Tigataga writes stuff - Prompts wanted

[Tigataga]

UPDATE - 4/03/14
Yes, I get that this is basically begging about for content, but you know what, I'm comfortable doing that. So... Yeah...
Need to try and get back into writing some bits n’ pieces because I don’t seem to be too compelled to do anything else of late. Which sucks. So I’m accepting prompts for short fics, or even back to the 3 sentence thing cause that was fun (all of the one prompt I got anyway).

Uhm, right now my TV resources are a little dried up, in the way that I don’t really watch a whole lot. But as of this post/reblog I will currently write prompts for;

• Teen Wolf
• Doctor Who
• Glee (maybe)
• Crossovers

Include as much detail in the prompts as you want, as the less I have to work with, the more likely I am to be loose with it and take it in weird and random directions.

I do have a writing blog but I might make one specifically for prompt fics, we’ll see.

In either case, just send me some, I will love you '5evr' as the kids are saying.

---------------------

I happen to have my university degree in creative writing (humble brag), so every now and then when the mood strikes I'll dabble in a bit of this n' that writey wise.

Just a note in case I get past the application process, none of these really show how I post in replies, as I have more leeway with what I can do in consideration to the intended audience (in other words, this is more for me while my replies are for other people, so there may be some differences in writing style).

You wouldn't believe me - Written Spring 2012

The world feels heavy, surrounding and freezing me in place. I can’t move, I can’t speak, if I open my eyes, will I see? They flicker, but all I make out is blinding lights. Where am I? Who am I? Am I important? Am I deserving? I stand my ground, not by choice, still can’t move. There’s noise now though. So much shouting, angry people, upset people, ecstatic people, everywhere, everywhere. Am I one of them? I feel my lips moving, am I shouting too? I can speak. My head spins, the lights swirl around me, blending together, becoming a blur, becoming physical. I can see.

Can I move? My fingers twitch by my side. It’s a start. Slowly things come back to me. I’m here, waiting, what for? Don’t know. I’m regaining feeling. I can tell one of the people, they’re shouting at… me? Get. Get what? Am I in your way, sir? I’ll help you, ma’am. No, that’s not it. Get up? I’m not sure I want to. I’m stuck here, but I’m comfortable. I’m numb, aren’t I? No, pain kicks in. Suddenly I want to get up, but it hurts so much. What though? Not sure. Do I really want to get up? What will it do to serve the rest of the world? I’m not important. I don’t think I am.

I go back to before, the blinding lights, so pretty. I was staring at them. I wanted to see them, be near them. One step too soon. Am I laying here? Am I standing there? I try to decide. Am I moving too fast for this world? Is this world moving too fast for me? I decide. I’m standing there. I don’t like the pain. It hurts too much. I’m not ready for it. I stand on the sidelines for now. Watch the world go by.

[Tigataga]

I don't know what I'm doing - Samuel J Elliot - Written Winter 2014 (Jan 9th)

Pull the panic chord.

Literally. Sam was sat in the middle of his classroom and all of a sudden he was having another encroaching panic attack. The walls closing in, the door slamming shut and he swore it locked. All eyes were on him as his own green orbs strained wide open, his breaths at first laboured and low, slowly building higher and faster until he was audibly forcing the air into his lungs and out again, barely enough time to absorb the oxygen. Was someone playing a drum, or was his heart really that loud? For a brief moment he wondered if everyone else could hear it, they were all looking at him after all. Maybe his heart was making such loud and unusual noises that they could hear it as he swore it was going to burst through his rib cage.

He suddenly screamed and tumbled out of his chair, curling up into a foetal position, hands reaching up into short, dirty blond hair and gripping tightly, almost pulling the strands out from his head. He could feel the pain, and in some sick way, that was relaxing, it was something other than the crippling tightness in his chest and the thoughts whirring in his head. His eyes snapped shut as he tried to focus on something else, no one was talking to him so there wasn't that to notice, he heard a few people say something about getting the nurse, a couple freaking out themselves about not know just what the hell he was doing on the floor, twitching and spasming like some invalid. He wasn't having a ****ing seizure, he only had aspergers for crying out loud. It was a panic attack, they'd seen it once or twice in the last few weeks at least.

