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toribookworm22 · 1 year

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Find The Word (x2)

Thanks for the tag @words-after-midnight & @elizaellwrites!

No pressure tagging: @theimperiumchronicles @the-orangeauthor @gracebriarwoodwrites @magic-is-something-we-create @jlilycorbie & leaving my open tag!

Your words are: BLESS, SOUL, JAM, KEY, & WIND.

My words were camp, pure, love, best, and born & lonely, breaks, reply, town, and head. Almost everything is from The Animatronic Saga universe, but I will specify under each excerpt. Hidden under the cut.

Camp

“Look.” He’d hesitated. “Kid, this isn’t a summer camp. I get that you’re related to Key Stone and all, but you’re not special here. You’re probationary until you complete training and get an assignment.”

- Animatronic Saga short story

Pure

For miles around this huge Dump, this Mountain, browns and grays and glittering objects stretched in every direction. And beyond that? There was green, a pure, deep green unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Not like the morning fog, not like the sky, not sickly or deadly or acidic. At the horizon, right where the gray and green usually blended together, I couldn’t sworn I saw blue.

- other random story I'm working on :)

Love

Revlos are not above attachments. We are a loving people after all. But this. This was a low blow and I knew it. You don't declare your love on a mission. It was probably in a rulebook somewhere. Blade should’ve known better. When had he ever seen me read?

- Animatronic Saga short story

Best

Truthfully, he didn’t deserve my overwhelming mass of negative feelings, but it was easier to just hate him in lieu of dealing with my other issues. I was pretty much pulling a Maybelle. Not my best moment.

- Animatronic Saga

Born

The day my sister was born, I thought I truly might set fire to the hospital. Of course, then I would’ve had to deal with my father complaining about all that ‘pesky paperwork’ that came with arson, and playing with matches wasn’t worth that. So the hospital was spared… For now.

- Animatronic Saga short story

Lonely

They each answered with yes or of course or will do. It was then that I realised I was lonely. So utterly lonely. My mouth stayed shut. I had nothing to say to anyone.

- Animatronic Saga

Breaks

“I didn’t break it.”

I knew this and she knew this, but it was still alarming to hear it said out loud. Because if she didn’t break it and they didn’t break it… then who did?

- Animatronic Saga

“Good,” I spit. “I hope she does hurt.”

He doesn’t reply. Maybe he can tell that I mean it.

- secondary series

Town

This was probably my least favorite part of town, even though most of the town sucked. After all, this was where I’d let her go. This is where she’d left me.

- Animatronic Saga short story

Head

“Hey. None of that, alright? Can’t have you disappearing on me.”

“Sorry,” I exhale.

“Don’t be.” I’m graced with a soft smile. “You just get lost in your head sometimes. And I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

- secondary series

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing tag game #find the word game #animatronic saga #other random story im working on #more animatronic saga short stories!

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randomwriteronline · 7 months

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Ko-Wahi was a short variety of generally not necessarily pleasant things: it was desolate, cold, harsh, and - when the winds didn't rush after one another through the icy peaks with low howling shrieks, cutting through the frigid aether like claws of an enormous Rahi reaching out to grasp any wayward Matoran foolish enough to dare wander in its territory - it was abnormally quiet.

So it reasoned that if Kopaka, Toa of Ice and Hating Being Around People, was not found anywhere else, he had to have secluded himself to a place that at the very least resembled the environment he had first felt at home in.

He didn't even flinch at the rush of air that accompanied the stomps which suddenly stopped by his side.

"You're late," he only commented.

The jovial jab Pohatu had ready for him froze in his throat, and he tilted his head slightly in genuine confusion: "Late?" he repeated.

"I expected you to be here five minutes ago," Kopaka replied.

"You were expecting... Me?"

"Of course I was," the other replied matter-of-factly: "If there's something I can depend on, it's the fact you'll chase me down to the ends of the silver sea just because."

The Toa of Stone blinked quickly a few times, eventually smirking back: "And if there's something I can depend on, it's that I'll always find you somewhere snowy and deserted."

He then leaned a little closer and proceeded to add, in a goofier tone: "Like your heart."

The gentle elbow punted in his side made him snicker as he successfully evaded it the first time; he cackled a bit louder when the second jab actually hit.

His friend did not dignify his amusement with any verbal response. Instead, he extended his finger.

Pohatu followed where it was pointing, staring at the same vast expanse of white he had just sped through (luckily without having to skid through any frozen snow - perhaps one of the very few things he certainly did not miss about the island of Mata Nui), and found nothing.

