#idk man I tried lol

[ackackh]

First Line Analysis

Rules: post the first lines of up to 10 of your last fics/chapters posted on AO3 or your WIPs and try to draw some conclusions.

Thank you to @majorbuckyegan for tagging me! This was fun and challenging!

1. DOGSTAR.

There’s a hole maybe the size of a quarter ripped in the screen door. Andy watches as two little fingers wiggle through it, the small hand they’re attached to curling up close behind them.

2. Want to See Nirvana/Don’t Want to Die Yet

I am not, Nate thinks to himself as he helps Brad fumble with the passenger-side door, I am not going back in time.

3. God Is a Bluegill

The next-day sun is beginning to pour dark blue light into the jailhouse through the little, barred window of Ray’s cell. The Sheriff sleeps with his feet crossed on top of his desk, his chin tucked into his chest; Ray watched him fight it for the better part of the night. His cellmate sleeps on his back with his gambler pulled on top of his face, his fingers laced perfectly over his chest. And the man in the neighboring cell hasn’t so much as moved since Ray was locked inside his own, earlier in the evening. Ray thinks he might be dead.

(I’m cheating here, a little. There is a small flashback before this scene in GIAB but I consider this to be the first line, really. Otherwise it’s just a baby Ray waking up with his mother.)

4. [untitled Doc Bryan Baby fic]

[Secret Character, Sorry] had this thing about naming babies after family, said it was bad luck. Said, who do you know that hasn’t ever fucked over anybody? Who in our family hasn’t been fucked someway?

5. [untitled BradRay Post OIF fic]

There are a few decent places to cry alone in the cigarette factory, but Ray hasn’t bothered to go find any. Instead he’s crying like a kid against the cinderblocks outside.

6. Some Things You Will Remember, Some Things Stay Sweet Forever

Winter’s comin’ in hard. Only October and the season’s first long drift of snow has blown over their village swiftly these past three days.

7. That Heavy Love

There is a moment, however small, when Brad returns to their attic room, in which the light of the oil lamps and the cotton of the bedclothes paint Nate like a dream-laden lover. Isn’t he beautiful?

8. Last of the Goldenrod

There’s a grave for the last morning glory that ever bloomed in Kilkenny. Before the last of them wilted, Maryanne clipped one clean and pressed it dry between the pages of a Bible, so that it left behind a purple stain, splotched somewhere in the middle of Psalms. Joe enlisted George’s help to break up a patch of their concrete backyard, to claw away the frozen dirt beneath until they had a hole deep enough to bury it inside of a shoebox.

9. Feel in My Bones Just What the Future Has in Store

Sun’s set just a few minutes ago but the end-of-summer sky is still holding onto some of its light. If they finish up now, Mike can get Judy and Tanya inside before full dark and before Cara gets too mad about pushing back their bedtime.

10. When a Man Is Also a Knife

The Arena can seat 5,526 spectators—maybe 200 more if one includes the standing room directly surrounding the ring—and as George bobs and weaves his way though the milling crowd of Philadelphia’s finest, most already drunk or well on their way, he finds that every single one of the 5,726 attendees is doggedly determined to shove themselves between him and his boss.

Tagging @z-ppy @disastrouscanasta @buckyclevens @lamialamia @gorgeousundertow @jenkil and anyone else who wants to join!

Analysis under the cut. Because it’s a lot of rambling on my part.

Okay, looking at all of these, any analysis seems really hard to do. Especially since I could choose whatever fics I wanted, I realized I was using the ones I liked the most, so there’s already some bias in here. But one thing I can say, I know whenever I’m writing something which I know will be the first line I am always thinking about a ‘hook.’ Will this first sentence be enough to get my reader to keep reading? With fanfiction, this is a bit easier. I don’t have to convince anybody to like my characters or like the dynamics or relationships, I just have to get them to like me. Which is sort of daunting, but I’d still argue easier than with original fiction.

