#which would have been a fair assumption seeing as that's more or less what I did

[melonpond]

it turns out it only takes 4 weeks of sending someone a pun every single night before they inquire about your mental health

#melon rambles #an irl friend of mine is having a rough time especially at work so I (not knowing how to comfort people) was like 'would a daily pun help?' #and he was like '...if you have them sure?' #so I've been sending him a pun almost every night (missed a few nights but shhh) and he loves them or at least says he does #but tonight I hit him with a double whammy (he replied to my pun and I replied to his reply with another pun) and then he was like #'are you doing okay?' #and then I was like oh crap he's onto me #he's incredibly observant whenever we talked face to face I don't know why I thought that didn't apply to text #maybe he just sensed that it had been too long since I'd panic texted him at midnight about my life falling apart and that I was trying to #deal with things on my own rather than ask for help #which would have been a fair assumption seeing as that's more or less what I did #anyways I feel like I need some kind of emotional vulnerability badge or gold star or something for like fully explaining what's been #bothering me #Fifteen year old me could never. I'm doing so good. My therapist is going to be proud.

[dreamofbecoming]

more stobin nonsense from your resident trash goblin. feat. shitty harrington parents, lavender marriage, full party found family shenanigans, steddie flirting, steve&will bonding, and a severe lack of dialogue tags

rating: t wc: 5k ao3

“I knew it!”

Steve sighs. Listen, he knew the minute he opened his mouth that this was coming. There was always a zero percent chance Dustin was ever gonna let him get out the whole thing before bursting in with this exact interruption, but that doesn’t make it less annoying. If the little shithead would just let him finish--

"I knew you were perfect together, I can't believe you didn't tell us you were dating! How long have you been a thing? I have money to collect! Can I be your best man? Never mind, obviously I'm gonna be your best man. You so owe me for not telling me sooner! I cannot believe-"

"Henderson!"

"What?"

"We're not together like that."

In fairness, Dustin is not the only one to give them an incredulous look for that one.

"Steve. You literally just announced you and Robin are getting married. What is even the point of pretending you're not in love anymore? What are you still trying to prove? Just admit I was right the whole time!"

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and forces himself to take a deep breath, instead of wringing Dustin's weird little boneless neck. It's not his fault, he reminds himself. They haven't gotten to the second part of the announcement, so his assumptions are natural.

Now, it is Henderson's fault that they haven't managed to say the rest of what they came here to say, so maybe he can keep blaming him after all.

"Do you remember when we sat down and we asked you guys to let us say everything we were gonna say without interrupting?"

"Uh, yeah dude, it was like ten minutes ago. We're not stupid."

"Has it occurred to you that maybe we weren't done saying everything we were gonna say, considering I was halfway through a sentence when you jumped in?"

"I mean, I guess, but like, it's pretty obvious where you're going with this, Steve. You're not a complicated guy, no offense. Now, where did we land on the best man issue?"

Nancy must see the offense very much taken on his face, because before he can open his mouth and say something probably horrifically rude that would feel amazing in the moment and which he would immediately regret, she jumps to his rescue.

"Dustin, you're being very rude. Steve and Robin came here to talk to us, and we promised to listen. Let them finish."

It's nice of her to back Steve up, considering how weird this conversation must be for her. Hopefully it gets less awkward soon.

Henderson grumbles mutinously, but years of dealing with first Mike and then the rest of the little dickheads have left Nancy's control ironclad, and he waves sarcastically for Steve to continue.

This kid is spending too much time with Eddie, the attitude is getting out of hand.

"Right. Thanks, Nance. As I was saying, Robin and I are getting married, yes. But not because we're in love. I mean, I love her, obviously, but as a friend. Only a friend. Or, well, I guess a friend and soon a...friend...wife? Frife? Wend? You guys get it."

"We very much don't." Alright, well, fine, add Max to the shitlist.

He looks over at Robin, hoping for help, but she's stiff as a board and trembling all over.

He doesn't want to be the one to say the words for her. They agreed together to tell everyone the truth, it was her idea even, but the last thing he wants to do is steal that moment from her.

Maybe he can just…talk around it, until she feels up to it. And if not, he’ll just tell them his part of it and call it good.

“We’re getting lavender married.”

Okay, so that’s probably not like. A normal way to say that or whatever. Robin just used that term like fifty times last night, alright? She was really excited about the article she just read about it, something about how it was a thing in, like, olden times or whatever, and now it’s coming back because Reagan is a fucking tool, Steve’s not sure, he was only kind of listening. Regardless, now it’s stuck in his head. Sue him or whatever, geez.

Anyway, he isn’t sure how many people in this room will actually understand what that means, but Nancy’s mouth drops open in a perfect little O the way it only does when she’s genuinely surprised by something, and there’s a tiny gasp from over by the table that he thinks might have come from Will, and Max mutters to herself “Oh shit, that explains so much,” so it’s not none of them, which helps. No pitchforks yet, at least.

Jonathan is eyeing him speculatively, and Argyle is offering him an enthusiastic thumbs up, which is nice.

Unfortunately, the other boys and El are giving him blank, expectant stares, and Erica is eyeing him with both confusion and annoyance, so it looks like he still has some explaining to do.

“What the hell does your color scheme have to do with this? I’m not helping plan the wedding, dude, I don’t care that much.”

Steve mumbles a “Language,” on reflex, but his heart isn’t in it. This is somehow more nerve-wracking than evil Russians.

“Mike, that’s not what it means. Now shut up and listen, or I’ll tell Mom how that red sock ended up in her load of white delicates.”

“Oh come on, she’ll kill me!” When all he gets in return is a single raised eyebrow, he groans and slumps further into his seat, glaring at Steve.

“Right. Okay. So basically, last night, my parents--”

“I’m a lesbian!”

There’s a beat of dead silence, which in this group is more unsettling than just about anything else.

Steve keeps his eyes on Robin, who looks just about as shocked at her own outburst as everyone else in the room. He takes her hand, squeezing gently until she unfreezes a little and looks back over at him. She looks terrified, and it breaks his heart a little.

“You okay, babe?” He keeps his voice low, murmuring just loud enough for her to hear. He knows this moment is the opposite of private, but she needs him to pretend for a second, so that’s what he’s gonna do.

She nods, a little jerkily, but she grips his hand back and intentionally evens out her breathing. She’s so fucking brave. He would burn the world down for Robin Buckley, and he doesn’t care who knows it.

He can’t believe she’s willing to do this for him, but he’s so grateful he feels like he’s choking on it.

“Henderdork will literally never shut up and let you live it down if we do this and he doesn’t know the truth. Not even for a single second for the rest of forever, and I, for one, am not putting up with that shit until death or legal marriage reforms do us part, Dingus.”

It was a solid point last night when they came up with the plan, curled on her bed while she stroked his hair and generously pretended he hadn’t soaked the shoulder of her shirt with his sobs, all his worldly possessions packed into a duffel on her bedroom floor, but he knows her insistence was more about knowing how much he hates lying to the kids than it was about protecting herself from irritating teenagers.

He doesn’t think there’s enough room on the whole planet to hold all the love he feels for her, even if you count the Upside Down and any other weirdo dimensions floating around out there waiting to ruin his day.

“I’m okay, bubba. Don’t let go?” Her hand is shaking in his, but he just squeezes harder.

“Never.” He turns back to the room, eyes hard as he scans the faces of their family for any hostility. He wouldn’t have agreed to this part of the plan if he thought any of them would be a problem, but he’s not taking anything for granted with Robbie’s safety. Not now, not ever. "Everyone's gonna be cool about that, right?"

"Of course we are, right, guys?" From the pained grunt that follows her words, Steve assumes Max has dug her elbow into Mike's ribs.

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

"I suppose this makes you slightly less lame, Buckley. It's definitely better than when I thought you liked this loser." Wow, okay, thank you Erica.

"Yeah totally! Thanks for trusting us, Robin." Lucas is a sweetheart, he really is. He's also glancing surreptitiously at Will while he nods enthusiastically, who is still staring open-mouthed at Robin with wide, shiny eyes.

"Yes, thank you for trusting us, Robin." Nancy is smiling kindly, but she's got that glint in her eye that Steve knows means she just came up with more questions and is waiting for the right moment to strike. Fair enough, at least she's letting Robs have her moment first.

He finally drags his eyes back to Dustin, who he doesn't really want to admit, even to himself, he's a little worried about. Not that he'll be shitty about it, necessarily, but there's nothing that brings out Henderson's bitchy side like being wrong, and he's been so fucking wrong this entire time. It's bound to upset him.

And maybe Steve will never say this out loud where the other kids might hear, but the truth is that Dustin's opinion matters to him more than just about everyone else's. Dustin was the first person in the whole world who saw Steve, the real Steve, and decided he was worth keeping around. If Henderson can't accept this part of Robin, it means he can't accept this part of Steve, and if that happens...if that happens Steve isn't sure he'll be able to come back from it.

So he's...not worried, okay? Worried is not the right word. Anxious, maybe. Concerned.

Okay fine fuck off he's worried.

Dustin...looks like he's about to cry. Shit.

"Did you think you couldn't trust me?" His voice is so small. Steve doesn't think he's ever heard it so small. It feels wrong. Henderson's voice should fill every room he's in, always. "You didn't have to lie. You could have told me the truth."

Aw, fuck.

"Buddy,--"

"It's not that simple, little man."

Steve whips back around to look at Robin. Are you sure you’re up for this? She purses her lips and narrows her eyes. Yeah, Dingus, this is my mess. Let me clean it up. Put the lance down, White Knight. Well, alright then. He waves for her to continue, ignoring the looks the others always shoot them when they do their silent conversation thing. Not his fault they can’t read each other as well, it’s not like it’s hard.

"Before today, Steve was the only person in the world who knew about me. And honestly, I don't know if I would have told him if we weren't both coming off torture and truth serum. I've worked hard to hide it my whole life, baby Dingus, that's not an easy thing to stop doing. It's scary."

"But we're your friends. We're your family! We saved the world together! You should trust your family, right?"

Aw, jeez. Steve forgets, sometimes, how young they are. They've been through horrific supernatural trauma, but they're still the kind of kids who think life is a story with a happy ending, like their little dragon game.

"Yeah, bud, you should, but it's not always that easy. There can be really serious consequences for telling the wrong person. Like, last night my parents found out I'm bisexual by accident and now I...well. Now I don't have parents anymore." Oof, okay, little blunter than he meant to be, but Robbie's getting anxious again so he has to take the focus back.

There's an eruption of sound, as every voice in the Party starts shouting all at once, turning the Wheeler's basement into Steve's own personal migraine generator.

"Did they kick you out?"

"You're bisexual?!"

"What's bisexual?"

"They can't just do that!"

"Does this mean we have to find somewhere else for Hellfire nights?"

That last one earns Erica several Looks, but she doesn't flinch. "What? I'm just being practical."

He wishes Eddie was here. The gremlins actually listen to him, unlike Steve, on account of as their Hellfire DM, he has leverage they care about to threaten them with. Well, most of them, but it's definitely a help when he's around.

Sadly he and Wayne are at some kind of Munson family reunion down in West Virginia this week, so Steve is gonna have to do this whole spiel over again when he gets back. He and Robin thought about waiting until he got back and the whole Party could be together, but the kids would definitely notice him not living in Loch Nora anymore pretty much immediately. And Steve hates the idea of telling him over the phone, so double coming out/engagement announcement it is.

"Alright, Jesus Christ, enough! One at a goddamn time, you animals."

He looks back at Dustin, who's definitely crying now. "Yeah, buddy, they kicked me out, but I'm okay. I'm staying with the Buckleys for now, and Rob and I have been saving up to move in together soon anyway, so all this did is move up our timeline. I'm safe and I'm fine, okay? I promise."

Dustin plasters himself to Steve's front, squeezing like he's worried Steve is going to shatter into pieces and he can hold him together by sheer force of will. It's very sweet, even if it's crushing his lungs a little.

"I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me." The words are muffled in Steve's chest, he's not sure anyone else heard him.

"Aw, kid, it's okay. I trust you, alright? Always. You die, I die, remember? I was just...figuring my shit out, that's all."

"Your parents are mouthbreathers." Steve chuckles a little at the mutinous glare on El's face, not pausing his hand where he's stroking Dustin's hair.

"You're not wrong, Supergirl. But it's fine, honestly. They've always been dicks, I've been planning to move out for a long time. They just...gave me the final push, is all." He's definitely leaving out the part where he broke down sobbing in Robbie's bed last night, asking her over and over why he was so broken that his own parents couldn't love him, but the kids don't need to hear that part of the story.

"Does this have something to do with your whirlwind engagement?" There she is, ace reporter Nancy Wheeler. Observant as always.

"Yeah, pretty much. They disinherited me, but they're still legally my next of kin."

"And Dingus has had far too much head trauma for me to trust he's not gonna end up back in the hospital for something at some point, and the last thing we need is Mr. and Mrs. von Child Neglect getting that call. And I was just reading about gay men and women who are marrying each other so they can have someone allowed in to see in them in the hospital, because of the virus, you know? And I thought, hey that's not a half bad idea! We're gonna be living together anyway, and it's not like I'm marrying anyone else, and it'll be good for both of us to have someone who knows about, y'know, monsters and all that jazz, to do our power of attorney stuff, so, voila! Mr. and Mrs. Bucklington!"

"We are not changing our name to Bucklington."

"Well Harringley is worse, so suck it up, buttercup."