At first.

His pinprick pupils, so used to the desert sun, struggled a little more, trying to tighten even harder or widen ever so slightly: even with the clouds shielding his eyes from the sunbeams turned blinding as they were reflected on the candid coat of snow, the uniformity of the colors confused and unified all that supposedly existed before him with only few exceptions. There was snow, snow, snow, more snow, a leftover Visorak web, even more snow, another patch of snow, something looking vaguely disgusting half covered in snow, some more snow, a lance of light reflected from a point just outside the clouds' range, a vast amount of snow, a smaller amount of snow, snow, snow, and one last puff of snow over there. Riveting!

But Kopaka seldom pointed at nothing at all just to stretch out his finger; and once he truly focused on the exact location he was indicating, Pohatu saw.

He saw a jagged thing, sharp end splintered and jutting towards the sky like a blade, ever so slightly greyer than the pallor surrounding it; he saw its missing half laying mournfully among the powdery ground, defeated, cracked, open wide.

He saw its entrails, eroded by the weather, far too small to properly distinguish one object from the other from this distance - still they glittered grey and blue in the lack of color as if to remind in silent screams of their existence, once, as tools and furniture and inventions of scholars, before they'd found themselves abandoned in the wake of their master's leave as strange crystalline gore only partially hidden away in the haste of a half hearted burial.

He saw dozens of the jagged corpse's kind - once pillars, columns, immense bastions, now nothing more than ruins. Enormous animals frozen in place, never to thaw awake once more.

He saw frail, beautiful exoskeletons awaiting with such tiredness to be crushed, replaced by larvae in the bowels of which knowledge would thrive.

The wind passed between them without strength, not even lifting a snowflake.

"Breath-taking, isn't it," Kopaka murmured.

Pohatu nodded in silence.

They simply stood there for a long time, side by side, looking upon the carcasses of Ko-Metru's knowledge towers.

Looking upon what was left of a city of legends.

There had never been a Matoran called Kopaka, in the Turaga's tales.

He had never competed with Ehrye as they rushed to run errands for the seers in the hopes of one day being allowed to stand beside them at the top of those magnificent crystal constructions, spending days pondering and reading stars, uncovering the secrets of the future to the point of turning the very idea of tomorrow into such a mundane thing; he had never known Nuju, never looked at him with awe, or respect, or burning envy. He had never walked those streets, or skied down those slopes, or travelled to the Colosseum inside of a protodermis chute.

And yet he had found his chest aching as he had listened to those descriptions, from a nostalgia that wasn't his own. As though Vakama and his stories had handed him a coal that had long singed the Turaga's hand, still weakly sizzling, that now burned his palm in turn.

Mata Nui had been all he'd ever known as far as he was concerned. There had been nothing before; and if there had been, it wasn't the land the Matoran had been forced away from.

Yet despite knowing as much, despite the attempts to soothe the dull pain that had no place in his logical mind, in the long last hours he'd gotten to spend on the chiling peaks surrounding Mount Ihu the Toa of Ice had been unable to keep himself from wandering away from the material world into absentminded daydreams, trying to construct a memory that had never been there, a life he had never lived.

He had imagined Ko-Metru many times. He had imagined Metru Nui as a whole many times, the orderly archives, the silvery canals, the smoky furnaces, the dangling cables, the unmoving statues - a world for smaller eyes (like his never had been) to see. He had imagined the Colosseum, its inner mechanisms, even the Vahki guards, despite their presence being nothing but an annoyance at best and a source of uneasiness and dread and outright danger at worst. He had imagined himself getting in trouble with them often - who would they have been, to tell him what to do? What made them any different from a Bohrok?

He had imagined them often, but he had never seen them. Never whole. Never alive.

As he stared at what remained of a city of seers, he ached to have been there. Maybe he would have understood better. Maybe it would have hurt more. Maybe it would have felt more like home.

But would he have noticed? Any of the beauty, the lack of strife? Would he have liked a life such as this, spent either pondering on who knows what, or reading pages of history before they were even written, or running around tirelessly for people who did both former and latter? Would this sight have stirred something deep in him now, or would his amnesia have kept his feelings at a distance?

His chest hurt. Something inside it ached terribly, pushing hard against his muscle and metal, like a fish suddenly rushing to break the still frozen surface of a lake in a bout of claustrophobia.

He felt strange, uncomfortable.

Like something misplaced.

Kopaka's eyes wandered over the crystal towers, suddenly overwhelmed. He let out a shuddering, watery breath, as quiet as he could.