I do notice that with fics like 3. 8. And 10. I am trying to be evocative of a very specific time/place, because these are all AUs. And I know the reader, especially with shorter AUs, needs much more information much more immediately than with other fics, in which I have time to feed info throughout. So those seem more concerned with environment, rather than character. Also seems to be the case with others lol. Even if the line is primarily about how a character is feeling, the first line still gives some information about the rest of the scene. (8. Kilkenny is a place, a town; 9. It’s evening, it’s summer; 2. Nate is in a car (lol))

Which makes sense when I think about it. I still have the hangup (I think other writers know this feeling) of wanting my readers to see my stories exactly as I see them. To be immersed, sure, but also to have the right angle, the right lighting. I need to remind myself that books (or fics) aren’t movies. It isn’t a visual medium. So, there’s something I could certainly work on.

Without hurting my brain with too much more thinking, I’ll leave off by saying that in general, I like these! And that’s a treat for myself. I want things I write to be colorful, I want them to be physical, and some of these really do the trick for me. (Key word: me. I already have the images of these scenes set in my head before I ever write them down. So it’s very possible for others not to see it that way).

But yeah, this was fun! And I’m always a slut for sharing lol ❤️

[inkskinned]

you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.

you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.

he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.

a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.

he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.

you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.

people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.

wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.

also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.

he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."

you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.

"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."

he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.

you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.

is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?

you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.

[askyofexplodingstars]

lil sebastian doodle page (ft my farmer)

[starrysharks]

a buncha weirdos draw themselves

[lunarharp]

shirahama-sensei reminded me she has a thing for the teacher from pokemon s/v so i randomly went off on an au where qifrey is the professor. etc

[jtl07]

Hi JT! I’m not sure it’s possible to challenge you, but I’d love to try: Glasses, classroom, romcom!

okay finally got some time (how dare work actually be work) but also wow WOW ask an ye shall receive because goddamn this batch of prompts has succeeded in being a challenge lol

anon, i feel like i don’t actually write romcom that much so this was a fun mindpuzzle to practice. thank you for playing!!

“I just don’t get it, Lil.” Ava huffs from her perch atop the edge of their homeroom teacher’s desk, the heels of her feet kicking against it. Behind her, she hears Lilith sigh, which Ava takes as a sign for her to continue her rant. 

“She’s the kindest, coolest in judo practice but the moment she’s off the mat, it’s like she’s a completely different person.” 

Another sigh. “In what way?” 

“Like -” All four of Ava’s limbs get in on the telling “- okay, yesterday I saw her in the hall and waved but she literally said, ‘Do I know you?’” Ava groans, smacking her face with her hands as if it would get the entire experience out of her head. 

“Well, if I was Beatrice, I’d probably pretend I didn’t know you too.”

Ava swivels around, arms out wide to try to smack Lilith, who ducks, expert as she is after years being friends. She doesn’t even pause in her typing. “Lilith, I’m serious,” Ava whines, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Did I do something wrong?”

Lilith shrugs. “It might not be you. Maybe she gets temporary amnesia every time she goes onto the mat. Or maybe the mat triggers some kind of - I can’t believe I’m saying this outloud - subconscious persona that she doesn’t remember outside of practice. Or -” 

A soft cough at the doorway stops them both - with Ava nearly falling off the table when she finds the object of her angst and affection standing just inside the classroom. Because holy shit, Beatrice looks great, as always, but also: when the hell does she wear glasses???  

Beatrice glances between the two of them, must consider Lilith the safer of them as her gaze settles on her. Which, fair, Ava thinks grudgingly, considering how she can’t stop herself from gawking at Beatrice in glasses. Still, she wishes she could get Beatrice’s eyes on her like it is during judo practice, feel the soft touch of her adjustments, hear the note of approval in “good job” that always makes her feel like she could fly to the moon - 

“- okay, Ava?” 

Ava blinks, finds both Lilith and Beatrice watching her, concern written in similar lines across their faces. She shakes herself bodily. “Yeah, I’m fine. Did you need some help?” she squeaks, totally casual. 

