serial writers

She’s a happy person ! When you see her you can’t tell otherwise
The way she smiles and talks with people
The loudy laugher with her friends
How can’t she be a happy person ?
But let me tell you a secret
You see the face that smiles a lot
It’s the same crying face at night
You hear the voice of the loud laugher
It’s the same voice that tries to not make any sound while crying
Well , there’s so many other things
But you see ! Some people were born to be professional actors
They fake happiness and act soo normal
You can’t even tell they’re going through shit or have suicidal minds
These people don’t want to bother themselves telling people about their own struggles
They don’t want to make any sound , invisibles , hardly seen
They stop socializing , it’s not their thing
They get bored from people and it’s obvious that they push everyone away
It’s a wrong idea to make new relations , the most important it’s hard for them
It’s not being dramatic , it’s not overreacting , they’re being real
Too real to be trusted
People don’t believe you , they expect from you to always be happy and share the happy side of your life
But the truth is a whole other thing
You can’t be happy your whole life
Especially if you’re depressed and it has been a long time being that way
There are some better days right
But it’s temporary ,
Because nobody knows about the ideas that have been haunting you
No one knows how hard it is to put something in your mouth
No one knows about your imperfections that make you cry
And Absolutely no one knows about your serial killer mind
And the suicidal ideas , and also that suicide note.

Writing Prompt #288

A sickening grin stretched across their lips, leering down at me as they shuffled through a bag.

“Happy Friday the 13th.” They chuckled. “It’s time to play!”

Okay but where’s my AU of Rey working register in a thrift store (like Goodwill). She’s shopped there since she was little (like, maybe Plutt was her foster guardian and Goodwill was all she could afford, so when she finally gets her independence, and needs a job, of course Maz, the manager, is willing to help her out).

- Poe and Finn shop there because they love Rey and they love the weird/amazing/outrageous stuff they find in the 95 cent bins. And Maz doesn’t mind them bringing their dog BB8 in with them to shop

- Ben comes in looking for band t-shirts, particularly for obscure bands (and tries to ignore how big a fan Rey is of his dad’s old band), even though he can afford to shop literally anywhere else. He mostly keeps coming back because of Rey, even though he hardly finds anything.

- Ben drags Hux along most of the time. Hux claims to hate Goodwill because he can afford like, $1,000 suits and says Goodwill is beneath him, but he secretly loves it because he’ll find expensive shirt/suit/tie brands for like, a fraction of the price.

- Phasma is Rey’s co-worker and Ben/Hux’s friend.

- Goodwill has a scholarship program, and maybe Rey is in it and going to school for engineering or something else incredible (needs to be a high income career tho)

Basically, I need this AU. Goodwill is rich, undrilled territory, guys. Come on.

Panel so far

Allura’s best moment - Mastering the blue lion

Shiro would ditch a tracker

Show is specifically described as a space opera

Theme is duality

The joy of serialization for the writers is the ability to do longer stories, as per Jouaquim.

Clip played of Pidge searching for her brother. The Slum kinda looks like the one from Rogue One. After getting the info, she leaves in the lion. No one else is there besides Pidge.


Shiro is forced to adjust to his support role, but Keaton says the role “needs to happen”.


Keith is channeling his inner Shinji Ikari in a clip where Shiro says he needs to be the leader. Keith wants to continue his training with the Blade of Mamora and default to Shiro.


Josh says if Shiro goes on vacation, he’s go to a planet to retire. For a bit.


Joaquin said Lance is his favorite. Hunk is specifically noted as being a diplomat, via his cooking skill.


Kaltenecker lives. And they got the game console working. Allura and Coran are terrified of the milking and it is hilarious.

anonymous asked:

So, after the March, any new thoughts on the Pistachio Protectors?

Their character development was one of the highlights of the month. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t all that interested in Cavendish before because he was “just” a straight man to the endearingly off-kilter Dakota, but this batch of episodes utilized him brilliantly as a frustrated underling who didn’t get the cool job he studied for and who’s so eager to believe that the local cursed thirteen-year-old is a counteragent out to undermine his mission that neither his partner’s misgivings nor his boss’s mockery can slow his roll.