He needed not worry about being heard.

Pohatu was too enthralled by the sight before them to notice his momentary frailty.

He gazed on, unable to tear his his eyes from what his brother regarded as an enormous grave he could not mourn properly, and beheld only a thing of beauty.

It was not the vast expanse of Po-Wahi's desert, nor the infinite lushness of Le-Wahi's jungles, the burnt forests of Ta-Wahi, the Ga-Wahi reefs, the cavernous labyrinths of Onu-Wahi - it could not even compare to the frigid landscape of Ko-Wahi despite all their similarities, and he could tell from a first glance.

Ko-Metru and its siblings could have never been what the Koro of Mata Nui had been - they were not a breathing nook interwoven in the world around them: they were carefully constructed bubbles, encased, entrapped within themselves, the wild nature that once had run through it tamed carefully only to cry out despite its weakened form once the binds upon it had been snapped to pieces and left to rot.

It was not beautiful in the way he knew a land to be; it was not open and grand to the point of being frightening. It was shut on itself, broken, a pale imitation of what it had been.

And yet he found it all so gorgeous.

It had embarrassed him at first - not feeling. Remaining still and unfazed as the Turaga had longingly described what the Toa of Stone should have regarded as home, a field of statues tirelessly carved by artisans of his people. He had struggled to imagine it properly, managing only hazy scorches of some undefined place, like a mirage in the desert; and hearing his brothers and sisters wonder aloud, so curious, of how they would have expected their Metru to be, he'd been all but mortified at his own lackluster enthusiasm.

Had he really grown so self centered? All the world seemed to feel as though it had only started existing with his birth upon that fateful shore.

A city of legends on the other side of the sea... He could not have ever pictured it.

But now he was there, walking upon its streets, traveling across its lands, and it looked nothing like it had been described: it looked shattered and lost, and broken, and rusted, and standing still where it had once stood so proud and shining only to spite the cruelty of time that wanted it to bend and turn leveled.

Pohatu had lost himself between scattered remains of monumental statues, details sanded down until unrecognizable, or filled with what little life could make its home in such a crevice. He has searched between the broken Kanohi nobody had ever melted down again, seeing his and his siblings' likenesses over and over and over and over, he had followed broken cables back to the towers from which they had once served a purpose, raced along empty canals to make a sense of them, peeked into tunnels the roofs of which had been torn open like dissected anthills.

Metru Nui had never been whole, not for him.

It had always been this gorgeous wreck, this beautiful ruined landscape. He could not imagine it as anything less; he could not see it as anything mournful, or dead, or ugly.

Each toppled building was where it should have been. Each destroyed spire was exactly as the Great Spirit had intended it to be.

Such a frail, stubborn, lovely, wild thing.

A tragedy and a celebration.

Glowing brighter than the twin suns with every ounce of its incomplete, breath-taking beauty.

Kopaka felt something tug very gently at his arm. When he turned, he noticed Pohatu still hadn't taken his eyes away from the shimmering remains of the towers.

"Did you want to show me this?" the Toa asked, quietly, quietly.

His friend looked back to the sight before them and swallowed a heavy knot in his throat: "I did," he replied.

The grip on his limb tightened ever so slightly.

Comfortingly.

"Thank you." Pohatu whispered.

Kopaka did not answer.

They looked on.

#bionicle #pohatu #kopaka #metru nui #random writing #second hand nostalgia vs finding beauty in ruins: fight (the opponents start kissing each other tenderly)#in other news hi ive read 7 bionicle books in abt a month and im not even remotely mentally stable about these guys #both of these feelings in regards to the past are ones i experience and consequentially im feeling them abt bionicle too #it was never properly alive for me so im entranced by the story and the works and the fans and everything as someone from After It Happened #but at the same time i feel an ache to have been there at the beginning even though i physically couldnt have been #anyways sorry if stuff is ooc. i love these two lads but ive never written for em before #big shoutout to my friend rabid. i love you. thank you for letting the Fleshy Annotations swallow me whole

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vaniloqu3nce · 1 year

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*me hyperfixating on something entirely different when I have a whole project to be doing*

I PICKED OUT NAMES.

Leonidas Addams: Eldest Son, Wednesday suggested this name. Only his moms call him Leo, his sisters have called him Lee since they were old enough to speak. He loves his uncles more than words can say, so he just shoots them with arrows whenever they visit instead of saying it. He also does this to Vittoria but not Naenia because he likes his fingers. He loves red meat and he’s threatened to eat kids at school before. He wants to be a warlord but will settle for conquering the musician world with sheer force if Enid doesn’t let him conquer the world.

