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starryalpacasstuff · 9 months ago

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Indian BL? FROM 2017????

There's an Indian BL from 2017 that I just watched. And I have incoherent thoughts

Before I continue, massive thanks to my bestie @anixknowsnothin for telling me about this show and proofreading the post for me. You don't even watch bl so I have no idea how you found this, but I'm incredibly grateful nonetheless

Here's the link to where I watched the show from, there's a glitch in the first episode subs where the subs seem to be from another show entirely, but it's only for the first ep and about 50% of the dialogue is in English anyways, so it shouldn't be hard to follow.(My ask box is also always open if there's a specific dialogue/scene in Hindi that you want the translation of)

Edit: The link seems to be region locked, so to watch it you can use a vpn and set your region to India, otherwise the episodes are available on youtube, albeit without subs

Note:- this post is going to have a few mild spoilers throughout, but I'll flag major spoilers in red

It's no secret that India is fairly behind when it comes to queer love shows if we compare it to other Asian countries. While it has a handful of great queer shows and movies, it's still quite a small quantity. Additionally, before this, I'd never watched an Indian show that felt like I was watching a bl (if you have recs, please send them my way!!). I'm not going to get into the technicalities of what feels like a bl and doesn't, because honestly, I'm not completely sure myself. For now, I'm just going based off of vibes and feelings, and this show felt like a bl through and through.

Titled 'Romil and Jugal' after its main characters, the story is a modern, desi, bl remake of the classic story...

Romeo and Juliet

Well, Bad Buddy was the first Thai bl I ever watched, so Romil and Jugal being the first Indian BL I watched just feels right, no?

I didn't actually know that the story was based off of Romeo and Juliet till the second episode, because I didn't bother looking for a synopsis, and jumped right in. However, it's links to Romeo and Juliet quickly became apparent, around the same time I started to see similarities between this show and Bad Buddy. I also did not know that this show came out in 2017 before I googled it, having already watched the entire thing, which was a pretty huge shock, because this BL is progressive by 2024 India standards.

Alright, enough of my rambling. Here's a synopsis of the show in case you haven't heard of it. (I couldn't find an official one, so I did my best to write a spoiler free synopsis)

Ramya happens to start talking to a slightly older woman at an airport, who believes that there is no romance in the younger generation. To prove her wrong, Ramya decides to tell the older woman her brother's love story. The story from the past is shown to us as Ramya narrates it to the woman in the present. Jugal is a closeted 19-year-old who lives with his parents. One day, a family moves into the house next door, and Jugal immediately falls for the son, Romil. The two of them attend the same college, and eventually become friends. The two of them eventually get together, but have to face the challenges of a homophobic society and having parents that hate each other.

I was a little skeptical of the show going in, but the show surpassed all of my expectations in the best way possible. It's no masterpiece, and it has its flaws, but it was far better than what I expected. It had both comical elements and darker themes, and it did not shy away from exploring the darker themes at all. Oh, and it has a few musical numbers. What did you expect? This is India after all.

The show is 10 episodes long, with 20 minutes per episode, and so it does unfortunately fall into some of the pitfalls that shorter shows tend to fall into, namely underdeveloped relationships and rushed endings. I did end up feeling a little bit like it didn't make sense for the pair to sacrifice and suffer as much as they did because they hadn't known each other for very long, and I felt like they should have been given more time to fall in love with each other. But it also could be argued that the show stays true to the play, and Romil and Jugal are dumb teenagers who make mistakes and stick with each other through them. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it.

One thing that I loved the show for was that it showed us that the relationship is not all sunshine and rainbows. They argue, they break up, they get back together, and they do argue even after that. But every time, they eventually work through the issue and reconcile. The show even depicts Romil dealing with internalized homophobia and struggling to reconcile with the fact that he will never be who his family wants him to be. Although I do wish they'd have had more time to explore this, I'd say it was decently depicted and handled. The show really delves into how children are forced to uphold their family's wishes and are constantly put under pressure to make them proud. Although it clearly affects both of them, it's more obvious with Romil, who is expected by his family to date and marry the daughter of his father's boss, whom they think he is dating. There's a metaphor along this theme too, where Romil pretends to like the mango shake that his mom has been making for him since he was a kid, even though he hates it, and when he tries to tell her, he has to act like it was a joke to spare her feelings. The show also goes into the communal mindset of basing your actions off "what will people think?", and you can see how a lot of the characters' actions throughout the show are haunted by this question. Some of Romil and Jugal's earlier disagreements are due to this very mindset.

The show also very candidly depicts the extreme homophobia of society in India. Romil and Jugal had to constantly hide who they were, always having to keep up a mask and I felt that reach somewhere deep inside me. When the pair come out, the show really shows how ugly homophobia can be in India. Their parents immediately disown them. They're mocked in college and wrongfully suspended for a fight that was provoked by other students. Very, very few people stand with them, and the pair very quickly realize that now that they are out, they simply cannot live in the city anymore. So with the help of Jugal's best friend and her mother, they flee to Mumbai, where they get jobs and live as paying guests with a friend of the aforementioned mother. But, even in Mumbai, the masks stay up. They have to act like cousins, for fear of being persecuted. The series depicted the worst-case scenario that so many of us live in fear of, so watching it was something of a cathartic experience for me.

Another thing that the show did quite well is showing how different people and their mindsets can be. Jugal's best friend, Ahalya, and her mom are very supportive, and they help the pair out quite a bit. Ahalya's mother provided a safe house for the pair and helped them find a fresh start. Meanwhile, Romil and Jugal's parents are incredibly homophobic. There was a scene that really stuck with me, (mild spoiler ahead, skip to the last sentence of the paragraph) where Ahalya's mother came across Jugal's mother, who prided herself on being educated and well-read, searching up how to cure homosexuality. Ahalya's mother then tells her off for calling herself educated yet believing that homosexuality is an illness. It is so important to me that the show depicted both the violent homophobia that permeates Indian society and the surprising, warm acceptance that one can find.

One final thing that I loved about this show so, so much is just how authentically Indian it feels. Asian cultures share a lot in common, but they also have their differences, so seeing a show where I can imagine encountering the characters in real life is really amazing. Rather than something big, it was little things sprinkled throughout the story that warmed my heart. The story felt like something I could hear the local aunties gossiping about. The way it depicts queerness in India hits incredibly close to home.

One thing I've learned watching Asian bls is that the ending of a show can make it or break it, but with this one, I'm stuck. The best way I can describe the ending is absolutely insane and incredibly Bollywood.

I believe this show was supposed to get a second season because the last two minutes of the show leave us with a massive cliffhanger. Now, it's been 7 years, so a second season is unlikely, so I'm simply pretending that the last two minutes of the show never happened. But the ending has so much more to it than just this (Major spoilers for the ending up ahead. I mean it when I say major, this is like going into Bad Buddy knowing that they're going to trick their parents in the end).

About halfway through the show, I remembered what play it was based upon and realized that there was a very real possibility that Romil and Jugal would die. The first half of the last episode leads up to this, telling us that they died when reconciling after an argument in the middle of the road when they were hit by a truck. We get a super emotional scene (yes, I cried) where the two families somewhat reconcile in their grief as they go to the police station to identify the bodies. Except... they're not dead, which is revealed when Romil's father hugs Romil's (not) dead body. They reveal that they planned this to show their family that they still loved their sons. I did say it was like PatPran tricking their parents in the end, didn't I? So the families reunite, Romil and Jugal get jobs in New Zealand and get married, and return to India for a wedding celebration (yes, I cried. again). The ending does feel slightly rushed, but if I'm being honest, it wasn't as terrible as it could have been. Believing that your child is dead for a bit is a somewhat justifiable reason for a sudden change of heart. There's a part where Romil and Jugal tell their parents that if they choose acceptance, they can reconcile, but if they choose to remain prejudiced, Romil and Jugal can simply get back on the stretchers, because they'll be as good as dead to their families anyways and it is *chef's kiss*.

All in all, the show was surprisingly heartfelt and poignant. It had me laughing, kicking my feet and even crying. There's a lot more about this show that I could talk about, but I'm going to stop here for now, and I'll try to write more on it later. This show really does deserve more recognition than it has, and I'm almost mad at myself for not knowing about it before. Am I being really biased when talking about this show? Absolutely. But I do think that this show is a worthwhile watch, and I'd really like to see what other people on here think of the show, especially because I'm aware that I am biased towards this show.

I'm tagging a few people who I know might be interested/have some thoughts about the show because this is a show that I really want to hear other people's opinions on and have conversations about, so I hope you guys don't mind!

