My musings on meaningful matters and mischievous mechanisms.
Find here: Art, writing and other creative resources. Life philosophy and positive self worth. Craziness and fandorking galore. My other blogging topics vary, see my Tags Directory linked above for specifics. I probably like coffee, Transformers and Dragon Age a little too much.
If my creative works inspire you to create something of your own, please share with me! If you ever want to use my artwork for whatever reason, please credit my Tumblr or DeviantArt page as the source, as well as let me know via Ask/Submit/Reblog.. ;) Thank you!
This blog is occasionally NSFW.
About fic tag game! :> please please tell me a thing or two about "Wing's confession" or "Wing confronts Drift after sneaking out to meet Braid and Lockdown, except done right." I always would lovee to hear what your awesome brain plotting about these mechs and still in love how you done Finding Equilibrium 🤍
Thank you for the kind words on Finding Equilibrium! It's been a joy to get back into writing these characters that are so dear to me, and knowing there are still others out there who love them and crave content is an inspiration! I appreciate your patience with delivering this too, I wanted to write something for it as a thank you for your support and encouragement. ^_^
"Wing's confession" is the oldest among my "Drift Mini Deleted Scenes" ideas.The original concept was that Wing held himself back until the very end, not revealing his feelings or attraction until Drift had fully made his choice. I set the scene in that interlude between leaving the council chambers where Wing says 'come with me, if you're with us, you need to look the part', and going to the medibay for Drift's final rebuild. Wing chooses that moment to confess his feelings and they get their first kiss. It's peak bittersweet drama because we know that Wing doesn't make it, but it's Drift's first indication that he's still a person deserving of love.
Obviously that premise will change a little bit now that they have their first smooch in Finding Equilibrium. So the confession becomes less about attraction and more focused on love and depth of feeling, but the confession still has weight and impact because it's not like a few kisses change everything between them immediately. Things with these two are messy and complicated, and Drift has a lot of issues to work through. Those issues are a big reason Wing treads carefully and waits for Drift: Wing knows it's a pivotal time in Drift's life and is aware of how easy it would be for him to manipulate the situation to his own benefit. And during the Mini, Wing IS manipulating Drift to an extent--don't get me wrong--but Wing's moral alignment is do what is right by Drift, and keep his personal feelings out of it. That's not to say Wing 100% succeeds at this, he's not perfect, but he does far better than most because that's just part of who he is. (I could reference his martyrship patterns here too, but that would get loooong).
But I digress. "Wing's confession" has the potential to be a full-fledged fic with potential smut at the end, so I plan to write it in depth at a later date and won't share more here yet (I'm a tease, I know). That said, I DO have something for you on your other request, "Wing confronts Drift after sneaking out to meet Braid and Lockdown, except done right."
The ficlet below expands on this scene, with a deeper conversation and an exploration of both character's PoVs. I generally try to stay to one PoV per scene, but you know there is SO much going on in this scene that is left unsaid, I wanted to explore it more deeply. Enjoy!
"It was that message, wasn't it?" Wing demanded at Drift's back as the grounder turned away, arms crossing over the white chest, posture entirely closed off.
Beyond the cavern's rocky upper rim on which they stood, the bright lights of Crystal City shone with vibrance, haloing Drift in soft light. But the shadows were deep on his back, clinging to every surface, and his frame's shadow stretched long like the dark past he'd apparently not yet left behind.
A painful revelation for Wing, as he stood in that shadow. 'I thought that we... I thought that you wouldn't try.' Had it been foolhardy to think that nameless bond they'd formed would sway the Decepticon from opportunity? Did they even have a bond, or was it Wing's wishful thinking?
Drift's finials canted slightly; the only indication his attention was turned towards Wing.
"You stand against the knights' laws." Drift firmly ignored Wing's questions, posing his own. "You're one of them, but you're different. Why do you do it? Why do you break their rules?"
"I told you when we first met, helping another is the highest cause one can aspire to," Wing replied, setting aside doubt and meeting resistance with patience. "I do it because I think it's right."
The Decepticon was silent, shadows falling over his face as his chin dipped down, pauldrons riding high with tension. Though his field was pulled in tight, Wing still felt as if Drift was on the precipice of something; more than just the edge of the city, but fighting inner battles. Would it mean deeper life change, or more of the same from his past?
Wing reached out a hand sympathetically, then stilled himself, governed by an instinctive feeling that at this moment, Drift needed space and freedom to find his own way.
"You made a similar choice once, didn't you?" Wing posed a gentle question instead. "You defied a system, and tried to choose something better."
"To survive," Drift scoffed, bitter words tossed over his shoulder as he fixed Wing with a single blue optic. The look was piercing, a single fierce light in Drift's darkness, and their gazes held for a long moment, one testing and one patient.
Finally Drift turned back to the view of the city, engine rumbling as he eased air from his vents.
Drift knew it wasn't only about survival. He'd had a dream, a shared dream thanks to Megatron. That's what they all were at the start, the Decepticon movement: defiance against wrongs, seeking fairness and what was right.
When had it all become solely about survival again? Surviving endless battles. Surviving his own failed mutiny. Surviving to escape this place. 'I need to get back to the war.' And do what, more of the same? It was past time he admitted it: single-minded desperation to end the war had obscured the harsh reality that they'd killed the dream in the process, along with each other and their planet. The brutal truth that there was nothing left for them after the war except more survival was sickening. The resulting cycle of anger trapped him just as effectively as the gutters had so many millennia ago. And oh, how Drift hated being powerless.
Here, Wing hadn't chosen survival, hadn't stayed hidden, had chosen to not be powerless and risked everything because that was the purest expression of his dream. He chose defiance not for survival's sake but to allow others to live, and to live true to himself.
The knight's presence was heavy behind him. Drift could feel the jet's EM field, the usual surface of serenity rippled by apprehension, anticipation, and something deeper that Drift couldn't name.
When had he stopped thinking of Wing as his captor? Drift wasn't sure. Savior, captor, opponent, trainer, counselor, ...suitor? The jet confounded Drift in more than ways than he could count.
But Wing couldn't save him from this. He had a choice to make.
"Drift....?" Wing inquired as he came level with the Decepticon, gold optics resting searchingly on his face.
In his peripheral, Wing was radiant bathed in the light of the city, almost painfully so, but that wasn't why Drift couldn't meet the knight's optics.
Instead, he stared out over the vista of Crystal City as it hummed with life and vibrance, and forced himself to see the impact of his next choice. The city's potential fate: overrun with invaders, pillaged and stripped of its beauty, technology, and people. Cybertronians treated like parts, worse even than the Senate of old.
No. He couldn't let it happen.
Perhaps.... there was space in his spark for a new dream...
Resolute in his course of action, Drift brushed past Wing and hastened to Circle's leadership council chambers. There was no time to waste.
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
While I understand the desire to make Big Art entirely and viscerally I think it's worth considering that small art often leaves an outsized impact on its audience. Short stories, teensy indie games, short films, sketches on scrap paper, carved or sculpted figures that would fit in the palm of your hand, etc. etc. are all things that, when they hit your psyche at just the right angle, can stay lodged in there forever specifically because they are small. It is not necessary for a thing to be sprawling for it to have impact.
btw. i made this quick guide of some of the natural size and proportion reference points in the human body. of course this all varies even irl, and you can stylize however you want, so ymmv but thought it might be helpful for some folks.