Vittoria Addams: Older than her twin by 13 minutes. When they found out they were having twins, Wednesday suggested that whoever came out first be named Vittoria. She has made her entire family watch every disney princess movie and you can spot papa gomez doing little tea parties with her when they visit. (She does somehow steal his credit card every time) She’s also a master manipulator but that’s besides the point. She once tied Leonidas to the ceiling fan and left him spinning there for 2 hours gagged until Enid found him. She wants to be a disney ninja princess. Whatever that means.

Naenia Addams: Spends a lot of her time attached to her twin. Very quiet, not very outwardly expensive, very academically and logically inclined. Though not very verbal, it is often her facial expressions that speak for her. She really likes headless dolls (birthday gifts from Wednesday). Naenia is very calm and collected until she isn’t. Her siblings learned very quickly she will make their lives miserable if they bother her during her reading time. Sarcastic, literal, loves her big brother. She wants to be a great writer like her mom. Enid sometimes reads her stories and faints. Wednesday is always very proud. They get the smelling salts together cause its a bonding experience.

#wenclair #wenclair parent au #wenclair kids #enid x wednesday #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #wenid #eniday #wednesday x enid #me spitting out random au concepts and barely fleshed out ideas until my pea brain writes something to post #STILL gotta work on the enid thinks Wednesday is a emo boy #i am doing that slowly #i am also doing this slowly #i am also reworking a whole other story slowly #im so slow

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how-the-feathers-have-fallen · 11 months

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Me, fighting tooth and nail against my irl friends who are sw*fties: yeah well, maybe I want my sad girl music to have a 3 minute guitar solo and distorted audio after the second verse of vaguely gay lyrics have you considered that ?!

#admit it if pete wentz's lyrics were sung by some white woman to plain ass slow piano music with max 3 cords yall would eat that shit up #but heaven forbid it be layered and/or vocally/musically compelling with a decibel count over 65.2 #or not sung by a climate criminal trying to sound emotional or weepy but actually sounds constipated 💀#icarus' random screaming #icarus' burning life stories #anti taylor swift #im probably slicing my palm open for a demonic ritual in shark infested waters by doing this but oh well #pete wentz #fall out boy #icarus falls out #not even just fall out boy. I'll put on the tamest led zepplin or rage against song i can find and they look at me like 😶😣😖😨😰😱😵#i put on eat your young they ASK then i try explain the critique of war profiteering/capitalism and theyre like silly ***** readin too deep #LIKE YOU ASKED. I KEPT IT SO SIMPLE. YOUR FELLOW SWIFTIES LOVE THIS SHIT WTF #im scared to try and bring up mitski (esp. working for the knife/best american girl) lest i kill my own friends #like they're not insane conspiracy swifities and i love them dearly but they're fundamentally tiktok youth gen z and im... not :/#and im fine with it we joke and laugh about it and poke fun at each other for it but sometimes i feel so alienated #not on purpose. not by them. but i look at em and they look like test tube babies (not mean).#they look to me like what ginny & georgia looks like to them. too polished too stylised too... Just So #sometimes they look like the same lifeless tiktok copy and pasted and it scares me #im trying to remember that post about how tiktok thirst traps and general posts are so set up and stilted they look sexless #and robotic #anyway #the generational gap between me and my fellow teens/young adults 💀💀💀

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lemongogo · 11 months

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cant describe how nice it feels 2 see canon!vash again after bejng surrounded by fanon for days. its like waking uo from a nightmare . trimax vash my fresh glass of water

#went back to some random chapter in the manga n i love him so much #everytnjng ab him jn trimax is just so wholly n truly him.#i dont necessarily hate fanon for fanonsake per say #but i saw a rb today thats said smt smt like : i prefer when people stay true to canon content #and work around that and its limitations bc its so interesting to see the story As it exists ans how you can interact w all of its poeces #pieces* as opposed to reimagining smth so completely that you inevitably change core components of Who characters are or why they are that w #way #so idont mean for this to sound like . boo fanon blows bc i definitely pick and choose things ab my fav charas all the time #but trimax vash is jst The perfect iteration of him in my mind. the og . the blueprint . my 1 and only #trigun #vash #trigun maximum #like yk when you havent read the source material in a while #and u only rly see like . other ppls interpretations of ur fav chara #its like a mountain of minute differences that gradually water them down #and ur like hmm maybe im like indifferent ab them.and then u go back to the source n its like nonavtually they r my everytbing j still love #them . heart emoji. v . ❤️

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luvuomi · 1 month

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an excerpt from my unnamed & heavily unfinished lyney fic:

Thin, frail hands reached out to grab hold of the brass knob that was cold to the touch, slowly twisting and pushing open the grand doors. Their deafening sound disrupts the unperturbed silence of the other room. At first, Lyney is hesitant to continue further in. The lack of human presence indirectly urged him to turn back and find Lynette.