"I'm not interested in keeping the Harrington name, Bobs, I'd rather just be a Buckley."

"Aw, bubba, you're gonna make me cry!"

"You should both become Hendersons! Then we'd really be brothers!"

Steve erupts into laughter, the tension effectively broken by Dustin's wide, toothy grin. "What d'ya say, Bobbie? Steve and Robin Henderson?"

"Would we get access to Claudia's lasagna recipe? Because if so, I'm behind this plan one hundred percent.”

"By 'we' you do mean me, right? Because I love you more than life, Bobs, but I'm not letting you anywhere near a casserole dish. I've learned that lesson."

"It was one time!"

"It took me three days to get all the cheese off the ceiling! There's still a stain!"

"Well good! Ceiling grease stains can be the Harrington's problem now, anyway. They deserve it!"

Argyle is nodding sagely from on top of the incredibly deflated bean bag he's sharing with Jonathan. "I do like Bucklington, it makes you sound like a fancy butler. But family is important, brochachos, and so is lasagna. I vote Henderson."

This spurs impassioned arguments from all corners, which Steve is more than happy to relax into the couch cushions and let wash over him.

There's a light, bubbly feeling in his chest. For the first time since his dad walked in unannounced yesterday, interrupting his phone call with Robin at the worst possible moment, the knot of fear and grief in his stomach starts to loosen.

Robin smiles at him, and he grins helplessly back. Who needs parents when he's got a soulmate? They're together, they're safe, they're surrounded by their family. Steve holds Dustin tighter to his side and lets himself feel loved.

He takes advantage of a lull in the Last Name Wars to get out the last of the speech he'd planned. "Anyway, we decided to tell all of you the truth when we came up with this plan last night, because we do trust you and we didn't want to lie to you, and also because we knew you shitheads would never shut up about us being in love if we didn't and that sounded awful."

He laughs delightedly at the chorus of indignant outbursts this gets him before continuing.

"It's really important that you don't tell anyone outside the Party the truth, alright? We're gonna tell Eddie when he gets back, and we might tell Joyce and Hop eventually, but that needs to be our choice to do. You can't do it for us, and you absolutely can't tell anyone else. The whole point of this is to keep us safe by keeping people from finding out the truth, okay?"

El looks vaguely uncomfortable, but not upset. "Will you tell my Dad soon?"

Steve glances at Robbie, who's looking anxious again, and then over at Will. His shoulders are tense, hunched up around his ears, and he's staring intently at the table in front of him.

Steve isn't sure if anyone else knows what he thinks he knows about Will, but he's pretty sure he recognizes the specific flavor of isolation he can see Will struggling with sometimes, and he's definitely sure he recognizes the looks Will shoots at Mike whenever Wheeler isn't looking. Tommy used to look at him like that.

Either way, he knows the kind of fear the kid must be suffering, just like he knows how terrifying today was for Robin. For Steve, the worst case scenario has already happened, so he has a lot less left to lose. He can afford to smooth the way a little, to test the waters and make sure they're safe for everyone else.

It's not that different from his normal role in this group anyway, just a different kind of monster. He's always been good at taking hits so the others don't have to-- this is just another threat to step in front of.

"Tell you what, Ellie, I'll talk to Hop and Joyce this weekend, that way you won't have to keep secrets from him for too long. I'll just tell him about me, though, at first, okay? That way we'll know if it's safe for Robbie." Or anyone else, he doesn't say.

Jonathan hears it, at the very least, and shoots him a look that's equal parts surprised and grateful. Maybe Will has someone else in his corner after all, then.

El nods happily, satisfied with that.

Before anyone else can jump in, there's a clattering on the basement stairs. None of them have time to tense up too badly before the door bursts open and Eddie comes tumbling through it in a flurry of dark curls and frayed denim.

"Fear not, my wayward wastrels, for I have returned from far off lands, bearing tidings and the promise of libations!"

Steve only recognizes, like, four of those words, but seeing Eddie gives him the same happy, fizzy feeling in his gut that it always does these days, so he grins.

"You're back early, Eds, everything ok?"

Eddie blinks at him, then around the room, looking surprised to see it so packed.

"Yeah, my cousin Clarence accidentally broke my MeeMaw's pasture fencing and set all the goats loose in the hills, and if we stuck around we were gonna have to help round them back up, so Wayne and I snuck out early. I was coming to invite the gremlins out for pizza to tell you all about it, but this is more people than I was expecting. Y'all having a family meeting? Without little old moi?"

Steve valiantly suppresses the shiver that the twang in Eddie's voice triggers. Steve's not sure if Eddie notices the way his accent gets stronger when he's been talking to family, but he's had to work very hard to make sure he doesn't notice the way it affects Steve.

Steve has barely tested the flirting waters with Eddie since admitting his crush to Robin, he's definitely not jumping right in with 'It makes me tingly all over when you start talking with a drawl, wanna call me darlin' and see what happens?'

Luckily Bobbie notices his inner struggle and comes to his rescue.

"It was kind of a time sensitive issue- not a life or death one! Or like. Not a monster one, anyway. But shit went down last night and we needed to brief everyone before the geek squad figured out something was funky and came beating down the door. Steve wanted to tell you in person so we were gonna wait til you got back, but here you are!"

Eddie's looking at Robin with an amused smile on his face, one eyebrow raised and his lips quirked in a lopsided grin that is, frankly, unreasonably attractive. "Here I am indeed, my fair Lady of Feathers. So what's the scoop?"

He plops down next to Jonathan and Argyle on the beanbags, nearly sending them all toppling before Argyle hooks both of them around the waists and drags them practically into his lap.

Steve is not seething with jealousy. He's not.

A half a dozen voices chime out all at once.

"Robin's gay!"

"Steve's homeless."

"Robin and Steve are getting married!"

“Purple married.”

“It’s lavender, dummy.”

“Lavender’s a kind of purple!”

"They're gonna be Hendersons!"

"No they aren't, weirdo, they're gonna be Buckleys."

"Bucklington is clearly the superior choice, even if Argyle was right about the butler thing."

“Bucklington my ass, y’all dumb as hell if you think Mom and Dad aren’t gonna try and make him a Sinclair after this.”

"Mama and Papa Harrington didn't like that Stevie boy has double the love to give. Totally bogus. Bi bros for life, man."

"I still call Steve's best man!"

Eddie blinks a little when everyone quiets down, looking vaguely shellshocked. "That was. A lot of information to get in thirty seconds."

And, listen, Steve is like, 97% sure Eddie's cool. More than cool, even. He moves that bandana to the same pocket every time he changes his jeans, no matter what outfit he's wearing. There's no way that's an accident. But if Steve is being totally honest, which he's trying to do more these days, at least inside his own brain, this is maybe not the way he'd have chosen to come out to his crush. It's somehow way more nerve-wracking when he didn't even get to say it himself.

Oh well, it's out there now. It's fine, probably.

Still, there’s a definite feeling of relief when Eddie turns that megawatt grin on him again.

"Man, I wish I'd known there were other queers in Hawkins, I might have listened sooner when Henderson told me how cool you guys were!"

Steve laughs, only a little hysterically. "Dude, if you thought you were the only one, what the hell have you been wearing that hanky for? Who are you hoping will see it?"

It's a little gratifying to see Eddie go flaming tomato red in seconds. "I am not talking about that in mixed company, Steven. There are children here!"

"Ugh, we're literally teenagers."

"Tiny baby infants! If you're so curious, you can ask me again later."

"Promise?" Steve can't stop himself from grinning wolfishly.

Eddie tugs his hair in front of his face to hide, and the frantic little giggle and the quiet "Oh my god," he lets out both sound more than a little strangled. Steve's having the time of his life right now.

"Gross." Ugh, rude. He glares at Robin for ruining his fun. She sticks her tongue out at him.

Before they can devolve into the inevitable slapfight, Nancy cuts in again.

"Alright, unless anyone else has anything to share in private, I think we should take Eddie's suggestion and get something to eat." Good thinking, Nance. "To celebrate the happy couple, of course," she adds with a smirk. Yeah, that makes more sense.

"Onward then, my noble companions, to pizza and to paradise!" Eddie vaults off the beanbag, sending Jonathan and Argyle tumbling. Argyle laughs and accepts Eddie's hand up, while Jonathan just rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

Eddie slings an arm around Robin's shoulders as they head for the basement door. "So, Birdie, what's this I hear about a wedding? I need context."

As the kids go thundering up the stairs, arguing about who gets to drive in which car, Steve lingers. He noticed Will hanging back from the others, and now they're the last ones left, Will still slowly packing up the pens and notebooks he seems to carry around with him everywhere. Jonathan is hovering anxiously in the doorway, so Steve sends him a nod and waves him off. He's got this.

"You ready to go, kid?"

Will fidgets with the zipper on his bag for another few seconds before looking up at Steve through his, frankly tragic, fringe. "I'm sorry your parents suck."

"Yeah, man, me too." Steve shoots him a wry little smile. "It's alright though, sometimes we're better off without them. I've got plenty of family here that love me, I'll survive without Richard and Diane."

Will studies him for a minute. Steve's not sure what he's looking for, but he hopes he finds it.

"That's what Jonathan says about Lonnie." Steve nods, trying not to wince at the memory of the things he spat at Jonathan that day in '83 when everything changed. "I used to think it was my fault he left, but Jonathan says he was just a bastard, and it's better he's gone anyway."

"I didn't know Lonnie," he's careful not to say your dad, "but from what I've heard, Jonathan's probably right. And he's definitely right that it's not your fault."

"Like it's not your fault your parents kicked you out?"

"Yeah, exactly like that. If it was my fault, that would mean I did something wrong. The only thing I did was exist, and be different than they thought I would be. If they can't love the kid they had, then they shouldn't have had a kid at all. That's their problem, not mine. There's nothing wrong with me."

It doesn't matter if he heard all of these things from Robin first, if he's still trying to learn to believe them. Will needs to hear them like they're true, the same way Steve does.

"Are you sure?" Will's voice is trembling now. He's looking at the floor, but Steve can tell there are tears coming. "How can you be sure this is how you're supposed to be? Wouldn't you rather be normal?"

Oh, kid. "I mean, yeah, maybe it would be easier if I only liked girls, but I don't. I tried for a long time to pretend that I did, but it didn't make it true. And yeah, part of me wants to hate myself, because that's what they taught me to think, and I still kinda wish doing that would make them love me, but it won't. But honestly, you wanna know the biggest thing?" Will nods.

"I can't hate that part of myself without hating Robin, and there's no universe where I could hate Robin. Robin's perfect. She's the best person in the world, and she's gay, so being gay can't be bad. It's impossible. So whenever that voice in my head starts saying shitty things to me, I just think about how much I love Robin and tell it to shut up."

There's a beat where Will seems to be absorbing this.

"How did you know it would be safe? To tell us the truth?"

"I didn't."

Will stares at him in shock.

"Not a hundred percent, anyway. I was pretty sure, but it's never a guarantee with stuff like this, you know? But the other option was never telling anyone, and that...it gets tiring, you know? Always having to hide. Always having to check yourself. Lying when people ask the wrong questions. It wears you down. And I've fought monsters with you guys. I've been tortured by spies with you guys. If I can't trust this group to have my back, I can't trust anyone, can I? And I didn't want to live a life of not trusting anyone. I didn't want Bobbie to live a life like that. So, we took a chance. And it paid off, because all of you are the people we thought you were, and we were right to trust you. But it was a leap of faith, dude. It always is."

"What if I'm not ready?" Fucking shit, this kid. He's been through more than any of them, except maybe El, and he's still so goddamn brave. Steve would have crumpled like a tin can in his place.

"Then you're not ready. It's not a test, Will. There's no right or wrong answers. But I will say that every single person out there loves you, and they'll keep loving you no matter what you do. They're not like my parents, or Lonnie. Our friends aren't broken inside the way they are. Their love isn't conditional. You won't chase them away. You couldn't if you tried."

Will lets out a shaky breath, clearly fighting back tears. Steve leans against the table and keeps his head down, offering the kid the illusion of privacy while he pulls himself together. After a few minutes he speaks up again.

"You ready to go, you think?"

Will nods. He goes to walk past Steve to the stairs before hesitating and, to Steve's surprise, wrapping his gangly arms around him in an awkward hug.

"Thanks, Steve," he mumbles into Steve's shoulder.

Steve runs a hand down his back uncertainly. "Anytime, kid."

He keeps his arm around Will's shoulders tentative, but when the kid doesn't shrug him off or move away, he lets it settle more firmly, tugging him closer.

“Come on Baby Byers, let's go get some pizza. You think I can milk the disownment thing to get Eddie to pay for extra toppings?"

Will snorts. "I think Eddie would pay for as many toppings as you want as long as you do that little eyelash thing at him again."

Steve throws his head back and laughs, long and loud from his belly. Yeah, it's gonna be a good night.

my head hurts too much to keep writing this but please know that the pizza parlor engagement party involves plenty of arguing about roles in the wedding party, resulting in MOH erica/best man dustin (scoops troop babeyy), flower girl team lumax (max demanded the role bc her wheelchair means she can carry extra baskets of petals, and lucas will be pushing the chair so her hands are free. he's just excited to be there.) nancy/el bridesmaids and byler groomsmen (mike grumbles and groans but he's secretly thrilled). jonathan does the pictures and it turns out argyle got ordained back in cali as a joke so he officiates. eddie plays crimson and clover for robin’s wedding march. there’s a bit of a kerfuffle when claudia and the sinclairs both try to claim steve as their son, but after someone makes the argument that charles and sue have two kids to carry their name while claudia only has one, they end up hyphenating and becoming the buckley-hendersons. yes, claudia cries. yes, they get the lasagna recipe.