@waitmyturtles @lurkingshan @bengiyo @neuroticbookworm

#good lord this post is almost 2k words #i think this is the longest post i have ever written #and there's more thoughts rattling around in my brain about this show #did i convince you to watch the show?#please say yes #i need people to talk to about this show #bl recs #indian bl #indian bl recs #romil and jugal #romil & jugal #bad buddy #i mean it's related #how does everything i write about somehow find it's way to that goddam show #but seriously romil and jugal was surprisingly very good #i did not expect it at all #but i have never been so glad to be proven wrong #queer indian media

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melancholicmarionette · 9 months ago

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[Oh shit I did something. I wrote Val and Sam as podcasters. Warning: this is fucking stupid. I literally had to just stop writing bc it made less and less sense as I went on. But I love writing dialogue and it’s silly and this is tumblr. here have a little snack my dudes]

Graveyard Girls Episode 12: Roasting Ember’s Beauty Guru Era at 1 AM

“Hello and welcome to Local Ghost Smash or Pass—”

“I will fucking kill you.”

Valerie had to admit that Sam Manson’s ability to keep a completely straight face while saying the most unhinged nonsense was probably one of the reasons their video podcast was so popular. Her own ability to refrain from actually killing her was the reason it still existed at all. How they’d made it to episode twelve, however, still remained at least partially an enigma.

Though it was overall Danny’s kindness that slowly made his trio of friends into a tenuous quartet, Valerie had slowly become accepted by all of them, once she finally came to terms with Danny’s secret. Sam was the last to come around, though by the time they were both seventeen their tension was less due to fighting over a boy and more due to the fact that they could agree on almost nothing.

Most of Graveyard Girls was the two girls arguing, originally spawned by a viral TikTok Tucker posted, in which Valerie—at Danny’s bizarre request—tried to explain The Bachelor franchise to them and Sam being convinced she was making some of it up. People had been interested, and with Amity Park being a niche-but-also-hot topic, a weekly podcast was born.

“Okay but,” Sam leaned back in a vintage-looking office chair, “if I returned as a ghost, would you sma—” Sam cut herself off with a grunt as she dodged a throw pillow.

The show was mostly the two competing to see who could get the other to essentially rage quit, and while Sam’s personality was surprisingly just as strange as those of her best friends, Valerie was competitive enough to be a worthy opponent.

“You might just be, like, the worst person,” Valerie said, expertly catching the throw pillow as it was hurled back at her. “We’re not even three minutes in and I’m so uncomfortable with the energy you’ve created.”

“So our very last episode is three minutes long and titled Valerie Quits, then?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you Manson?” For a tense moment they stared each other down. “Say it one more time, see what happens.”

“So what is today’s topic, then?”

It was a challenge, to see if Valerie had forgotten it was her turn to start. She had.

They had the Box Ghost to thank for it, too.

“Okay, so—full disclosure,” she began, and she looked at her phone, “it is…1:16 in the morning. And both of us have been awake for like…”

“More hours than usually recommended,” Sam continued, “for reasons. We wanted to get this episode out on time so we are crunching.”

“And suffering.”

“And suffering quite a bit,” Sam concluded, nodding. “So my topic is that Ember McClain is trying to release eyeshadow palettes.”

“You cannot just drop that on me.”

“It was dropped on me,” Sam told her, “I’ve had to live with this. You don’t read the DMs for our official account so you didn’t see it and this poor lady, she has this indie cosmetics company and she slides into our DMs asking ‘is this person for real? I think she’s a ghost? She wants to collab.’”

“Collab…”

“And she sent me like…a mock up. I’m putting it in the google drive so get ready.”

Valerie picked her phone, opening their shared drive and—sure enough—seeing a digital version of a very Ember-esque palette, showcasing both dark and neon shades.

“She’s unhinged. But like…some of the shimmers on here aren’t terrible.”

“That’s the thing—I don’t like the bright blues and greens but there’s potential here. I could make a look out of it.”

“I’ve got conditions—if she wants to start the beauty guru era of her ‘career’ I need a full press release saying it’s not a complex murder plot,” Valerie said.

“I swear under penalty of perjury that I’m not imprisoning your parents in hamster wheels to power my sound system,” Sam affected an impression that would positively enrage the ghostly pop star as she spun around in her chair.

“My mad power-grab via subliminal mind control is so over, okay? That was the old me. Get to fucking swatching.” Valerie continued, snickering. “We kid, but this is actually peak influencer already.”

“We’re writing her YouTube apology for her,” Sam said, and she trained her eyes on the camera before continuing, “you cannot use this. I know you’re watching, I said your name once, and your Obsession is name-searching the universe. You have to do your own YouTube apology.”

“We should edit her name out before we upload.”

“We should.”

“…We’re not going to.”

“No, and a certain somebody’s gonna be on my ass about it. We should perhaps move on…”

#danny phantom #sam manson #valerie gray #like what if I just wrote them as two weirdos talking about weird shit #that’s what I did #fanfic

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vaadazen-codes · 5 months ago

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2 BIG Tips for formatting your VN script

Are you a Visual Novel writer? Or at least are you writing a visual novel? Don't know how to format it? good news, I'm here to give you some tips for formatting your script to make it 10x easier on the programmer to implement into RenPy!

All of these tips apply to Google Docs, since that's the most commonly used script writing platform for VNs, especially given the collaboration that goes on for them and for game jams!

Page Set Up

These tips are the most important of this whole doc, because it prevents everyong (writer or programmer) from having to find and replace later!

Turn off Smart Quotes

Turn off replacements for ... and -

To do that, go to your tool bar at the top and go to tools > preferences

see it down there at the bottom?

then just uncheck tthe smart quotes box.

Here's an example of what mine looks like to make things easier, though the others don't matter as much.

To turn off substitutions, you have two options.

Manually uncheck the boxes

Turn it off altogether.

I personally chose to turn it off all together, most of what it is is just things like 1/2 becoming a visual fraction, or < - - turning into <-.

If you chose to manually uncheck them, there's only really two that'll need to be checked off!

The one for ... and the one for -- or --- Why do you need to do this? Well unfortunately, renpy and most code editors don't recognize them as characters, and it can cause some issues with the dialogue text being displayed.

Choice Dialogue

This one isn't a huge deal, but after working on quite a few jam projects and personal VN projects, I've found a way that seems to work best for allowing your programmer to efficiently implement them! (Or yourself if you write and code for your projects like I do) use tables in google docs! Here are some examples from some of my projects:

It's pretty c lear what the options are for each menu choice this way, since they're color coded and have some sort of indicator before them to seperate them.

This also makes it easier to know where the choice menu dialogue ends.

The colored parts are the menu label itself, so what shows up on the screen

and then the rest is the dialogue branch for that choice!

between these two, the biggest majority of your programmers job will now be making sure things don't break, instead of spending hours finding and replacing certain things, or having to pause to wait for an answer if your team is in all sorts of time zones!

#renpy #renpy visual novel #renpy game #vn #elvn #vn dev #visual novel #otome dev #visual novel dev #indie otome

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vespaer77 · 7 months ago

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I'd like to tell you a story...

... about my first Tav, Shayla Moonsong.

She is a Zariel tiefling, and a College of Lore Bard, and while she wasn't my first Tav, she was the first one to finish the game. I had romanced Lae'zel, Shadowheart, and Astarion in early access, so I focused on her because I was anxious to try a new romance, Halsin. However, because she was created just after full release, her save file was horrifically bugged. I got the cut scenes for Halsin that allowed me to progress his companion quest and cure Moonhaven of the shadow curse, but after that I could get no further dialogue from him at all, even in camp. I was playing with a party limit mod by the time he joined my party, so I never needed to worry about dismissing him from my party, but I did occasionally have difficulty with him following the party. I had to run around controlling him a lot. The only scene I ever got with him once he joined me was specifically his sex scene, after I did the love test at the circus in Act 3. I knew literally nothing about him, lol, so I had to google the answers.

But that was the thing. I knew… nothing about this guy. He was just some hot elf my bard boned, I had zero investment in him other than that. And it became a head canon for me about her - she was a typical bard, slutting her way to the Gate. She slept with the Emperor, she had a foursome with the drow twins and Halsin, and she absolutely played Haarlep's game to get his pass code. And while I'd wished, at the time, I could have had the additional enrichment of a poignant, heartfelt romance, I did enjoy exploring a character that was more free with her sexuality. As a result, though, I'd ended up "saving myself" for Halsin, because I knew his romance would (or in my case should but didn't) open up very late in the game. And I'd shot down all of the other companions fairly quickly.

Including Gale.

Especially Gale.

He was still bugged at the time, and his… overly amorous nature, lol, was widely known to anyone who'd spent more than ten minutes on the internet. So I ignored a lot of opportunities to know him better. And at the time, he was honestly my least favorite character. Particularly because I truly didn't enjoy him in early access. I genuinely found him offputting and way too over the top, and subsequently much of his narrative flew straight over my head.

Like a Boeing 777.

But let's be honest. Because of the nature of his story, and the way he seems to compartmentalize his trauma as devotion, and because of the mask of charm and confidence he wears to convince your character of his usefulness, and the way he tempers his emotions so he doesn't upset the orb, all of these things… the complexity of his narrative is super duper subtle. Or at least to me it was. I was the complete dumb dumb that didn't pick it up from context like we were supposed to.

Until I played my bard, Shayla. The first one to get through Act 3.

I had saved the culmination of Gale's quest in Sorcerous Sundries til nearly the end. Just before all the stuff with the foundry and Gortash. At the time, he was still a checklist item, a box to mark off on my road to the final boss.