However, as his curious eyes wander across the hall that appears to stretch on for what seemed like several miles, he unknowingly finds himself walking forward. The plush carpet below softening his footsteps as he gazes in awe at the room’s emanate opulence: pedestals where pristine ceramic vases sat upon holding flowers, modest paintings of pleasant fields or mountains of solitude, and the array of tall windows that filter in ample sunlight through draping curtains.

Though he walks a good distance away from such novel furnishings, he continues to remain careful for the unknown fear that he may accidentally knock something over. Forget damaging—he may as well leave a stain on this place with his own breath.

Wavering footsteps eventually recede to a halt as his eyes catch sight of a particular painting.

Gilded in gold, it depicts a woman elegantly sitting upon a throne. Her black gloved hands rest leisurely upon her lap, contrasting her straight and refined posture. Rose gold hair styled in a loose braid that falls seamlessly down her shoulder, complimenting her poised sea-green eyes. Though she displayed a cordial smile akin to that of a loving mother, something about her gaze unsettled Lyney. Like it held a glint of rancor that most would not perceive.

Stationed beside this painting, was another more distinguishable portrait. It portrayed yet another woman of equal eminence, if not more. But even at a mere glance, it was obvious she held more eccentricities about her. She sat upon the throne as though it were any other seat: one leg crossed over the other and cheek languidly resting upon her hand, further emphasizing her impartial demeanor. Layered black and white hair that extends almost down to her shoulders on one side and—her eyes.

They are not ones Lyney has ever seen before. Black as a moonless night with striking red pupils shaped like “X’s.” Compared to the previous woman, this one evidently held a more daunting presence, even within the confines of a painting. Yet despite such looming authority, something about her held more sincerity. For what exactly, Lyney has no clue.

All he knows is that should he ever come face to face with such a woman, he would undoubtedly take her words as they are, without question.

Gradually peeling his eyes away from the paintings, Lyney’s gaze then landed upon another item of interest, one that stood at the center of the room and that he’s surprisingly failed to notice until now—a grand piano.

Approaching the instrument, Lyney’s eyes examine its spotless condition. Free of any marks or scratches as his fingers gently grazed along the black and white keys before taking a seat. He plays one note, and then another, the soft sound managing to echo throughout the entire hall. He definitely shouldn’t be touching this, his mind tells him. Though his actions speak otherwise. Slowly positioning his hands on the keys, Lyney begins to play.

It’s a melancholic tune that plays, but one so cathartic it brings the world to a standstill. He was never one to find great enjoyment in playing such an instrument. Lynette had often told him to put such talents to greater use, perhaps performing in the grandest of stages like the Opera Epiclese, but Lyney never indulged those possibilities.

Such an opportunity should only be granted to those who have a true passion for playing a beautiful instrument like the piano. Not someone like him who only used it as a means to get by.

“What are you doing?” A stringent voice cuts through the somber melody, immediately making Lyney’s hands flinch away from the keys and head dart at the person standing a few feet away. Their expression mirrored their tone of voice: cold and apathetic. Had they been here this entire time?

Upon receiving no response, their eyes narrow at him. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Lyney!” He blurts out immediately, shooting up from his seat that almost knocks over the stool behind him. He winces a bit at the commotion he’s now caused. “I mean–my name. My name is Lyney…”

“...Lyney?” The person repeats, voice dripping with doubt and ready to suspect him of hiding his true identity. But then there’s a pause and Lyney watches as their face morphs from a look of ponder to a scowl before they speak again. “Oh. So you’re the one “Father” talked about bringing in.”

