followed him from distance.

“Hey, Damian. Did you forget your best friend?” You smiled when your caught his sight. Damian rolled her eyes and a typical sound of 'TT’ coming out his mouth, soon filled with a version of smile for him. (Y/N) didn’t mind grinning and hugging him as tight as possible, and getting the same act in return. You missed him so much. The League wasn’t the same, neither were you. By the way his arms kept you close and did not push you away after 0.2 seconds, you could say he missed you, too.

“I thought I was your best friend, Damian.” Grayson joked, slipping from the door. Damian let go of you immediately, glaring the gorgeous man in front of you in annoyance. “I’m Dick Grayson, his brother. I have to admit that I didn’t think Damian’s friend would be this age.” He smiled at you.

“Well, I changed his diapers, so I guess it makes me Damian’s best friend. Sorry, Dick.” You joked, laughing soft when Damian huffed. “My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Greetings are done. Grayson, go away before I get a stick.” He practically growned, trying to push you two apart before it could get more embarrassing.

.

“The same old dance. Don’t you get bored?” The moon protector said playfully, holding his combat accessories.

“I would not wonder about that, Nightwing. This time, you will fall and I will owe your head as a prize when I leave the city.” Sounded robotic to your ears, besides there was no time to worry about your thinkings.

“My best friend leaves the city and now my best villain. Hard day for me.” You couldn’t help but vacillate at this. Again, a person you were going to murder showing they had a life, people they cared about and virce versa. He even got similar problems as you. That would be difficult. You needed to push your human side away. You were good at this, Talia taught you very well. You could do this.

“I’m giving you one last chance, Nightwing. A quick dead. Surrender.” You bended your knees, spreading your arms into your fight position.

“Not happening. I never liked it too quick, anyway.” He winked, his athletic body easily finding its own combat start spot. “Time for some entertainment.”

“You want a honorable death. I do respect that. You are a great opponent, Nightwing. Now let’s see who is good enough to stay in this world.”

One of the hardest fights that any of you ever had started happening. Nightwing was fast with his escrima sticks and astute on his dodges, like an acrobat. And you were skilfull with your knifes and very comfortable with your movements, as if fighting was just a inner free animal inside of you. He finally got a hit right on a place that would let you unconscious from the pain or at least unable to walk for enough time to call the police. Or it should have.

The opposite happened. As soon as you left Damian and Dick, you spent the rest of your day meditating, training to reline your body and mind as the League reached you. You hands were under an obligation, to kill Nightwing. The League of Assassins lived up for their name, and you were one of them. They were your family, the organization your and your victims  bloods should ran for. No excuses, no feelings, no doubts. Like a journalist exposes the truth, like a cooker cooks, like a singer sings, you were (Y/N), War’s name Laylatan Karithia, english known as Catastrophic Night, you killed killed and wasn’t a hostage of empathy or blame. Your conscious side laughed at every tear. 

All the pain Nightwing offered internally replaced with a kind of calm anger. You used that agony to turn into strength, as Talia taught you so many times after almost breaking all of your bones. That needed to be done, so you would do.

And like that, taking advantage of his surprised state, you advanced, kicking his waist, then leg and punching him on the ribs with a knife between your fingers. Nightwing screamed a scream that you could recognize, sounded like Dick. It was your mind taking care of driving you insane, trying to make you feel guilty for being obedient. The fact made you grow both furious and tormented. You were in charge of yourself, no manipulative human feels would stop you.

Throwing Nightwing on the floor as if he weight was a disconsiderative factor, you got on top of him. Placing another knife inside his body, another loud moan of pain breaking the silent night. He tried to get up and fight, even hold you back, besides his body did not allow him. Your metal had envy in the brilliant end of them, an idea which Ral’s Al Ghul was proud of a decade ago. Not to mention the fact of the place you stabbed him. His leg, near to a very important blood vase. Moon’s Protector was sweating, still picking up his stinks to fight. You could sympathize with that, your beaching body and should proved it.