So I went into it feeling like this man was probably pretty fed up with me, lol. And then he read the Annals of Karsus and I realized right then just how much I'd taken this character for granted. Because everything about him, his entire personality, shifted right there, and he became… someone else. And everyone else in my party noticed it too. The choice of responses I was given was crafted in a way that made me feel like the writers very much wanted me to notice a change had taken place within Gale. And then I picked a response that was honestly a touch unkind. I don't remember what I said to him, but…

He yelled at me.

"She left me to die!" he said. I remember that part.

And when the camera panned back to me and the party, we were all wide eyed and reared away from him in shock and disbelief that this charming, confident, gregarious, and benign creature was suddenly so… dark. And it was at that moment that a light switch was flipped. The missing puzzle piece was found and snapped into place. Suddenly I understood everything I'd missed up to that point, and it was more than just an "ah hah!" moment. It was an, "Oh my god…" moment. He hadn't become someone else.

We were seeing who he truly was for the first time.

His mask had slipped. Cracked beneath strain. He'd been pushed to a breaking point.

Naturally, because he's Gale, he recovered quickly. But it was too late. I saw him. And then two things happened. I fell in love with him. Instantly. But then I also realized the game was almost over. His romance opportunity had come and gone, there wouldn't be a "confess your love at the last minute" option. And of course his fate at the end of the game was not so kind to my bard either.

I've had big feelings about it ever since.

And then the Hugs mod came out, which only served to further poke my great big ouchy feelings.

I've lived in head canon land for a while now when it comes to Shayla Moonsong. In my head canon, he did end up taking her advice, he did pick an outcome that didn't involve using the Crown of Karsus or the Karsite Orb, and in no way did he become a pulverized cloud of stardust. He ended the game living peacefully in Waterdeep, giving Tara belly rubs and ushering in the next generation of wizards without grooming them for a lifetime of suffering.

But that leaves Shayla herself and her big, unresolved feelings. Feelings that were never processed or acknowledged, as the time was never right between her relationship status with Halsin and the fate of the world resting on her shoulders.

So, what is a bard to do when she falls in love, but it's too late?

Nothing small, that's for sure. And it will probably involve singing.

(I'm planning on maybe two to three chapters for this story, in which she very much makes things worse before they get better, lol. She's still learning. But it's definitely gonna end with some light cunnilingus and good, heavy railing either on a kitchen counter or against a bookshelf. I haven't decided yet. I do hope, if you do decide to read this humble beginning, that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And also please excuse my ill attempts at self-effacing meta humor.)

Pairing: Gale / named fem!Tav bard Rating: Smut is imminent (once we get through the foreplay… er, mutual pining) Word count: 4790

Read the story HERE or under the cut

Chapter One: The Wizard, The Real One

"Is there a loan shark in the audience or something?" Jory asked.

"Hmm?" Nelsyn replied, but she didn't look up from her lines. He supposed that was fair. She was busy letting Sara fix the adhesive on the curly teal wig that sat between her horns, and Jory knew as well as anyone on cast that nothing good came from troubling the crew. He let his heavy bear pelt slip from his shoulders as he sat down in the empty chair next to her.

"She's been there all night," he told his friend as he nodded toward the entryway to stage right. "Boss lady. We've been touring this show for months. We could all do it in our sleep, she knows that. Never seen her hover like this."

And there was no reason for it. "The Fall of the Absolute" was a roaring success. The production was Shayla Moonsong's crowning achievement, a media darling, and the current obsession of a whole continent. She'd catalogued volumes of stellar, five-star reviews thus far, and was selling out box offices everywhere she went. The show was the hottest new thing since "Volo's Guide to Sex in the Elemental Planes."

But it wasn't her biggest accomplishment. It wasn't what she was truly known for.

She was the Hero of Baldur's Gate.

She faced the illithid Netherbrain herself, and won.

And the tale they were telling in front of all those people was her story.

Heavens knew the winsome bard had faced far greater perils than watching a chapter of her life play out on a stage.

And yet there she stood, on this most unremarkable of nights, leaning just inside the door frame where she could observe without obstructing. Where she could scan the audience like a scrying eye, searching for… something. Normally she'd be flitting about like a cloud of gnats directing the cast and crew, answering questions, giving orders, helping the caterer, filling water jugs, finding toilet paper, running errands, meeting VIPs. Trying not to go crazy. But not tonight. Tonight she stood very still, chewing her thumbnail and unconsciously flicking the tip of her tail over and over, hard to the left.

And Jory remembered what Nelsyn had said about what it meant when tieflings flicked their tail to the left.

She was clearly nervous about something.

"Well, we're about to do the big emotional number," Nelsyn finally told him, closing the cover of her script while Sara gave her wig a good yank to test the glue. "It's the one all the teenage girls are sobbing over their sketch pads for right now."

She stopped to take a sip of water when Sara bent to pick up her cosmetics case. The girl made a gesture to Jory to give up his seat, and he tripped over his own feet unfolding himself to stand up. Once again he was reminded why he was cast as the big druid, Halsin. Shayla had told him once that while he wasn't quite as tall as the real thing… he was close. He wondered how easily the boss lady's former lover would have fit into that chair.

"This is our first time in Waterdeep," Nelsyn continued, trying her best not to move her lips while Sara applied a fresh coat of pink stain. "She probably just wants to see how it gets received. She doesn't really get to just sit out there and watch, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Could be it," Sara told them both, bunching her eyebrows and concentrating on keeping her hand steady. "Part of it, anyway. That is her favorite character out there, singing his heart out about the bomb in his chest."

"Her favorite character? The wizard?"

"Someone else got a bomb?"

"Please. Everyone knows I'm her favorite character."

"Listen," she replied as she wiped the applicator clean with a kerchief, "you're a good looking kid, and no one hates watching you take your clothes off out there." Nelsyn snorted, but they both ignored her. "A healthy percentage of ticket sales is probably yours, no one's arguing that. But that's not enough for you to game the win."

"Game the w- what?" Jory laughed, his oiled obliques glistening as he pulled the bear pelt back over his shoulders. "Look, I'm not trying to make it a competition or anything, okay? You brought it up. But I literally play an archdruid who carves ducks, sings to squirrels, and adopts orphans. Plus? He looks like this." He swept his hands grandly over his abdomen, flexing muscles most people had only seen in paintings or medical textbooks. "And did I mention he's also her boyfriend?"

"Her ex-boyfriend," Sara corrected him, pointing at Nelsyn as she spoke. "Have you even listened to the song she's getting ready to sing? You know. The one about love? And sacrifice?" She shifted her weight as an intern sidled past her to tidy the table, refill their drinks, and bag up the trash. "And don't tell me you haven't looked at Erik with both of your eyeballs. We've all seen him. The man has eyelashes as long as your forearm. And the biggest, saddest, wettest brown eyes on the face of this planet. He's like a baby cow, okay? I'm just saying." She stood to let the intern past her again, and bent to drag her cosmetics case out of the way. "This is the man she cast to play the lead in the big romantic climax of the whole show. When the main character realizes she's in love and it's too late. She's managed to capture," she pinched her fingers in front of her face, "the very essence of what it means to have sad children mooning over this show for years to come, okay? The baby cow is a cash cow. And he is clearly her favorite character."

"I think the vampire is her favorite character," the intern said, unprompted, as she reached to help Nelsyn out of her seat. "He's everyone's favorite character."

"You're all wrong," Nelsyn told them as she sloughed her way out of her robe with great theatrical flair. The intern caught it before it hit the floor, just as she'd done so many times before. Nelsyn stood with her hands on her hips and a gallant curve to her tail, casting her eyes toward the rafters and beaming a heavily pink-stained smile, resplendent in her artificially distressed leather armor blotted with thick fake blood.

"I'm her favorite character," she said, glowing with certainty. "And it should be obvious. I'm her! Now, stand back and watch while I go make a bunch of little girls cry!" And with that, she grinned devilishly and pranced toward the stage.

But once she was gone, the intern leaned forward and beckoned. Jory found himself instinctually drawn to listen.

"Well, you wanna know what I heard?" she whispered, and her eyes landed on Shayla for only just a moment. Jory nodded out of reflex. "I heard a rumor that someone in the orchestra pit overheard the boss lady telling someone in the box office that there was going to be a special guest tonight."

"What. Like, family?" Jory asked. "I thought she was an orphan."

"Could be anyone," Sara answered him from where she stood, combing through a wig hanging on the wall. "Philanthropist, politician. Who knows.

"Or," the intern hissed, leaning in even closer, "it could be one of them."

"One of who?"

"You know. Them. Thems what was with her, when all this went down."

"Like… like one of the actual…?"

"Don't you two have anything better to do than -"

"Wait. We're in Waterdeep," Jory breathed. He snatched up Nelsyn's script and started thumbing through it, fanning the pages and blowing a strand of hair across his nose. "Isn't… isn't the wizard…?"

Sara dropped her comb to her side and opened her mouth, but stopped and blinked at him instead. A thoughtful look crept across her face. She nodded her head in defeat.