“I just need to input those for Beatrice’s class,” Lilith answers, gesturing to the folder Ava’s currently sitting on.

“Oh, sure.” Ava doesn’t realize her mistake until she’s already leaning towards the side. The side that is the edge of the table. The side that is nothing but open air.

She flails for a half-second, hoping to negotiate with gravity, but like always - in judo, on the stairs in the rain, stepping out of the bathtub, and here - it doesn’t give in. Ava closes her eyes as she feels gravity win and thinks: Fuck. 

The ground isn’t what greets her though. There’s a clatter of something falling to the floor and a gasp she recognizes from Lilith, but what surprises Ava the most is the warmth all around her. It’s strong, familiar. 

Ava pries open eyes she hadn’t known she’d closed. Turns her head to find Beatrice, wide-eyed and so, so close. 

“Are you alright?” she asks, and Ava has to keep from losing her shit completely because she can feel Beatrice’s breath against her cheek. 

“Yep,” she squeaks, totally normal. 

She feels Beatrice shift and her feet finally touch the ground. Ava’s loath to let go, now that she knows what Beatrice’s arms feel like fully around her, now that she has Beatrice’s eyes on her fully now, looking at her like - actually, Ava’s not sure what she’s looking at her like. It’s not the wary suspicion from the hallway, but something different. Something like recognition.

Beatrice takes the glasses Lilith is holding out to her, slowly, carefully puts them on.

“Oh,” Beatrice breathes, realization and wonder spreading pink across her face, “It’s you.”

[teaitis]

... But you can't tell that flower "I want you to understand me"

[namelessprince]

riptide hadestown au. you agree.

[tblsomedoodles]

I thought i escaped sims 4 but it's dragged my dumbass back again.

I hate this game. I need so many mods just to be able to just to fix it so i can play without being frustrated. but no matter how frustrated i get, i keep coming back : /

Anyways! Like my new little me? (i forgot what they're called. Avatar? *Shrug*) I'll put some more stuff (and doodles) about them under the cut

They're a candle! The body and oversize hoodie are all the wax and the undercut ponytail is the little flame (like Ember from Danny Phantom lol). Her feet are kinda goopy and her hands never show b/c the sleeves of the hoodie drip over them (sometimes driping off completely.)

i got kinda bored with my old one (drawing me but purple) so they got a little upgrade for my silly little personal doodles.

That is all : )

[spinatch]

asaden from november

[phoebe-delia]

Phoebe Tries to Write Again Challenge

Hello everyone!

I have had a really rough time with my writing, lately; and by lately I mean the last year or so, but it's gotten worse these last few months. I want that to change. So I'm coming to you all for help.

I will be accepting Drarry prompts from now until the end of the month. BUT I have some disclaimers:

I might not pick your prompt. I hope you won't be hurt if I don't; this exercise is for me to get back into the groove of writing and posting more often, and I've gotta pick whatever inspires me the most at the moment.

I'm going to gently request: no Taylor Swift song prompts, please. (*que gasps*) I know, I know. But I've got to branch out. I'm sure I'll still write songfics of hers in the future, but for the purpose of this challenge, I'd like to try new things. Any other song prompts are fair game.

Please don't expect these to be long. They might not be more than 100 words. They might be 100% dialogue. I will write as much as the prompt inspires, but I promise to do my best to fulfill it.

But, feel free to make requests! If you want to ensure a happy ending, want extra angst, or you want a certain trope, tell me! If it's within my limits I'm happy to make it happen.

I will try to post one every day, but that might not happen some days

Please be kind 😂 you guys literally always are, but I haven't done this in a long time and I'm hoping I can regain my spark.

