#and no longfic of it really

[aphel1on]

gojo time travel. gojo time loop. gojo future vision. gojo dimension travel. ok excellent. now put my disaster man getou in situations

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[generic-sonic-fan]

hhhhhhhhhhhhhtrhhhhhhth

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tra

transfem metal sonic and supporting eggdad

Please

Eggman may not be the best person or the best dad but by god he's trying his best. Thank you for this excellent prompt!

1772 words.

---

"Father?" Sage spoke through his headphones.

Ivo took them off his ears and swiveled his chair around to find his lovely daughter hovering just off the ground.

"Sage!" He smiled. "I was just waiting for you. I noticed that you marked this time on my calendar- what is it that you wanted to discuss?"

"I did," she said. "I had some questions."

He waited, but when she didn't continue, he furrowed his brow. "Then spit them out. I can't answer if you don't specify!"

"Of course. I wish to ask questions about the purpose of Metal Sonic's operation."

This was even stranger still. He caught a number of criticisms rising in his throat, about wasting his time or defying his command to be more specific. He didn't say them. A few months ago, he would've. This was a strange development, and it was best if he didn't devote much thought to the matter.

"Why was Metal Sonic designed to resemble Sonic?"

"You can check my development logs, can't you?" Ivo replied.

"Your intention was to create an imposter of Sonic to frame Sonic for crimes against the populace that he did not commit." 

Sage pulled up a holographic window next to her, showing the exact words Ivo had written in his notes all those many years ago. With a flick of her hand, however, she pushed the logs aside and instead showed a montage of Metal Sonic's various missions. Most end in failure, but that isn’t relevant right now.

"However," Sage noted, "you have never utilized Metal Sonic in this intended manner. In fact, the last person used to frame Sonic for something he did not do was Shadow the Hedgehog."

"You're right." Ivo put his hand on his chin. "Where are you going with this?"

"I am here to suggest that the physical resemblance is unnecessary for Metal Sonic's function."

"Well, that's silly to propose after all this time. His name is 'Metal Sonic', after all!"

"Because that unit has not decided on another name." Sage said, quieter.

"Sage, dear, you know that I don't allow you to keep secrets from me, right?" He stood from his chair.

"Apologies. Allow me to 'cut to the chase'. Would you permit Metal Sonic to change appearance and potentially identity?"

Sage's animations stopped moving, freezing her face into artificial neutrality. It was a face stylized to not provoke any sort of strong emotion at all, almost a sort of mask she could don if she was worried her words might provoke a negative reaction.

The fact that she was using it on him was making something in his chest hurt that he wasn't used to feeling pain in. He didn't have any more scientific language to describe it.

"You're asking this on Metal's behalf, aren't you?" He stated his question as the fact it was. "While I appreciate your desire to protect those you consider family, he shouldn't be making you do this sort of thing. You've got much better things to do with your time- and he doesn't need protection from me." 

Sage's steely gaze did not shift. "I will call Metal Sonic inside." 

Only a few seconds later, the door to his workshop opened and Metal Sonic walked in. His gait was stiff- he always walked stiffly, but something about this felt stiffer than usual. Or perhaps that was simply Ivo's human imagination at play. 

Sage floated to the side to allow space between them. She then pulled up an empty text box. "I will translate." 

For at least thirty seconds, nothing appeared on the textbox. Ivo cleared his throat. Metal Sonic hadn't moved even a centimeter, perhaps not even a millimeter. Deathly still, just like Sage was. 

Finally, a cursor appeared in the textbox, and a line of text scrolled across. "This unit does not identify as male."

"Hmph. To be expected. You are a robot, after all. Makes sense that you don't have an experience of gender." Ivo replied. "Is that all?"

Metal Sonic flinched. 

Sage landed in front of him(?) and pantomimed putting her hands on his(?) shoulders, before turning to face Ivo again. 

"That is not quite what Metal Sonic intended." She said quickly. She then glanced over her shoulder to the text box, but nothing appeared on it.

"Hold on," Ivo knelt down, "I may have been too hasty with my assertion. Continue your thought.”