"The wizard's from Waterdeep."

Then, as one, they all turned to look at Shayla where she stood at stage right, still as a statue.

And the music began to swell. The strings stirred the air with sounds as soft and sweet as sunset. The woodwinds sang a shrill crescendo as Erik began to make his famous climb.

And Nelsyn began to sing her famous song.

Before she disappeared beyond the narrow view from stage right, Jory watched her as she raised her arm to reach for him.

The wizard.

And her voice rang out so high and so clear, so heavy with every loss that Shayla Moonsong had ever suffered, with every plea that ever twisted her heart in bitter knots. With every word that ever fell from the mighty pen of their beloved playwright.

Who stood now with her hand at her throat. It bobbed once when she swallowed. Her lips parted and she drew a breath, and a hush fell over the crowd. She settled in to listen with the rest of them.

And her tail flicked once more to the left.

I know I've been unkind to you And I've pushed you way too far And I know in ignorance I forced you To reveal the man you are And I know I've left you with nothing to lose And even less to gain And though I know you owe me nothing Please don't give in to pain

Erik's silhouette was emblazoned across the long, velvet curtain hanging behind the hideously decorated staircase he was climbing. His movements were eery and real, despite their paltry attempts to pantomime a grisly memory that none of them had ever lived. Each step was measured and dreamlike and perfect, like a person caught in a trance or a dead man called home to his rest by a spectral light.

Or in this case, a massive papier mache facsimile of a netherbrain hung from a scaffold over the stage.

Please, Please don't do this I'm begging you not to go Please, Please don't do this There's something you need to know What can I do to make you wait Convince a goddess to change your fate Please tell me that it's not too late There's something I didn't say…

"It can't be him, though. Can it?" Jory asked. "Didn't he, like," he pointed a finger toward the stage, "explode?"

"Oh, no. It's just a story, mate," came a voice from behind them. It was Velanthyr, the elf who played Astarion. They rounded the table and perched themself on the corner, placing their white wig beside them as they took a bite from an apple. "She's embellished tons of stuff. For emotional impact. They all do it."

I should have loved you since I met you I should have loved you all along

"That bard she played? In the first act?"

"Yeah?"

"She ain't really dead either."

"Seriously?"

I should have told you that I love you Instead of hiding behind a song

"My cousin met her. Said he saw her play someplace they had dinner."

"No shit?"

"It's true. She teaches music in Baldur's Gate."

Is there nothing left that I can do But fall to my knees and pray

"So what's with her, anyway?" Velanthyr asked, pointing their apple at Shayla while they wiped the juice from their lips with their other hand.

The tip of her tail flicked again, and slowly she wrapped her arms around her middle.

To any god or any devil Who'd keep you from walking away

"She's been acting weird all night," they said.

"S'what we were just talking about."

Please, Please don't do this! Turn around! This isn't right!

"We think the wizard might be out there," the intern told them. "The real one."

"Oh no," the elf laughed.

Please, Please don't do this! Please, I'm begging you to fight!

"Hope he has a sense of humor. It's about to get weird!"

"Weird?!" Sara growled at them, flinging her comb about.

Forget your fickle god's desire I'd cross the oceans, I'd walk through fire I'd conquer all the Hells entire For you And yes, I know you're tired

"The man is getting ready to watch himself die! And I'm sure I don't need to remind you his death is self-inflicted! If there's a chance that any of this is real? That the trauma this man survived is on display? You all need to show a little respect." She shook her head and turned back to her wig. "Shut up and let her listen."

Sara's words may have stung him, but Jory knew she was right. So he obeyed her, and he listened. And for the first time he truly heard the fragile warble of desperate heartache that Nelsyn had worked so hard to craft through her voice.

Come back to me and take your rest Indulge one overdue caress I'll steal the sorrow from your chest And confess, I will confess

But he didn't just uncover a new appreciation for his friend and her level of skill. There was more to it than that. There was a depth to this scene that he'd been missing before now.

There was a meaning. One that wasn't meant for the whole world.

It was only meant for one man.

He could sense it in the vibrant tension bound between Shayla Moonsong's shoulder blades.

And then Nelsyn grew quiet. Everything got quiet. The music made a subtle shift to something low and dulcet, but tense, like a string pulled too tight without snapping. Jory found his feet had led him to stand at Shayla's shoulder. He could hear her breathing through her teeth and he felt compelled to reach out and take her hand.

She took hold of it like a lifeline.

You're everything to me and more You're all that I've been fighting for You're more than just an end to war…

Nelsyn paused after that last note. It was important to the narrative, it was the whole point behind the wizard's story. But her longing would go deliciously unrequited, and would inspire a veritable deluge of creativity from fandom communities everywhere.

Shayla squeezed Jory's hand, squeezed her eyelids firmly shut. She held her breath and Jory could see Erik had reached the top of the rise. There he stood, a straight, unyielding figure gazing off into the liminal distance, resolute.

And he would never turn around.

It wouldn't be long. Any moment.

Nelsyn sang her penultimate line.

And I would give my life for yours…

She held the word so long it nearly sank into Jory's skin. It sent a wave goosebumps to crest over every inch of his body. The orchestra wove their way through their final, sweeping refrain, and the conductor brought them to a close on a plaintive harmony between a flute and an oboe.

And then the light collapsed.

It shrank to a small, pale circle that drew its stark and shining focus on a razor-slim shadow cast against the curtain.

In the shape of a dagger.

Erik lifted it high and turned its point toward his heart.

"Gods preserve me," Shayla mumbled to herself. It was the only sound Jory could hear aside from the sniffs and sniffles of the audience. Collectively they teetered at the edges of their seats, enthralled by a beautiful, mournful man who was counting the final seconds of his life with undaunted stoicism and courage.

Nelsyn could've whispered her final line if she wanted to, but instead it burst from her as a scream.

"Don't do this!!!"

Jory felt it thrum like a shockwave within his own chest, and beside him Shayla flinched. She squeezed his hand even harder.

"Just tell me when it's over," she said to him. And then suddenly there was a flurry of activity.

He took a step back and yanked her away from the door when a small flock of technicians flew in to crowd the space they left behind.

Up high, far in the corner, Jory saw the dagger move against the curtain. And all of the good people of Waterdeep gasped when they watched the blade meet its mark.

"Fire in the hole," a technician murmured beside him, and the spotlight on the curtain went black.

Then a pair of spells were cast that bathed the audience in a blinding aurora. It blazed with ribbons of vivid blues and purples and greens, speckled with myriad glittering white stars.

And an arrow of roaring thunder was launched far overhead. It detonated with such a resounding boom that it shook everything, even the floor boards beneath Jory's feet. It rattled seats and drinking vessels, it toppled music stands, and it made Erik's staircase sway alarmingly as it was wheeled backstage, with him still riding precariously at its top.

Shayla Moonsong's face fell into her hands.

"Go on," Erik sang as he danced his way down the stairs. "Tell me how devastating I was. Don't hold back. Tell me everything."

"You were spectacular, my love!" Velanthyr assured him as they ran to greet him, cradling his face in their hands and kissing him sweetly. "You always are."

"Were they weeping?" he asked his lover, nuzzling their face with his own. "The lights are so bright, I can never see."

"They were drowning in their tears, darling. Drowning."

"Is everything alright?" Sara asked as she approached on her tiptoes, reaching for Shayla's arm. Velanthyr's wig drooped at her side, forgotten. "What can I do?"

"I can't even look," Shayla whimpered through the palms that smothered her face.

"Oh honey," Sara cooed as she pulled the woman closer. And in a blessed act of mercy, she asked the question that no one wanted to ask, but someone needed to. Long before now, before this critical point had been breached.

"He's out there, isn't he?"

"I think I've made a huge mistake." Shayla slid her fingertips down to press against her lips, unable to form any other words. She could only shake her head, her eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"Do you want us to look? See if we can see him?"

"I don't think I wanna know."

"Where is he seated?"

"E6."

"Oh." Sara briefly grimaced at Jory, but didn't stop rubbing circles across Shayla's back. "Front and center. Of course."

"Yep." The way her lips popped at the end of the word only served to emphasize how mortified she was. "Wouldn't want him to miss anything."

"Well, of course not. He's your guest," Sara replied, jerking her chin in a way that suggested Jory had been volunteered for reconnaissance.

"Oh gods!" Shayla raked her claws past her horns to twist them into her hair. "I even told him he could invite his mother!"

"Well that's a perfectly reasonable thing to do, one would think."

Jory understood his assignment. He sauntered away but paused at the door frame. The show wasn't over yet. When the technicians finished collecting their gear, they scrambled off to safely stow their rockets and retrieve the set pieces for the final scenes. They were dragging the staircase away from the main thoroughfare when Corinne, the woman who played the narrator, whipped past them.

"Coming through," she chimed, racing out to center stage, taking her place before the curtains could rise once more. Her final soliloquy would lead them into the epilogue, and would give Jory the opportunity he needed to cast his eyes past the orchestra pit and across the section of seats that lie beyond.

Front and center.

