slyjinks: (Akroma)
Stolen from demonqueen666.

The Hypothetical AU Meme: Take any one of the fandoms you know I write in, and give me a type of AU (space opera AU, pirate AU, superhero AU, Ancient Rome, etc).
I will then explain what story from your chosen fandom I would write for your chosen type of AU.
slyjinks: (Marvel Rodimus: Goggles Do Nothing)
I'm not yet done with the 28 Fleetwinds (I have five claimed ones left, but I've always intended to go through and do the unclaimed ones when I was done), but I figured I'd go ahead and put this up, anyway.

Expect these to get done at the same pace the Fleetwinds have been getting done - that is, glacially. Also, I'll probably jump between the three memes.

Rodimus will (probably) stictly be Marvel Rodimus (or possibly Deadzone Rodimus, who is transplanted Marvel Rodimus). I may do cartoon, Marvel, or Deadzone Kup. Or possibly even Coalition Relics Kup.

As usual with these, you can specify other characters or circumstances or stuff, but there are characters out there that I'm absolutely incapable of writing, and if you happen to ping on one of these, I reserve the right to either seek assistance or beg your forgiveness while I leave out the guest star.

28 Kups )

28 Rodimus Primes )
slyjinks: (Fleetwind: Exasperated)
Not very good. I've let these go too long, and now I've lost the mood.

Daring Fleetwind )
slyjinks: (Kup: I'll Straighten You Out Yet)
Deadzone related ficbit posted today in the (where else?) Deadzone comm. Set during the theoretical "re-aging" plot that oft gets discussed in chat. Rodimus Prime makes a very disconcerting discovery concerning young Kup's behavior. Slash, but nothing explicit. Apologies for those getting doublespammed, and remember that this is not a complete fic - just a scene.

Link to fic, yay.
slyjinks: (Kup: I'll Straighten You Out Yet)
Inspired by conversation in DZchat. Unrefined ficbit. Cartoon universe past, set sometime between the Second and Third Great War on Cybertron.

Forgotten )
slyjinks: (Default)
Kup lay facedown and offline next to the water's edge for only a short while, but when he booted up he took a moment to wonder why he had shut off to begin with. That fall shouldn't have done it... that dunking shouldn't have done it... his diagnostics showed nothing wrong with his internal systems (in fact, a few minor but persistent faults seemed to have mysteriously cleared), but he still couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

Well, his optics were off, for one thing. He activated them and began to push himself up, spotting his right arm in the process. That's when he paused again. At first he thought he was still wet, but that wasn't enough explanation. He was darker; his usual faded green-gray had deepened into a rich, forest green. The color was more consistent, too - where before he had sported several different shades of green-grey or blue-grey or just plain grey, now he was deep green all over, except for a few accents in a brilliant, electric blue-green. And he gleamed. It wasn't a trick of the water. His paint now shined with a freshly waxed look so bright it almost glowed.

Confusion gave way to a faint smile of delight on a face whose seams now fell in a distinctly different pattern, and Kup pushed himself back onto his knees so as to examine the rest of him. The new paint job applied to his whole body, and on his chest, he could see that the lighter accents were even more dramatic than he had originally thought. The entire edge of what would be his alternate mode's front end was the brighter color, and coming off of it was an intense, complicated, electric design that danced its way up along his edges and crowded in close to frame his now-brighter Autobot symbol. Looking down, he noticed similar designs running down either leg, and his faint smile turned into a wide grin.

Oh, he should have been worried. He knew that. Sudden, mysterious new paint jobs had already proven themselves to be a Bad Thing since his arrival in this strange new universe. But even when he tried, he just couldn't bring himself to be bothered. The thought that bubbled into his head was, That was then, and this is now. Live in the now, I always say. Except he didn't. Except, well, he felt like maybe he should. It felt... right.