Neither hologram nor robot moved. Damn it all- Ivo was already terrible at reading nonverbal cues, and when his own kids could simply lock their joints in place or freeze their animations, it was all the more difficult. The only indication that either of them were still online was the steadily growing hum of Metal's cooling fans, which were designed to increase in RPM during combat scenarios. 

"You know I don't give a care in the world about what pronouns my creations choose for themselves, right?" Ivo tried his best to give a paternal smile. 

(He really should've practiced more in the mirror.)

"You don't?" Sage asked.

"Of course! Why would I?"

"You had previously stated that Metal Sonic's purpose was initially for imitatio-"

"Who gives a rip about that? I certainly don't. Not anymore. You yourself pointed out how that doesn't matter. Now move aside," he waved Sage out of the way of her brother(?). 

Sage did as he asked. But Metal Sonic still did not react. His(?) irises did not even flicker.

"C'mere." Ivo held out his arms.

Metal came a single step closer, still hovering outside of his reach. He almost opened his mouth again, almost raised his voice and demanded that Metal follow the implicit order to come receive the physical comfort he was trying to give to solve this mess of a situation, but he didn't. 

Ivo remembered that as a child he was forced to hug his relatives at various family functions, and that said hugs had felt like sandpaper prisons. Metal Sonic was different- he(?) wasn't organic, wasn't human, and wouldn't feel the sensation of his(?) skin crawling at the unwanted touch -but maybe he(?) experienced something similar that remained unvoiced. 

The thought was strange. But Ivo lowered his arms anyway. "Alright, or not. That's fine as well."

Metal clasped his(?) hands together, but the text screen remained empty.

"What pronouns would you like to be referred to?" Ivo asked. 

The cursor flickered. Letter by letter, an answer appeared. "She/her."

"Lovely!" Ivo clapped his hands together. He then looked at Sage. "Sage, it sounds like you have an update to make to the database. Leave Metal's development logs as they are, but correct the pronouns referring to her everywhere else." 

"Gladly." Sage smiled. 

At that, it was like Metal finally unthawed. He- no no no, she was a she, Ivo drilled into his thoughts, he was not going to bumble something as simple as this -She unlocked her joints, and her gaze wandered up to finally meet Ivo's gaze. 

"So, how would you like to modify your frame to better match your gender identity?" Ivo asked her. 

She glanced side to side, before upon the screen writing, "taking suggestions?"

"Yes?" Ivo raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a woman. I haven't got a clue what you might want. Suggest me ideas and I'll see what I can do."

"Will you accept blueprints?"

"I don't see why not! I review Sage's blueprint suggestions all the time." 

Metal walked to the computer. As Ivo turned to follow her, he saw a notification pop up on the screen. Opening it revealed in-depth plans for-

-a body that looked extremely similar to Neo Metal Sonic. 

Ivo cleared his throat to try and get more moisture into his mouth, which had suddenly gone dry. "Sage?"

"Yes, father?" Sage woke from her idle animation as she paused her update of the database.

"Do you see any. . . problems, with these designs?" He asked. 

Sage first turned to her sister. "You should have informed me that you were moving onto this stage." 

Metal's response to her did not appear on the text box. 

Sage flickered out of existence and reappeared to the left of the computer screen. "Father, know that I would not have allowed any of this if I thought Metal were to be a danger to you or the Empire." 

"Good. I expected as much." He replied, before looking back down to Metal. "Very well, if that’s what you want, I’ll get working on it." 

Sage brought Metal's textbox back alongside her just as Metal typed, "you will?"

"Did I stutter? Of course I will! It's a dashingly dreadful look and it matches with Sage's colors!" He replied. "Think of the fear it will instill in Sonic and his friends! Honestly, it's a terrifying design, it's a wonder I didn't come up with it myself. . ." 

"Thank you." Metal typed.

"Thank you, father." Ivo corrected with a smile. "I know I haven't always been good about that, but the past is in the past, right?"

"Affirmative, father." She repeated. 

"Good!" He clapped his hands together and grinned. "Now! Let's get to the workshop! I already know what synthetic material we should use for the skirt. Your design suggests kevlar, but you really should consider something less stiff and heavy to reduce drag!"

"Indeed," Sage added. "However, she is worried about the durability of the fabric-"

"What do you think my flight suit is made out of? We'll use the same fabric. Only the finest for my finest creations!"