As for Vinnie Dakota, he gets better with every episode. He may have the detachment that only a misplaced time-traveler with the vaguest interest in his mission can have–a quality which enables him to serve as an effective commentator to the madness–but in many ways he feels like one of the show’s most natural denizens, carrying off the bizarre surreality of the world he lives in with a daffy aplomb matched only by Weird Al’s Milo. I love him more than he loves the zoo.

Byakuya Togami and Genocider Syo/Fukawa Touko

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Chapter 1 - The Strange Case of the Sun Shanty Psychic

TW: somewhat in-depth and graphic discussions of suicide, murder, & drunk driving-related death; grief. 


Teddy Strange had dreamt of following his mother’s footsteps and becoming a P.I. since he was a small child.

He just never expected that dream to station him in a rundown strip mall in Worcester with only an impatient secretary to keep him company.

“I’m your office manager, you ass,” Jen snapped when he voiced this thought out loud. “And you wouldn’t even have this shitty office if I didn’t remind you to pay rent every fucking month.”

Teddy glared at his least favorite (and, by default, most favorite) employee and sighed. “What time’s today’s appointment?”

“Five minutes,” Jen said with same vaguely annoyed tone she always reserved just for him. “Straighten your tie.”

Teddy looked down, jerking his hands up in surprise, then realized he was wearing a Henley and not one of his button-downs.

“Made you look,” she said, a smile twitching at her lips. Jen’s favorite kind of jokes were the ones where he was the punchline.

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anonymous asked:

Do you have any steter fic recs?

Hey, nonny! Here’s a bunch of fic to sink your teeth into, most completed but a few works in progress to get on, various lengths and genres. I’m still reading a couple of the longer ones myself. Please do read the tags and author’s notes before diving in! I hope you find some new authors to follow. It’s definitely worth checking out their other works, as a lot of them are serial writers for Steter. ;)

Originally posted by dailysteter

Completed Recs:

Sir Peter: A Knight’s Tale - @teamhardigan (Medieval AU, ABO)

Beautician and the Beast - @cloudedevening (Dog groomer Stiles AU, Peter likes being pampered in wolf form)

Sucker Punched - @cloudedevening (Boxing AU, series)

Into the Sea of Waking Dreams - @yogi-bogey-box (S2 divergent, haunting)

Fame is a Vapor - Triangulum (AU, famous fashion designer Peter, LDR)

Of Silver Bands and True Moons - @mysenia (Spark Stiles, mates)

Of Old Beasts and New Gods - ToyBoxOfSuz (Medieval AU, werewolves, epic)

Caught and Collared - @rightsidethru (Gorgeously filthy, kinky smut)

Baby Bi - @the-redcrate (Bisexuality, gender fluidity, supportive Peter)

My Love Won’t Wait - taylorpotato (5A divergent, dark, plus awesome fanvideo)

Uncomfortable Revelations - @rufferto9 (Void Stiles, unestablished, angst)

Sanctuary - @thisdiscontentedwinter (Hale Wolf Sanctuary, alive Hales, PTSD)

Deserving - @rebakitt3n (Stiles and Peter are dads, fluff, pumpkin carving!)

Goddess Below - Unloyal_Olio (Ancient Rome AU, ABO, dubcon)

Beloved - @udunie (Ancient Greece AU, erastes/eromenos, dubcon)

Works in Progress:

www.BestBoy.com - @thesushiowl (Camboy Stiles AU)

A Spoonful of Sugar - Twisted_Mind (S3 divergent, sugar daddy Peter)

Howl - @the-redcrate (Softcore porn magazine models AU :D)

The Last Trolley Stop - @mia6363 (Kids’ show actors AU, Kira/Bobby)

Under the Songbird’s Wing - @mia6363 (AU, captivity, dark, Satomi, Deucalion)

Red. And a Little More Red. - brawlite (Pack, pining, midlife crisis)

Sugar Honey Iced Tea - @mysenia (Sentinel/Guide AU)

If You Woke Up A God: Part III

PART I | PART II

The chains dropped free from Jacob’s arms and legs, though the cuffs and shackles remained around his wrists and ankles. Despite this, Jacob felt more free than he had in… well apparently, 700 years! Slowly, testing his joints and ensuring that he was still capable of doing so, he stood.