The next thought to wander through his head came when he finally stood completely upright, and looked down once more to view his new paint job. It was this thought that he actually took the time to voice aloud. "Wow!" he said in a voice that had somehow lost its gruffness, lost its age, lost, even, much of its maturity. "I look slick!"
slyjinks: (J. Hook: MUAHAHAHAHA!)
Screwdriver's wide optics glimmered malevolent red in the dim light, and a wicked little smile of sheer, unholy delight painted her doll-like face. She leaned forward and, as though sharing a profane secret, whispered softly, "Some day the clock will run down, and then he'll get you." Then, before the other could react, she danced backwards, transformed, and darted off. The echo of childlike laughter faded as it chased the little red-rust motorcycle into the distance.
slyjinks: (Celestial Dawn)
A somewhat lengthy essay on the reason for providing direct feedback, usually for unpaid fiction. I shouldn't have to say that this all just represents my opinion, right? I mean, it's my blog. What the hell else would it represent?

For the record, there is no single event that set this off. This is something that I have been thinking about writing for weeks, and has been slowly coming together in my head. Sure, there might be a specific event that kicked me in the ass and got me finally writing it, but that was probably going to happen in the next couple of weeks, anyway.


Essay: Reply's Reason )

Now, with that out of the way, I will give my goals for having written this: I wish to organize my thoughts and ideas on the subject in a clear and understandable manner. I wish to encourage other people to think on the matter, and examine their own beliefs and opinions on the subject. I wish to give other people who have had similar thoughts, but have, until now, had trouble putting them into precise wording something to point to and say, "Yes! Exactly! Thank you!" so they may make use of it in the future. I wish to enlighten. And I wish to entertain (although this last goal is of lesser importance than the rest). Now you all are encouraged to offer me feedback and let me know how well I accomplished my goals in this communication. On the other hand, "mindless" praise is also graciously accepted. ;)
slyjinks: (Capstone)
I've edited through Final Stroke and have finally posted the entire thing to ff.net. Now, this is not to say it's perfect - it's still just my own edits, plus those suggestions that have come from the feedback I got while it was a WIP on this blog. Now I'm going to go on a feedback whoring spree, and mention it, oh... here, [livejournal.com profile] transficsation, the Cell, the Art and Fiction board of Deadzone. So if you see me in any of those places, just ignore me (well, okay. If you do read it, I'd appreciate feedback somewhere, if I haven't heard from you already, but not everywhere).

Title: Final Stroke
Series: Transformers, G1 Cartoon, Post S4
Sub-genre: Tragedy
Length: 16,800 words in 25 short chapters
Summary: The Decepticons are scattered about the galaxy, and nothing stands between Omega Supreme and his pursuit of the Constructicons. The builders come up with an unusual plan to bring an end to the eons old chase.
Warnings: See sub-genre.
Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3668570/1/Final_Stroke
slyjinks: (BOOM! Bwahahahaha!)
So for the hell of it, last night Luna and I started talking over what jobs/roles/powers/genders our current Deadzone characters would have if they were, for some reason, in on her whole Transformers-as-Superheros thing.

Xaaron, it has been decided, will be a female politician. She is running for president. Optimus Prime does not approve. And then the following snippet of Xaaron-rant popped into my head:

Don't interferre with the human's politics? Optimus! In case you've failed to notice, we're human! I'm human! This is not just their world anymore, it's ours, and I have as much right to participate in Earth politics now as I did in Autobot politics back on Cybertron! For all I know, I'm going to spawn, grow old, and die on this planet as a member of this species, and if that's the case, I'll be damned if I leave it in the same state it's in right now.
slyjinks: (Capstone)
As you guys know, I don't feel comfortable with asking other people to beta my stuff because, well, I'm too lazy to beta other people's stuff. To me, a proper beta job is a lot of work, and at the end of the day, this is fanfiction. I'm proud of it, but it's fanfiction. It's not something I can make money off of; it's a hobby. Don't get me wrong. I'm very thankful for the feedback and corrections I've received over LJ, and I'm very proud and pleased with the job I did, but it's just... I don't feel right in asking someone to put in the sort of effort I would want out of a beta, especially when I'm only rarely willing to put in that level of work for other people's fanfiction.

The big argument I hear for, "Always get a beta!" is that "no one is too good for an editor." I agree with that sentiment completely, and the idea that I'm too good is not why I don't get my stuff edited. Just the opposite. I'm not too good for an editor. I'm too unprofessional for one. Do I believe Final Stroke is well above average for fanfiction? Yes, yes I do. Do I believe it's good enough that I'm comfortable in asking others to do unpaid labor for it? No, not really.