#── ꒰📍꒱ؘ 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘬 .ᐟ #woohoo new tag for my random writing vomits!#im thinking of potentially documenting my journey of writing this fic on here by posting random snippets/previews of stuff i come up …#*with #during the whole process that is trying to figure out how the hell this story will play out #hypothetically speaking this excerpt comes from the unofficial chapter two part of the series #i thankfully have a few things established already both character + world building wise annd one example is that in this story …#the house of the hearth serves as both a palace of sorts and an orphanage meaning yes this is a royal au but are we surprised fr #instead of just being director of the orphanage they are also rulers themsleves of a kingdom i have yet to determine #previews acensions works similar to how it was hinted at in arle’s animation short but changed under the new director #the details of which i’m still in the process of brainstorming! hmm other random details to include: its a lyney x reader fic obv #an enemies to lovers dynamic lots of potential angst and drama yippee #that’s about all i can say for now because well..thats all i have atm😭so here’s to day 1 of yuomi’s lyney fic journey~

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charmac · 6 months

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PLEASEE POST A NEW CHAPTER OF THE SUGAR DADDY FIC I AM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES 😭😭😭😭😭

Updating All These Nights tonight and then Sugar is next to be updated, promise promise.

#ask #sugar daddy fic #i have been in a writing rut that is known #so i needed to work out some more canon stuff to get the voices back yk? hence updating the other fic first #but also i still feel like the last chapter fell off hard cos i got like no comments #which i know is like 'who cares' but i think i majority switched the style (like for myself) last chapter and i really like it but #if people didnt respond to it #im a little stumped on where to go #(again not in the story but style-wise)#people do not respond to long chapters? people dont respond to the dennis chapters? too much time wasted on sex? idk im #yeah like just a little lost on what people enjoy in the story and what i should gut/cut down on i guess #cos last chapter is hands down my favourite ive written #content wise its close to 6..#but style-wise i know its so fucking long but i thought it flowed really well and god i love exploring dennis' weird relationship with sex #but to me like only 4 people finished that chapter #to clarify. in my head there are literally only max 10 people who read this thing #and 2 of them are my random friends who arent in this fandom and just want to read what im writing #and neither of them bothered with a 27k chapter.. lol #so im stumped trying to pace the writing and rework how i thought it would go #cos i dont know what people enjoy in the fic!!! and seemingly did not respond to in what i thought was the best chapter so far.. lmfao #sorry you caught me on 30hrs awake and way too much coffee

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mikkokomori · 4 months

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I'm debating on making one of my Omori AUs into a fanfic at long last, but idk if I'll have the motivation to finish it, but I still want to get it out there? Any thoughts and advice you might have? - Repressed!AU Anon

Ahh, I'm a fairly bad person to go to for advice on fics specifically because of the fact I tend to immediately drop it and delete it ^^'

But!!!! I will say that there is a small method I believe could work since I've been testing it out for a little, and it's been doing okay for me! That is, try to write only one chapter.

It doesn't have to have an ending, nor does it have to be the longest one chapter fic in existence. Just one chapter with the basic gist of the concept you want to work on. After that, if you want you can post it up on any writing website and mark is as complete and see how well it goes with readers, or! You can continue to privately write and not post it until you believe you've reached the end of the fic and then post it up online.

I use the former, and it works better for me than it does the latter. I'll often leave it up and then wait for readers to check it out and see how their reaction to it fairs-- often times, it gives me opportunity to see if they like it and figure out what exactly it is that caught their attention and expand on that. While I do believe this could work better with oneshot series, it's still the better option if you're as impatient as I am when it comes to writing stories (as well as being able to give you a confidence boost and motivation at the same time!)

On the other hand, I have seen some people (I do believe even an anon has popped in saying this) that will write the whole fic down first and then later on upload it, either all of chapters in one go or scheduling when to update them. If you're a patient enough person to write everything down, then you should take this approach, especially if it's supposed to be an AU or original scenario for post-endings that you want to do that have no base to work off on. Though it really depends on how focused and dedicated you are to the fic to be able to finish it all (especially knowing some people have a hard time getting motivated in the middle of it and can put it off for months at a time!).

Of course, this is just entirely based off of my own experiences throughout the years I've been a small fic writer! While most of my fics I have deleted (mostly out of sheer embarrassment lol), I do think that there really is no one way to go about writing a story, and sometimes writing on the go, while the most likely to be left unfinished, is often the best way to go! Considering you can get a lot of feedback from readers, and it is often how writers are able to go far with their stories because of it!

#sorry if nothing made sense i am not very smart in giving advice or anything since i feel like #most of the time im just rambling random nonsense #i only offer things that i know have worked for me so far based on experience and not on “what is correct and incorrect”#ofc im a very absentminded person who dissociates a lot so a lot of my own methods are based on focusing what others like #since i tend to value other peoples opinions its usually my way of staying grounded and focused on the story im writing #ofc this may not work for you since not everyone has the same difficulty on gaining motivation and focus!!!!#anon asks #repressed au anon #miko talks

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