#Logic And Flow

[a-most-beloved-fool]

I really wish that more pre-reform/pre-surak fics leaned into cyberpunk instead of going for "shirtless men with spears". Like if I'm being honest, it feels like people sometimes turn vulcans into the "noble savage" trope. Which is, I cannot stress this enough, very weird. You're writing about spacemen and you're somehow managing to be racist against native people. And like. I don't think it's deliberate, and I'm aware that this conception of vulcans has been around for decades and that many people have just kind of picked it up by osmosis, but. Like. It's not great. It is, dare I say, a little bit problematic. It also isn't at all accurate to canon? People just made that up. Because Surak died in the 4th century, just about 2000 years before canon, and do you know what his cause of death was? Radiation poisoning. When they say, "vulcans were extremely violent pre-reform, and nearly wiped themselves out," they don't mean they were having tribal battles on the backs of sehlats or whatever. They mean they were having nuclear warfare.

[baejax-the-great]

One of the things missing in Veilguard is any sort of meaningful power struggle. By keeping to the poorer parts of the city-settings, we don't really deal with corrupt or powerful nobles. By defanging the Crows, an organization who famously has lethal squabbles between factions, they turned them into some weird, benevolent family organization. Even the assassin trying to make "evil" power plays doesn't actually manage to kill any of his targets, and his ruthless relatives? Also don't kill him in revenge. In the end, the status quo is maintained. Nothing has changed.

In Tevinter, we have the Threads, an organized crime unit who we know runs "protection" rackets on the locals and is involved in some kind of smuggling (it's Tevinter--so presumably this would involve slavery and dangerous artifacts, but it's Veilguard, so I guess not). Instead of them beefing with the Shadow Dragons, who presumably ruin some of their deals with their pesky "freeing the slaves" thing, and instead of their main issue being with any sort of law enforcement, something which doesn't exist in Veilguard beyond one singular templar who does all of jack shit the entire game, their main power struggle is with the Venatori, who are evil just to be evil.

And instead of the Veilguard siding with law enforcement or the threads and enlisting their help to, idk, unseat the corrupt head of the templars or otherwise deal with the venatori shit, the threads are highly favored by the storyline, and in the end the only real choice is to make Neve a thread or to make her... idk, the same Neve? The game calls her an "inspiration", but it's not like she's part of any organization, so we can't call her a figurehead. It's just like, see that random citizen right there? She rules. And I don't really see how that increases the power of the rule of law, because even if one good person is working within rule of law to get things done, she's not part of the system, and everyone already know the system is corrupt in Minrathous. Random citizens in fucking Ferelden know the system is corrupt in Minrathous, or they would if they weren't all dead. Neve is now just playing on hard mode to appear righteous, which, good for her, but I'm sorry, won't inspire all that many people who are still paying "protection" money to the local mafia.

(Putting Neve in charge of the Threads is an absolutely whackadoodle decision by the devs that I don't even know how to respond to. She has a single Thread contact. Presumably the Threads have a hierarchy. She has never demonstrated interest in being a smuggler. Being a detective really has no overlap with being a crime boss. Telling a group of criminals that they are all detective's helpers now is sure to go over like a lead balloon. What the fuck was that. Why did that happen.)

Maevaris and Dorian arguing came out of nowhere and lasted a fairly long time, which was interesting, but after the most recent election in the states, Maevaris's position sounds unbearably naive and trite, and this hardly counts as a power struggle as they both say they will support the other depending on what some random outsider thinks should happen. (That is soooo not a basis for a system of government. Why would Maevaris OR Dorian cede their power to Rook, someone they don't know and who doesn't matter)

The power struggle within the Wardens is also very stupid and easily solved. The First Warden is a moron. He dies (kind of). For some reason the extremely hot and competent couple who we first encounter in the middle of nowhere are next in command, so, phew. Problem solved there. A question of what the Wardens will do now that the Blights are over would have been interesting. Do they keep recruiting lest the Blight somehow reoccur and nobody remembers the Warden secrets? Or do they disband? Do they set themselves to seeking a cure and nothing else?

The closest you get to that is deciding what the griffons will do, which, again, why the fuck is Rook deciding that, but also there are 13 of them, in two or three more generations they will be dead unless a lot of mages bone up on genetics real fast.

Who is left? We have Rivain, which is just pointless in this game. I played as a Lord of Fortune, but you could drop that faction and not a single thing changes in the game. Pirates who don't loot valuable artifacts because they are elvhen? Give me a fucking break.