“Just a few more centimeters and you will bleed until you are dead. Arteries are magical if you know how to play with them.” You smirked diabolic. At this moment, you knew Amaya was right. And so was Talia and the League of Assassins itself. You were wicked people that could never be forgiven, you shall be grateful for having as malevolent people like you, or else you’d be dead by yourself in a sewage ditch like society’s garbage because you were different, you were nefarious, degenerate, villainous on an equal footing. No good you deserved because you did no good and it was destiny. Dick would never be able to change that, neither Damian. He just had the right of his fresh start because he had no choice but growing inside this diabolical system of his mother. You on the other hand made a choice years ago. A desesparated, unratinol choice, correct. Still, a choice. Didn’t matter if you regretted it or not. “It was an amazing dance indeed, sir.”

[thelowercasegimmick]

Opinion Piece, 9/2/16: Opening Lines in YA (Part 2)

Here’s Part 1, if you haven’t read it already.

Context/Backstory

Tommy was a talker and didn’t much like the other ghosts, so he was forever talking to Kelpie.  That’s how she divided them up: talkers and silent ones.  Most ghosts were silent.  Most ignored the living.  Kelpie thought that was just as well.

- Razorhurst, Justine Larbalestier

This one is pretty self-explanatory - open your novel with information that’s necessary to understand the story that follows.  I feel like this is the most obvious way to open your novel, and if you’re not careful, it can end up being nothing more than a bland infodump.

Addie and I were born into the same body, our souls’ ghostly fingers entwined before we gasped our very first breath.  Our earliest years together were also our happiest.  Then came the worries - the tightness around our parents’ mouths, the frowns lining our kindergarten teacher’s forehead, the question everyone whispered when they thought we couldn’t hear.

- What’s Left of Me, Kat Zhang

This tries to be interesting, but I’m afraid it turns out kind of bland.  This book actually has a really interesting premise, but the turns of phrase here are so cliched that it’s difficult to see its potential.  It doesn’t do much to establish any sort of tone, and it’s not nearly as interesting as it could be.

When these opening lines work, it’s usually for one of three reasons: it either highlights an interesting detail of the story, it sets a mood, or it establishes a character’s voice.  This one is a good example of an interesting detail:

There is one mirror in my house.  It is behind a sliding panel in the hallway upstairs.  Our faction allows me to stand in front of it on the second day of every third month, the day my mother cuts my hair.

- Divergent, Veronica Roth

This is kind of a misleading opening line, because the setting that it’s describing doesn’t really have much impact on the novel as a whole.  But taken on its own, it works really well.  This is an odd detail, and it suggests some very interesting worldbuilding.  Contrast it to this:

When Egypt was young, and the first pyramids were being built with the sweat and blood of slavery, there lived a small civilization on the outskirts of society, led by a coven of thirteen men and women called the Dasi.

- Snakecharm, Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

This also describes an aspect of the worldbuilding, but it’s a lot more cliched and less interesting than the one in Divergent.  Which is a shame, because the worldbuilding in this novel is actually very inventive, and there were surely a lot of interesting details that Atwater-Rhodes could’ve opened with.  But she clearly saw the opening lines only as an opportunity to get across information, whereas Roth cared about making that information interesting.

Of course, your focus doesn’t have to be on the information itself.  Here’s an opening line that sets the mood:

Aisling’s mother died at midsummer.  She had fallen sick so suddenly that some of the villagers wondered if the fairies had come and taken her, for she was still young and beautiful.  She was buried three days later beneath the hawthorn tree behind the house, just as twilight was darkening the sky.

- Ash, Malinda Lo

The information itself isn’t particularly interesting, but Lo’s prose is.  Ash is a retelling of Cinderella, and it has a very fairy tale-esque mood.  Lo does a good job of establishing that right off the bat, with her characteristically strong prose.  There are lots of great sensory details that help with this.  I couldn’t find a ton of examples that focus mostly on mood like this one does, which is a shame - it strikes me as a big missed opportunity.

The other type of opening line that doesn’t focus on the information itself is the type of opening line that establishes a character’s voice.  The best example I can think of for this type of opening line is The Catcher in the Rye (1953), but that book opens with a three-page long paragraph that I don’t feel like reprinting here, so here’s a shorter example:

April Fool’s Day.  Totally appropriate for the idiot who turned down a chance to go home to Earth because she thinks she should play hero.  Fortunately, all my contribution to the hero-ing business involves is standing where I’m put, ready to be hauled about by the people whose job it is to save the planet, or the galaxy, or however much of the universe is supposedly at risk.  And what I’ve really signed up for is more labrattery, to figure out what ‘touchstone’ means.