(at the pizza place, eddie asks what his role will be and steve says he doesn't know yet, but he'll save him a dance regardless. eddie has to hide in the bathroom to stop blushing.)

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #dustin henderson #will byers #eddie munson #appalachian eddie munson #the party #not tagging everyone bc i don't want to clog character tags but the gang's all here #inklings of steddie #for what it’s worth i’m firmly in the camp of ‘will is out to el so she knows about gay people’ #the stobin lavender marriage fic #almost #the pre-stobin lavender marriage fic is more accurate #this is mostly a coming out to the party fic #idk i had fun with it #but my head hurts and tags are hard #happy reading i'm going to sleep #my writing

[harry-on-broadway]

Fancy Dress

Word Count: 3.4K || Rating: M

A/N: So this was supposed to be posted in time for Halloween, but better late than never I guess. It can be read on its own, but I've been thinking of it as a sequel to last year's Harryween one-shot. It's not much, but I hope at least a few people enjoy it. 🫶🏻

***

“Gonna dress up for me again this year?” 

Those words had echoed through your head since he’d whispered them in your ear as the first glimpses of dawn pushed through the cloudy London skies. His body, warming yours as he inched closer to you on your pillow, threw off heat, stronger than any radiator you’d ever encountered, and you scooted closer to him in an attempt to ward off the chill of the room. 

“What are you talking about?” Your voice was hoarse, still thick with sleep. 

“For Halloween.”

“You hate Halloween.” You twisted in his arms to roll over and face him. “You’ve made that clear many times.”

“A man can change his mind.”

You sighed. “What happened to ‘Tour’s over. Let’s do something quiet this year?’ Hmm?”

Harry traced a line down your spine and you shivered under his touch. “Doesn’t have to be a big deal. Can be just the two of us.” 

“Well, I’m planning on dressing up as ‘woman who wants to snuggle and eat candy with her boyfriend.’ Accessories include sweatpants and a hoodie, as well as candy and an Apple TV remote.” You felt his laugh against your hair. “Best news of all, it’s a couples costume,” you continued. 

“Oh is it?” 

“Mmhmm. And if you don’t want in, it’s OK. I’ll just call my other boyfriend.”

“Your other boyfriend?!?!” Harry easily flipped you so you were lying trapped underneath him and began pressing feverish kisses against your skin as he tickled your sides. “You better take that back.” 

“Giovanni would never do this,” you laughed.

“He has a name?!” 

You laughed even harder as Harry doubled down on his efforts, forgetting about Halloween all together. 

***

Harry didn’t let the topic rest over the next couple of weeks, sending pictures of costumes – some tame, some a little sexier – throughout the day, earning a fair number of eye rolls from you. 

“What? I’m just trying to brainstorm.”

You looked up from your computer. “Why is this so important to you? Halloween’s never been a big deal. And it’s essentially been a work event for you for the past two years.” 

“I mean,” he shifted in the seat. “Last year was really…nice,” he said thoughtfully. “I liked getting to spend time with you.”

“You liked having sex,” you corrected. 

“Which technically counts as spending time with you.” He ignored your glare and turned thoughtful. “I’m just kidding, but really, I liked getting to spend a fun night with you and would love to do it again. If you feel the same way.”

You softened hearing how much that night meant to him. “Doesn’t it feel less special when it’s not a surprise?”

“I’m going to be honest, love, I really don’t care how it happens as long as you’re naked in my bed.” There was a slightest hint of a blush across his cheeks, and you felt a heat flame across yours as well. You’d been together for awhile now, with no plans of leaving each other anytime soon, but such an intimate admission felt vulnerable.

“You are such a boy,” you chided, not willing to let him onto the jolt of pride you felt at being so openly desired by him. “But we’ll see how I feel.” 

“I can work with that,” Harry said, turning back to his phone, a sly grin on his face.

***

The invitation arrived a few days later. A friend of a friend who he hadn’t seen in ages was throwing a “fancy dress party,” which despite your early assumptions was not a black tie affair. You weren’t that enthusiastic about going, and you could tell Harry was forcing himself to be excited, not wanting to let a friend down. 

“It’ll be fun,” he said, sounding more like he was convincing himself rather than you. “We don’t have to stay the whole time either.”

“Whatever makes you happy, babe,” you said, kissing his cheek. “Pick out whatever costume you want and we can go from there.” 

Picking the costume was easier said than done and the two of you spent much of the next week bickering over who had the better idea. Harry’d been pushing for Barbie and Ken, but you’d dismissed the idea as overdone. And your own suggestion of Paolo and Isabella was shut down by Harry who said he didn’t get the reference. It wasn’t until you all were flicking through the channels on the couch when you all came up with your idea. 

“It’s perfect,” Harry said, grinning at the screen. 

“And super easy,” you added. 

Which is how you all found yourself walking into the party dressed as two characters out of The Notebook, thanks to the blue dress you’d found in the back of your closet and the white button down Harry had pulled from his. You’d offered to splash some water on him to add authenticity, but he declined. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting but the party was a surprisingly low-key affair. Classic simple costumes – vampires with plastic fangs and lipstick blood stains and black cats with felt ears – mixed with some that were more of the moment, ranging from a half-assed Barbie and Ken to what appeared to be Harley Quinn and the Joker. 

“Told you,” you whispered against his ear, as he passed you a drink, looking on as a Barbie walked by looking for her Ken, earning you an elbow to the ribs. 

“Nice look,” Johnny said, fixing a drink of his own. “How did Harry convince you?”

“It was actually a group effort,” you said, with a laugh. 

“Felt a little like fate. We were watching TV one night, the movie was on and it was like a lightbulb went off,” Harry said, wrapping his arm around you. 

“It was easy too,” you chimed in. 

Even though you all had been together for a while, Harry’s circle was so vast that you still hadn’t met many of them, making the party a little nerve wracking, a bunch of faces that weren’t familiar yet. But Harry stayed by you the entire night, hand in hand, steering you around the party, introducing you to his favorite people, and shielding you from the ones he wasn’t as fond of. Going into the evening, you all had made a pact to stay for only an hour, but two had passed by the time either of you looked at the clock. 

“OK to stay a little longer?” he asked and you’d nodded, before turning your attention back to Erin and her story about a costume contest gone wrong. 

Three hours in, you found yourselves on a couch in the back of the house. The room had unofficially been designated at the quiet zone, with a few people taking calls or a breather before returning to the party. Harry flopped down on the end of the sofa, pulling you onto his lap before sighing contentedly. 

“Are you tired?” You rested your forehead against his as pressed a gentle kiss to the bridge of his nose. 

“A little.”

“Well that’s too bad,” you said softly. “Guess I won’t be able to give you your treat tonight.” 

At the mention of the treat, he perked up tremendously. “I mean I’m not that tired. I’d hate to miss it after you put in the effort.” His eyes were steely as he held your gaze. 

“You don’t even know what it is!”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t think you could ever disappoint me.”

You grinned and shifted in his lap, causing your dress to slip up and you guided his hand up your bare leg to rest just under the hem of your dress. His fingers groped blindly and when they reached the edge of your lacy undergarments his eyes widened. 

“Oh fuck,” he whispered against your neck. 

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?!”

“I mean you haven’t seen it yet…” 

“I’ll bloody well be pleased with anything you wear,” he breathed against your neck. 

“Thirty more minutes and then we’ll head out?”

“Fuck that, we’re leaving now.” He gently pushed you up and out of his lap before standing and nearly dragging you to the door.

Harry made a beeline for your coats and bags, and when he had them in hand he caught your eye and nodded towards the front door. You held up a finger and signaled for him to wait before enacting the second phase of your plan. Slowly, you walked up to the first person you could see, thanking them and chatting some more about the party. You repeated this for the next person and the next and the next, until you finally found yourself reunited with Harry. 

“Ready?” you asked. 

“It’s not funny.”

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence. 

“Making me wait when I’m…” Your eyes drifted down to his pants. “How bad is it?” he asked, almost wincing. 

“Not bad, baby, but we should probably do something about that.” 

“You don’t say? Please, for the love of God, get in the car.” 

You laughed, enjoying having him beg for you. “Whatever you say.” 

What followed was the most tense car ride in recent memory. Harry’s leg bounced up and down, his hand gripped tight on your thigh as he looked ahead. His breathing was even and measured but the intensity in his eyes told you he felt anything but. You smiled, pleased with the effect you had on him. 

When the driver pulled through the gate, Harry thanked him, quickly and politely, and you did the same, scurrying along when Harry all but pulled you up the path, jamming his key in the lock and throwing the door open. You closed the door behind you, securing the deadbolt when Harry spun you around and pressed you against the door. 

He held your face, angling it to look up at him and he took a shaky breath, before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was surprisingly restrained, almost chaste, but you savored the way he felt so close against you. Again and again he kissed you. Lips, neck, cheeks, no part of you went unnoticed. You wanted to show him the same affection, but he wouldn’t give you the chance. His hands found your shoulders, pulling your coat off, and then working the straps of your dress down your shoulders, his lips trailing in the wake of his hands. 

After a few moments, you managed to pant out a single word. “Upstairs?” 

Harry pulled back, his lips plump and pink from his efforts, his hair messed from the way your fingers had been threaded through it. “Yeah,” he managed to nod, looking dazed, and you took the lead this time, pulling him towards the stairs. 

In your haste to get to the bedroom, you tripped, over the step or your own feet, you weren’t sure, and landed face first on the carpet, Harry tumbling down after you. 

“If you wanted me on top of you love, all you had to do was ask,” Harry muttered, as you shoved his shoulder. “Are you OK?” 

“I’m fine. You?” 

“No worse for wear. Shall we try this again?” He pushed up from the stairs and offered his hand, which you gladly took. Slower this time, you all continued up the stairs and into the bedroom, where Harry sat on the bed, pulling you onto his lap. “Sure you’re good to do this.” 

You nodded. “Yes, I just need a minute to get ready.”

“Get ready?” Harry arched his brow. “Tell me more.”

“You need to close your eyes.”

“Close my eyes…OK.” He shut his eyes and you wriggled out of his grasp, walking over to your dresser and doing your best not to make a sound as you fished around for the headband you’d stashed there earlier. 

“What is this?” Harry called from across the room. “Some sort of Notebook roleplay? Do you have a thing for Gosling too?” 

“Hush, or you’re not getting your treat.”

That silenced him and you double checked to make sure the accessory was secured on your head. You shimmied out of your dress until you were wearing nothing but your second costume. If you were honest, costume was a liberal description of the flimsy Halloween store lingerie you ‘d been wearing all night. According to the package, you were a dark angel, but the only thing angelic about it was the halo that was precariously perched on top of your head. You stood in front of the mirror, surveyed yourself and tried to summon the confidence to tell Harry to open his eyes. 

“Are you taking your clothes off? I thought that was my treat!”

It was almost funny how outraged he sounded, like a petulant child robbed of a promised prize. 

“Oh I think, you’ll like what I’ve picked out for you,” you shot back. At least you hoped he would. Once you contorted yourself into the black wings that came with the ensemble, you turned to face him, still sitting on the bed with his eyes shut. You padded over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, as you climbed astride him. Once you’d settled into his lap, you uttered the word he’d been waiting for. “Open.”

His eyes flew open and you had to fight a laugh at how comical his face was. Eyes wide and mouth open he was like a teenaged boy who’d yet to see a pair of breasts, as he glanced between yours, covered in a sheer, lacy bralette and your face. 

“Fucking hell what is this?”

“You said you wanted me to dress up…”

“Yeah, I did. I did say that,” he said, wetting his lips, his eyes transfixed on your chest. 

“And I didn’t really know what to dress up as since you weren’t doing a show this year and we didn’t really have a theme and I couldn’t think anything on my own and this was the only thing left at the store and –” 

He cut you off with a kiss, more passionate than those he’d first given you in the entryway. “It’s perfect, love. Better than I could have imagined.” 

He held you tight against him as he kissed you, his fingers tangled in your hair and yours in his. You tightened the grip of your legs around his waist as you returned his kisses with a passion you didn’t think you’d ever felt before. In the heat of the moment, you rolled your hips, dragging your center over his lap and feeling every inch of his growing erection through the flimsy fabric of your panties. You moaned at the sensation and did it again. He felt even harder than before and you shuddered involuntarily at the thought of him inside you later. 

“You like that baby,” he huffed against your mouth. “Does my angel like that?” he asked as he bucked his hips. 

“Yes. Yes, please,” you replied, practically begging for more. 

“Going to be good and let me take this off of you?” His hands were on your hips, stilling your movement. 

You closed your eyes and bit your lip, nodding, not trusting yourself to speak. Suddenly you felt Harry’s teeth against your shoulder as he used his them to pull your bra strap down, the movement scratching at your skin in the most delicious way, before Harry trailed kisses down your arm, soothing the sting away. He repeated the action on the other side before placing a kiss on the side of your breast and wrapping his tongue around your nipple. Hands still on your hips, he gently pushed you, encouraging you to rock back and forth on him once again. 

You were so sensitive that even the smallest action had a massive effect. The combination of his mouth and the rhythm of your hips moving in time together had you feeling the beginnings of an orgasm deep within you, a feeling that was only magnified as he moved across your chest to your other breast. 