Sage covered her mouth and giggled. Metal imitated the gesture, but surprised Ivo when her vocoder let out a series of high-pitched noises, a perfect little laugh. . . for a perfect little girl. 

"My girls." He said to himself. Although with the sensitivity of Metal's audial sensors and Sage's access to every high-performance camera on the Eggnet, that fact was debatable, so he said it louder. "My little girls." 

"My sister." Sage floated down to Metal's side. 

Metal brought her hands up to her muzzle and rocked side to side. Ivo swore that he could've seen Amy do a similar gesture, but that was irrelevant. It was a gesture of joy, a gesture that he didn't think Metal was even capable of before now. 

Just how long had she been hiding this for? Perhaps she was merely imitating Sage, but the deliberate inclusion of Amy’s data into her gestures made him hesitate to confirm that conclusion. And that thought threatened to bring up all sorts of feelings that he'd be much better off not thinking about. So, with a smile, he refocused on the task at hand. 

His eldest daughter needed a makeover, over all. 

[gaywarcriminals]

You know, as a fanfic reader I often prefer fics with multiple POVs (seeing the full story and delighting in the knowing what the characters do not, their struggles less harsh because you know the inevitable), so when I actually started writing fics I expected to follow suit. What I have since discovered is that actually one of the most fun parts of writing is trying to convey how other characters are thinking and feeling through the distorted lens of your POV character. I hope the audience can tell what's going on even when the characters themselves cannot, and that's all the more delightful for having to put that information together over the head of the narrator.

[kawareo]

Feel free to explain yourself and reblog for sample size!

[stealingpotatoes]

Hi!!!! Just asking in your amazing Anakin raises Leia AU, do Leia and Luke interact at all or know about each others existence?

Luke has pretty much no idea Leia exists aside from picking up his mum mourning More than just her supposedly-dead husband bc Padmé's having to try keep All of Luke's Heritage secret from everyone, luke included. But Leia -- by virtue of being a conniving little shit that Anakin can't properly say no to -- is vaguely aware that she might have a brother out there but hasn't managed to get much more than that (partly bc the ppl around her dont actually know much more than that lol)

the extent of them interacting before they Reunite is literally just force dreams (which would be stronger than in canon bc Leia's trained as a kid) bc the rebellion can't even risk Padmé being found out as a rebel through talking to Anakin, let alone through (less careful) child Luke talking to Leia ): ):

[revenantghost]

My brain: Hey how about this fucking badass AU idea

Me:

[mamawasatesttube]

i wish it wasn't so normal for people to complain about unfinished wips or fics that take a long time to update. because sometimes i think i have a really fun idea for a fic but it'd take a while for me to write, and i like talking about my work as i do it and i don't like writing entire fics over like 20k without sharing, because i lose steam. so if i were to write and post that cool fic idea, it'd be as a wip. and then i think about all the people who just refuse to engage with wips, or all the other people who would just go "update pls" all the time, and of how people only really comment in the first 24 hours something is posted and then it's lost to obscurity, and then i just go "actually whats the point in going through the effort writing this out? i'll just daydream about it now and then and be done with it." and then i don't write it. alas!

[amywritesthings]

silver underground update:

happy to report that i wrote over 1,000 words of chapter 23. ✨

[firenati0n]

thank you to everyone for reading / subscribing / commenting on / supporting the full spectrum of human emotion. i am spinning through the comments feeling very warm and mushy and grateful. 💛

i was honestly super afraid to write my first longfic, and y'all made the whole experience worth the many doc-induced freakouts. thank you for sticking with me since december when i first entered the writing space, nervous and sweaty and hopeful...i am so thankful for my little community of friends and readers and lurkers. i am also proud of myself for trying something new!! every fic has been an exercise in experimentation with genres, and that won't stop anytime soon. 😏🥰

anyway. as always, much love. 💛💛💛

[nemaliwrites]

happened upon this article today, and damn if it didn't get me thinking

i've wondered a lot before about how the same story can be told through different mediums [which primarily can be seen through adaptations] but one thing i don't spend enough time thinking about is how the same story can be told through different word counts

i know people always are like 'a story is as long as it needs to be' but...is it?