- Lab Rat One, Andrea K. Host

The information that this paragraph conveys doesn’t really matter - it’s essentially just a recap of the previous book in the series.  What matters is the voice.  Cassie - the main character - has a super-distinct voice, and if it’s not established right away, it’s going to throw the reader off.  So Host goes out of her way to establish as many of the quirks of this novel’s prose as she can, right off the bat.  I talked about this a little in Part 1, but backstory tends to be a very good way of establishing character voice, because there’s a lot of potential for a conversational tone.  That conversational tone is perfect for establishing voice quirks, and it can make information interesting that otherwise might’ve been tedious.

Last but not least, I wanted to share my favorite opening line that provides context and backstory.  And yes, I’m aware that this is a huge cliche among YA fans, but I can’t pretend I don’t love it.

Late in the winter of my seventeenth year, my mother decided I was depressed, presumably because I rarely left the house, spent quite a lot of time in bed, read the same book over and over, ate infrequently, and devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to thinking about death.

- The Fault In Our Stars, John Green

This is another one that establishes character voice, and in a subtle way, it sets up the mood as well.  (Green doesn’t beat around the bush - he lets you know right away that this novel is gonna be pretty depressing.)  Other than that, I’m not even sure if I can describe why I love this opening line so much, except that there’s something very resonant about the word choice, particularly in the way the sentence resolves itself at the end.  It just works, in a way that’s hard to articulate.

Flashback

The night Sarah and Ben showed up out of the blue.  You should’ve known or suspected something was wrong.  The vibe was weird, but then it had been for a while, and Sarah was… Sarah.  Up in your room eve, when she kissed you and you lost yourself in her.  The moment it all came crashing down.

- She Loves You, She Loves You Not, Julie Anne Peters

I’m not gonna spend a lot of time on this category, because I only found about a dozen opening lines that fit the bill.  This is essentially a more interesting way of providing context or backstory than simply stating what the audience needs to know.  It uses what works about In Media Res (the immediacy of the scene), to accomplish what the context/backstory opening lines want to do.  At least, in theory.  In practice, the flashbacks often turn out to have more narrative summary than real action.  Which can still be interesting - here’s one I liked a lot:

On the day of my mother’s funeral, we all wore white.  My father said that dressing ourselves in the stiff, pale cloth would be a mitzvah.  I ran the word over my tongue as I straightened a starched new shirt against my shoulders.  I was twelve when she died, and Rebbe Davison had told us about mitzvot only a few days before - how every good deed we did for the other citizens of the ship would benefit us, too.  He said that doing well in school was a mitzvah, but also other things.  Like watching babies get born in the hatchery or paying tribute at funerals.  When he said that, he looked across the classroom at me with a watery gleam in his eyes.

- Starglass, Phoebe North

This has just enough detail to feel immediate, but it also keeps the distance that you’d expect from a flashback in a first-person novel.  The scene it describes is also pretty interesting, both because of the emotional aspects of what’s being described, and because of the details of Judaism, which is pretty unusual for a YA novel.  But on the whole, there’s not a lot to say about novels that open with flashbacks, and this post is long enough as it is.

Reflection

My name is Elizabeth but no one’s ever called me that.  My father took one look at me when I was born and must have thought I had the face of someone dignified and sad like an old-fashioned queen or a dead person, but what I turned out like is plain, not much there to notice.  Even my life so far has been plain.  More Daisy than Elizabeth from the go.

- How I Live Now, Meg Rosoff

I’ll admit: this was kind of my ‘miscellaneous’ category.  All I mean by ‘refelction’ is that it opens with either the narrator - be it a character or the omnipotent voice of third person - reflecting on the story in some way, shape, or form.  That’s a very broad category, and I ended up including a variety of styles too wide to generalize about easily.

I like to run at night.  No one watches me.  No one hears my sneakers slipping in the loose gravel at the side of the road.  Gravity doesn’t exist.  My muscles don’t hurt.  I float, drift past churches, stores, and schools, past the locked houses and their flicker-blue windows.  My mind is quiet and clear.