“Love,” Harry said after a moment, pulling away from you. 

“Yes?”

“I-I-” He started again. “We need to do something otherwise I’m not going to last.” His cheeks were red, whether from passion or embarrassment, you weren’t sure, but you nuzzled against his neck. 

“That’s alright, baby. I’m all yours.”

“Yeah, you are,” Harry said, almost as if he didn’t believe it. “Wanna get up for me?” 

You climbed off of him with wobbly legs, nearly landing on your ass – and taking Harry with you – in the process. But Harry scooped you up in his arms, helping you get comfortable on the bed, as you all laughed off the moment of clumsiness. 

“Do you want to take this off?” you asked, gesturing to the cheap black wings that were shedding all over the white sheets. 

“No, I kind of like them,” Harry said. “It’s uh…kind of sexy,” he mumbled, against your neck. 

“Noted.” 

“May I?” He’d hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties, waiting for your nod of consent, which you readily gave him. He slowly pulled them down your legs, tossing them somewhere behind him, before moving his lips down your body. 

It was almost a ritual at this point, the way he explored you as if you were uncharted territory each time he had you naked in front of him. You’d been told this wouldn’t last forever, that all couples eventually tired of each other, that sex became a routine thing, a means to an end. That may be the case, but you secretly hoped that you and Harry were the exception to this rule. 

He’d made his way down to your thighs at this point and you opened your legs wider, inviting him in. Your back arched when you felt his fingers inside you, testing the waters. 

“So wet for me already and I’ve barely done anything. Careful love, this will go to my head.” 

You made to kick him, but he dodged your attack and managed to hit that spot in the process, drawing a cry from you. 

“Was that good?” You could hear the teasing smirk in his voice. 

“You know it was.”

He crooked his fingers, earning another moan from you as you tried to pull him up to you. “Ready so soon?” he asked, as if he wasn’t already aware. He lined himself up with you and thrust forward with no preamble. 

His sheer size still took your breath away – quite literally – and you breathed heavily at the feeling of him, all of him, inside of you. 

“Easy, love. Slow,” he said, calming you as he gave you a moment to adjust, waiting until your breath had steadied before gently rocking forward.

You angled your hips up, meeting his pace and trying to drive him as deep inside of you as possible. You brought your legs higher around him, giving him more freedom to move and his pace accelerated. 

The sounds coming from your bedroom were, quite simply, ugly. Between the moans and groans and heavy breathing, the grunts that meant move over or shift this way that you all inherently understood, the sounds of sweaty bodies rubbing against each other. It was brutal, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Love, I’m going to come,” Harry said, words urgent against your ear. “I’m not going to be able to hold on.” 

“It’s OK baby,” you said, encouraging him. He was always so selfless, you wanted him, just once, to take a moment for himself. “Just let go.” 

His hips stuttered, once, twice, three times in quick succession and you felt the tell-tale warmth and wetness of his orgasm between your legs. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry,” he wheezed. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” 

You sighed softly, contentment radiating through you. “You don’t have to. Sometimes it’s nice to just…” 

“Yeah…” 

The two of you lay there like that for a while, ignoring the stickiness of the sweat, and for you, the itchiness of the costume pieces that were still on you. 

Finally, Harry rolled off of you, and you cuddled into his side. 

“That was a very nice treat,” he said, voice hoarse. “I think we both need more treats.” 

“I’ll second that. And I promise next year will be even better.” 

“Next year?” Harry said aghast. “I think you deserve one of your own right now.” 

***

talk to me! || master list

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles ff #harry fic #harry styles one shot #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff

[devsgames]

My Philosophy on Commissioning Art as a Game Dev (or how to avoid exploiting people when/because you have no budget)

(This post cross-posted from My Patreon, where I share development insights, prototype builds, and devlogs from my games as I work. Please consider supporting!)

The other day I was speaking to an indie developer who was complaining how prohibitively expensive it was to pay an artist to make art for their video game project; they essentially complained at length about how difficult it was to find artists who would work at affordable prices for devs, especially in contexts of working as a solo dev and being self-funded.

I won't mention their name but it was certainly a complaint that I empathized with greatly as someone who works regularly on a shoestring budget and loves collaborating with artists on my games. However, I think it's terrible (and interesting) how much awful rhetoric and exploitative thinking surrounding paying people for work has propagated through our industry even at the lowest level, and how indie devs can easily normalize the exploitative capitalist practices carried out by larger studios at a small scale.

I want to hit on some of the topics in that conversation thoughts I have on them as they relate to development, as both someone who has both been an artist taking commissions and a self-funded solo developer who has sought artists to commission for working on my game, and provide my perspective on them.

Some of the common arguments I've seen for undercutting artists:

1) "If an artist charges too much, I'll find someone else who will do it for cheaper."

Seeking out artists who charge less is the kind of behaviour that drives artists to devalue their work; other artists see someone charging less who is getting more work than they are and say "well maybe I should be charging less" and then begins the race to the bottom which results in no one getting their fair wages. Sure there's often opportunity to compromise with an artist - maybe strike a deal with them, or work out a payment plan that suits your needs - bit if you're seeking the highest quality and lowest cost then you're directly enacting patterns used by capitalist exploitation, and you as a creative need to challenge your relationship to labour and how you treat someone who is offering theirs.

There's also an underlying assumption to these statements that some artists are overcharging for their work - but understand is an exception and not a norm. The reality is that artists are exceptionally underpaid for the work they do, and finding ways to underpay them further only exacerbates the cultural issue of devaluing art and the labour artists do to create.

2) "Some artists want commercial use fees when I own the IP to the game, and it makes it too expensive. My game isn't even big/expensive enough to warrant paying commercial fees!"

Consider this from the perspective of an artist: they don't know the extent to which you're using their work, how much you're profiting from it, or how successful your game will be, or how that success will reflect on them. Many developers and commissioners, at a baseline legal level, can't be trusted to be honest or impartial about what value your project has, and any artist is within their right for charging you what they anticipate the risk or gain will be to them. Especially these days when projects can go from 0 to trending overnight, how is there any way of guaranteeing an artist is being compensated fairly for the exposure (or lack thereof) your project might provide?

The reality is that even if you think your game will be a flop or a passion project, an artist kept at arms length doesn't know that and can't risk missing compensation based on 'vibes' or your gut feeling on your game's success. Developers don't even know for sure how successful their game will be, why should an artist be expected to charge you fees appropriately in response?

On top of this, Commercial use fees aren't a one-way street and they can protect developers too; it often means you're given permission to use their works for promotional materials, logos, marketing copy, presskits and the like with their advanced permission, and can give you legal protection in the event they try to rescind that arbitrarily. It's a two-way street that empowers you to promote your work by using theirs and is well worth paying the money to them, and it can protect both parties in the event of a falling out. It isn't a random restriction in place to charge more money arbitrarily, it's there for a reason.

If commercial use fees are a problem to you, you might be inclined to seek out artists who don't charge them: once again, this is enacting the practices outlined in #1. In fact, this is even worse as now you're actively seeking artists who don't have protections for themselves in place or might not be aware of commercial fees as a concept.

In my opinion, as a developer, if you find an artist who doesn't mention commercial fees in commission prices you are morally obligated to explicitly ask them about if they charge commercial fees. It could be likely they simply aren't aware of them, and this makes them a vulnerable target to exploitation by others who approach them in the future. If they don't know about commercial use standards and you choose to commission them for a commercial work then you're taking advantage of someone's naivety which is incredibly exploitative.

3) "If my game is a breakout hit there will be more work for them later, or I can come back and pay them what they're owed after it makes money."

Even if your heart is in the perfect place, the reality is: you probably won't. I've seen well-meaning people fail to pay others for a whole host of reasons, from clerical errors, sudden bankruptcy, or even just being too dang busy and forgetting to send an email. Even if you have the money it doesn't take much to forget to connect it with someone even if you're well-meaning and you have a healthy working relationship. I've definitely been on the receiving end of this before!

Whether your project makes money or no, everyone touching it needs to be paid for the work they do on it without chasing you down. Any artist is well within their right to assume they should be paid in full, up front, for all costs and risks associated with taking on your project. Moreover as a dev who should be paying someone you simply don't know their financial reality - maybe your payment is their grocery bill this month, or maybe they're jusy needing to make rent of this relationship. It's irresponsible to try and wiggle some of that payment away from them.

As for the idea of paying an artist what they're worth later down the line: How many studios have you heard of who pays an artist for work and then comes back later to pay them royalties, without being badgered or taken to court over it? Why should an artist you're approaching assume you're the exception to this pattern? Why should someone only get paid on the condition you make enough money to pay them, as opposed to simply paying them up front for all the work you're asking them to do?

On that note...

4) "Should I consider revenue sharing?"

Most developers I know of who entertain the thought of revenue sharing have never shipped a video game before, and they assume that once the game comes out there'll be plenty of money to go around. Unfortunately not only is that not true in almost every case (especially in cases where it's a game by people haven't shipped a game before). It's also a testament to how unreliable revshare models are - how many people who plan a model around revshare survive long enough to ship a game and properly enact that model afterwards?

Per #3, it's incredibly risky as a creator to simply trust someone will pay you everything you're owed after something launches, and there's risk your stinginess is imparting on the artist. Revshare doesn't protect artists if a project flops, or outright falls apart, or you run off with their work, or your computer catches fire, and so on. You're asking them to take on unnecessary risk with revshare that would be avoided if you pay them directly, up front.

Not to mention most people don't need promises of 'payments of unknown amounts delivered 3-4 years from now', most people need 'known quantities of money given ASAP'. There's no contest in equitably here.

---

"Devon you don't understand, my game probably won't make any money! How am I supposed to find or attract artists to work on it if I can't compensate them for it?!"

So here's the harsh thesis I guess: I firmly believe if you as a game developer can't afford to commission people to make things that would fulfil the vision you have for your game then I believe you should not be creating a game that requires this art to be made in the first place. Or minimally, you need to be more willing to compromise your vision and ideas than you are willing to exploit a creative in order to maybe be able to execute that vision.

Cutting things, changing ideas and re-thinking your process is all part of the act of making games, and it's always better to do that than it is to take advantage of someone in order to get what you want. If I can't afford someone to work on my game, my process is ask myself "Okay, well then what can I do instead?" and find a way around it that doesn't involve that specific skillset, or I take time to learn that skillset myself. If I can't find a way to plan my project around this weakness it means I've done a poor job of planning something that is achievable to make by myself, and I need to rethink my plan and execute it in a way that takes into account my abilities and resources at hand - both financial and labour-wise.

At the end of the day your vision or idea is simply not worth taking advantage of anyone else's labour, or else you will easily fall into practices that exploit the labour of others.

Having to confront the reality that you can't ethically make the thing you want to make is a bummer, but don't get me wrong, not all hope is lost: Not only has there never been more free, open-source and pro-bono resources for making games available online, but there's never been more opportunities than ever learn a new skill.

If you can't find an asset or resource for free that you can twist into working for you, you might as well try learning that skill that you're trying to get someone else to do. There's tons of tutorials and free resources that will teach you all about game development and its many facets, and you might be pleasantly surprised at what you're capable of if you apply yourself towards it. If you have time to make a game you likely have time to learn a skill.

The fact of the matter is that seeking means to create what you want without compromise at the lowest possible cost is the exact behaviour pattern that is conductive to abhorrent exploitation under capitalism - it's why AAA studios seek the cheapest outsourcing studios in the global south to make assets for them who can maximize labour and minimize profit, or why so many creatives in game development in general are underpaid for their skills relative to other industries.

If you want to avoid contributing to a cycle of exploitation then you need to be aware of what that cycle is, who it takes advantage of most, and how it works. Then challenge yourself to consciously act in a way that disrupts it, or else you will risk falling into it yourself.

Thanks for reading!

#gamedev #game development #indie games #indie game #game dev #gamedevelopment #indiegames #game art #game industry #artist on tumblr #art #artists on tumblr #blog #commission #philosophy #advice

[darkmasterofcupcakes]

In hazbin hotel, being Gay has no bearings on going to Hell or Heaven (the "vile and blasphemous" line was because Charlie is Lucifer's daughter) , so I don't think Vaggie would feel too weird about being attracted to women, especially once more openly gay, Trans etc people arrive.

For the first century and some of her life? Sure.

But I think she would be accepting of it in the last 80-90 years of her time in heaven, especially since the Sisterhood of the Exorcists is promoting a very violent mindset and killing sinners in secrets, it leave little room for interactions outside of the group, cue experimentations.

Also, considering how Agatha annoyed Lute for not being "proper" regarding the "out of wedlock baby" and single mom status, I think it would fuel her desire to accept Vaggie's gayness.

I can even see Lute appreciate how it can make Vaggie feel more like a part of the group on the more pragmatic side, or at least use it as an argument for people who are bothering her on it and that she won't just ignore or scare into silence.

I never really thought about that, but you do have a point. I think a lot of people assume Lute is homophobic (and maybe she is) because of her line about Charlie and Vaggie's relationship, and well as one of the comments about Angel in her solo during "You Didn't Know" but you could argue that, like you pointed out, her issue with Charlie and Vaggie dating could be more based on Charlie's status as a demon/Lucifer's daughter than them both being women. And the thing with Angel could just be a commentary on him being so willing to have what is implied to be casual sex in general, regardless of the gender of his partners. Obviously those are still not good views to have, but they are possibly alternatives.