He took a step forward, moving away from the wall that had claimed him for most of his memory. Momentarily, Jacob forgot about how he had even been freed. He simply stood there, in the room he had called his cage for so long, rubbing his wrists and stretching muscles that were sorely underused.

A small cough from somewhere below him reminded him of his company, and he looked down towards Flora. Even with the now-considerable distance between his eyes and her face, Jacob could tell she was beaming. “What?” he asked, still keeping sure to keep his voice soft.

“You just look so happy.” She continued smiling up at him for a few moments before she nodded her head and made a small noise. “Right then. We’ve got to be heading back.”

“Heading back to where, exactly?” He knew he’d essentially promised to go wherever she wanted to take him, but Jacob still wasn’t entirely sure what it was he had signed up for.

She seemed content in his question, and turned back towards her things before she answered. “Back to the capital, of course! Or did you wish to endure another 700 years here?” She gathered up all the small things she had pulled out of her bag and began stuffing them back in, forcing the items into the bag rather than trying to arrange them in any semblance of order. She seemed to be having some trouble with it, especially since the rod that had been previously assembled from individual bits was still pieced together. “Get in there, you ruddy…” With a single mighty shove, the entire contents folded inwards into the bag, and she quickly clasped it shut. “There!”

Jacob watched with an open mouth at the spectacle below him. Given her size, she didn’t seem to have any fears of him, or the largeness of the room in which she had found him. Thinking back, he realized that she gave no real reaction to the room or its contents other than noting Jacob’s apparently-large size.  Beyond that, Flora seemed remarkably self-sufficient. After her initial outburst she seemed to take everything in stride, as if despite the situation, she had total control over everything that was happening. You can’t argue with that approach; no matter what goes wrong, it’d keep you from losing a hold on what you’re doing, I guess. That’s amiable.

Almost as if she heard him, she suddenly looked up at him, a strange expression on her tiny face. “What is it?” Jacob asked, sounding like a guilty child after being caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

“You’re staring at me!” she called up to him. “That’s rude!”

“S-sorry,” Jacob managed in response. He turned his eyes towards the door opposite the wall he was previously attached to. It swung gently on its hinges, clearly pulled free from the latch that held it shut mere moments before.

“Just remember that it’s rude, and it’s fine.” She picked her bag off of the ground and slung it over her shoulder. “Any questions before we head out?”

Jacob tried not to stare at her as he asked the first thing that came to mind. “Uh… how exactly did you do that?” He felt silly asking it; this whole situation was absolutely fantastical, and he still wasn’t entirely sure that it wasn’t just a massive hallucination.

Flora tilted her head to one side as she looked up at him. “Fit my things into my pack? Well, that’s simple enough, right? You simply apply enough force and –”

“No,” Jacob interrupted, “I mean how did you break the chains? That rod thing that you were holding… What exactly is it?”

The diminutive woman snapped her fingers, sending the sound echoing faintly off the chamber walls. “That’s right! You would’ve already been enchained when Magic overtook the world!”

Jacob snorted. “Magic? That’s just in movies, isn’t it?”

Flora looked cross. “I don’t know what a ‘moo-vee’ is, but no! Magic is the only thing keeping this whole world together. The Deities only know what the world would be like if not for Magic. That ‘rod thing’ is a Deviation Rod. Its main function is extrapolation of matter states and, well, changing their behavior to serve the opposite purpose.”

Jacob had to stare at that. “Uh… what?”

Flora rolled her eyes. “It makes things work backwards, sort of. With the chains, it made them unlink. Since their purpose was to remain linked together, the Deviation Rod made them think their purpose was to be open and apart.”

That sounded less like magic and more like science fiction babble to Jacob, but at this point, he was fairly certain that any explanation he got was going to go over his head. Flora was either very smart, or didn’t quite understand how English was supposed to be spoken. Or maybe both…

“Riiiiight,” he said simply, lacing his confusion into the drawn out syllable. “Well, whatever it was, it was incredible. And you’re saying there’re more things like that in the world?”