Same for the Mourn Watch. There is pretty much nothing going on in that region. You could excise it from the game and nothing changes in the slightest. There is not a single excuse for them not using the Eluvians to help the Veilguard earlier in the game, given just how little they have going on.

The Veiljumpers are just missed opportunities all over the place. They could have had factions debating whether to join the god of vengeance in fucking up the human civilizations as payback for, you know, everything. They could have had people joining Cyrion in thinking that a Forgotten One might be the best way to face down the gods, given they'd done it before. There could have been a HUGE cultural impact on "what do we do now that we know our gods are evil fuckfaces--what do we keep and what do we throw away," but Veilguard ain't that deep. They could have had knowledge of a super-weapon or some elvhen bullshit that would help the Veilguard fight the gods... but nah.

In DAO, your decisions not only affected the political futures of the various regions, but they decided who would help you and how. Did the dwarves have golems? Did you have templars or mages? That whole wolf thing with the Dalish that I no longer remember that well? And the Dalish deciding to help changed how they were viewed in Ferelden. The mages helping you meant the monarch would treat them favorably. It fucking mattered.

In Veilguard, the only situation remotely close to that is the dragon decision at the beginning, which was one of the fucking dumbest plot points in a video game I have ever played. It was the first thing that made me set my controller down and go... what? What the fuck? The idea that Rook, a nobody, is the only person singularly capable of driving back a dragon in the entire north is laughable. What the fuck was Dorian up to that day? How is Rook more capable than every single Crow? How is it the two companions you sent to the other city were absolutely useless? If Lucanis/Neve + two companions were unable to drive a dragon away, what makes them think Rook would be the deciding factor? What makes them blame Rook when they themselves couldn't fucking do it? Neve in particular was a big part of fucking up that ritual and releasing the gods, so why is Rook taking all the fire for this?

AND WHY IS THEIR RESPONSE TO A BLIGHT TO FIND A SINGLE DRAGON HUNTER? HEY DIPSHITS, THE DRAGON IS HUNTING YOU. YOU DON'T NEED TO WORRY ABOUT THAT PART. YOU NEED AN ARMY.

But Treviso or Minrathous being spared doesn't change the global political situation at all. It would have been really interesting if it did. Tevinter hobbled? How many kingdoms would be salivating to take a bite out of their territory? With the trade princes of Antiva being absolutely fucked over by the Blight, who is taking over that trade? Who is getting rich?

Nobody, I guess, because why would Rook know or care about that, because, as previously mentioned, they are a nobody who doesn't matter and honestly shouldn't be listened to.

The stakes in this game are nothing because the bad guys are all so obviously bad that you know, as a video game player, that you are going to defeat them. Oh, the Antaam are just mindless, faceless brutes fucking up Treviso? Okay, let's kill them. Venatori again? I'm pretty sure they aren't the heroes of this game. There's no power struggle, and in the end all we've done is revert to the status quo, (except i guess Treviso is no longer occupied).

Except for the south. The south is dead. but we didn't have anything to do with that for some reason. Couldn't even be bothered to house some refugees in our safehouse that was built specifically to house refugees. The Inquisitor, who has access to the eluvians, couldn't figure out how to get other people through them or something so... sorry, every single Orlesian, Fereldan, and Marcher.

[casualshrimp-but-undertale]

i said i would make up for the choo choo doodle…. So there you go!! ^^

honestly wanted to try new brushes and realized how better these are lol…

version without the bubble under the cut

idk how to draw either backgrounds or trains so…. I tried. (also just took different parts of cool trains I saw??)

undertrack by @fivebecomesnone, @ken-tfc and @youregonnahavetime

also code and dionysus are there, but they take like 3 pixels

code sans by @callmeherry (he’s taking a nap to pass the time)

dionysus sans by @javaxzun (yep, he’s drinking wine to pass the time)

(because 3 pixels is not enough for them) (sorry no backgrounds even though i love these two so much aksjjdhddh)

[felixcatton]

I AM YOUR MAKER.

[amber-laughs]

no shade to the White Haired Jon theorists but if he’s resurrected by fire, like i’m pretty sure he will be, he’s probably coming out of it bald like dany did

[queeniehostapasta]

Finals are happening rn (and I currently want to tear my hair out) here’s how I uh..personally coped!

And if it’s not too clear here’s the reference, looked pretty gnarly

[donnakori]

no bat is fucking normal. if at all. i believe this.