I do think that Vaggie would still struggle a bit for a while, though part of it would be her just kind of making the wrong assumptions regarding why her mother was essentially judged behind her back? At least when she was young. Because she heard occasional whispers (and the one time she asked about her grandmother and why she'd never met her, Lute did explain that Agatha didn't like the fact that Lute wasn't married to Vaggie's father) where people would say pretty insulting things about her mother when Lute herself wasn't there to hear, regarding the fact that she wasn't even in an official relationship with, much less married to, Vaggie's father. And young Vaggie initially made the wrong assumption that the issue was more about the fact that her mother wasn't in relationship with a man, period, rather than the truth, which is that the issue was that Lute was an unwed single mother by choice.

But Vaggie did likely figure it out more as she got older and especially after officially joining the Exorcists....at least in part due to the reasons you pointed out. With how secretive the Exorcists are supposed to be, while it's probably not impossible that some of them have partners outside of the group who just are told cover stories for what they do for work and/or what they're doing when they're gone during Extermination Day, a lot of them likely just have relationships among each other to avoid any of that. And in my AU at least, while Charlie was Vaggie's first serious girlfriend, I will say her first kind of trying out a relationship with anyone was likely with another Exorcists, probably one who joined around the same time she did. She likely did still feel weird about it for a while, and didn't fully realize she was a lesbian until a fair bit later.

Lute likely was more accepting of Vaggie's sexuality than some might expect, partially out of spite regarding how hurt she was at how her own parents, especially her mother, who she had been very close to before Vaggie was born, basically cut her out of their lives for her decision to raise Vaggie on her own. So while she obviously couldn't be as accepting as she wanted to tell herself she would be - she does still find the relationship between Vaggie and Charlie shameful, sadly - she is fully accepting of her daughter being gay. Also helps that I might actually headcanon Lute as not actually being straight, but rather gray-ace or demi - she's pretty much only interested in Adam in regards to sex or romance (though the romance part even she's in denial about).

#Hazbin Hotel #Lute #Vaggie #Hazbin Lute #Hazbin Vaggie #Adam #Hazbin Adam #Guitarspear #Vaggie is a Guitarspear Baby AU #Cradle will Fall #Hazbin Exorcists

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

The law still gives benefits to heterosexual couples that many gay people cannot easily access eg parenting benefits, tax advantages for having a partner who is more dependent on the other (gay relationships tend to have a more equal distribution of labour). I have no interest in having children but for instance if a straight woman had a child, there is a presumption of paternity for her husband. In many Western countries, this isn��t available to lesbians. A lesbian mother often has to adopt her own child if she didn’t give birth to it. How is that fair?

Why not concede you are wrong when you claim that homosexuality is promoted or privileged because that isn’t true? If that were the case and every single media arm is promoting it, you would expect to see the majority of the population internalise this message and therefore the percentage of homeless gay teens to be considerably lesser, people wouldn’t live in the closet or agonise about coming out to their families, people wouldn’t hide even the most banal references to their homosexuality in various situations such as in the workplace, significant political figures wouldn’t be releasing adverts or statements dedicated to attacking us as deviants etc?

And by the way I count on my fingers how many times I’ve seen the mainstream media include or celebrate gender non conformity, much less gay characters.

We don’t have as much power as you seem to think you do.

I’ve been reading your blog with an open mind actually so I wanted to challenge some of your statements.

I'm starting to wonder if you're just a really elaborate troll, since everything you've written above is so blatantly, self-evidently wrong, that you must be able to see it, but you're obviously committed to the bit, and they're good jumping off points to talk about things worth addressing, so I'll bite:

"if a straight woman had a child, there is a presumption of paternity for her husband."

That's because the child is his, made from his DNA. That's because he IS the child's biological father. The problem more men actually have is being forcibly made to pay for the financial support of children that aren't actually theirs, and the state tries to make it hard or even illegal for them to prove through DNA testing that the child is another man's.

"A lesbian mother often has to adopt her own child if she didn’t give birth to it. How is that fair?"

Because she's not the child's biological father or mother. The child is not made from her. Hence, the child is not "hers" by default.

If we refuse to acknowledge the physical realities and innate biological rights of parenthood, then any stranger could just walk into a playground, pick up a child and walk off with it, saying "I'm your parent now".

"Why not concede you are wrong when you claim that homosexuality is promoted or privileged because that isn’t true?"

Because it IS true, and unmistakably so. This is what a police force looks like in every western nation today:

"If that were the case and every single media arm is promoting it, you would expect to see the majority of the population internalise this message"

That's a very telling assumption, because you are saying there you believe that whatever the state forces upon the population will be the beliefs the people automatically hold in private. Which is like saying you expect the Tibetan people to sincerely hold the Communist beliefs of the invading Chinese army that has occupied them for the past 70 years. Or that if your country was invaded by a fascist dictatorship that did nothing but put out pro-fascist propaganda 24/7, you yourself would automatically believe in fascism.

No: people have their own beliefs, separate to whatever agenda the state is imposing upon them. Which is as it should be.

"And by the way I count on my fingers how many times I’ve seen the mainstream media include or celebrate gender non conformity, much less gay characters."

That's a hell of a lot of fingers you must have there:

#funny

[ratgrinders]

hello tumblr user ratgrinders... appreciate the work you do even in these trying times (post onscreen homicide). i think the fact that kipperlilly is like, annoying and reminds people of girls they didnt like in high school ppl miss out on a lot of interesting stuff going on w her!

like, the "power hungry teen girl who is just evil and tbk kill her" thing has already been done in fhfy with penelope, & its much more interesting to think about how & why the ratgrinders are doing all this suspicious stuff tbk are noticing-- like the fact that they have been very cagey about showing their combat abilities, the weird stuff going on with various deities, and even kipperlilly's stolen therapy files (lol) are very intriguing!! and imo writing that off as assuming they'll be straightforward, incompetent villians (popular assumption due to their lack of friendship, even though it's famously the weakest magic) is far less interesting. like... they got into this situation for a reason and got involved w all this stuff somehow, & i don't think all of this would happen if they were a normal adv party, even a shitty one. how did they get here! why!! thx

thank you so much, its getting hard out here but nothing can stop the rat grinders stan grind!!!!! (<- is coping. im coping)

yeah but fr, kipperlily is FASCINATING to me. i truly believe that she thinks everything she does is justified in service of her larger goal, whatever that may be. yeah, stone cold murder really isn't the fairest thing you can do to your academic rivals, but writing all of that off as "oh she's just always been a jealous hypocrite who never believed in what she was spouting" i think is an inaccurate interpretation of her own motivations. she clearly believes in something.

cuz the thing is, we're still not really sure was kipperlily wants? ("egg on my face for wanting something"). sure, she's trying to run for student body president, but what exact rules is she hoping to implement, and how does that relate to trying to resurrect a rage god? plus, grix attacked ruben because he/his ritual were a direct threat to the existence of the school, which seems counter productive if you're trying to become president of it.

and what cause would kipperlily specifically have to be tied up with a rage god anyway? there's nothing that clearly on the surface ties a little type A halfling rogue to a fiendish god of rage and conquest, hell some of the other members in her party seem like on the surface they would have a closer tie to it (like both of their now dead clerics, mary ann who literally harnesses rage, ruben who is full of teen angst). kipperlily's apparently been filled with rage since freshman year, but why? (is she like riz, who spent his whole life infected with an aspect of the nightmare king and literally grew up with this seed of doubt inside him? did something similar happen to kipperlily?)

ankarna is the goddess of justice and the conviction to act when they see something unfair. no matter what, i think kipperlily truly believes that she's witnessed something unfair. and it feels significant to mention that this last murder is an escalation on the rat grinders' part. the other people who have ended up dead around them (lucy, yolanda, the original hosts of frosty faire) all seemed to have died indirectly as a result of the rage crystals and the uncontrollable rage it inspires. this is the first time we're seen stone cold premeditated murder, done with simply a blade and betrayal.

honestly, this transition seems to mirror what ankarna herself went through, starting off as the goddess of conviction and justice but slowly transitioning to one of conquest and war. brennan said something about ankarna, "yeah its nice to have someone like that on your side who will stand up for you, but you better hope that person is always right". i think what we're seeing now is someone with that same conviction, but with a misguided cause.

kipperlily's crossed a line now and i wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't end up redeemed by the end of the season, but i'm still interested in how she and her party were motivated to do this in the first place, because like you said i don't think a normal adventuring party would've ended up here. it takes a lot to transition to multiple murders!

#as a goro akechi stan you could never make me hate the overachieving slightly murderous high school student full of rage its impossible #dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy spoilers #original post #rat grinders #kipperlily copperkettle

[orange-orchard-system]

Got a hate ask on my other blog (funnier-as-a-system) today. I'm not gonna respond to it directly, but I'm gonna go over it fully just as an example of why I don't take anti-endos or sysmeds seriously and find them to be just bullying assholes who don't know what they're talking about. Apologies for the rare discourse post, but I felt it would be useful to have a personal example I can point to if I ever get any more asks than I already have about why I block anti-endos and sysmeds and don't want them on my blogs.

[ID: A screenshot of an anonymous ask, which reads: ""Systems" aren't real. Please stop being ableist against people with DID and our struggles. Pretending to be one of us while simultaneously mocking us makes you look like a piece of shit. Also, DID isn't fucking funny, you're just cruel and ableist. Go see a psychiatrist, get your personality disorders and Munchausens taken care of, and stop pretending to have DID when you don't. We don't need you, our community is better off without teenagers faking DID as a meme. To be honest, I wish you and literally everyone like you were more likely to kill yourself as someone with a real mental illness, because you don't deserve to be alive if this is what you're doing with your life. You're just a delusional bully and neo-nazi" ./ end ID]

Starting from the top, apparently anyone with DID who's ever described themselves as a system is faking now. Nevermind that it's been a term in psychology and the community for decades now! All systems are fake!

I have DID. I've said as much many times. Not that I think this person would consider this a counterargument, but I feel it deserves restating considering a fair amount of my posts are specifically about my DID and managing the symptoms of it.

If I want to find humor in my own disorder, I'm going to. I'm not going to resign myself to misery and self-hate just to please some randos on the Internet. I crawled my way out of the pit of self-hate and am not just gonna jump in there again just to avoid a couple asks and assholes. And I'd make a point here about systems that don't come from trauma or aren't disordered, but what's the point of that when they think literally all systems are fake?

Ohoho! Disableism towards other mental disorders! Isn't the irony sweet?

Not to toot my own horn, but I just love the lack of awareness when it comes to "we don't need you." No, I guess you don't need me... but you'll be going without the work I've done both online and offline to teach people about dissociation and plurality. Not to mention the terms I've coined that make people feel seen, the experiences I've talked about that make people feel less alone, the building of spaces to let others talk about their own problems and experiences, and the general promotion I've done of plural representation in media. No, you don't need me, but I've been doing work to assist the DID and wider plural communities for years now. And what have you been doing? Sending hate asks to people with DID for being too happy?

I'm an adult. I've mentioned before that I go to university and have a job. Seems like even online, I can't escape the assumption that I'm a teenager, smh. Also, I'm much more worried about the teenagers you might be sending this to than any kind of unquantifiable harm a couple teenagers faking DID could do, considering how clearly you wish to do harm with your words. Especially considering the next few sentences...

Oh, so we're just moving onto blatant suicide baiting and admitting you want systems to die. Got it. Totally not a bigot, right.

Wait... "Real mental illnesses"? Didn't you just accuse me of having several earlier? Or do personality disorders and Munchausen Syndrome not count? (Also, do they think being suicidal is a requirement to be mentally ill? They know not all disorders or presentations of disorders involve suicidality, right?)

Well, you got the delusional part right (which, side note, do you think it's impossible for people to have both DID and psychosis? Big yikes even if no, but that's what these asks always seem to imply), but I think this post might be the closest anyone can call "bullying", considering I'm not giving you an opportunity to respond as I tear down your argument. But maybe the definition of peer abuse changed to *checks notes* running a blog talking about plurality in a positive manner since I last checked.

These people do know what a Neo-Nazi is, right? They know what a Nazi is? Because it feels like people just use it as a stand-in for "general asshole" when it means a specific sort of ideology and bigotry. Ironic that they'd be so pissed about "mockery" and treating serious topics "as a meme", but then they go and misuse a term for a very dangerous kind of ideology and person.

Alright, I think I got that out of my system. Please be careful out there, guys! It feels like the number of hate asks I've seen people get has been going up. I'm in a stable enough place to make a demonstration out of this, but don't push yourself to have a snappy comeback or write essays responding to these assholes if you don't think you're up for it. Hell, I rarely write things like this myself, I just chose this ask to respond to because it was such a clear example of how hypocritical and foolish this particular brand of assholes is that I couldn't pass up the opportunity to break it down.

#syscourse #disableism #front soup.txt #suicide baiting

[rayalltheway]

A lil fic snippet for @journeytomonkiekid !

This was supposed to be part of soemthing bigger but I lost momentum lol but here we have Wan Ji and her father-in-law (my oc) hehe

——————————————————————————

“So, you’re not…back to life, exactly?” Wan Ji asked, hoping that question somehow came out okay.

“Well, we are…“ Zhuang Jie answered, not sounding any less neutral than before, but he still took a sip of his tea before continuing.