So anyway, this is why I don't get betas, and instead self-edit. If I ever go pro, then you'll see me get an editor. That said, I find my self-editing method is usually very effective. I give myself at least a week off the fic entirely. Then I go back through it and, section by section, read it out loud to myself. When I reach the end of a section, I read it out loud to myself again. This process is repeated 2-5 times, depending on how many changes and tweaks I catch each time. The reading aloud makes a huge difference, but doesn't work as well if there's music going on in the background, so that has to go off during editing.

I just finished with my editing. When I got to the end, I suggested throwing in a couple theories as to why Omega Supreme had stopped moving, but then I said to myself, "You know what? No. No, no, no. I like leaving it unexplained. The Constructicons don't get an answer, so my readers won't, anyway. Nyah."

I'm a big meanie-head.

So... the first section is up on ff.net. It's just that little beginning bit where Capstone gets smacked down by Devastator. No comments yet, which isn't surprising, but I do have a watcher already. I suspect that's more on the strength of my summary, though. The sections will go up at the rate of one a day, and there are 25 in all, so while you folk had to wait well over a year for the whole fic, these guys get it in a little under a month.

When I was considering the genres, the first obvious choice was "Drama," which, in its essence, is the literary form concerned with conflict or contrast of character. Makes sense. It... probably says something about me that it took me awhile to think of "Tragedy" for my second genre. Seriously. I thought of "Friendship" before I thought of that. Then I remembered back to my drama classes in school and their descriptions of the older definitions of tragedy.

The way it was described to me, all drama was divided into two categories. One was comedy. Comedy did not mean "something that's funny," but merely, "a drama where-in the protagonist achieves his or her goals." The other was tragedy, which meant, "a drama where-in the protagonist does not achieve his or her goals." Fitting enough, but to make sure that I wasn't misremembering things or that my teachers weren't BSing me, I went ahead and looked up "tragedy" on dictionary.com. Among the choicer (and more relevant) definitions:

a dramatic composition, often in verse, dealing with a serious or somber theme, typically that of a great person destined through a flaw of character or conflict with some overpowering force, as fate or society, to downfall or destruction.

A drama or literary work in which the main character is brought to ruin or suffers extreme sorrow, especially as a consequence of a tragic flaw, moral weakness, or inability to cope with unfavorable circumstances.


Well. Tragedy it is!
slyjinks: (Fleetwind: Exasperated)
This one was hard, because I had to figure out what Fleetwind was greedy for!

Greedy Fleetwind. )
slyjinks: (DigiSaph: Laughing)
From the original G1 Marvel series, during Matrix Quest:

"He falls -- through the past, seeing the Matrix as it was, pure, unsullied -- a force for good! Seeing it now, tainted, its pristine form defaced by the Graffiti of Evil!"

You know, I've never really paid all that much attention to it before, but "Graffiti of Evil" really is such a hilariously weird metaphor for what's supposed to be a very dramatic moment.

I'm not sure whether to declare it awesome or just damned goofy.
slyjinks: (Pan: Oh the wonder of me)
I've been running Microsoft Word's "Autosummarize" function on a few of my fics, and laughing hard about some of the results.

This is how it summarizes Final Stroke in 100 words or less:

Capstone interrupted.

“Yes! “Oh, Scrapper?” Long Haul, Capstone, and even Scavenger answered as one.

Capstone recovered and trained. Capstone recovered and trained. Capstone recovered and trained. Omega Supreme is coming.”

***

Long Haul was emptied. Long Haul grumbled. “Capstone! Capstone, it’s okay! Both Capstone and Guardian screamed.

Scrapper sighed. “Yuh,” agreed Long Haul. “Long Haul!” Scrapper snapped. Capstone snapped back. Long Haul argued. Capstone sighed. “Really, Capstone,” Hook sighed. Capstone nodded dumbly.

"Constructicons! Capstone yelled, darting forward. Reluctantly, Omega Supreme agreed. Capstone had been right. Long Haul shook his head.




This isn't quite as good as the one where it has Bonecrusher declaring himself to be Peter Pan, though.
slyjinks: (Fleetwind: Exasperated)
I like to play games with words. But sometimes words are poor sports. :(

Dancing Fleetwind )

February 2012

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