He would only have a minute or two. Sara would need to replace Velanthyr's wig. Erik needed a drink and Nelsyn's makeup needed a touch up. Very soon they would be on stage, the lights burning holes through their retinas, leaving them blinded and oblivious to all but each other and the saga they would spin to its end. He reached up to buckle the clasp on the bear pelt that draped across his shoulders.

For now, it was the narrator's turn. But he was ready. And then the curtains rose.

He smashed his face against the door frame like a cat burglar. A shaft of light swung down upon the stage illuminating Corinne at its center, and Jory peered out into the darkness it left in its wake. He squinted until he found the end of the section behind the orchestra pit, and he started counting backwards from there.

But seat E6 was empty.

Certain he'd made a mistake, he counted back again to double check, to be extra sure.

But he was right the first time.

"It's empty," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"What?" Shayla cried as she spun to face him.

"Yeah," he told her. "I counted twice to make sure I had the right seat, but no one's in it."

"Oh gods." She began to pace, wringing her hands. "What about the one next to it?"

"Which side?"

"Just tell me if you see an older woman."

"Umm, okay." At first he wasn't certain. There was a child on the right side, but on the left was a person who'd stood up, and was bent with their back toward him, like they were reaching for something. "I think… maybe. Yeah. I think so. It looks like she's getting up. She's picking up a bag or something. Is that a cat?"

"Tara?"

"Who brings a cat to a -"

"She's not a cat. She's a tressym."

"What the hell is a tress- holy shit, it's got wings! It just flew over - oh! Oh, I think I see him!"

"Where!"

The tressym sailed through the air to float beside a tall, slender man who was moving quickly up the aisle toward the exit. He wasn't running, out of proper respect for social decorum, but he had the energy of a man who wished he was. His shoulders were hitched up near his ears and he was stifling his mouth with the back of one hand.

And a shiver ran down Jory's spine.

This was the guy. The wizard. The real one.

Gale Dekarios, of Waterdeep.

In the flesh. Right there.

From what little Jory could see, the play had done him justice. He was a very handsome man, lithe and lean, long-legged with a powerful stride, and every bit as comely as Erik had depicted him to be.

Yet it was hard to imagine, through simple sight alone, that this was a man who had once been the Chosen of a god. Or that this was a man who had once vanquished the avatar of Death itself. A man who had put an end to the Cult of the Absolute.

A man who had once made his own decision about whether or not to plunge a dagger into his heart.

But it was easy to see why Shayla would want to stop him. This man clearly meant something to her.

He didn't know what providence deemed it necessary for him to ask. It certainly wasn't any of his business. But the question tumbled out of his mouth, unbidden. Perhaps the gods themselves just wanted to hear someone finally say it out loud.

"Does he know how you feel about him?"

Shayla slumped and let her hands fall limp to her sides. She pulled her lip into her mouth, and her eyes swam with visions of regret. "No," she whispered to him. "It was never the right time."

Oh, how irony could be so cruel.

"You should go after him, then," he told her. "Go quick. If you hurry, you can catch him before he gets to the front door."

"Shit!" she snarled and for a moment, Jory was afraid she'd scurry across the stage in the middle of Corinne's long and emotional speech. There was a wild streak in him that almost hoped she would. But instead, she bolted through the loading bay doors and flung herself outside, presumably to tear down the alley between the theater and the wine cellar to run around the building toward the front.

Nelsyn wandered over to them, sipping cold water from her mug and watching over her shoulder as the loading bay doors swung back and forth on their hinges.

"Jory," she stated flatly. "What did you do."

"What?!" he cried. Sara could only double over and laugh at him. "I didn't do anything!"

"Somebody did something," she said, eyeing the doors skeptically. "And it looks a lot like it was you."

"I'm serious! She asked if we could see him, and I told her yes. That's all."

"See who?"

"The wizard!"

"What wizard? You mean, like… Erik?"

"No!" He stuck out both hands and shook them. "The actual wizard! The real one, from Waterdeep! Yes, he's still alive! No, he didn't explode!"

"Well, everybody knows that…"

"She wanted to know where he was, so I told her, and then she ran out the door."

"Wait. So he was actually here tonight?"

"Jory," Sara accused him, still smiling pitifully at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. "That's not all you said to her."

"But I didn't -"

"You asked her a pretty personal question."

"Where was he sitting?" Nelsyn continued as she took another drink and leered at him over the rim over her mug.

"E6."

"Wow. Front and center."

"Yeah. She didn't want him to miss anything."

"So what did you ask her?"

Jory could only roll his eyes and sigh. None of them had time for this. He dropped his head and pinched his brow between his thumb and his forefinger but when he looked up, he found all eyes were on him. Even Erik and Velanthyr had paused their conversation long enough to turn around and stare. The technicians in the back tried to appear as if they weren't listening, but everyone knew they were. Suddenly, he could feel the heat that was trapped beneath the heavy mantle of his bear pelt.

"I asked her if he knew how she felt about him."

"What do you mean, how she felt…" And through the window of her eyes he could see her mentally calculating every single word she'd just sung. Right in front of the very man it was all intended for. Seated front and center, missing nothing. Her eyes flickered like golden flames.

"Holy shit," she breathed. "Like… feelings? Real ones? What did she say?"

He didn't get to answer. Just then, raucous applause erupted from behind them. The thunderous retort of clapping hands and cheers drowned all other sound, and signaled to them all that their time was up. Corinne came skipping backstage as the curtains fell behind her.

"And that's a wrap for me! Slam and a dunk! Go get 'em while they're - what's going on?"

"The wizard was here tonight," Nelsyn answered her without breaking her eye contact with Jory. "The real one. Shayla is in love with him. What did she sayyy?"

"No," he told her, holding very still while Sara dabbed a powder puff over his face. "She said no. He doesn't know."

"Are you serious?" Corinne gasped, pressing a hand to her heart.

"Well he does now," Sara chuckled, wriggling her eyebrows as she dropped the powder back into her cosmetics case. "I hope she caught him before he got away. He deserves an explanation."

And all around them, activity buzzed. Scenic backdrops rolled by, the intern fussed with Velanthyr's wig on her tiptoes, Sara dug frantically around searching for her lip stain, and the other actors began lining up to take their places. But in spite of the jubilant bustle of life happening all around them, Nelsyn could only stand with her mug in her hands, awestruck by the revelation they'd just been given.

"Sweet tapdancing Asmodeus," she laughed, shaking her head with her eyes transfixed on some far away place. "You mean to tell me that this whole time," she jostled the water in her mug when she bellowed, "THIS WHOLE TIME?! This whole play has been just a great big love letter to some… man?! For months?! And he only just heard it? Tonight? For the first time?"

"I think that about sums it up, yep," Sara told her, taking the mug from her hands.

"That's genius!" She shuffled to her place in line, utterly befuddled, her eyes glassy and glazed. "They're star-crossed, it's perfect! I wish this would've happened months ago! Just you wait, you'll see. When all the little fan fic authors out there find out about this? They are gonna go berserk! People everywhere will pay money for a vial of our sweat! The contents of our chamber pots - we'll be famous!

"Gods have mercy on us all. There might even be a sequel. We'll be touring this show til the day we die!"

************************************************************************

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #gale bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #tav x gale #gale x tav #galemance #bg3 fic #bg3 gale fic #bg3 fan fiction #bg3 gale fan fiction

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steviewashere · 6 months ago

Text

Love at First Trim (Chapter 1/???)

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Implied/Referenced Child Abandonment, Implied/Referenced Break-Up Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Alternate Universe - No Supernatural, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Set in the 2000s, Mild Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Older Eddie Munson, Older Steve Harrington, Original Child Character, Single Parent Eddie Munson, Hair Stylist Steve Harrington, Protective Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Flirting (But it Sucks), Eddie Munson has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Dialogue Heavy, Tags May Change, Rating May Change

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Single Parent Eddie Munson, my beloved.

Fair warning, I know nothing about hair care or cutting hair or dyeing hair. All of my research comes from Google. And also, I am aware that trimming Eddie's hair probably would've worked better if it was wet. It is not. Oops.

✂️—————✂️ “You wanna do what to your hair?!” Eddie shrieked.

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe the gall that his daughter had. She’s recently turned thirteen—the age of discovery. The age where she’s finding her footing, her style, her everything. And, Eddie gets it. He so totally gets it. Eddie was thirteen when he shaved his head the one and only time, when he began to make his battle vest, when he snuck off to a bus towards Indianapolis and saw Judas Priest in concert. So, yes, he gets what she’s doing.

“Dad,” his little girl (not so little) sighs. “I want to dye my hair. Like my friend Sarah. She’s got the most beautiful head of hair right now! Purple, Dad. Her hair is purple.”

“No—no, I got that,” he sighs himself. “But Ella, my little munchkin, my sweet angel baby; you don’t want to dye your hair with something, y’know, a little more neutral first? What if you absolutely hate having color?”

Ella shoots him a glare. So lethal, Eddie swears he feels the bullet enter his chest. “So you were cool about shaving the sides of my head. And the possibility of me getting my nose pierced as soon as I turn sixteen. But dying my hair red is where you draw the line?”