“I guess the best way I can put it is that we’re still technically ghosts, just in…fully corporeal forms. Even Changbiyuan can’t fully summarize how that works, so apologies, I’m not that much better off.” He smiled to himself a bit at that, clearly taking some humor in it, which made Wan Ji relax a bit more. She was alone with the elder man in Macaque’s dojo right now — who had made himself scarce during this topic of conversation, for fairly obvious reasons.

Despite the mutual understanding (at least, there was an assumption of such), Wan Ji noted that the lack of his son’s presence did bear some weight on Zhuang Jie — and when Wan Ji looked back up at him from her own drink, she saw the concern in his eyes as he regarded her.

“Does it bother you?” He asked, his tone genuine.

“What?” Wan Ji’s tails fluffed up a bit in surprise, and she quickly raised a hand in frantic reassurance. “Oh no, no, not at all! I just wanted to make sure I didn’t say or…assume anything…insensitive…” she explained, self-consciousness starting to grip her — but Zhuang Jie’s expression softened quickly, and he chuckled. She couldn’t help but hear Macaque at that moment.

“Don’t worry about that, I appreciate it. I don’t think there’s any easy way to put it. We both were dead, and…now we’re not. But we’re not going anywhere.” He said gently, and Wan Ji saw his eyes leave hers, gaze deepening at the purple training mat in front of them. “Not again.”

Wan Ji was still a little bit in wonder about this whole thing. Macaque having a father and stepparent who came back from the dead, sure, that was incredible and complicated…she wasn’t sure what to expect at first. But now she was seeing how this man was capable of such pure paternal warmth, in words and action. Even more so that it was currently directed at her. She was pretty sure he had genuinely smiled at her more in this one conversation than her father had in years. She…wasn’t really sure how she felt about that, honestly, so she was trying not to dwell on it. Besides, that didn’t matter right now.

“I am so sorry that you went through that, Zhuang.” Wan Ji spoke empathetically, welling up a bit when thinking of this sorrowful subject she’d been learning more about piece by piece over the last few weeks. “I can’t even imagine what it must’ve been like.”

“It’s alright. And please — don’t try to.” He said, looking back at her with reassurance. “I don’t want to overwhelm you with this topic if it’s uncomfortable to hear about. But don’t worry about offending me — I’m too old for that now.” He said with a joking smirk, and Wan Ji let out a snort.

“Point is, if you have any other questions, I’m fine to answer them, kiddo.”

“…You and Changbiyuan?” She questioned. Surprisingly, Zhuang Jie nodded without hesitation.“Of course. They’d like that, actually.” He stated plainly, and Wan Ji felt taken aback.

“Really?” She couldn’t help but say aloud, and she quickly felt herself regret it, her face warming in embarrassment when Zhuang Jie raised a brow at her questioningly.

“Sorry! It’s just, Macaque told me a little about…” She paused when feeling that same sinking in her gut, that same chill running over her…the memories of that demon.

“...What happened to them.” Zhuang Jie listened patiently as she took a moment to get her words together. “I guess I figured that asking them about it directly would possibly be…triggering for them.” She finished, nervously glancing up to see Zhuang Jie’s reaction. He was nodding contemplatively, unangered.

“That’s a fair assumption to make. When it comes to certain…details, you’re not wrong.” He clarified gravely, taking a moment before smiling lightly at the younger woman.

“But here’s the thing about Changbiyuan — you don’t know them well yet, but once you do, they’re an open book. Sometimes too much of one.” He said, and Wan Ji smiled back at him. It was sweet, hearing him talk about Changbiyuan. About Macaque, too, and seeing this…trust he was placing in her, a woman he basically just met. She briefly wondered just what she was missing.

“They definitely have many horrible memories, we both do. But they cherish the good ones with all of their heart, and want them to be known. If you want to ask them about their family…I think will make them really happy. Especially in this case. You’re someone we both hope to be close to.”

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #the little warrior au #six eared macaque #lmk oc: zhuāng jié #lmk oc: chángbìyuán #wan ji #eclipse apprentice #crossover #other people’s ocs #I apologize if this is a bit ooc at all #wan ji gets a good dad and her brain needs a minute maybe ahabhahash #and ZJ was probably real nervous to meet Wan Ji and wanted to make a good impression on her #but he already really likes her/mentally adopted her lol

[eldjester]

SOAR, The Damage Race and Damage Die

(Yes, this is inspired by @makapatag latest post, I like getting into details about what goes on in my design thoughts)

So I've ran a fair bit of games over the years, and talked about a few design thoughts with my good friend Ru. That experience has lead me to feel opinionated on some stuff or try to fix some "issues" I didn't want in my own TTRPG, namely Damage Die and the idea Damage Race is all that matters.

-Damage Die: For about a whole year, I have been running a system that uses multiple types of damage die, from d6 to d10, which are bound to its classes rather than abilities (this is Icon, if you're curious), and while i don't think it is unworkable, it made me think about a few things, namely the nature of why we roll for damage in the first place and why so many Tactical TTRPGs want to have critical hits. In most cases, I don't tend to like rolling for damage with wide possibilities, for example rolling a d8 or a d10, as those are very swingy and hard to make informed decision about, even if they fit a playstyle that's more about pushing your luck, they just don't work for me, I don't like how they control pacing, especially if rolling high on them is supposed to really hurt, it tends to make anything that surrounds them uncertain for basically everyone on the table, and for me it doesn't really do a fun surprise when you do roll good on them. Critical Hits adding more damage is also a staple of many games, and I think as time goes on i'm less of a fan of that too as it tends to be done in a way that just shines a bigger spotlight on the uncertain damage numbers of some attacks (hi "Double Damage on crit" systems !). So what I ended up doing, was just remove this idea that your damage die has to inform the damage you do related to its number. See, I'm a big fan of tables, I love random tables, I also love having some level of control over what you can expect, so I had a fun idea, what if I used a damage profile table for attacks ? So, in SOAR, when you hit (which you still need to roll to do specifically for attacks, as I like having that mechanical lever to tinker with) you roll a d6 or more if your abilities add some, and you keep the highest one, the number you roll then tells you what you'll be using as a profile for the attack, bigger means better in this case, here's an example:

Weak Hit (1-2): 2 damage, push target 1, move 1

Normal Hit (3-5): 3 damage, push target 1, move 1, push target 1

Strong Hit (6): 4 damage, push target 1, move 2, push target 1, target is dazed

Critical Hit (6,6): 5 damage, push foe 1, move 2, push foe 2, foe is dazed. A keen eye might have noticed this shares similarities with how FITD handles rolls in terms of spread (being a tiny bit more forgiving), this has allowed me to make sure I know how much damage every attack does while still having room to make the damage uncertain, you can still cheer if you roll a strong hit or a critical hit (you in fact, have a resource you can spend to upgrade a hit to its next step if you want to), as a fun added fact, this type of damage profile idea started off as something I made for a gunfight based game, and worked backward into adding to SOAR, from my, admittedly limited, testing it has sped up play a fair bit while still giving me levers to work with in terms of balance. -The Damage Race There's this really annoying feeling sometimes when you play TTRPGs Combats that not doing damage isn't ideal, you see it all the time (death is the best control my beloathed expression) even when it isn't "true". Something you learn relatively soon in TTRPG design is that even if you don't think something is true, people believing it is will still affect how they interact with it, often in a self reinforcing way, and this was something I wanted to avoid in SOAR as it would be especially prone to this, it is after all a Beat'Em All inspired TTRPG, so it was going to have people come in with that assumption regardless. So I thought, hey, what if I didn't bother trying to balance Control and Damage here ? What if i had everyone "do both" ? So that's what I ended up settling on, every Style comes with an attack, which you can use EVERY turn, and a bunch of abilities, which is where a lot of statuses and utility moves exist. Of course, it didn't come free of problems, I had to essentially make everyone have more HP to account for it, but it also made me free of a problem I was having trouble figuring out: what if someone never attacks and just deals damage through abilities which never need to hit ? The way i'm doing it now, people HAVE to care about attacks, and it also means that, with it being essentially "free", I can balance around it and make sure fights aren't static, players always have 2 shots at changing things every turn they do. Thus far in testing I think it has proven to work.

#ttrpg #SOAR #gamedev #rpg

[vigilskeep]

Thoughts on how the only (known) Dwarven civilisation left in Thedas is located/accessed in Ferelden and how that must affect politics with the dwarves and humans (do some countires consider dwarves to be effectively Ferelden? Does Ferelden get priority in trade deals with Orzamamar?) and even affects on the Lyrium trade?

MANY AND MUCH...

i do think orzammar's position in the frostbacks gives orlais a level of access to trade too (though i'm unsure if gherlen's pass can be taken through to orlais? or if there's any other entrance to orzammar, though none is mentioned to my recollection) and it's certainly true that the orlesian civil war canonically has a catastrophic effect on orzammar's access to goods and food. it's also true, iirc, that orlesian nobles make the assumption that a dwarven inquisitor in we&wh is a servant. that implies a dwarven presence in orlais but also that they might be better off in ferelden or the free marches where they typically hold higher rank outside of the carta

i do believe there's a large surface dwarf population in the areas of ferelden closest to orzammar i.e. in the coastlands and around lake calenhad. i would just think that anyway, but we see this carried out in canon; ser jory references surface dwarves plying their trade as smiths in highever, vigil's keep has dwarven stonemasons, brother burkel and the mercenary dwyn call redcliffe home, etc.

the (legal) lyrium trade is controlled by the chantry but it could be a factor in orlais' imperial interest in ferelden and the chantry's involvement. i also think it's very fair to make an argument that the extensive nature of the mage underground in ferelden is allowed for by access to less reputable links to orzammar. they have to get lyrium potions and stave enchantments from somewhere

other evidence of trade connections is a little far-fetched for me to pick up on but i'll do it anyway... i'd like to decide the tabris wedding dress being a dwarven model means something, for example. but in general there are dwarven traders just wandering around ferelden, and when a fereldan sees a dwarf, they canonically immediately assume they're a trader. they seem to be considered makers of quality/luxury goods

the fereldan crown maintains close diplomatic relations with orzammar; cailan has met king endrin, and considers him a role model, and people like loghain hold the dwarves of orzammar in high esteem. someone chantry-educated like alistair has a fair bit of basic knowledge, especially with his sense of curiosity (my beloved), but it's a little generalising and confused in a way that reads like it's been taught to him by a chantry source like genitivi that treats orzammar as an oddity/exception, rather than from dwarven sources

culturally there's also people like the ash warriors, a fereldan unit whose skills claim descendance from dwarven berserkers and who hold dwarves in high esteem. other such transfers could be possible. they originate from a man called 'luthias dwarfson', which also brings me to the note that there should be a decent number of half-dwarves in ferelden, too! and though we haven't seen them in game, all sources point to half-dwarves being a more standard genetic blend than whatever the hell bioware was trying to do with 'elf-blooded'

that's what comes to mind!

#orzammar #ferelden #:)

[goodluckclove]

On Being Seen

I'll warn you in advance, friends and colleagues - I might not have quite an optimistic take on this one. In advance I'll say that I'm totally all right, there's no need to comfort or fawn or worry. It's just been a pretty crazy couple of days and it's sort of left me in a kind of perturbed state of mind.

I feel as if I've developed a reputation on Writeblr as someone strongly supportive of other writers through their struggles and successes, and I figure it might be useful to see that I speak as someone who has their fair share of doubts. Consider it a show of neurosis that supports me as your steadfast advocate in creative growth and potential.

I'll put it under a read more. It's nothing triggering I don't think, I'm just a little embarrassed to have it fully visible under what I still consider to be a relatively professional space. Or at least a space for me as a professional whose brand involves not being very professional.

Nevertheless.

I debated for a long time self-publishing Blind Trust. I went back and forth every so often for weeks, and my poor wife had to deal with the brunt of my strange excuses not to do it. It really came down to one big question, which was...why?

Why am I publishing this? And for money, no less? That's weird. Why would anybody support that? It wouldn't deter me from writing if I never published any of the Songbird Elegies. I'd still write them. I've been writing stories for almost 20 years that no one has ever read and no one will probably ever read.

Sure, I have the fantasies of relative cult notoriety. People making fanart of my characters and sharing weird memes about my plot points. Finding comfort in the words and stories I've created to comfort myself. When I was still considered schizoaffective my dad gave me a copy of Flow My Tears the Policeman Said by Philip K. Dick and said that he was "like us". If that happened to someone else with one of my books it would mean the world to me.

Then again, would it? Because in my actual, real, physical life I am terrible at taking praise. It's like trying to catch a ball from the other side of a brick wall. If you ever pass me on the street I'm guaranteed to be wearing soundproof headphones and blasting music to keep anyone from talking to me. You might catch my eye and I'll smile and nod, maybe toss a compliment your way, but if you try to have a conversation and I do not know you I will absolutely just keep walking. I can't do it.

I love people and I'm terrified of people. It's always been this way.

It's easier online. I mean it when I say that I'm open to anyone here just starting a conversation with me about anything. There's already the unspoken assumption that we're all already weird, so I don't have to think too hard about your motivations. But still, large amounts of praise and positive reinforcement make me deeply uncomfortable. I've been trying to work on that for years, but I find most advice on building self-worth deeply unhelpful.

It's not like I'd prefer hate. I think I'm just not used to being noticed either way.

This is the first time I've made an honest effort to put my work, and by proxy myself (all writers are brands now, says the publishing industry as a whole) on display online. And for the most part it's been great! I enjoy the connections I've made here. The promise of making more. There are so many skilled storytellers here that it gives me a lot of hope and excitement for the future of literature.

