#we love writing!

[grandprix-ao3]

first lines

tagged by @drivestraight

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to AO3. (Sort by date posted.) If you have less than 10 fics posted, post what you have.

this is so fun. i have a love/hate relationship with first lines... like either they come to me easy (it's like this! like, boom!) or i'm thinking about it for like 17 business days. but fun story usually i start writing a fic because i start actually writing it in my head, like with an imaginary google doc and all of that, so i'll only make the actual document when i think i have an idea of what i want to write, not just what i want to happen.

anyways. i will do my ten most recent fics. under the break. this was fun to look at also i haven't given my previous first lines a whole ton of thought lately... very intriguing. some i like better than others tbh

telephone

Every time the words circle back around to Esteban, it's a different story.

like a house on fire

For the nearly three years since Charles first moved into the duplex, his upstairs neighbor has been the same mild-mannered woman.

backseat freestyle

"Do you not think it is a little bit pathetic?"

growing pains

It is easier to make friends in racing when the stakes are lower.

firebug

For the first time since Pierre and Charles started dating—years ago, so far from the present it feels like something they never knew—Charles thinks he actually wants to be mad at his boyfriend.

choking on your alibis

For two weeks of the summer before their last year of university, Charles is meant to stay with his best friend, Esteban.

carlos.jpg

Lando posts pictures of pretty buildings and fast cars.

violent ends

It's disgustingly instinctual.

pressure machine

The lights are out.

the alps

Pierre has the decency to tell Yuki before the announcement goes up.

also i'm gonna do miamis (alt!) because i'm annoying. welcome to: hell, population: me. we win these

piranha

Being teammates with Logan is a fucking lot.

show me how you show off

They're a bit tipsy, hiding in the darkened corner of a bright-lit nightclub.

shark bait

Oscar kind of knew what he was signing up for when he decided to go to school in America, but he doesn't think anything could've prepared him for the email that said his roommate's name was Logan Hunter Sargeant.

your animal side

Oscar presents late.

an itch under my skin

"There's my pretty thing."

contact-drunk

Oscar doesn't know why he even came to this party.

pretty thing

"Come on, open up."

and you know what just for fun here's the first line of my current wip :)

Williams is the only team on the grid with an all-Beta driver lineup.

oh and i tag: @hourcat @dm3rv @alblondo23 @oversteerey to do if they wish. sorry if you were double tagged <3

[noperopesaredope]

I wish we had more female characters like Eleanor Shellstrop. One of the most unlikable people you've ever met. Read a Buzzfeed article on most rude things you can do on a daily basis and decided to use that as a list of goals. Makes everyone's day worse just by being there. Dropped a margarita mix on the ground and tried to pick it up, only to get hit by a row of shopping carts which pushed her into the road where she was hit by a boner pill delivery truck, killing her instantly. Cannot keep a romantic partner despite being bisexual. Had a terrible childhood but will die before she gets therapy. Best employee at a scam company. Just the worst but also can't help but root for her to improve.

Absolute loser. Girl-failure. Bad at almost everything. Literally perfect female character.

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[emphistic]

Sukuna—being a tough guy—always had a rough exterior; but when it came down to his daughter? Ah, he could loosen up a bit. Especially now that school was starting up, his cortisol levels were starting to go through the roof.

"Do you have your water bottle?"

"Uh huh."

"What about your lunch box?"

"You packed it for me."

"Where's your backpack?"

"Daddy!" the little girl giggled. "It's on my back!" And as if to give a proof, she twirled around to show that the glittery rainbow backpack was, indeed, on her back.

You put a hand on Sukuna's arm, laughing, "Honey, you're making it sound as if our baby's going on an expedition to Antarctica."

Sukuna, frowning, turned to you, "She might as well be. You don't know how dangerous Kindergarten can be."

"Oh yeah? Well, luckily, our girl is a tough one just like her daddy, isn't she?" you pinched your daughter's chubby cheek.

In response, the girl let out a confident "mhm!" whilst pretending to flex her muscles.

After you dropped off your daughter at school, you turned to face your husband with a grin on your face. "See? Easy peasy. There was nothing for you to stress about, babe."

"No. No, you don't know how vicious these little five year olds can be. If I had to, I would—"

You covered Sukuna's mouth with your hand, "Don't tell me you would go beating up little kids."

"I don't care if they're fucking five," Sukuna removed your hand, "if they mess with my baby, I'll—"

You watched the widening eyes of nearby parents of said kids, and quickly interjected. "Okay, okay, I think that's enough. We should be going now," you laughed nervously, leading your husband to the parking lot.

