On Todays Episode OfI Wish I Had Made It A Series Instead Of Squishing All The Stories Into One I Am

On today’s episode of “I wish I had made it a series instead of squishing all the stories into one” I am debating the best way to upload the next story in Secret Identity.  I have (planned, some mostly written) a further 6 (SIX!!) stories in that Universe.  Some will be long and have story arcs so I want to make them separate.  However!  However everything is going to be very out of order. 

There are two stories in between the end of the original story and Jazz meeting Prowl’s family.  Three stories in between that story and Racer to Racer & Best Friends.  Then, a final story to wrap it all up and, of course, a bunch of short oneshots just floating around in time.

Then there’s the strange and irrational fear that people won’t want to read it if it’s a series. 

Acronyms

I started using Tumblr to read Transformers things, so Transformers + Tumblr is linked in my head.  Most of my other fandoms were either on livejournal or fandom specific sites.  

So I’m strolling through blogs, clicking on whatever takes my fancy and I see an unfamiliar acronym in someone’s profile: ACAB

Now, since my brain says Tumblr=Transformers and it looks so much like AFAB/AMAB my brain’s first thought is: Assigned Car At Birth.

Rebel terms from the Functionalist era perhaps?

What I’m working on! :)

Secret Identity -

“Beep!”

She smiled into the cushions and heaved herself up.  Oh, yes, she still had company.  She hobbled slowly to him.

He was so small still – all gangly uncontrolled legs and big pedes.  His optics took up half his face and they followed her around the room whenever she set him down.

She was still working on getting Arietes to fall into recharge in the small crib Ultra Magnus had helped her make.  So far he had refused to recharge anywhere but wrapped up in her wings.  Even when she laid him down after he’d fallen into recharge, he woke up and demanded her attention.

Scandal Induced Marriage -

“Is that all you hope for Monochrome?  The least pain?”

“There is nothing else to hope for, Meister.”

And in that one sentence Prowl could put his entire existence.  It had always been about minimizing the damage.  Of course he would fail – but how badly?  How much of it could he cover up?  What was the line until it was too much for someone to take – his caregivers, his classmates, his teachers, his coworkers, his – his friends.

Secret Baby -

They had gone out for more groceries and a quick visit to the park.  Hound and Beachcomber were deep into a hack of the Station computer and so Jazz had offered to go and bring back a few cubes.  He’d had to bring Siren – no way could either of them watch him while hacking through those firewalls.

Jazz couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that he started to get uneasy.  When he was out with Siren by himself, he was always in a low level state of anxiety.  

Writing advice

So, I stumbled upon some writing advice by someone who was very clearly a new/young writer.  It was condescending and full of absolutes and rules.

If writing advice reads like those side bar ads “Doctors beg you to throw away this one vegetable!”  “Get rich with this one weird trick!” I think it’s best to just scroll past it.  

Honestly, it was kind of nostalgic to read.  We all went through that stage when we had just decided to be a Real Writer.  We learn just enough to think we’re experts, post a lot of silly know-it-all things, and maybe buy an expensive pen.  Perhaps we bring the entire Edgar Allen Poe Anthology to the beach so people think that we’re really deep and mature - then use it as a table for the Fritos instead because Poe is not a beach read.  Ask me how I know.

Cute has been updated!

I posted the next chapter of Cute!  This was my favorite part of writing chapter 6:

He wasn’t the Autobot leader or the matrix bearer or even Alpha Trion’s assistant anymore.  Optimus clasped his hands to his face and held in a squeak of elation.  He bounced in place.  He was looking forwards to finding out who he was now.  No one could expect him to return as he was.  

Which meant that if he and Smokescreen decided to do something against the rules and incredibly silly, making a huge mess in the process purely for the fun of it, he wouldn’t be in trouble.  It wasn’t his responsibility to set an example or worry about what other bots would think.  

He walked a little faster through the halls, the click-clack of his – now tiny – pedes on the floor echoing in the empty halls.

Secret Baby!

“What’s that?”  A pair of small optics appeared over the edge of the table.

“Boring, grown-up stuff,” Hound said, quickly lifting the plasma cutter away from the edge and stuffing it back into his subspace. “Where’s Captain Impossible and his faithful sidekicks?  Weren’t you playing with them a few minutes ago?”  Jazz sniggered into his cube and leaned against the doorway.

“They recharging,” Siren said wisely.  “I wanna see!”  He tried to grab for something, but Beachcomber was faster, sweeping as much of it as he could out of reach.

“Jazz!  Jazz, your bitlet wants you!”

“Siren!” he called, walking forwards to grab him, still grinning.

“’m good, Ke-ator!” Siren hollered back, trying to get one short leg up onto the table so he could reach some of the instruments Beachcomber had missed in his sweep.