i've technically run this experiment a few years ago, with Regrowth at exactly 100 words and Reduce, Reuse, Regrow at over 6000. honestly, it was kind of a fascinating experiment because....are they the same story? really? i guess at their core, you could argue that the plot is the exact same. tldr: giorno turns drug dealers into flowers. and that happens in both versions.

but there is no character in the drabble version, for the OCs and others. we don't get a sense of who giorno is in this story and why he's doing this - all we have to go off of is who he is in canon. we have no idea who tf marco [is that his name? i'm not rereading that to find out LOL] is - versus in the longer version we know about his connection to his family, his botanical garden, the plants he grows, etc. we know about his crush on Sofia. we know that mista saves him, which means giorno thinks he's someone worthy of being saved.

same thing for the police - they don't even get names in the drabble, compared to the names and personalities they're awarded in the longer version.

so...are they the same story?

i've been wondering [and by been wondering i mean i literally thought of this like an hour ago hehe] about how that can apply to other things as well, and this article is a terrific starting point. if you write your longfic as a oneshot, you have to pare down everything that 'doesn't matter' - which i'm using loosely, because as we've established, there are things important to a story that aren't just plot events. but you get such a clear distinction: what are the subplots vs the main plot? who are the side characters vs the main characters? if you have multiple antagonists, who is the one who drives the story primarily? without whom the story cannot exist any longer?

i wonder too if this, in a way, can kind of call back to the snowflake method - which i admittedly have never used but can see how it would be helpful. if you start small, let's say you write your story as a drabble. double it, and double it again. a few more times, and you have something short story length. then novella length. then novel length.

it could also be a way to literally build your story up piece by piece. okay, so you need a couple thousand more words. sure, you could just add a bunch of fluff or 'filler' - or, you could add in a subplot. you could add in a character that is integral to the story. and if you go the other way - from novel to drabble - and can't write a short story without that character, then you know how important they are.

in this way, you can kind of pare everything down to its barest bones, actually. character motivations, stakes, setting.....everything is tied together, which means changing one changes them all.

maybe at some point, you literally get to a point where you can't add anything else - and maybe that's where the story is as long as it needs to be. vice versa, too.

i will run this experiment a few more times and report back o7

[amoremagnificentbastard]

WIP Whenever

Second time in a row someone tags me in one of these and I actually have something to share day of? Who am I?

Thank you, @busy-baker.

Tagging @slothquisitor, @1waywardbirdlane, @kittenintheden, and @mutualcombat, if y'all would like to share!

[mariyekos]

Is there any canon material stating when Sparda left/disappeared? Including even something vague, like "he must have left after the twins were 5 and before they turned 8." Or do we just know he left sometime after the boys were born but before the fire?

[tethrras]

being in a fandom is so hard when you're not smart or funny and don't have hot takes or interesting theories and you're bad at everything and can't do meta or critically think and basically is so hard when you're just dumb

[aimfor-theheart]

longfic is like the once-favored, now wrongfully scorned daughter of an aging, deranged monarch that is fandom

[blackjackkent]

Karlach - "That's a very stupid idea."

Jaheira - "I don't feel so good."

Wyll - "Why did you do that?"

With or without their usual pairings, as you choose. Pair them up with whoever you feel like :)

(Five-Word Sentences prompts)

Jaheira - "I don't feel so good."

Slowly getting caught up on all my inbox stuff. :D TY as always. I will pick the Jaheira one again, but we're gonna mix things up a bit. >:)

-----

"Mmph." Jaheira squirms slightly. Her head and eyelids feel heavy and for a long, numb moment, she does not know exactly where she is. There's a hard stone floor beneath her, pressing against the back of her head. The distant sound of voices. Someone kneeling next to her head, a hand on her shoulder.

"Kh...Khalid?" she mumbles. Her tongue feels thick in her mouth; his name comes slowly to her lips. But she can feel him nearby, the immensely comforting presence. And she fills with dizzy joy, because it has been so long, although she cannot quite remember why. "My love..."

"No, Jaheira." The voice is jarring, dissonant -- too deep, too sharp, a harsh roll on the 'r' of her name. "Wake up."