Okay, when she puts it like that, Eddie does sound a touch too protective. But his daughter’s head of hair is one of her crowning features. She’s got her dad’s curls, but her mom’s gorgeous sandy blonde hair. Maybe Eddie and Ella’s mom didn’t end on the best of terms—not that there was an ending to be seen, she had just up and left one day without a trace—but even he can admit that the sandy blonde is something other-worldly. Every single Munson has dark brunette hair, no abnormalities, no others. It’s difficult, even a bit frustrating, to what his little girl grow and change and differentiate herself. He’s excited for, absolutely, but he’s also such a papa bear by fault.

He rubs at his temples, tension building and building beyond belief. There’s no chance he’s winning this. “Okay, listen,” he mutters. Where she’d been incessantly tapping in the kitchen, several feet away from the carpeted living room where he’s stress slouched on the couch, she now falls deathly silent. Eddie takes a deep breath. “I will agree with you on this,” he states slowly, “on a few conditions.”

“I’m listening.”

“Your hair will be dyed with something like Manic Panic—not box dye. And you will do it at an actual salon. You won’t let a friend do it. I’m not going to do it. And you certainly will not be doing it yourself, do you understand?” He looks up from his lap and into the little window over the kitchen counter. Where she looks back. The ‘tude apparent on her features. He fights the urge to roll his eyes.

Ella continues to stare when the silence stretches. And then she heaves an enormous sigh.

“Little lady, do not sigh at me,” he firmly scolds. And for a moment, he feels like Uncle Wayne. He suppresses the shudder at what that means for him. He’s not even forty yet, he shouldn’t be acting like his way too old uncle. “Do you or do you not understand me?”

Relenting, Ella grumbles, “Fine. We’ll go to a salon.” She rounds the corner into the living room. Eyes him for a beat before settling next to him on the middle cushion. Her left hand reaches up to his hair, tugging at the ends. His hair isn’t the best it’s been—though there isn’t much of a contest, not since he was fifteen—it’s a little wiry, with several inches of dead ends, and already greying at the temples. But it’s still got the length to his shoulders and the bangs that curl inwards right above his eyebrows. Some definition, even. It’s still objectively good, for somebody who doesn’t always care about their hair.

She tugs again. “Mm, you should dye yours too,” Ella murmurs.

He startles and whips his head to her. ‘Absolutely not,” he adamantly refuses.

“Oh, c’mon, Dad,” she whines. “It doesn’t have to be your whole head, but it’d be like a friendship bracelet or something. Just get a streak and match with me. Please?”

“Wha—Hold on. You, my thirteen year old and angst-riddled teenager, wants to match with her dear old dad? Who—keep in mind—is nearing forty years old? Who you called an old fart the other day because he was reminiscing over ‘80s cartoons and explaining how CDs seem like a waste of time?” He incredulously asks. Eyes widening further with each word. His hands reach out and squeeze her cheeks, lift up her arms, twist her head left and right. “Who’s sitting on my couch right now? This certainly can’t be my kiddo,” he murmurs.

She rolls her eyes, swatting him away. The attitude on this girl is unbelievable. He almost wants to go over to the landline and call up Wayne and apologize for how he acted as a teenager. But he just quirks an eyebrow, cross his arms over his chest, and waits. Ella shrugs. “I just…I just want to do it. And I know I can be a brat or a butthead or whatever, but I do actually care a lot about you,” she admits quietly. “And…”

Then, she goes silent. Contemplative and squirmy. As if she doesn’t want to say the next part aloud.

“And?” Eddie searches.

“And I hear you sometimes talking to Grandpa Wayne about how you…You don’t know how to ‘connect’ with me. You always sound so sad and then you sound even sadder when you bring up how Mom…Before she left, how she could get me in an instant. And I just. I don’t know; I don’t want you to think there’s this distance between us,” she murmurs. “This is me offering a bridge, I guess.”

He swallows back the golf ball sized lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly. Eddie didn’t think she heard him, considering it was always so late at night. When all the neighborhood kids in Hawkins were asleep. But he realizes teenagers are going to be teenagers, staying up past their bedtime, eavesdropping. At least she isn’t sneaking out through her bedroom window like he did.

Something in him breaks, though.

She’s thirteen and too adult for his liking.

“I’ll do it, kiddo,” he agrees gently. “There’s a salon around the corner. We’ll go there this weekend, promise. Now, go do your homework before you make your old man cry.”

“You’re not old,” she grumbles, standing. “You’re just stuck in the past,” she states, retreating to her room. And then the door clicks behind her and Eddie’s left to stuff his crumbled pieces back inside, in the jar of his heart.

——— Come Saturday, he’s got two appointments made for them. Back to back. At first, he was unsure of who should go first. Out of safety, he had wanted to, but then Ella was just a bit too eager. And he knew that making her wait would be pointless.

He’s nervous, though, even as he parks in front of the salon. With the little plastic bag from the Sally’s down the street. The little tubs of bright red Manic Panic, bleach, and toner knocking against each other. Not once in his entire life has he thought about dyeing his hair or messing with it beyond shaving, trimming, and washing it. Has never considered the idea that his daughter would be someone who’d be interested in changing up her hair, too. All this to say he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“We’re going to be late for our appointments if you wait out here any longer,” Ella, oh so helpfully, reminds from the passenger seat.

“Are you sure you want to go first? This is a big change, you know. And maybe you’ll see the dye in my hair and realize you actually don’t—“

The passenger door opens and slams behind after her. He’s left in the driver’s seat to gape momentarily. Staring at his daughter impatiently waiting on the sidewalk. She gestures to the glass doors of the salon. The Pandora’s box of doors—a portal to the world of Harrington’s Salon. (Which—where has he heard that name before?) Ella’s arms point firmer at the open sign and the doors again. “Let’s go!” She yells at him through the windshield. He has no other option but to just get out and follow her in.

Immediately, the smell of aftershave hits his nostrils. That and hairspray. The lights are sort of bright. And the chairs are each aligned to their own mirrors. What hits him hard, however, is the person that emerges from the back room. Their hair is the first thing Eddie notices. Puffed up, held in place, yet soft and bouncing with his steps. Then his face—creased with smile lines and fitted with hazel honey eyes, a straight triangular nose, and pink pouting lips. Moles on his body, a few random freckles to match. His clothes are neat, but not stereotypical douchebag neat. Pressed blue henley overtop a white undershirt of sorts, tucked into a pair of worn in light wash jeans, and some dirties older Nike Cortez’s.

But most of all:

It’s Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington from high school. From a time when they were barely acquaintances, just stranger that caught each other staring; with malice, Eddie was never sure. Except, he’s older. Grayer throughout that beautiful head of hair, where his highlights used to be. His smile lines obviously deeper.

The moment of realization hits Steve, too. Instead of looking upset to see Eddie, though, he looks immeasurably happier. He smiles wide and inviting. Steps further towards the front counter and ushers them over.

“So, you two are my twelve and twelve-thirty appointments? The…Munson’s, right?” Steve asks brightly.

Eddie splutters for an embarrassing moment. Finally, though, he takes a deep breath. Answers, “Yeah, uh—Yeah. It should be under Edward, though? Or…it might be Eddie. I actually don’t remember which name I gave, I—“ He stops himself when he catches a quick glimpse of Ella’s face. Her eyes wide and an eyebrow quirked. Hip popped and arms crossed over her chest. “Yeah, Eddie Munson. And she’s Ella. She should be the one scheduled first, though for a full head dye job? We brought our own supplies, as I was told over the phone. Except, I dunno if I’ve got the right bleach and toner? I’m actually not sure if…I don’t know what I’m doing, honestly—“

Steve chuckles. His eyes squint with the stretch of his ever glowing smile. “It’s alright, Eddie. As long as you have the dye you’d like to use, I’ve got bleach and tools. Now…the question is, have we ever used bleach before? Or am I working with virgin hair?”

Before Eddie can even get the chance to take a breath, Ella is responding for them. “This is my first time. Dad’s been really strict about me ever using hair dye. It was a reeaalll hassle to convince him to do this. And an even bigger one to convince him to get a matching streak.”

“Okay, well, hopefully with my handy skills, the convincing won’t take as long. If you’re ready, Dad and Ella, I can get you guys situated in my chairs. I’ll start out with doing a test strip of bleach on your head, and if that ends up being a fail, then I can get started with using color immediately,” Steve explains. His voice stays light, despite essentially doing customer service. But he begins to walk slowly back towards one of the further most chairs, gesturing for Ella to sit down. She does, a soft smile plastered to her face, and then Steve ties an apron around her shoulders.

He follows hesitantly, sitting down in the adjacent chair, turned to watch. Hands over the bag of supplies when asked and waits with baited breath for Steve to survey his work.

“Hm,” Steve grunts. “This all looks good to me,” he murmurs. “I’m honestly so relieved you guys went with Manic Panic. This stuff is such a good first time dye and it’s not boxed. You would not believe the amount of botched dye jobs I’ve seen in the last decade or so all because of boxed colors. Honestly, those companies should be sued or something.” Eddie feels something stir low in his belly—something mixed with enamor with how Steve is genuinely excited to explain and do his work. Never, in a million years, would Eddie expect to see them here like this.