Someone finally mentioned his family troubles. Great. His home troubles were common knowledge, mother and father dearest yelling at each other. Sure, every family had that once or twice, but he knew it was about him. Every kid going through their parents divorce thought that of course, but this had only happened since he'd been going to counselling. This was solely about him and he knew it. Ever since he'd been going there he'd started being more open at home as well, his mother apparently didn't like her son explaining that he felt pressured by his school to push past his best. B's were still hard to get recently, and a whole lot better than the pregnant, slurring, teenage burn outs that were populating a lot of the school. She must not have appreciated the fact that unlike his sister Mallory, he still had no idea what he was going to do for college, if he even wanted to go in fact. Mal certainly wasn't a prodigy by any stretch, but she was still in the top percent, though of course nowhere near the best as Joey's ***ing Ratata, he got it, it was in the top percent, the bastard needed to stop calling him about that, it was the whole reason he'd stopped playing Soul Silver.

His mother also probably didn't appreciate the fact that her precious boy might be gay. Apparently that was the straw that broke the camels back. Not the constant need to meet with doctors and counsellors. Not the consideration of medication. No, the fact that he had a dream about kissing James Bradley from Mallory's study group. Sam was upset about that because ever since he'd told them that, his sister's group hadn't come over to their house. During breaks he'd have James and one of the other guys come join him in his bedroom, playing Mario Kart or Super Smash Bros. or something. He'd found a short cut in the former and really wanted to show James, hoping maybe the older guy would be proud of him or something, congratulate him or something, maybe ruffle his hair in that way that made him smile.

James. He focused on that for a while, the guy's smile, his pretty green eyes, the small part of his fringe that would be dyed a different colour every two months or so. The last time he saw him it was a neon blue, Sam's idea actually, he loved the colour, it was the same as his bedroom wall. The light stubble that dusted over his facial features, Sam wanted to look that good with stubble, but his kept growing out in what Laura had told him was 'hobo style'. He had a while to get it right though, he was only 17. He also admired James' fashion sense. Everything the guy wore seemed to look just perfect, everything matched and was colourful or stylish.

His eyes snapped open as his breathing finally began to subside and he found himself in the medical room...

---

Sam made a face as he looked at the clock in the private room that his counsellor had pulled him into, they'd been silent for a good 10 minutes, there was no pressure he understood, but there hadn't even been any questions in that time period, nothing about the panic attack this week which he knew his father had told Dr. Harold about because dad always told the man everything. These sessions had deteriorated into the opposite of what they were supposed to be though, ever since his parents had begun fighting more, he'd become more distant in these sessions, and now he was just silent for long periods, staring at the clock and willing it to go faster so he could head back down and hang out with Laura who was always there to save him after a session like this with a strawberry milkshake, the one with actual strawberry pieces in, his favourite, she knew him so well. They'd hang out, look at some shops, try on clothes at River Island and stuff.

He gulped a dry lump forming in his throat, not from nerves, but from boredom and with a sigh, he looked from the clock back to Dr. Harold. "When can I stop wasting your time?" He asked

[Tigataga]

Yes, I get that this is basically begging about for content, but you know what, I'm comfortable doing that. So... Yeah...
Need to try and get back into writing some bits n’ pieces because I don’t seem to be too compelled to do anything else of late. Which sucks. So I’m accepting prompts for short fics, or even back to the 3 sentence thing cause that was fun (all of the one prompt I got anyway).

Uhm, right now my TV resources are a little dried up, in the way that I don’t really watch a whole lot. But as of this post/reblog I will currently write prompts for;

• Teen Wolf
• Doctor Who
• Glee (maybe)
• Crossovers

Include as much detail in the prompts as you want, as the less I have to work with, the more likely I am to be loose with it and take it in weird and random directions.

I do have a writing blog but I might make one specifically for prompt fics, we’ll see.

In either case, just send me some, I will love you '5evr' as the kids are saying.

[Cassandra LeMay]

If you are still looking for prompts - and since you mentioned Glee - the prompt I would offer is "Stagefright".

But don't make it just any story. Write a drabble about it - a story of exactly 100 words (excluding title). Not one word more, not one word less. Exactly 100 as the text processor of your choice counts them.