But it's weird. It's really weird.

Most of the time I see it as another social media client. I stand by the posts I make and do them for fun, but I also do them to maintain a presence and draw in more attention. I studied to do things like this for work before. I picked like three social media management tactics that I thought I could remember when I was 18 and just stuck by them. And then occasionally I go oh wait. This isn't some nonprofit. This isn't a start-up for tech assholes. This is me.

And that's weird.

It's not a massive following I have, but it's more than I've ever had before under my own personal and creative writing. I published short stories and articles, but I never heard anything from them. There are short stories I have on online journals that I genuinely do not know if anyone has read. Here, I see people like things and I'm like huh. I feel like a mummy or a ghoul. I do not understand what people are doing.

One part of my brain takes this information and says that it's probably proof that when I publish Blind Trust, some people will buy it. People have expressed interest already. Which means they're probably interested, I think. I post excerpts of my writing and people seem to enjoy it enough to click a button or leave a comment. That's cool. I don't get why it happens, but it's very cool and it makes me happy.

At the same time there's this undercurrent of paranoia. I don't get it. And I don't think I ever will. That's essentially been my only coping mechanism for publishing at this point - I don't know if it'll work, but I might as well try and if I do something will probably happen.

I know I'm a writer. At this point it would be ridiculous to say I wasn't. I'm a professional, working writer, and experienced enough to know that saying all that doesn't say much in terms of quality.

Am I a good writer? I don't really know what that means. I like Blind Trust. I'm reading it for the fourth time as I edit it again and I genuinely enjoy it. So someone who thinks like me and has similar tastes to myself might feel the same way. I don't really know who that person might be. Statistically I imagine they have to exist somewhere. And that there's at least a handful of them.

Imposter Syndrome is real and I don't think it ever goes away. I'd like to think that it's one of those things where you think about it less and less, and this is just the first night in maybe five months that I'm really thinking about it.

I'm not expecting to make a ton of money off my first book. In fact, I probably will be sick from anxiety with any purchase I get for the first year, because it means that someone spent human money on writing I am happy to just give them for free.

But this is going to be my job. I want this to be my job so I can spend more time doing it. Because I've dedicated so much time to doing all of this, it means I get to spend a lot of my day getting other writers to write even a little bit of their own stories. And that's so important to me.

I don't know. I don't really have a neat end to this. I'm forcing myself to actually follow through with posting it, and then to continue keeping it up even though it feels incredibly vulnerable to be, in my opinion, this self-indulgent and whiny. It's insecure. I'm still insecure. I'm in therapy and on medication and there's more shit I got to do in life.

Still, I'm telling myself that my version of being a Professional Writer is to showcase emotional pitfalls like this. Newer writers might know that you can sometimes have a night where you might not be in despair, per say, but certainly deep confusion, and then come back the next day and keep on working. I stand by what I mean when I say that the craft should not be entirely miserable. It is still maybe 25% inconvenient to me, and I am currently in that less-desirable quarter.

So what am I doing? Wife got us Jersey Mike's, so I had a yummy sandwich. Kafka is sitting on my calves, just behind my laptop monitor. I'm listening to my soul/funk playlist while Wife plays Hell Divers for the first time. Later we're going to play a board game.

But for now, I'm going to keep editing my goddamned novel.

Blind Trust out in June. Get ready people, because I'm not.

#writeblr #writing community #writers on tumblr #on writing #writing #indie author #authors of tumblr #vent post #personal #oh god the ego #i'm dying

[funfunfuntillmydaddy]

What are friends for

‘OMG. Babe, I think Steph and Mike are having sex on our bed.’ The text message from Peter read.

My boyfriend is so sweet. Cutely naive about these kinds of things. I could just see how much his cheeks would be blushing at the thought of Mike and Steph hooking up on our bed. I wondered how shocked he would be if he knew what really was going on.

Peter and I had meet while interning together at one of the top firms here in the city. Both of us had moved into the big city from fly-over country after going to separate state universities. We had been going out almost two years now and had been living together for at least six months.

Mike went to the same university as Peter and moved out about the same time. They were friends and part of the same friend group through school but were very different. Peter being the sweet, intelligent, caring kind new age guy. Dressing well and getting on with everybody, but kinda, well, vanilla.

Mike on the other hand was your stereotypical loudmouth jock who drunk too much and had a lot of fun saying obnoxious things.

So, the difference between them always caused a bit of tension whenever Mike and Peter would hang out and I knew Peter would worry that Mike would say or do something that would offend me or any other girls. And Mike did plenty to take offense at. Blatant flirting. Sexist comments. Telling us which girls he knows he thinks are the hottest or could fuck the best, TMI on his sexual conquests. The extra hugs and touches. It was just constant

The only thing is, well, there was something about how Mike did it that made it less obnoxious and boorish and more fun and intriguing. Sure, I complained to Peter about his behavior and how he had offended my friends at the bar. But that was only half true. We were actually laughing along and even flirting back.

Like Peter and Mike, Steph and I also went to university together and had moved out to the big city. But unlike Peter and Mike, Steph and I were very similar. We had a lot of shared interests. Studied the same things, worked in the same profession. Liked to drink and have fun. And liked having fun with guys particularly.

Peter thought that Steph was the wilder one and I played an important calming influence on her, especially when it came to partying and to guys. But, well, that’s just Peter being adorably naïve again.

‘How far away are you?’ the next text message from my boyfriend read, ‘Andrew said you and Patrick went to find an all-night liquor store to restock. Oh Andrew, I thought to myself. He was one of the coolest guys I knew and the perfect wingman for Mike, and maybe me.

It was a fair assumption of Peter’s to think that Mike and Steph would be fucking. While both of them have other partners, they had been really getting into each other since everyone arrived at our apartment for our Saturday night drinks. Steph and Mike just picking up from when they left off at one of the clubs, we were at two weeks ago, before they were interrupted by their respective partners joining us.

Tonight, there was no such worry. Mike’s girlfriend was visiting family while Steph’s boyfriend was on a two weeklong work assignment interstate. The only other people joining us for drinks was Andrew, a long-time mutual friend of ours, and Patrick who was a work colleague. Both being good at discretion and, even better, good at encouraging Peter to keep going with the shots.

Steph then pulled the phone back and started typing on it. I was a little surprised to see the message from him. When I saw him last about thirty minutes ago, he was completely out to it laying on the couch. Thanks in no small part to all the drinks Mike, Andrew and Patrick had been plying him with all night.

And it’s not exactly like I intended this to happen. Sometimes things, well, just escalate, dramatically. Especially after the three boys all challenged Peter to race to the bottom of an expensive bottle of Mezcal.

Not surprisingly with Peter’s more delicate constitution, he ended up blacking out close to the bottom of the bottle and five of us remained as we kept the fun going. Then Patrick decided it was probably the right time to head back to the apartment he shared with his fiancée, a little disappointing but forgivable.

 With only the four of us then present in mind and body, Mike started dancing with me as much as with Steph. Of course, I didn’t do much to discourage him. It’s not my style. And it wasn’t the first time he had got flirty with me.

Soon Steph had her dress hiked up over her hips as she showed off her pink thong too us all. Mike had his hands all over her as she grinded her ass on his crotch. Andrew just kept his drink in his hand and kept his cool chaperone vibe going as the slight smile on his face showed he knew exactly where this was going, and he had no objections. Like I said, the perfect wingman.

As Mike and Steph got more into the dancing and the touching, I could tell they needed some release. Steph kept eyeing the bedroom door. I gave her a nod. It was nothing I was going to get particularly offended by, two people fucking on my bed. The situation had been in reverse enough.

So that would just leave me and Andrew to chill out while Mike and Steph had their fun and my boyfriend remained comatose. Then I would just hang out with Andrew while we kept an eye on my comatose boyfriend. Not the most fun to be had but I knew Andrew was not the type to try a move and, despite what a couple of my exes have screamed at me, I don’t need to fuck every guy I’m in a room with.

But just as I was ushering Mike and Steph off for their fun in the bedroom, they both grabbed each of my arms and pulled me along with them. I looked over my shoulder at Peter, who was still out to it, and at Andrew who lifted up his glass as a cheers and told us to have fun and he would keep an eye on Peter.

“Fucking Mike would be fun. But you fucking Mike while Peter is sound asleep out there would be fucking amazing.” Steph said as we crossed the threshold into the bedroom. Nothing in my body or mind was disagreeing with her.

I felt Mike push up from behind me and get his hands all over my tits. He leaned down and kissed and bit my neck. Steph had somehow managed to get the straps of her dress down as now had her dress bunched around her waist. Mike eagerly reached over to squeeze one of her full but still perky tits.

I was moaning softly as I felt my body ache in anticipation. Mike’s hand went to the top of my jeans, and he unbuckled them with the deft touches of a guy who has done this before, a lot.

He had my jeans loose and yanked them down over my ass and mid-way down my thighs. Leaving only my delicate lace thong in the way of his ultimate goal, I could sense his urgency and his strength. It just made me moan more.

The risk of the situation meant we didn’t have time for all the formalities of fucking. Apparently, there wasn’t even enough time for me to take my underwear off properly. Mike got his hand around the waist band of my thong and quickly yanked it to the side, easily snapping the delicate fabric. Every part of me melted just a little more as he threw my thong over the side of the room. He then pushed me on to the bed.

Steph was already kneeling on the bed. Her legs spread out and her fingers rubbing her pussy lips as she watched us.

With my jeans around my thighs, I had limited mobility, but Mike took care of that by lifting me over towards the top of the bed and putting me on all fours. Very quickly he had managed to get his own jeans off and had his cock rubbing against my dripping entrance.

“You want me to wear something?” Mike said as he paused his progress.

I knew we should. Peter and I always did but it was kinda a mood killer. But then Steph fished around in the bedside table and threw a condom over.

Mike took the wrapper and struggled for a while with getting it on.  “Oh shit, That’s a tight fit.” Steph said laughing as she knelt next to Mike, still working her pussy with her hand.

Mike started picking up the pace. As he railed me harder, I was banging into the headboard as it in turn banged into the wall. My moaning was getting louder along with Mike’s grunting. The noise I was making was very different to when Peter and I had sex, so I felt no real need to disguise or mute my pleasure. In hindsight, this was probably what woke Peter up. After a fair few more poundings against the wall, Steph alerted me to the first message on my phone.

Steph, being the professional she is typed up a response. ‘Oh, I’m not surprised. Steph is such a slut. Cheating on her boyfriend, what a slut. I’ll be home soon, babe. We just finished picking up some more drinks.’ Steph typed out and showed me before sending it from my phone back to Peter.

Then I felt something kinda different.

“Oh shit, the condom broke.” Steph called out which led to Mike stopping.

“Fuck. Don’t worry just keep going.” I pleaded as my pussy demanded more cock. Only for a moment did I wonder if Peter would have noticed the different voices and recognized mine. But as Mike’s cock went all the way back in, and his rhythm returned, I didn’t give it a second thought.

“Hope you two are being safe in there.” Andrew called out from the living room with a laugh. I even heard faint laughter from Peter as well which almost caused Steph to lose it.

“Fuck yes slut. I’m gonna fuck you so hard. Fill you full of cum.” Mike said as he recommenced fucking me and quickly got back up to pace.

Our apartment was not designed for carrying on illicit affairs in one room while the oblivious partner remained unaware in the living area. But Steph seemed to take it as a fun challenge to make sure Mike and I had fun, and Peter didn’t find out there were three of us in the bedroom.

We heard Andrew offering Peter another drink. Did I mention how good a wingman he was?

“Is my cock bigger than your boyfriend’s?” Mike growled. I just moaned out a breathless yes. “Do I fuck you better than your boyfriend?” Mike asked and I just repeated my response, but louder.

Steph showed my phone again with Peter’s latest text. ‘OMG. I think they are gonna put a hole in our wall.’ I just moaned harder right as Mike slammed into me and then I slammed again into the headboard,

“I want you to ride my big cock on this bed.” Mike demanded. I just moaned my anonymous agreement. He pulled off his jeans and shirt while I extricated myself from my garments and climbed on top of him, positioning his cock back at my wet lips. I sunk down on him as a guttural moan left me. The change in position gave my insides all sorts of new sensations.

I quickly picked up the pace. The wall was getting a break, but our mattress springs and the bed legs were starting to get punished. As I bounced up higher and slammed down harder, the bed groaned and creaked.

Steph again got my attention with an update on the conversation between me and you. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Mike pays for any damage he does.’ My phone had messaged back with an unnecessary winking emoji.

‘Now it sounds like they are breaking our bed. I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to sleep in it tonight. Maybe you should message Steph and tell them to take it easy.’ Peter responded.

I had no intention of telling Mike to take it easy. As he rammed his hips up to meet my thrust down, his cock went so deep and filled me up so much I could feel my body getting ready to let go.

‘Don’t worry babe. They will probably stop soon. Mike probably can’t last that long. Anyway, I’m coming soon.’ Steph wrote on my behalf and showed me. I smiled at her and nod in confirmation that she is correct. I was about to cum. Steph leans in, and we kiss as I slow down a little on Mike. My tongue dances with Steph’s as our sloppy kissing sounds drown out the fucking briefly.

Then I pull away and look down at Mike with an evil grin meeting his delirious expression.

