i've been thinking a lot about writing fiction lately as i gently try to get back into the process of writing for the first time in years and then i started rereading some Terry Pratchett and it is? just wild? like so many writers have a distinct narrative voice but the narrative voice in a Discworld novel is LITERALLY JUST TERRY. many authors work hard to disguise the fact that you're being told a story but not P.Terry. he will talk at the reader about what's going on in the story openly and with long asides in the footnotes and it works SO WELL but i cannot imagine anyone else doing it. it's genius. stars i miss him.
So a while back I had an idea for a horror novel about a haunted missile silo turned doomsday bunker owned by a moderately internet famous doomsday prepper/serial killer.
And it’s definitely still backburner because I need to do a lot of research (which will probably include a lot of YouTube that I...don’t want to face), and also because I need to finish either Bad Fences or the fantasy WIP before I start something new.
But now I’m thinking about how little work an angry ghost would have to do with a bunch of heavily armed tough guy cosplayers who are lost in the dark and freaked out.
And also what it would be like to be one of the few competent people stuck in the dark with them.
I wrote eighteen individual stories for a total of 109,666 words (this number refers only to what is published on AO3; it does not include drafts, notes, WIPs, or scrapped stories).
That's... pretty dang awesome, actually.
Go me! 😅
Inspired by a few other people, I'm currently taking Valentine's prompts! Send me an ask with any ship in any of my fandoms along with a prompt! If you're not sure about a fandom (bc lbr I'm in a few I haven't actually written anything for yet) just ask! I'll accept prompts up until V-day!
*Caveat: if I can't get to your prompt or don't know the pairing/ship I'll let you know and ask for you to pick another.
words spill free - imagining a world
where kind souls can find each other
and have a life, where a husband
calls his wife “love,” where children
can be family even though they were
born to another and in these dreams
a man takes needle and thread, cuts
a robe to fit a lover’s smaller frame
so that they may wrap themselves
in its warmth and be reminded of
his embrace and these words write
themselves really - with the longing
i cannot so easily soothe in reality
Bummed about the SuperWolf crossover but hopeful for the Sterek coffee shop su, one of my favorite tropes!
The coffeeshop AU is kind of a magical coffeeshop very similar to Howl’s Moving Castle in that the coffeeshop (owned by a magical Stiles) can change the decor, sign, and location at his whim if he feels like it or gets bored. Derek is a normal human businessman in need of coffee and tries out the “new” coffee place.
The SuperWolf crossover was based on THIS post. I still like it, but I have no idea where I’d go with it for an actual story. So for you, here’s all I have for it:
When Stiles sees a black 1967 Chevy Impala roll past him while he’s going to his favorite diner for his weekly serving of curly fries, the hairs on the back of his neck prick up, and he gets an uneasy feeling.
It’s a nice car, sure, but it rings a bell in his mind, like he’s seen it or heard of it before, but he can’t be sure where exactly. It’s a very distinctive car, one that would not blend in with the surroundings of Beacon Hills, and Stiles would know if there was someone that had that kind of car. He might not be good at fixing cars (namely his Jeep), but he likes cars, enough to know when one is very out of place.
The car turns a corner out of sight, but seeing it bothers Stiles the whole time he waits at the diner for Scott to join him and the entire time he drives back home. He knows he’s seen the car before somewhere, but he can’t for the life of him remember where.
At the last minute he decides to drive to the station instead of home, with the flimsy excuse of checking on his dad and making sure he’s eating the much healthier lunch he insisted his dad take, rather than getting take out somewhere. When he pulls in and sees that same car parked in front of the station, the uneasy feeling increases.
Casually (yet cautiously) he walks into the station and sees two men in suits talking to his dad in his office. The blinds are partially closed, so he can’t make out their faces, but he can tell that his dad is definitely putting on his “everything is under control and even if it isn’t, I’m going to make you think it is” face.
This is not good.
Stiles makes small talk with Janice at the front desk while he waits, and finally when his dad pulls open his office door, he shuffles over to see who these dudes are.
“...yeah, well any assistance you can provide would be much appreciated, Sheriff,” the shorter one says as he steps across the threshold.
“I’ll be happy to provide the FBI with anything they need. You just let me know,” his dad replies with a nod and a smile that is more professional than genuine.
FBI?
Because Stiles can’t help it, he steps in front of the two men, eyes narrowed. “Did McCall send you two? What? Could he not find it in himself to come back here again?”
“Stiles,” his dad hisses with a stern look, but it doesn’t make Stiles back down.
The shorter man looks confused, but the taller one replies with, “Oh, we’re a different division. He’s on another case elsewhere.” He adds with raised eyebrows, “I can pass on your regards?”
Stiles snorts. “Pretty sure he already knows what my regards would be. Don’t need to tell him to fuck himself again.”
“Stiles!” his dad yells, and Stiles shrugs in apology, face a picture of chastisement. He definitely catches the shorter agent whisper “I like him,” to the taller one with a smirk.
“Agents, I apologize for my son,” the Sheriff says, giving Stiles a glare before frowning at the two suited men.
The shorter one laughs. “It’s alright. Teenagers, huh?”
Stiles rolls his eyes at the comment.
“Stiles, was it?” the taller one says, holding out his hand. Reluctantly, Stiles shakes it and nods in reply. “I’m Agent Hamill; this is my partner Agent Ford.”
With the introduction, the other holds out his hand as well, and Stiles shakes it. Ford, Stiles thinks, why does that sound familiar?
“We’re just following up on a few things, some reports that involve the school and the preserve, and your dad, here, has been kind enough to help us out. Hopefully, when the time comes, you’d be willing to extend the same courtesy?” Agent Ford says after he lets go of Stiles’s hand.
“Uh, yeah sure, whatever… you need,” he quickly adds the last part because his dad is giving him the “don’t be rude, we’ll talk about this later” face.
“Awesome,” Agent Ford says.
“We’ll be staying in a hotel a few miles up the road. Here’s our card,” Agent Hamill says, whipping out a small business card from his inside suit coat pocket and passing it to Stiles. It looks legitimately from the FBI, and there’s what looks to be a cell phone number scrawled in pen on the bottom. “If you see anything odd while you’re at school, or think of something we might need to know, give us a call.”
“Of course,” Stiles says with a grin. Both the agents smile and nod to Stiles and the Sheriff and exit the station.
Merry Christmas (or the various holidays or happy Friday)! As a thank you and because none of my WIPs are inspiring me... send me a prompt and I’ll write a quick thing! I have about an hour before I need to go do stuff, so I’ll try to write as many as I can (they’ll be short).
Any fandoms I’m in, any pairing. :) SEND ME PROMPTS!