"Do you want to hear what I'd do if someone made our little girl cry?" a very genuine Sukuna asked.

"Ryomen, please, let's not."

Okay, maybe Sukuna was still as rough as always.

[mischievous-thunder]

Wade's not-so-polite fourth wall tap to prove that he's not the only one drooling

[loveexpelrevolt]

KURT & ROGUE X-Men '97 1.08 | "Tolerance Is Extinction — Part 1"

+ bonus: Kurt protecting Rogue

[bluerosefox]

Always Favors You

Another Sibling Danny and Jason idea!!

"Are you Jason Peter Todd?!" demanded a deep and commanding tone from the strange glowing being in front of them.

All the Bats stiffened and tensed, no doubt gearing up for a fight against the being that somehow knew Red Hood's full name.

Jason, Red Hood, decided to put on a brave front despite no doubt cursing in his head and wondering how the heck did this thing know his full freaking name.

"Whose asking." he snarled out, his hands twitching for his gun when the huge glowing knight with purple flames coming out of his helmet and cape, who was riding on a nightmare looking horse while they all had been in the cave going over tonight's patrol.

The Knight didn't seemed bothered by his response nor did he even seem to care or flinch when Batman made his own demand on 'Why was he there and who was he' or when Damian unsheathed his sword and pointed it towards him. Instead the strange glowing Knight reached to it side and pulled out... A glowing scroll? Huh. (Also he completely unnerved everyone in the room when the Knight didn't even react when Batman had tossed a Baterang when he reached for his side)

The Knight opened the scroll and spoke clearly with purpose.

"Jason Peter Todd,

You are hereby invited as a special guest of honor to the crowning of our future King of the Infinite Realms.

Daniel Phantom, once Daniel Jackson Fenton, and once Daniel Austen Todd.

Prince of the Infinite Realms, the Keeper of Balance, The Peacekeeping Halfa, the Defeater of the Tyrant King Pariah Dark, The Great One, Youngest of the Ancients, Ancient of Space, The Bridge between Life and Death.

You, the half-brother of our King, have been given the highest of honors for your past actions and will be given housing and food in the Realms and Phantom's Keep, for the week long event. Personal servants and attendants will be at your disposal and a seamstress will be on hand to tailor make your attire for the Coronation.

Signed: Clockwork. Ancient of Time. Watcher of the Infinite Timeline. Kronos. Mentor and Adviser.

PS: I shall have Fright Knight ("Me" the Knight bluntly said for a second) leave this scroll along with a personal one for you from Daniel to read over and once you make up your mind sign the bottom of the scroll.

I do hope in time you will pick the right choice Jason Todd, we of the Infinite Realms would like to reward you for your actions. After all, if you hadn't gotten young Daniel away from your father that night all those years ago, we would never had gained our Prince nor be free from our once Tyrant King.

Ah, one more thing.

The Infinite Realms will always favor you Jason."

Jason felt like he couldn't breath as Fright Knight? Rolled up the scroll, pulled a letter from his side, and held out the two items for him to take.

[bethanydelleman]

To expand on my girl sad about her arranged marriage trope post, I think the trope can be subverted (woman is happy about arranged marriage) but it can also be done well and without modern sentiments (ew, sex with someone I don't love is yucky/I want to marry for true love/I want to be a GirlbossTM)

For example, princess is sad about her arranged marriage because:

-Her nation and the prospective husband prince's nation were at war five minutes ago and many members of her own family died in the war. The marriage is designed to cap off a peace treaty but what happens if peace doesn't last and she finds herself the queen of a nation at war with her own homeland? If you want real angsty enemies to lovers, the prince himself killed her own brother in the war.

-The nation the princess is marrying into is very culturally different from her own, very far away/a dangerous journey, and she hasn't been able to learn the language. She will be bringing some of her ladies-in-waiting but fears being very homesick in a place so different from her homeland.

-The princess already married for political reasons and her husband has now died. This time she wants to make her own choice because she's paid her dues (there is historical precedent for this)

-Princess has known her future spouse since childhood and was happy to marry him, he died suddenly and now she's being asked to marry his weird younger brother whom she knows well and dislikes.

-Princess is heavily prejudiced against the nation she is marrying into because of racism/xenophobia or whatever but they have a resource her kingdom needs and a baller army, so marriage it is! She overcomes her pride and prejudice as she falls in love with her husband.