“Dad insisted on the Manic stuff. I almost made my friend smuggle in some boxed hair dye in my school’s restroom,” Ella confesses, a little breathy and nearly amused. She doesn’t look at Eddie at all, but he hopes that she feels his disapproving glare like daggers.

When there isn’t a response, Eddie drifts his sight over to Steve. Though, he isn’t concerned, instead finding him hyper-focused on his craft. He’s carefully grabbing a lock of Ella’s hair between his fingers. Checking it over to make sure it’s well hidden, in case this doesn’t work out. His tongue is poking out between his pouting lips, eyes squinted on his task, and eyebrows furrowed for the challenge. Once he finally finds a good enough chunk, he whispers, “A-ha!” And clips it to stand-out.

“So…” Eddie starts the conversation again, dragging out the word. He pats his hands down on his thighs. “How long does a test strand take?”

“For best results,” Steve mutters, now looking over the container of bleach, “I like to wait forty minutes. Just to ensure that there really isn’t any sort of reaction to the product. Longer means safer and that means I can sleep at night knowing I didn’t give a kiddo a bald spot or a chemical burn.” And then he looks over to Eddie, flashes him a quick and easing smile. He steps away for a moment, returning with an apron dutifully draped over himself, and begins mixing the product with something Eddie didn’t even grab.

“What’s that?” He asks.

Steve hums. “It’s developer. Don’t worry, it’s the same brand as the powder solution you brought. I can tell—“ He sets his little bowl of product down on the nearby counter. Faces Eddie as he puts on some latex gloves. “—That you’re nervous. I’ve been doing this for years, I know what I’m doing. Honed my craft real well.”

Eddie juts his chin up once in silent approval. And then he just sits back and watches.

This guy is an artist in his craft. He’s really undersold the whole “I’ve been doing this for years” gig. Steve is so gentle, so careful with Ella. He’s quick, efficient. Yet focused and tedious. It’s in the way he paints the mixture onto her hair, holding the hair between his fingers, how he really rubs the bleach in. In the calculated cut of foil he settles around the strand. How he puts all the utensils away, cleans up his equipment, hangs his apron up, and then comes back over to assess.

“Alright,” Steve sighs, over checking the foil. “We’ll keep that on there for forty minutes, my timer’s been set and is ticking. And then we’ll come back, rinse that out with cold water, and see how the hair reacted. If it worked, we can go ahead and bleach the whole head, same regime, and tone it afterwards.”

“And the color?” Eddie asks quietly.

“Hm,” Steve grunts again. He sticks his right hip out and places both of his hands on the waistband of his jeans. “I think,” he states slowly, “I think we should wait just a day or two for color.” He looks over to Eddie, eyes considerate and his face thoughtful. “Since her hair is new to this kind of treatment, we should take things a little easier. Usually, I’d go right in with the color after bleaching, but again—Virgin hair.”

“What about Dad?” Ella butts in. “His hair is also new to this kind of stuff.”

“Oh?” Steve asks curiously. “Really? I thought you would’ve done something funky to your hair, considering your whole…The whole aesthetic you’ve had for, what seems like, years.”

“Well,” Eddie murmurs sheepishly. He shrugs. His cheeks are heated and his stomach is flipping with all of Steve’s attention on him. “I’ve always really loved how my hair’s looked. Reminds me of my mom, so.”

Steve’s gaze softens. Something like remembrance flashes over his face before settling back to a gentle thing. “Well, I’ll make sure to be careful with your hair, too,” he promises softly. “Yours should actually be done today. Considering it’s only one little strip, nothing too extravagant. I’ll test your hair with the bleach, too. Let me just head in the back and prepare another bowl of product for you. Be back in a jiffy.”

It’s weird having Steve Harrington be nice to him, considering the status he held in high school. But Eddie supposes that when time passes and circumstances change, you have to, too. And he thinks it’s accurate to say that Steve’s a changed man, with how gentle he is with the people around him. Even a person he may have never known, never gotten along with. It’s all the better when he comes back into the main part of the salon, gloves on, bowl of bleach in hand, and the softest of smiles adorning his features.

Eddie doesn’t stand a chance. Whatever inevitable heartbreak comes from this, at least he’ll know what Steve’s fingers feel like in his hair.

Ella leans over before Steve makes it to them. Whispers, “Dad, close your mouth. You’re practically drooling.”

“Wh—Huh?” He dumbly says.

She smacks his knee with the back of her hand, punctuating each word with another slap. “Stop. Ogling. My. Stylist.”

“I can do whatever I want, miss ma’am. I am an adult, mind you.”

Her eyes roll so hard, he fears they may just pop out of her skull. “Can you at least wait until after my head is bleached to do your weird flirting?”

“It’s not weird, Ells. Besides, even if I were flirting, I wouldn’t have the time. My hair’s gonna be a quick thing anyway.”

She goes to reply, but Steve sidles up beside her. Sets his bowl on the counter and looks to Eddie once more. “You ready to test this in your hair?” He asks, voice polite.

He nods like a loose spring. “Uh—Yeah, yeah, sure,” he squeaks out. “Just…Just a little nervous, is all. Like you said. Y’know. Nerves.” His palms are sweating like they may just be able to put out a damn fire. And he wonders, for the first time in ages: When did I get so out of practice? Eddie’s seeing this guy for the first time since their mutual senior year, a time when they weren’t even friends, and he can’t keep the humiliation out of his flirting. If it’s even flirting, that is.

“Hey,” Ella speaks up, “would it be alright if I sit in the waiting area with some headphones in?” She gives Steve a polite expression, but when she makes eye contact with Eddie it’s more of a: I’m Saving Myself the Embarrassment of This Reaction. He should’ve known that she’d pull something like this, she typically does if Eddie’s having a good interaction with somebody. How he didn’t spot her walk in with her Discman and some headphones, he’ll never know. But there they are, being gestured to in her lap, and her eyes gleaming softly for Steve to be tricked by. “I’ll make sure to avoid the foil in the back,” she tacks on for good measure.

And it works on Steve because her little gags always work on new people. He shrugs, smiles softly, and gestures loosely to one of the waiting area chairs. “I mean, knock yourself out. Could always sit here, but uh—“ He crouches down and leans in close, dropping his voice to a faux whisper. “—Between me and you, your dad is being a little embarrassing, huh?”

“Hey!” Eddie squawks.

Ella is amused, to put it lightly. She grins, holding back a snort. Eyes gleaming with something like mischief now. “Yeah,” she sighs as if she’s actually put out. “Guess I should just dump him on you for now. But you know what you’re doing, so it should be fine. Volume will be up, so just tap me or something.” When she walks past Eddie’s chair, he knows she’s fighting the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

He does it back anyway. Because he’ll always be the bigger child, if he can help it.

Steve pats his shoulder, his hand lingering. “Don’t worry,” he says, voice normal again, “I don’t actually think that of you. I think…You being nervous about both of you guys is actually kinda sweet.”

Eddie snorts. “You don’t have to save face, man. She got my attitude, she’ll use it to her advantage. If she can ‘charm’ you into dealing with me, she will. Just the ways of a teenage girl with a dad ‘stuck in the past’, so she put it a few days ago.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll still be careful. Do you want me to get started on that test strip?”

He sighs, untenses his shoulders. “Actually,” Eddie begins. “I’ve been kind of eyeing myself in the mirror the couple of times you’ve gone into the back. And I was wondering if I’d be able to get a little trim? I’ll pay you for the extra work, of course! But I…God, it’s been a while.”

Above him, Steve hums. His eyes roam, calculating. He peels off his left latex glove and plucks some of Eddie’s dead ends. Thumb working over the wiry hair. “I can, of course I can. How much are you willing to take off? Might be a good…Hmm, two inches?”

“Where would that put me length wise? Sorry, I just don’t know much about hair. Let alone how many inches I’ve got to work with.”

For a moment, Steve smirks. Yeah, yeah. That’s what she said, Eddie thinks. He gently swipes up a good couple inches from the same strand he’s been working with. And his face goes serious and contemplative again. “Think that would put you right at your collarbones,” he muses. “And, if you really are nervous, I could always bleach and dye your streak when she comes in next.”

“Really?”

Steve nods gently. “Yeah. I’m practically a hair wizard, I can do anything. Which includes doing your strand on top of her full dye.”

Eddie sighs, relieved. His heart’s been rabbiting behind his ribs for the better part of half an hour. It definitely doesn’t help that his high school crush is also his stylist today. Doesn’t help that he’s making nerd references while being gentle with Eddie’s little silent freakout. But gosh does it sound nice to not go head first into this. “Please, Steve,” he murmurs, “I just need a trim today. Nothing else.”

Fingers rake from the top of Eddie’s head down to his shoulders. Steve’s left hand resting heavily on his shoulder afterwards. “Let me go ahead and dispose of the product mixture, alright? Just get yourself comfortable and I’ll take care of you.”

