(Original question from Balloonarcade)
Yay! Asks! :)
15. Post the last line you wrote without context.
Then the world went white, and silent, and still.
4. What fandom’s/ship’s fan fiction do you read the most?
Oofa. This changes over time, but right this second I’d have to say I’ve really been digging fics dealing with the twins. Either platonic or not, I love how different authors spin their takes on the twins’ personalities and how they interact.
14. (For authors) Post a line of dialogue from one of your WIPs without context.
(heh heh heh)
“C’mon, TC, back me up here. Tell Star that he’s desperately in need of a good frag.”
17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.
(digs out the “bunnies and ideas file”)
This one is actually a request from the spouse (who does NOT read TF fanfiction, and only gets bits of it secondhand from me): TFP Bumblebee goes to a touchless car wash and… really really REALLY likes it, and ends up spending some large amount of money on car washes before getting called on it by Optimus or Ratchet. It’s tagged in my notes as “crackfic: Bee/Co-op.”
I’ve headcanoned lots of cold- and snow-weather related things with regards to Transformers, but I’ve never considered the glass fogging issue. (The snow tire story is one that is still sitting on my “bunnies and ideas” list.)
I usually park in an outdoor parking garage for work, and walk a few blocks to my office. But when it’s stupid cold, I sometimes decide to pay the outrageous sum to park in the indoor, heated parkade that’s attached to our building. It routinely gets really cold here, but sometimes it gets stupid cold.
When I do this on days where it’s stupid cold (which I consider anything colder than, say, -25°C/-13°F), I have a whole process that I start a few blocks before I get to the parkade, just to make sure I can actually SEE to park once I get inside: start blowing the defroster on full blast and turn on the rear defogger. Then once I pull into the parkade I roll down ALL the windows so I can see out the sides of my car.
Of course, how a Cybertronian would react to their windows fogging up would be dependent on how they sense the world when they’re in their alt mode. In most of my G1 noodlings, they don’t “see” the same way they would in root mode when they’re in alt mode. But I could definitely see them getting all weirded out by the condensation and icing that would happen on their windows after they came in from the cold or damp…
The visor issue would definitely be a thing, though! :D
I’m still on track to post Chapter 17 either Monday or Tuesday. I’m finishing up the final editing for it, but here’s just a little snippet from the beginning of the chapter that I rather liked.
The sensors on his door wings alerted him of the approaching mech before he even heard the crunch of pedes on gravel, giving him details on his stance, gait, and height. As the mech grew closer, Bluestreak turned his helm slightly. “I figured you’d be in the command tent, as the representative from Praxus,” he said.
Prowl stopped next to his brother and looked down at the camp below them. “I had nothing of value to add to the conversation,” he said. When Bluestreak tipped his door wings up questioningly, Prowl gave him a quick glance. “As the second creation, I was trained to be an administrator, not a soldier. If anyone should be in the command tent, it’s you.” He looked down at Bluestreak’s rifle pointedly.
Bluestreak ran a hand over the top of the rifle. “I was so proud when sire gave me this weapon,” he said quietly. “Graduating from the Academy with top honours… I felt like I’d finally made him proud.” He tipped his door wings upwards. “Smokey was always the one he doted on, which made sense since he’s the heir. And you excelled in your studies. You could pick up really complex things so much faster than I ever could.” Bluestreak gripped his rifle again in both hands. “Proving myself as a capable soldier was the only thing I could do.”
“You were very good,” Prowl said. “One of the best the Cavalry had had in hundreds of vorn.” His hands were clasped behind his back, and he stood straight with his wings held precisely behind his shoulders. “When you left, the Cavalry had a very hard time finding another officer who was proficient enough in all the required skills to replace you.”
Bluestreak hefted the rifle in his hands slightly, then looked back to the horizon. “I enjoyed it, you know,” he said. “Learning about tactics and strategy, and how to use all of my sensors to the best of my ability when firing a weapon. And I was good at it. Feeling like you’re competent in something… It makes you hold your wings up higher.”
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