[magpie-trinkets]

this month of May is proving to be quite stressful for me, so to cope I've drawn the stressed princess herself, Lucina (with guest appereances of Robin, Morgan, Owain and Gerome)

[rederiss]

Hi, gonna get serious for a moment.

I’ve seen people on here and Twitter talking about how they are worried that Nora will release The Perfect Court before the The Broken Cage. I want to discuss how the writing process works and why I believe she won’t be doing that (along with how Prequels typically work in a series).

Most believe that the writing process is linear, when it reality it’s extremely non-linear. You will have one idea, then need to pivot, then erase whole plot lines and so on and so forth until you have a cohesive story that does eventually become linear for the audience. All Nora is most likely doing is pivoting a huge task. WE all discussed how Nora needs to cover so much in the third (sixth?) book, and I am positive Nora bumped into that road multiple of times that fed into her decision to create this duology so that she can properly create this story. I bet that she is only sketching out plans for TPC and TQG so she can get a more clear idea on TBC (actually, she did say this on her post btw). Therefore, she will most likely be finishing out Jerejean’s trilogy before moving onto the next two books. It would only make logical sense.

Now, for the prequel, since this is an indie published series, typical rules dont apply. However, let’s just say it does. Prequels normally come out AFTER the story is already told. This is why with the Hunger games, we are just now getting Snow’s and Haymitch’s stories after the conclusion. We need to see the story unfold before we read how the story starts, if that make sense? It’s just how the literary world works. So, I wouldn’t be surprised if she releases the Perfect Court after the Queen’s Game. I bet she is using the Queen’s Game to bring in a true conclusion to AFTG and using Kevin for the prequel since “this starts and ends with Kevin.” Logically speaking, for us as an audience, it would make sense for the Perfect Court to come after the Queen’s Game rather than before either TBC or TQG just because we need the conclusion first. However, this is indie published, so its possible she will do TPC before TQG (and either way, it works out, but I don’t think it would work for TPC to come out before TBC)

[moonymercutio]

Currently reading the "True Lives of The Fabulous Killjoys" comics as I got my hands on them at the bookstore (finally!!!) and GOSH the amount of inspiration I'm getting is crazy. The thing that makes the Killjoys and just Danger Days in general so cool/amazing is the fact that its so universal. Anyone can pick up a lasergun (metaphorically) and fight for what they believe in. Anyone can turn on the radio and listen to the world burning around them then laugh and turn the dial and hear their favorite song playing. Anyone can mourn and love and party and anger. As a LGBTQ+ teenager in America, with friends who are queer, poc, disabled, children of immigrants, and so many other things that are constantly being attacked and debated, there's something comforting (??) in knowing that change can happen, and that I can do something to help enact it, even if it's just donating $5 to a GoFundMe or hopping on a weekend train to the city and taking part in peaceful protests and rallies for the things I believe in.

in short... I am scared. But it's amazing how art can comfort, isn't it?

[transingthoseformers]

Though, now I'm thinking about how innervated everything on the cybertronian body is, especially integrated weaponry

For reasons

[whyoneartheven]

GOT AN A ON MY ESSAY WOOOOOO

[audliminal]

Oh my god, never stop blowing up is a crack fic

[katyobsesses]

Sorry, but saying Tommy is the reason Buddie ain’t together is straight up taking Buck’s agency away from him. HE is the reason they aren’t together. Because Tommy is the one he likes and wanna be with rn

I meant in terms of the story, not in terms of the universe.

Yeah in the universe Buck has chosen Tommy to be with rn, he likes him and wants to be with him and I'm enjoying their dynamic (my problems with Lou's acting and some of his dialogue aside), but i do believe that storytelling wise Tommy is very much a stepping stone to Buddie. He's a midgame relationship for Buck to explore his sexuality, and find peace with that side of himself that he's never thought to explore before. and I like Tommy as that stepping stone, he's an interesting character.

Tommy as a character (not a a person in the 9-1-1 universe) is just there as a barrier and a stepping stone towards Buck's endgame, and that's okay, it's good. The show needs a reason for Buck to not go straight to Eddie after realising his sexuality, and I'm enjoying Tommy as that reason. but his character very much is a plot device.