“Mh-hm! Magic can be used for all kinds of things! I wouldn’t have even known where to look for you if not for Magic!” He hadn’t realized it, but while she was talking him through this, she had traveled the distance across the floor to the doorway. Though it was now swinging wide open, that didn’t seem to matter much to Flora as she ducked a little and slipped under the door through the space between it and the floor. “Well? Are you coming?!” she called out.

It was only a few steps, so Jacob closed the space between them quite quickly. “I guess that answers how you got in here,” he mused aloud. He opened the door the rest of the way so he could see out into the antechamber. The tiny light emanating from the strange glowing ball that happily followed Flora around didn’t do much to light the notably-larger area outside his cell. He vaguely remembered the layout from when he was dragged in here, but he couldn’t fathom how Flora had traversed the complex. “How the hell did you find me, anyway?”

“Swear,” was her only response.

He looked down to find his companion giving him yet another grimace. “What?”

“Don’t say words like that. They’re impolite.” She crossed her arms in front of her, clearly unwilling to budge on the matter.

Jacob held up his hands in a sign of surrender, his shackles clinking slightly as he did so. “Alright, alright! I’m sorry. Sheesh.”

Flora just smiled and uncrossed her arms. She was remarkably resilient. “I rode the mice, of course. What better way to navigate the dark?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

The tiny woman put her fingers to her mouth and let out a shrill whistle that Jacob could only just hear. For a moment, there was no reaction, but just as he was about to ask what she was doing, Jacob noticed movement down the way. From the end of the hallway a sea of red eyes reflected the light of the white ball, and they began to charge forward with far more urgency than Jacob liked…

#30daysramadhanwriting

Assalamu’alaikum warahmatullah wabaarakatuh! Tanpa disangka, tulisan saya beberapa hari yang lalu di Tumblr tentang Menulis Untuk Ramadhan disambut baik oleh banyak orang, baik yang saya kenal ataupun tidak. Ternyata, banyak orang yang ingin membagi kebaikan lewat tulisan di Ramadhan ini. Alhamdulillah. Tabaarakallahu. Terima kasih, teman-teman. Semoga Allah memampukan dan memudahkan kita untuk bisa konsisten sampai dengan 30 hari kedepan. Yuk luruskan niat, semoga Allah ridho atas apa yang sedang sama-sama kita upayakan.

Berikut ini adalah beberapa nama yang tercatat di notifikasi saya sebagai peserta project #30daysramadhanwriting ini, yaitu @langitpurnama @ranskhaerani @semestarasa @faishalanshary @lantoro @pohongugur @sayii0604 @sp1c4r1r1 @neninursiana @fkhalila @kilometerrindu @warnalangitku @lindarengen @ganbarimashou @nonaatata @printiarti @the-girl-with-glasses @iffanf @seduniasesurga @welydya30 @riniromdiani @padanghijau @desitw @merajutpelangi @dhiyaulmahya @mushonnifunfaiz @astridprima dan sepertinya masih banyak yang belum terdata karena banyak tulisan di timeline membahas Menulis Untuk Ramadhan dan memention saya tapi ternyata belum terdaftar.

Untuk teman-teman yang juga mengikuti project Menulis Untuk Ramadhan ini tapi belum saya mention di atas, tolong TINGGALKAN KOMENTAR dalam posting ini ya, tulis saja “I JOIN!” Saya tunggu sampai dengan hari ini (2 Ramadhan 1438 H) pukul 23.59 WIB

Siapapun boleh ikut. Syaratnya cuma 1: berkomitmen menulis (membuat tulisan ya, bukan membuat quotes, hehe) untuk kebaikan selama 30 hari di bulan Ramadhan 1438 H. As simple as that! Selebihnya, untuk tema, gaya menulis, bagaimana menuliskannya, jam berapa postingnya, dll, terserah kepada yang menulis. Untuk amunisi belajar menulis sebulan kedepan, terutama untuk pemula, silahkan cek tips dan sharing saya tentang menulis di serial Writer Talk.  