[runepixel]

hey guys. i'm not the only one who hears the lyrics to this song and thinks snowgrave kris and noelle right

[sucresanguine]

not to be throwing stones but the way people talk about having a "female" childhood as a default good thing in queer spaces is bonkers. Like the amount of abuse I and many others experienced that was directly tied to that shouldn't have to be minimized as some kind of learning experience. I don't actually think suffering in one way makes you a better person for it. I'm not out here saying No One Ever Had A Happy Girlhood but for many people that shit was traumatizing and doesn't need to be put on a pretty little pedestal nor held up as something that made you necessarily more empathetic/feminist/radicalized because imo that really does carry the connotation that all those things were potentially good for you. Being someone who went through that didn't distinctly or directly make me a better feminist or ally, it made me a very very hurt person.

[saline-coelacanth]

I find it so interesting how so many people seem to have different interpretations for how old Cinder is supposed to be (which to be fair the show doesn't really tell us so I don't blame people) And now I'm curious what the general opinion is

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

Hey did I ever tell y'all about the time I dreamed that I had a baby daughter called Ellie that began with my finding out I was pregnant and ended on like her third birthday?

I legitimately woke up thinking "I should go check on Ellie" and then realised she was never real and when I tell you I SOBBED. I've been haunted by an implacable sense of loss ever since. Did I travel to another dimension? Wtf happened because that was insane.

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

it happened so fast and suddenly the only thing i saw was you

Callum is a sad boi when he can't cuddle Rayla anymore at the Starscraper lmao

Callum liked to think of himself as in-tune to his feelings. He was aware of when he was a jerk–which was frequent, but that’s what the Jerkface Dance was for–aware of when he was being less than clever, and aware of when he needed to take some medicine and a cold shower.

He certainly knew when he ought to be ashamed of himself.

He certainly shouldn’t be disappointed by the size of the bed, he should be grateful for the space and a pillow to himself, but all he could think of was how much he missed Rayla in his arms and him in hers at night, cozied up together solely for purposes of not freezing to death in their one sleeping roll after the other had fallen below the ice.

The blankets over his shoulders and pillow he hugged, because he just needed something to grasp, in no way made up for Rayla there.

And it was even more ridiculous because she was right there. Not even two feet away from him. Her back to him, silver hair splayed out on her own pillow catching the moonlight, she was close by. More than close by. He could still smell her, hear the little noises she made and feel how the mattress swayed with every breath she took. If he closed his eyes, Callum could fool himself into thinking it was her in his arms instead of the lemon-scented pillow.

He groaned and strangled the pillow even more, punching it down in frustration. This impossible girl shouldn’t be consuming his every waking thought, especially not when the fate of the entire world was on their shoulders, but he just couldn’t help it.

Damn hormones.

Bleary-eyed, Rayla tossed her shoulder over her head to look at him. “Callum? You okay?”

And of course he’d gone and woken her up.

“Yeah,” he said, attempting a reassuring smile. “Sorry to wake you up.”

Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and she rolled over to graze her fingers over his side. His breath hitched, but her movements didn’t stall. “Trouble sleeping?”

“I…” Callum swallowed, and her eyes dropped to watch how his throat bobbed, only serving to make it even drier. “It’s weird. So much space,” he said lamely.

“Well, we don’t have to take advantage of it,” Rayla said simply, offering an easy fix to a loaded situation, something decidedly much less chaste than just last night and the few before. Those times, there hadn’t been a choice–at least that’s what Callum told himself, sure Rayla was doing the same–but now? There was. They were choosing to keep doing what they’d been doing, sharing space and blankets and body heat, all pressed up together.

Callum turned so his back faced her, allowing her to draw him back into her chest and lace their fingers together in front of his stomach, allowing her to rest her chin on the top of his head. Allowing them to be close for no reason other than being close.

“Rayla?” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

He squeezed her hand tighter, tried to press them as close together as possible. Not that close would ever be close enough. “I missed you.”

He hadn’t said that yet. There hadn’t been a right time. Because missing her and loving her could go hand-in-hand but didn’t have to. It was much more important to love her.

And missing her was part of loving her.

Rayla’s breath hitched, the movements of her chest halting against his back for just a quick second.

“I missed you, too.”