- Catalyst, Laurie Halse Anderson

This line, for example, almost counts as In Media Res, but the narrator isn’t describing a specific night of running, she’s reflecting on the experience of running in general.  That’s a subtle distinction, but I think it reflects a big difference between reflective opening lines and In Media Res.  The point of this line isn’t to put you into a specific scene, but into a specific mindset.  You kind of feel how the narrator feels while she’s running, without many specific sensory details.  That’s not necessarily better or worse than a specific scene - each of them have their uses.  Here, I think it works really well, because the distance from the scene emphasizes the surreal, almost spiritual nature of running to this narrator.

But anyway, when I said that there was too wide a variety to generalize easily, what I meant was that there are a lot of lines like that one, and also a lot like this:

Gigi said my guardian angel must have been watching over me real good when I was born.  Maybe so, but I wish the angel had watched over me less and seen to Mama more.  I never liked hearing about how I came into this world anyway.  It didn’t seem natural, a live baby coming out of a dead woman.  Gigi said it was the greatest miracle ever to come down the pike.

- Dancing on the Edge, Han Nolan

This doesn’t resemble In Media Res at all - it’s clearly the narrator reflecting on an aspect of her life that will be significant later on in the story.  There’s not much I could say that applies to both this and Catalyst.  But I also like this opening line a lot.  It mostly works because of how well it sets the tone for the book, in really subtle ways that you probably wouldn’t even notice.  This is a somewhat weird and unsettling novel, and that’s established with a somewhat weird and unsettling detail.  But it’s not at all ham-fisted; you’d never guess that Nolan actively set out to do that, unless you’ve already read the novel.

The universal factor among when these opening lines don’t work, though, is a lot easier to identify: whatever the character is reflecting on just isn’t that interesting.

The night is full of mystery.  Even when the moon is brightest, secrets hide everywhere.  Then the sun rises and its rays cast so many shadows that the day creates more illusion than all the veiled truth of the night.

- Demon in my View, Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

The best way to describe this is cliched.  I know I keep using Atwater-Rhodes for examples of bad opening lines, which is weird, because I’d actually call myself a fan of her writing.  But she doesn’t really seem to have a knack for opening stories, and this is the worst example of all.  This could be the opening line of any horror novel from the last 40 years - there’s nothing new here at all.  The information is so cliched that it’s essentially meaningless.

The one other consistency I found among these lines is that single-sentence opening lines don’t tend to work very well here.  For example:

I only go out at night.

- In the After, Demitri Lunetta

I think the point of that line was to fill me with questions.  “How creepy,” I’m supposed to say.  “Why does she only go out at night?”  In reality, my eyes start to glaze over.  That’s just not enough information to capture the attention of anyone who’s read more than a few books in their life.  If a single-sentence opener is going to work, the information has to be genuinely weird.

The first thing you find out when yer dog learns to talk is that dogs don’t got nothing much to say.  About anything.

- Patrick Ness, The Knife of Never Letting Go

Now this is an opening line that intruiged me when I first read it.  The whole ‘amazing magic thing gets annoying once you’re used to it’ is cliched by this point, but the slang, combined with the circumstance, draws me in.  The spelling of ‘yer’ is something I’ve never seen anywhere else, and the fact that this country-ish slang is combined with a talking dog (in a non-cheesy way) suggests - correctly, I might add - that the novel to follow will be unique.

And, finally, my favorite of these opening lines:

Ironically, since the attacks, the sunsets have been glorious.  Outside our condo window, the sky flames like a bruised mango in vivid orange, red, and purple.  The clouds ignite with sunset colors, and I’m almost scared those of us caught below will catch on fire too.

- Angelfall, Susan Ee

This is kind of a weird way of establishing tension, but it works surprisingly well.  Ee uses a really unlikely symbol - the setting sun - as well as bright imagery, to illustrate what is implied to be a coming apocalypse.  The ‘since the attacks’ is vague, but it’s just enough to suggest the context for these sunsets without getting bogged down in unnecessary details.  And the mention of a condo suggests something about the setting that’s about to light on fire - again, it’s vague, but it’s remarkable that such a small detail is enough to give me the image of an entire town.  It’s the perfect opening for an action novel.

There’s no formula to writing the perfect opening lines.  Ultimately, different things work in different circumstances, and how your novel opens depends on what your novel is about.  But I wanted to make these articles to give an idea of the tools that writers have at their disposal to create opening lines.  Thinking about opening lines leads to discussions about how to grab a reader’s attention, and even how storytelling functions.  Even if the opening lines of a novel won’t make or break a book, these discussions are worth having.