Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have fewer than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some people to take part.
Thanks to @theroomofreq for the tag. This was an interesting one to look back on some of my earliest work. My favourite is Heart shaped box as I like how it sets up the whole story. For the two that I co-wrote I have shared the opening lines of my part. Tagging @petalstofish, @blitheringmcgonagall, @mppmaraudergirl @sweeethinny @littlerose13writes @alrightginger
Lily lay staring at the skylight, and watched the patch of sky turn from black to indigo. She just gazed without moving, hardly even blinking as it gradually grew lighter and lighter.
The Holyhead Harpiesâ annual friends and family barbecue was always a fantastic day, especially for the Potters. It was one of the few times James saw his mum and dad relax and enjoy themselves outside of a Weasley gathering.
James felt the surge of adrenaline as he heard the roar of the crowd intensify over the wind whistling past his ears. This was what he loved about the game. The crowds, the passion, the everything or nothing feeling.
Teddy stood on platform 9ž with his gran looking around anxiously. He could see families saying their goodbyes all around him and getting on the train already. He looked up at the clock and resisted the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet.
Lily stared at her office calendar again, wondering once more if she should probably take it down. It wasnât exactly PC and, even though she had checked that nobody was offended by it, she didnât know if it was exactly acceptable to have a calendar of shirtless male firemen in a workplace anymore.
6. Where do we go from here?
Ginny was no longer sure how many days had passed since the end of the battle. Her grief for lost friends, for Fred, kept a hold of her and stopped her from thinking about the passing of time beyond sleeping, waking and eating. She was desperately trying to hold herself together drawing strength from her motherâs example.
When Jamie ran in from the cold outside â her face shining brightly from the joy of running with her friends â she spotted Lily straight away. There werenât many redheads in Gryffindor and none with quite the same shade of hair as her. It always drew Jamieâs attention, like a flickering candle seen out of the corner of your eye.
8. The fabulous baker brothers
Lily Evans had no problem walking around London. Her flatmates would always tell her to be careful, take the train, the bus, or even an Uber. Like she could afford to take an Uber every day for goodness sake.
Remus walked into the hotel function room feeling completely unprepared for the scene in front of him. For countless times that evening he considered just turning around and going home. It was already quite late, the invitation had said three hours earlier so most people were already well on their way to plastered and making fools of themselves. He grabbed a couple of shots as a server carrying a silver tray made their way past him. He knocked them back one after the other, not caring what they were.
For Lily Evans, Mondayâs were like preparing for combat. Her perfectly applied makeup was her war paint, her carefully selected clothes a suit of armour. Her lesson planner, battle strategies. Her pens, her chosen weapons.
But it wasnât her students who had her wound up tighter than a clockwork toy, it was her infuriating colleague, her rival, her nemesis.
Lily threw her pen down on the table in frustration.
âThis guy is completely innocent. How on Earth can we not find a way to prove it? Heâs going to crumble on the stand.â
âHe wonât,â James stated convincingly, âbecause Iâll coach him on every possible scenario.â
I love it, letâs get it!â
Lily tried her best not to roll her eyes at Jamesâ enthusiastic shout as they parked up outside another house. They had already looked at four that day. Another one of many days looking at disappointing options, and she was beginning to wonder if they would ever find something in their budget that met all her specific requirements that were not at all unreasonable, because if you were going to buy a house it had to be the right house.
The word seemed to hang in the air for a prolonged amount of time, such was the complete silence that followed. Sirius didnât dare look at the Slytherins, or to his new housemates. He was frozen. Stunned. That tiny glimmer of hope he had created and grown on the train ride here had been found by the sorting hat, and pronounced to the school.
14. The devil wears elf shoes (colab with alrightginger)
Once upon a time, James Potter had loved Christmas. As a child, he adored the sparkling lights on the Christmas trees, the smell of cinnamon and spice from the kitchen, the anticipation before the big day. The way perfect strangers would be nice to one another. He couldnât wait to sit at the enormous dinner table with just his family, eating way too much food. He even loved the way his mum would get squiffy on sherry and start singing along to the Les Mis soundtrack. He loved the laughter. But not anymore.
15. In sickness and in Sparta (colab with alrightginger)
James and Sirius had a reputation. A notorious reputation for throwing the best parties. The type of parties that those lucky enough to attend would talk about for weeks, even months later. Assuming they could remember, of course. Sirius and James would entertain and delight with a mixture of funny stories and games they had invented that everyone had to join in on.
Remus was waiting at the international arrivals gate at JFK airport when he felt his phone buzz, he already knew who it would be before he even looked at the screen.
The Burrow was its usual bustling hub of Weasley activity as it was every first Sunday of the month. Of course it was not going to be all that long until they were celebrating again for her birthday on the 11th. Harry was outside with the children, supervising a game made up by them (mainly Teddy) that involved kicking a ball as far as they could and then asking Harry to summon it back.
The Marauderâs bar, Soho, had once upon a time been a grotty dive bar, named one of those all too common pub names, like the Red Lion , or the Prince of Wales , or the Kingâs Arms.
Whatever it was once named. However bad the smell had been, with the horrendous sticky carpet, and painted wallpaper walls, all of that had been ripped out, replaced by polished wooden floorboards, and clean whitewashed walls.
Being the Queen Bee of the school seemed to be every girls dream. The Queen Bee had her pick of the hottest guys, went to all the coolest parties, and sat at every break surrounded by her admirers, or at least thatâs what it looked like to any outsider.
The reality was somewhat different when you were inside that special circle. Brigitte was still the queen, but she was also an insecure mess who required constant praise and admiration, or she would likely find a way to make your day, or even year, into a living hell.
Lily is thankful when the evening finally hits their little cottage, and the searing sun slowly sinks behind the trees that border their quaint little garden. The sun may be gone but it leaves its heat behind, like the lingering smell of perfume on clothes. Like a thick blanket that covers everything, refusing to lift in the stagnant air.
tangentwithtanner
prguitarman
yousharknotpass
romaincrisis
areudirty
pixelskylines
izzy806
dededos
snowghoul