Kepada yang sudah saya mention lalu menyadari ada temannya yang ikutan tapi belum termention, tolong sampaikan pada teman-temannya untuk segera mendaftar yaa, karena saya akan menambahkan akun-akun yang terdaftar pada data yang saya punya. Mengapa ini penting? Karena saya ingin mengecek dan memantau apa yang kalian tulis dan bagaimana perkembangan tulisannya. Jika memang ada masukan atau saran untuk perkembangan tulisanmu kedepannya, insyaAllah akan saya sampaikan DI AKHIR project ini kepada masing-masing dari kalian secara personal.

Jangan lupa untuk menyertakan hastag #30daysramadhanwriting yaa! 

“Supernatural Edinburgh”

Started work on the first instalment of that serial I asked you all about, and I reckon I should tell you a bit about the basic premise.


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Premise

Charlotte “Lotte” Johnstone (24) and Victoria “Vicky” Johnstone (20) are two sisters living in Edinburgh, Scotland. Their parents don’t feel that Vicky, who is autistic, is fit to live on her own so insist that she move in with Lotte. Trying to settle into their new flat, Vicky can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong but, being a practical woman, Lotte thinks it’s just the upheaval affecting her sister’s mood. When Lotte throws a small housewarming party, the sisters realise something is definitely with them in their flat and, whatever it is, it wants to talk to Vicky.

When and how often?

I’m planning to post an instalment every two three weeks, starting the first week of November January. Why the wait? Because I know I’ll be working on a different project for NaNoWriMo and I want to make sure I have a few backlogged posts in order to keep the flow going.

How long will each “chapter” be?

Likely between 1500 - 4500 words.

Is the focus on Vicky being autistic?

No, but since she is, it will come up during the stories. I wanted to write a protagonist with a “similar type of brain” to myself, mentioning things like stimming and sensory issues, without that being the major point.

Is it called “Supernatural Edinburgh”?

For now. I’m attempting to come up with a better title, I promise.

What’s the genre?

A paranormal investigative procedural.

Anything else?

This is my first attempt at such a project, so I feel the need to apologise for any delays in future.

I also want to make something very clear: Vicky does not represent every autistic individual, just as Lotte doesn’t represent every non-autistic person. They are who they are, they are not meant to symbolise whole groups of the population.

Group Prompt #45: Horrorific

Write a story about a serial killer that only kills people whose names begin with B because that one person that made him snap’s first name began with a B. And that was going to be his final victim. He was saving the most gruesome death for last.

Write a story about a female serial killer that likes to dress her victims up like princesses.

Write a story about a person that’s home alone with their black cat and are writing on their blog when they hear a sound, one they’d never heard before. They go to investigate only to find a portal in their room. They go through the portal (after all, curiosity killed the cat, right?) and find a dark room with a random doll in the center of the room. They step closer, frowning with curiosity… when the doll suddenly attacks them. Then they look around to notice a lot of dead bodies around them that they could swear weren’t there just moments before. Shit, is this the end?

Write a story about artificial intelligence that starts taking over the world and killing people off in gruesome, terrible ways.

Write about a person who’s afraid of the light because terrible things keep happening to them in the light.


I feel like these are super lame. I’m sorry!! I’ll try again another day. My mind just can’t think about horror right at this moment. So sorry!

So I got a private ask recently basically wanting to know how I got to be so ‘successful’ as a writer, and it’s had me thinking a lot about what success is (and how that’s not a static variable) and how rarely creative folks talk about their failures, if they’re not public. Like if you’re livestreaming your failures, that’s one thing, and I’m sure all of you have caught typos or other things - tiny failures that just annoy or are largely invisible or are like ‘oh u miss that.’ But otherwise we tend not to say ‘oh ha this story got rejected again’ or ‘this publisher actually hates my work.’

My metrics for success have changed as I’ve attained them, and I think I’ll make a separate post about that. To be clear, the first time at age 11 I filled an entire page with Courier text from a dodgy old printer in like 1992, I felt like a huge writerly success. Later, my metric for success was ‘the first comment I ever got on an LJ fanfic.’ Later still, my metric for success changed again. So you know. Shifting metrics. Stagnating measures for ‘success’ for me mean…well, stagnation.

But I wanted to sort of document what I perceive to be my many writing failures, because I’m so grateful for them, and because I’m only here today, considered maybe successful by some of you, because of them.

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