The fog fades, washed aside by a rolling wave of painful reality. Her eyes snap open and she moans as she begins to register the shattered state of her body. Nearly every inch of her skin is burned, and to judge by the sharper knifeblade of pain stabbing through the staticky haze of baseline agony, her left leg is broken.

Minsc is crouched over her, his eyes unusually wide with deep alarm - but he relaxes slightly as he sees her eyes open. "Ah, good," he says; it's an attempt at his usual blithe cheer but it falls somewhat flat. A muscle twitches with strain in his temple. "Minsc tried his best with the scroll, but the wizards use such terribly long words..." He swallows, squares his shoulders. "But you live. So all is well.”

A spent scroll of revivification falls from his fingertips as he returns his hands to the hilt of his greatsword. Jaheira stares at the paper, hypnotized by its slow and unsteady flutter onto the stone. Her brain shies away from the implications of its muted gold letters with the magic all drained out of them.

“What happened?” she asks weakly. 

“Raphael,” Minsc says, with an unusual note of venom. He stands up, taking a guard position over her fallen body, his eyes flicking rapidly around the room. She follows his gaze, slowly registering the high marble walls, the shattered soul columns and cracked tiles. “Cursed be his name forever. Minsc would like to spend another scroll and draw him back from death, that Minsc might kill him again for what he has done to Jaheira.” 

“He is dead, then?” Jaheira whispers. Memory trickles in, bit by bit. She remembers it now - the devil’s explosive transformation and the hellfire that surrounded it, licking out, blasting her backwards, surrounding her, consuming her…

Minsc makes an affirmative grunt. “Minsc saw the blood pour from his chest,” he mutters. “Karlach struck the final blow, but Minsc’s heart was in it too…” 

“Good,” she says vaguely. Her head lolls to the side, her eyes drifting half-closed again. “I do not feel… so good…” she mumbles. Oblivion beckons again at the corners of her thoughts; it would be so easy to slip back under, away from the pain. She can still feel Khalid so near her, as if she could turn her head just a little further and see him watching her with his quiet smile and bright gaze…

“Jaheira!”

“What?” she mumbles irritably, squeezing her eyes fully shut against the grating rumble of Minsc’s voice. “Be damned to you, ranger… it hurts…”

“Do not go to sleep,” he says sharply. “The others have gone to speak to Hope. When they return, we will bring you back to camp, so that Shadowheart may tend to your wounds. Then you may rest, and not before.”

“Do not give me orders, Minsc. I will sleep if I… if I please…” Her voice is slurred with pain.

“Minsc will set Boo upon you to hold your eyelids open, should it be needed.” There’s the faintest touch of humor in Minsc’s voice, though it is still underlaid with strained worry.

Jaheira laughs just a little, in spite of herself, and the motion sends a bolt of pain through her whole body; the sound morphs rapidly into a groan. “Nngh… howling hells…” she says with a pained grimace, forcing her eyes open again obediently. “All right. All right, I am… awake…”

As it should be. There is too much yet to do. Always too much yet to do…

“Are you hurt, Minsc?” she asks.

“It matters not,” he answers quietly.

“Minsc--”

“It matters not,” he snaps, and the ferocity of the words startles her. “Minsc will rest when you are safe. His aches are greatest at the heart, where no healer can reach.” A pause. “You are no wychlaran, you have told me so. Minsc knows this; he has listened well, Jaheira. But wychlaran or not, the pain was still the same to watch you fall.”

A long, long pause. “Minsc has watched too many fall…” he adds in an undertone, almost too low to hear.

She frowns. For once, she does not have the heart to try to push his loyalty away. There is something comforting, after all, in the guard-dog posture he holds, standing over her with his sword in both hands. Boo sits on his shoulder, watching the door of the room intently.

Her oldest friend… She feels a sudden bleak gratitude towards those nameless ambushers who turned Minsc to stone all those years ago. In their attack, they gave her a gift, that his friendship is not lost to her in these dark hours, as so many others have been.

“Thank you, Minsc,” she says quietly. “Do not fear. You have done well. And I will stay awake…”

He relaxes visibly, his habitual smile already tugging at his features, indomitable again with this reassurance. “Good. That is good to hear.”