It would be boring if Buck had just realised he was bi and launched straight into a relationship with Eddie, and that's not even discussing the Eddie side of things. (i.e. his catholic guilt being the reason he isn't going to buck... or even realising/accepting his sexuality)

I watch shows from a very analytical view point, I have a media studies degree and it's hard to switch off and honestly i don't want to. I like how i watch the shows i'm interested in. I like trying to figure out where the puzzle pieces will land, what the show runners are planning and the roles the characters have in the stories and arcs to push them to their conclusion.

Tommy and Buck are fictional characters they're plot devices they aren't real humans. so I can't take their agency away from them when discussing their stories, because they don't have agency, because they are puppets and dolls being played by the showrunners and writers.

[telesodalite]

Thinking about KrokFire...

Thinking about them sparring in the cargohold, because it's a long trip, and cabin fever is setting in, and Misfire is gonna pop a gasket if he doesn't do something about it soon, since flying in open space gets real boring real fast, and it's making everyone a little nervous, but Krok has time to kill, and maybe, quietly, he's also two steps away from doing something stupid just to feel alive again after cruising around pointlessly, mindlessly, endlessly, for so so long... (It's barely been a month)

And sure, Misfire is a terrible sparring partner. He has no technique, no concept of proper balance, or an inkling of how to use the weight of his own frame. He rushes headfirst like he's more bull than fighter jet, he talks too much, he spits, he bites, and he can't stand losing. But, in a roundabout way, it almost makes him the perfect partner in Krok's eyes.

Crankcase won't spar, "can't" he claims flatly, gesturing at the gaping hole in his helm, but Krok can respect his want for distance. That occasional flash of fear and frozen unease in Crankcase's visor in close combat doesn't go over his head. He knows that look. He gets it. He won't push.

Fulcrum... well, a streetlight might be a tougher fight, or at least it would stay up longer and complain less. So much for a once respectable officer of the empire. What was Deathsaurus' command thinking promoting anyone without any actual combat training? It would almost be pathetic if Fulcrum didn't find a way to put the vitriol of thrown fists into his words instead. Now there was some swears Krok hadn't heard in a couple millennia, it would be inspiring if it wasn't his own spark Fulcrum had been damning to the pits and back through a bloody nose.

Spinister? Now Spinister was a good fighter, a better fighter, Krok wasn't so prideful to deny that truth. He'd tasted the dust of the cargohold floor enough to know it was a definitive fact. But Spinister held back, he was careful, he matched Krok's pace, his movements, he held himself defensively, any attack was quick, simple, and merely restraining. It was less a fight, and more a waiting game until Krok finally gave up, and that... well, that did sting a bit.

But Misfire? Misfire was a different beast all together. Sure Krok could dance circles around the flier all day, but it wasn't totally effortless work, he had to stay sharp, Misfire was so predictably unpredictable, he kept him thinking, moving, on his toes, and maybe it felt good to sidestep another stupid headfirst charge, easily grabbing and swinging Misfire around by his arm, so unbalanced all Krok had to do was let him go, and the weight of his own frame would send him careening into the crates stacked around them.

Most days, Misfire would give up by then, pull himself off the pile of overturned cargo with no small amount of burning shame and frustration, as he avoided Krok's optics and stormed off into the bowels of the ship before Krok could say something to ease the sting of losing again and again. Misfire didn't want his apologies though, and even as a pang of guilt ate at him over it, Krok knew he'd be back eventually.

But today, too pent-up and bored to quit now, Misfire pushed himself back onto his feet and charged back in again, and again, and again.

And Krok moved with him again, and again, and again. It was almost repetitive, but lively enough that he could feel the energon pumping through his head, a thrumming beat in his audials that reminds him of deafening battlefields and roaring stadiums, and oh, he'd missed this feeling, the adrenaline, the movement, more so than he thought he did.

Maybe it's the overconfidence that gets him then, or the memories pulling him out of the present, but Misfire's fist suddenly comes slamming down into his mask, and for a moment everything becomes a blur, until he finds himself on the floor, clutching at the shattered metal falling from his face in disbelief.

Faintly he can feel the twinge of broken mesh, of pain pinching dully across scarred flickering sensors, and maybe it's the adrenaline that pulls a suprised and breathy laugh out of him as he stares down at the pieces in his hand.

Maybe it's also the disbelief, the sudden shock at being struck hard enough to break his mask, by Misfire of all mechs. Or maybe he's cracked his helm, finally snapping something important deep in his processor, some vital function that kept him sane all these years.