[composeregg]

edit (10/23/2024) now that the poll is over: Original version, with 10 questions, from April 2023 here

And, given that the original is from April 2023, that means I can very easily say:

No, this was not an ISAT reference!

Just because I use parentheses and 2nd person pov and love the same concepts of what a time loop can do to a person doesn't mean it's ISAT

(Yes, I like ISAT, the original poll is why I was recommended the game! But if you look at the original, you can see all the origins of the options to choose from, including what spurred me on with the moss option from the replies)

If I were going to make something for ISAT, I would never be so vague, you can simply look at my ao3 for proof of that

[erabu-san]

I enjoyed every second of this quest

[This art has platonic intention. Thank you for not tag ship!]

[glorious-spoon]

i know we all laugh (mostly fondly) about the paper-thin plots in porn that only exist to make the sex happen, but i was reading some old stargate fic over the weekend, and i really think we're sleeping on the paper-thin hurt/comfort plot that only exists to force the characters to FEEL THINGS.

like, is this scenario realistic? no. does it make any rational sense? no. does it provide a built-in excuse for a character to collapse, bloody and disoriented, into the arms of his beloved/friend/partner? obviously, that's the whole point of this exercise.

i love it. it's my favorite thing in the world.

[kymsys]

'It was late spring, the first time all year that the sunshine had any real strength behind it. Satoru was wittering on about something inane as always — Tentomon or something equally ridiculous.

There was nothing special about the moment. Not really. Except for the fact that Satoru had shrugged off his jacket in the heat. It was draped around his shoulders just so, exposing the long column of his throat, pale after a long winter. Really, there was nothing special about the moment. But when Suguru looked at the boy silhouetted against the spring sky, bright and blue and boundless and beautiful — just like his eyes, Suguru thought — his heart skipped a beat all the same. With all the sight afforded to him, Satoru never missed a thing. So it was risky, what Suguru did. Later, when he was looking at his new phone wallpaper under the cover of darkness, grinning like an idiot, he'd wonder how he ever got away with it. Yet, if Suguru's yearning to capture that perfectly ordinary moment forever was stronger than all reason, perhaps it was stronger than the Six Eyes, too. After all, not even Satoru could stop time.' - by my beloved @fushiglow ♥

(( also glo says: FUN FACT! Tentomon is voiced by Suguru's VA — ergo it's Satoru's favourite Digimon, obviously )) ---------------------------------------------------------

freshly added headcanons: • gojo at some point randomly barged into sugurus room and put glowy stickers all over his ceiling • suguru has gojo as his phone wallpaper, but keeps it a secret • suguru is a hamasaki ayumi fan • the cinnamoroll phone charm is from gojo who spent almost an eternity getting that out of a gatcha machine for him • they were happy

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Not beating the allegations.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[distort-t]

SHY AFFECTION PROMPTS—

Walking side by side, the back of their fingers brushing—too shy to initiate hand-holding.

Teasing the tips of person B’s hair between their fingers, watching their fingers, unable to meet B’s gaze.

Subtle acts of service: opening a door for them, covering cornered edges when the other bends down to pick something up, purchasing something of the other’s interest.

”You look—uh, good. You look good.” Stammering, trying to appear confident when complimenting the other. Cue the throat clearing and avoidance of eye-contact.

Hesitant smiles and blushy cheeks.

Person A about to say something before thinking against it and closing their mouth.

Agonising slow-paced romance.

Person B sticking by person A’s side while they’re sick and stuck to bed rest, despite A’s warning of getting them sick too.

Thoughtful picnic dates.

Almost confessions.

”I care about you, and I want the best for you.”

Friends to lovers.

Looking for each other in social settings.

“You mean more to me than that.”

”Come on, we’re friends.” “Are we really?”

Angsty confessions after built up feelings being hidden.

Everyone can see it but them.

“We’re just friends!” “With how B is looking at you now? I don’t think you’re just friends.”

Starry night skies, damp grass, and deep talks about life.

B learning about A’s body insecurities and finding that it’s their favourite part of them.

Love-fuelled kisses under whispering nights.

So deeply in love that it almost makes their friends uncomfortable to witness.

Feathery forehead kisses.

Neither of them raise their voice—a love so gentle and kind that it makes your teeth rot.

Either one has social anxiety and the other orders for them at cafes and restaurants, or both of them do and one disregards their own anxiety and steps up.

Late nights cuddled up and quiet giggles.

”You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

”I want our kids to have your eyes.”

Inside jokes that literally no one understands.

[mischievous-thunder]

Sounds fun indeed!