I leaned down and kiss him. Moaning more. Then I lean over and whisper into his ear. “Are you gonna fill me full of cum while my boyfriend waits outside and listens?” I tease. “You know he’s probably getting excited by hearing a guy fuck a girl properly. Thinking he will get to try and do the same to me later.” I say wickedly.

Then it was Mike’s turn to groan in agreement before grabbing on to my hips and lifting me off. He spun me onto my back as he hooked his arms under my legs. I ended up with my legs over his shoulders as he pinned me down and then drove his cock deep into me. His pace picked back up quickly, and the bed started complaining again from the hard punishment.

But my body was doing everything but complaining. I moaned out loudly as the intense feeling was starting to build all through my body.

“Aaaaahhhhrg.” Mike groaned. “Fuck yes. I’m gonna fill you with my cum, slut.” He growled out loudly. “I’m gonna fill you up with more cum than your boyfriend could ever give you. You want it don’t you, slut? You want my thick cum.”

“Mmmmmm. Fuck yes. Oh fuck. Cum inside me.” I cried out in a breathless and feverish tone. I tone and language I had never uttered to my boyfriend. I assumed that would be enough to protect the true identity of the girl who was about to get filled with Mike’s delicious cum. But in truth, at the moment, I didn’t really care. Peter could have burst through the door and I would have let Mike finish.

Steph moaned out. Her hand rubbing her clit feverishly as she also seemed close to finishing.

“Oh, fuck yes.  Fuck, I’m cumming.” I cried out right as I felt Mike’s cock swell inside me and then pushed even deeper inside me as he held it there.

I deep animalistic roar came from Mike as he shot blast after blast of cum into me. He tried to push that little bit deeper as I felt his cock unload the last of what must have been close to a dozen shots into me. 

“So, what do we do now.” Mike asked quietly as we all slowly got our breath back.

“Oh, don’t even worry.” Steph replied.

‘Babe. Can you come down and get me. I left my keys behind, and the intercom isn’t working again.’ Steph messaged Peter for me.

A few moments later, we heard the front door open and close. Mike, Steph and I all got our outfits back together and looked presentable. Except, I wasn’t wearing any underwear. I looked at my ripped thong on the floor but just shrugged and left it there. It died for a good cause.

“Oh shit” I said suddenly. “Peter is expecting me to be downstairs.”

“Jesus Cara.” Steph said. “Is this like your first time or something.” She teased as she held up my phone. ‘Sorry babe, one of the neighbors let me in the other entrance, I came up the back lift. I’m back inside.’ My text to Peter read.

By the time Peter returned, Steph and I were in the kitchen while Mike and Andrew were over the other side of the high kitchen counter. Mike and Andrew gave him a cheers as he came in and stood next to them.

The awkwardness of the scene was downplayed almost unconsciously and there was little to hint at the debauchery that had recently taken place. Well one of the few hints was Steph with her hands down my unbuckled jeans and gently fingering my pussy as Mike’s cum fan out. Fortunately, the kitchen counter was high enough to keep that little detail hidden.

With Peter seemingly wide awake now, the fun seemed over, and Mike, Steph and Andrew all made tracks, getting all in one uber apparently, which was curious since Mike and Steph lived in opposite directions.

With our visitors departed, Peter and I decided it was bedtime. As him and I got into the bedroom the smell of sex and the sight of the punished bed hit us both. I gave him a sneaky glance to see what his reaction was, but I was also too tired to care.

I brushed my teeth in the ensuite and then quickly put on some pajamas, hoping he didn’t see my lack of underwear which would have been suspicious.

I was lying on the roughed-up bed almost out to sleep when Peter finished in the bathroom and got into bed.

“Oh my god, babe. Steph left her thong in our room. Jesus Christ.” Peter said with built-up anger and disgust to which I could barely moan out a supportive groan of faux frustration and disgust. “Oh, and she has the same kind of panties as you hun.” My only response was to sleep.

#cheating #impreg kink #affair

[gender-trash]

I had to go to a department seminar today for a requirement and the talk was 'Modeling, Estimation, and Control of Quadrupedal and Humanoid Robot Locomotion in Non-Inertial Environments' and it was interesting but I kept thinking 'darn, I bet gender-trash would love this' It was essentially, hey can we get a robot to walk in a straight line while on a rocking ship?' and the answer was 'lol. sorta kinda' anyhow I hope you have a nice evening :)

:0 this is really cool!! i looked up the person giving the seminar (yan gu) and found this video linked from one of the papers she coauthored:

(n.b. that i just skimmed this paper and am definitely not bothering to work through all the math, but) the key assumptions this makes are that 1) the robot can perceive or otherwise know the movement of the surface relative to itself (in the lab they use fiducials stuck to the treadmill, and hint vaguely in the paper that integrating sensor data from the ship or whatever would be plausible in a real-world deployment, which -- PERSONALLY i am much less confident about, as someone who has been socially adjacent to industry work on robot integration with elevator controllers, but whatever, it's research, i'm willing to cut them slack on that) and 2) the walking surface is planar (for the biped the surface position is determined from forward kinematics assuming the robot's feet always make full contact with the surface when it does a steppy; i read the quadruped paper much less thoroughly but given how careful they were to select a gait that always has three feet in contact with the ground i'm assuming the same condition holds).

DEFINITELY a big improvement over "let's assume the floor does not move :)" control, and i don't mean to be critical here, i think it's perfectly fair for a controls paper to leave the software integration/perception challenges up to Future Work to figure out! this is just how i personally analyze robotics research -- there's always a bunch of assumptions involved to make a robot problem tractable, some of them more realistic than others, so the most important thing i want to understand about a new research thing is what assumptions they're making. (for example, a lot of navigation research assumes no sane person would design or construct a building like the stata center...)

(also, really makes you appreciate how average humans can walk on wildly pitching ships with zero perception, just pure IMU, surface contact sensing, and proprioception/kinematics. take a moment to be grateful for your cerebellum :p)

anyway -- thanks for the pointer, i always love seeing awesome new controls-y stuff! anon, i assume you know most of this stuff already, but for followers interested in learning more about controls for leggy bois, i always recommend russ tedrake's underactuated robotics class -- he has his very well-written lecture notes and several years worth of lecture videos all available online. thanks prof tedrake i love you <3

#the trashcan speaks #6.832blogging #they fucking renumbered everything but you know what i mean #professional robot torturer

[weatherman667]

Gungrave G.O.R.E

I never played the original Gungrave. The reviews at the time had it be more flash than substance. In fact, the main reason I bought this game, (other than it being on sale), was every - single - game, other than Gungrave.

You see, nowadays, we have a long tradition of remaking old games. This is becasue

The original games were good, at least for their time.

All of the major production houses have been bought up by evil megacorporations will take creativity behind the wood shed and shoot it in the name of profits. This, for some reason, has proven to be less than sustainable.

So, every company wants to remake the old games, because $$$, but they don't want to pay $ to make $$$, and so normally just increase the quality of the graphics, without changing anything else. Anything else includes the polygon count.

Gungrave G.O.R.E was the exception. It looked like they had LEARNED from the games that had come and gone, and improved themselves. Not the least of which was the introduction of the classisc Japanese Waifu to do the narration, instead of the main character.

If anyone else had done it, my automatic assumption would be CURRENT YEAR!!!!!!!!11111!!!

But, my love of Gungrave was so strong? The developer was the one I still have faith in? Never played Gungrave, and the only developer I have faith in is Firaxis.

So see, this is a classic narrative tool. You have you epic, awesome, brooding hero. He's too awesome and brooding to... talk. Well, this is going to put a hamper in his ability to... do anything really. Other than fight. Okay, yes, you are here to see him fight, but there still has to be some attempt to tell the story. And you can't tell the audience that he secretly cares. Well, what are you going to do?

Introduce a non-combat, or less-combat character to do the talking for him. This is been used in works ranging from Okami to Conan,

"He is Conan, Cimmerian, he won't cry, so I cry for him." -- Mako

You see, tropes are tools. They can be horrible clichés, or they can dramatically improve your story. And Gungrave G.O.R.E is the latter.

In fact, the Japanese waifu actually advises you in battle, and maybe for the first time ever, in a productive way. You see, the game recognizes the limit of it's engine, the limited field of view. So, she will just flat out tell you if you are being flanked or overwatched.

What's the story? Something-something evil corporation that's secretly telling drugs. This isn't an insult, whatsoever, as some of the simplest premises can make the best movies, see: John Wick. What matters is emotional engagement and storytelling, and this was done fantastically well. The game definitely recognizes that the story isn't good enough to spend too much time on, and so quickly gets you into the action, while having enough of an emotional hook to get you to care.

So, how is the combat? Beautiful. Not because of any individual thing, but because it just works, extraordinarily well. This is the difference between Devil May Cry, and almost every game that tried to copy Devil May Cry, is that the gameplay works well. It's fair, fluid, functional, and, most importantly of all, fun.

For the gameplay, think Devil May Cry, but more focus on gunplay. It gives you a charging shield, to get you to run into combat, and then move out. And this works incredibly well. Like Devil May Cry, each level is it's own, contained area, and you are ranked on style afterwards. Unlike Devil May Cry, they don't care about how much you get attacked, just how much damage you take, (remember: recharging shield). So, the game encourages you to spend a lot more time walking through gunfire, as you shoot everyone trying to hurt you. You then have to dodge or take a hostage to allow your shield to recharge. You can actually heal with certain attacks, and executions, and only your final heath matters.

#gungrave #gore #video games

[simons-twsted-children]

Hihi! Here with some character dynamic!! ❤️♦️♣️♠️🌹 for Klaus please? Thank you!

My bunny boy!

So I’ve actually only really thought about his relationship with Riddle, and even that was through the lens of his friendship with Fiamma, so this will be an interesting series of dynamics to explore?

Feel like I should also say before all of this that Klaus has some pretty high walls before he considers someone a friend at this point, bc he’s been bullied pretty badly for quite a while. So if it seems like a lot of this is him being antagonistic or uncharitable, it’s more of a defense mechanism than anything?

Preemptively tagging @inmateofthemind because a good chunk of this will be pertinent to our musing with him and Fia? (Especially the last bit)

I feel like he probably has a rocky start with Ace, generally jumping off with the assumption that Ace’s brash nature means he tends towards bullying (something that Klaus has had to deal with for far too long and has 0 tolerance for). Which probably causes some unnecessary tension between the two of them until something corrects Klaus’ perception, and he realizes that Ace is a bro, actually, even if he is a bit of a loud slacker? (Which. To be fair. Klaus is the king of doing things last-minute, so—) I think they actually end up having a decent bit in common, especially the tendency to call out injustice where they see it and pick fights with mages far stronger than them, so they probably end up being decent friends by the end of the first exchange, at least?

Cater is an interesting one, because I wonder if Cater wouldn’t see Klaus as a cute magical opportunity, because of his bunny features? I don’t think he’d -mean- anything by it, or even suggest it in anything less than a friendly way, but I don’t think Klaus would react well to being approached for his cuteness alone. I think he’d probably generally steer clear from Cater, especially once the generally hands-off nature of Cater’s friendships becomes clearer? Klaus isn’t one to put in effort with someone who doesn’t reciprocate a friendship in kind, even if Cater REALLY needs someone to put in that effort, for his own sake as much as anything. (Lookin at you, @ramshacklerumble)

Klaus would probably initially write Trey off as a pushover, always doing damage control for Riddle and seeming to let the other students walk all over him. But once he realizes that Trey has a mischievous and prideful streak a mile long, Klaus’ respect for him would grow. I don’t think they’re friends, persay, but I think Klaus probably sees something kindred in Trey, not necessarily in how he -presents- himself, but in what he actually -does-? (Specifically referencing Trey’s dorm uniform vignette here, in the context of what would cause Klaus to change his opinion on Trey. The sort of, “you think you can do this better? Alright. I’d like to see you try.” And then him preparing a contingency plan in the background anyway bc he knows the freshmen are gonna totally fail, etc.)

I actually think Klaus probably warms up to Deuce faster than Ace? If only because he basically looks at this boy and goes “oh bless your heart, you’re trying.” Deuce might be a dumbass, but he makes a point of trying to be a good dude, whereas Ace just kinda speaks his mind constantly even if what he says isn’t always. Complementary? Basically I think he’d respect the obvious effort Deuce us putting in to be someone his mom can be proud of, even if Klaus generally doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. (If this is incomprehensible I’m so sorry, I’m very sleepy but wanted to get this out before I forgot BEJEJCJDJF)

And Riddle! His best friend’s beau! I actually think Klaus probably VERY MUCH DOES NOT LIKE HIM, at first? Because I think Riddle probably gives him shit early on for “misusing his signature spell” (which is a time displacement sort of thing?) Klaus absolutely would not take kindly to even the threat of having his magic sealed, especially noting that it is also his main defense against Penny and Ruby, his and Fiamma’s major bullies. Also to note that Klaus would not have been around for Riddle’s Overblot, so he would have NO IDEA about his trauma or Why He’s Like That until he’s directly told by Riddle, Fia, or someone else. Once he finds out, and especially once Fia makes clear her interest in Riddle, his attitude towards him mellows out substantially, and he eventually grows to call Riddle one of his best friends as well, I think. (Even if he does still, lovingly, joke about how stuffy Riddle’s adherence to rules can be, it’s in a much more endearing tone than annoyed)

If you would like clarification on any of this, I’d be more than happy to give it btw!!!

#TWST #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #my ocs #twst oc #ask game