Either way, an old familiar buzz of heady energy fills his chest, loosening his joints and straightening his struts as he stands back up, brushing off the broken remains of his mask as he stares back at Misfire, barefaced and bleeding and amused as the flier's optics go bright and wide.

And all Misfire can do for a moment is stand there, wide-eyed and breathless, his own adrenaline filled frame and hammering processor still trying to make sense of the broken plating of his knuckles and the energon trickling down Krok's scarred lips.

But connections are made, and it's a panicked realization at first, a cold dread, a 'ohhhhh fuck oh primus I fucked up I'm dead I'm so fucking dead-!' sort of feeling, as Krok's marred face breaks into an energon stained grin. But then there's another feeling, growing somewhere underneath the panic, a sudden curl of heat in his chest, a flush of pride, conviction, a sort of frenzied joy at the sight of broken mesh and fresh energon, and another rush of hot anticipation as Krok began to move again, circling, waiting, an unspoken question in the air as he rolls his shoulders back and flexes his hands.

And Misfire answers eagerly, suprising himself almost as he charges foward again, wanting more of that feeling, wanting to win again.

It's not really sparring past this point, and somewhere in the back of their minds they both know that. Every strike, every kick, every punch, it's all thoughtless instinct, each clash of plating, and bite of denta, and scrape of fingertips, is part of a mad dash for victory in the gladiator pit of scrap and debris they've built around themselves.

Of course, it can't last forever. They're no real gladiators, no phase-sixers, no primes, and movements get sluggish, vents rattle and wheeze as coolant pumps reach their limits, and building condensation slides powerless punches right off of scuffed metal and mesh.

Even like this though, worn out and bleeding from more scrapes than he had half a mind to count, Krok is still better, and Misfire is still predictable, and it's no great feat to sweep his legs out from beneath him, landing him flat on the floor, wings spread out and chestplate heaving.

Overworked joints sharply protest as he goes to pin the flier down bodily, and finally Krok faces the fact he has to consider how to end this, so he might let his own beaten frame finally still for a moment to breathe.

But as Krok catches one flailing arm in his grip, scoffing at the desperation, still goading Misfire on even as he tries to end this, a hand stubbornly catches his throat, but stops before it can truly squeeze.

And once more they're not really moving, just staring, watching, but it's less wired and tense now, rather, its shaky, a little unfocused, as exhaustion filters out in heaving puffs of hot air between their frames.

Someone's plating is rattling, Krok isn't sure if it's his own or Misfire's, but the cost of adrenaline is painfully noticeable now. His grip loosens on Misfire's arms, and the idea of total victory is less sweet as his cables begin to ache throughout his inner-framework.

But Misfire's hand slides up to catch his jaw before he can lean back and relent to a truce, and he's pulling him closer, and Krok starts to push him off, call it quits before either of them breaks something past repair, but a flash of energon on Misfire lips catches his eye, and that hadn't been there a moment ago?

Before he can even begin to ask what that was supposed to mean, Misfire is pulling him down again, angling his helm upwards to feverishly meet his lips half-way.

Although the mesh of Misfire's face was throughly bruised and scuffed, Krok had frustratingly failed to return the favor of a busted lip. So, it had to be his own, smeared across Misfire's face at some point in the scuffle, it shouldn't have been interesting in the slightest, but Krok's processor was hazy, slow, and his optics trailed Misfire's glossa as he licked his lips and made an odd curious sound.

And maybe it was a stupid move to make so impulsively, one he'd regret making probably, but still too caught up in the waning heated high of the fight, Misfire figured he could worry about losing such a hard-earned battle later. Right now, this seemed far better than actually winning, and the taste of Krok's energon felt like a victory and reward nonetheless.

Bracing himself as Misfire wriggled his other hand free to splay out over his thigh, holding him desperately against his frame as he tried pulling him even closer, Krok considered the heat dispersion warnings flickering distractingly in his peripheral, and the very noticeable strain on his back and legs, even his arms.

It's not a great position to be in right now, after all they've done already. He'll regret it, he knows he will, his body will make sure of it, if Spinister doesn't first.

But then Misfire's glossa is sliding against the jagged edges of his teeth, and he's making hoarse little pathetic noises into Krok's mouth that stoke some sort of ego at having the flier so desperate beneath him, and Misfire's hands are warm and heavy over aching plating and seams, and really, on second thought, after weeks of boredom, why the hell not?

They've got nowhere to be.

[oceanatydes]

hello writer friends do you have any advice on how to get back to writing fics when you feel paralyzed by perfectionism