If something awakens in the butterfly storm of Eddie’s stomach, he’ll never say. But he does indulge Steve’s request. Leans back fully into his salon chair. Spreads his legs a little to make sure he doesn’t need to readjust himself during the trim. Closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. And by the time they’re opened again, Steve is back with an apron for Eddie’s clothes. He lets him drape it over silently. Relishing in their slow, mingled breaths. And the brush of Steve’s warm fingers to Eddie’s bare neck.

Steve is warm, solid, and soft. His face is immeasurably cute. Tongue poking out, eyebrows furrowed, squinting at the ends of Eddie’s hair. He breathes gently by Eddie’s ear. Fingers soothing and careful. Whenever they get caught in a tangle, he just quickly detangles it, doesn’t scold Eddie or sigh at him (like some other stylists have done in the past). For that, Eddie’s even more thankful than he thought he could ever.

What really makes him nearly squirm is when Steve bends down in front of him. Putting one another at direct eye level. He pinches the ends of Eddie’s bangs. Snips them. Combs them, even. Up close, Eddie can see how deep Steve’s smile lines really go. Where his crow’s feet are beginning to develop. The fine stubble above his upper lip. Every little strand of slivery grey in his hairline. Up close, Steve’s even more gorgeous than Eddie remembers.

“You do these yourself?” Steve asks softly, his voice deep and warm.

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs back, “been doing them in my bathroom since…Probably since freshman year of high school, honestly.”

A thoughtful grunt-hum. “They’re really good for somebody who doesn’t do this professionally,” Steve whispers. “I mean, I assume you aren’t a stylist.”

Eddie snorts. “God, no. I know how to take care of my hair, for the most part, and Ella’s. That’s all I do. I’m actually a mechanic nowadays.”

“Oh? You don’t do music anymore?” Steve asks, now standing back up, walking behind Eddie’s chair. His fingers rake through the bottom of Eddie’s curls again. And then he grabs the comb inside of his apron.

Eddie stops completely in his tracks. Frozen in his chair. Cheeks flushing. “How do you remember that I do music?” He asks quietly.

It finally hits Steve, too, what he said. His fingers halt and his cheeks blush and his eyes go wide where they meet Eddie’s in the mirror. “Uh,” he eloquently states. “I—Um. My best friend and I used to go to your bar shows? I-I thought you were really good.”

“Steve Harrington thought my crummy bar shows were good?”

“Well…Yeah? You were the best of the best when it came to the music lineups every night.”

“Every night?!” Eddie asks incredulously. “You were in the Hideout watching my stupid bar shows and I never saw you once? Are you pulling my leg right now?”

“No? Of course I’m not, Eddie. I used to see your Corroded Coffin posters in the halls and around town every once in a while and I thought, y’know, what if I stopped in there once? And so I did and you were really cool—I mean really good. I was just intrigued, man. I really wanted you to make it big,” Steve rambles. His fingers are still in Eddie’s hair, not stopped anymore, mindlessly combing. And his whole face is tomato red.

And even though he’s a little bit embarrassed, he’s still beautiful to Eddie.

Eddie blinks, taking in the information. Licks his lips, noticing the way Steve’s eyes follow the action. There’s tension here, Eddie can discern. The kind, he isn’t sure. “You should’a said hello, man. Maybe I would’ve done a private show for you.”

He spikes with pride at Steve’s continued flush, as it colors down his neck. Steve looks down to Eddie’s hair. Gently brushing both of his hands, palm and all, from the scalp to the ends. There’s a small smile on his face, graceful and pleased. “Maybe,” he murmurs. “But I doubt it. I mean, I was an asshole, Eddie. To people like you. Even if I did change by the time we shared a senior year, you probably would’ve…It doesn’t matter.” He goes back to snipping at Eddie’s dead ends. Focused on his task. “If I were a nicer guy, we could’ve been friends.”

At that, Steve goes silent again. Combing out the trimmed, loose hair. Even as it isn’t necessary. Even though Eddie knows he’ll be going home and showering after this. But he hums. “We can be friends now, though,” Eddie states quietly. “You seem like a good guy, Steve. Even if I don’t know you all that well, not yet, I can just tell that you are. You’re good with my little girl, you aren’t being an ass about me being nervous. You’re good, Steve. We should hang out.”

When he’s finally done, Steve stands at Eddie’s right side. Scissors and comb dutifully put away. His hands are on his hips again, looking down at Eddie with a quizzical expression. “You’d really want to be friends with me?”

Eddie shrugs. “Sure, why not? I live just around the block. And I’ve got a lot of free time after work in the week. Let’s make a statement—Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are friends.”

He gets this sweet little grin on his face. Eyes squinting with the action. “Yeah, okay,” Steve huffs. “Sure, I want to be friends. Maybe take you up on that private show some time?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Eddie says, a little too quiet. A little too real. But he smiles. And knows, looking at Steve’s matching face, that he’s entirely fucked.

✂️—————✂️ Taglist is Open for this fic! (Comment to be added, please <3)

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #original child character #single parent eddie munson #hair stylist steve harrington #mild angst and hurt/comfort

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captainsophiestark · 6 months ago

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So something crazy happened this week - I hit 1.5k followers! 🥳

Genuinely thank you all so much for following me and supporting my writing. When I first joined Tumblr, I truly never could've dreamed how wonderful the community, friends, and fandom I've found would be. I love you all so much!

I've never done a follower celebration before, but I really wanted to do one for this milestone, so here we are! It's D&D themed, but no knowledge of D&D is required to join in the fun.

Our 1.5k follower campaign is going to be running from today, May 29th, to Wednesday, June 6th. During that time, feel free to send me as many things off the list below as you like! Interacting with people on here is one of my absolute favorite parts of Tumblr, so feel free to come into my ask box as many times as you like 😄

I'll be tagging all posts for this celebration as #Sophie's 1.5k Follower Campaign. You don't have to follow me to participate, but it would be greatly appreciated. Without further ado, here are the actions you can take during this campaign:

Zone of Truth - Send me an ask with a game, like KMK/FMK, Would You Rather, or anything else you can think of!

Roll Initiative - Roll some dice and send me a character from the list at the bottom of this post, along with the numbers you rolled! I have prompt lists left over from my Year of Fic planning, and I'll put your character and your dice rolls togeter to write a corresponding headcanon (or possibly longer fic, if the inspiration really strikes!). Roll one of the following, some of the following, or all of the following: 1d8, 1d10, 1d12, and 1d20. You can roll with real dice or by typing "roll dice" into google! Please specificy if you have a strong preference between a romantic or platonic fic.

Nat 20 (2 left) - Send me a character I write for and a request, and I'll write you a oneshot! My time's a little limited right now, so I'm capping these at 3 total requests. In the immortal words of Brian Murphy, "Roll three Nat 20s in a row!". If you want to also roll a d20 and send me the result, I'll add a dialogue prompt corresponding with the number you rolled to the request. Please specificy if you have a strong preference between romanitc and platonic fic.

Perception Check - I have a good amount of writing queued up for my Year of Fic and a few other projects, so send me this for a sneak peek of works to come! If you want to include a few fandoms or characters you'd most like to see included in the sneak peek, feel free to do that! Just no promises that I'll have something including them to show you

Behind the DM Screen - Send me the title of an existing fic of mine, along with specific questions if you have them, and I'll give you a little info on the process of creating the fic!

Free Action - Come into my ask box and chat with me! About fandoms, cute pet pitcures, or whatever else! Anons are welcome as usual, and if you feel like you want to be recognized without coming off anon, then you can claim an emoji and use it as a signature on your asks, so I know who you are! As of now, 🥰 emoji is the only one taken

Thank you again to every single one of you who's here with me now, from the beginning of this blog or from earlier today! I'm so happy to have you here and as a part of the party!

Writing Request Character Options:

Bridgerton: Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton

Crescent City: Tristan Flynn, Ithan Holstrom, Lidia Cervos

DC: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd

Marvel: Grant Ward, Jack Thompson, Daniel Sousa, Angie Martinelli, Harley Keener, Pietro Maximoff

*Riordanverse: Luke Castellan, Thalia Grace, Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Piper McLean, Jason Grace

Star Trek: Jim Kirk

Star Wars: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala

Top Gun: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

The Vampire Diaries: Mason Lockwood, Klaus Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson, Damon Salvatore, Enzo St. John, Kai Parker, Caroline Forbes, Matt Donovan

*All characters in the Riordanverse are going to be book-based, since that's what I know best, and will be written as their ages at the end of Heroes of Olympus or older for requests involving romance

****************

Tagging a few mutuals who I've absolutely loved getting to this point with 🥰 thank you guys for being such a wonderful part of my experience in this place!

@ghostofskywalker @bandshirts-andbooks @trekkingaroundasgard @arttheclown-coveredinblood @flowers-and-fichte @everyhazyday @dawn-petrichor-world @space-helen @ro-is-struggling @writeroutoftime @shadowdaddies @hawaiianpizzaenjoyer

#sophie's 1.5k follower campaign #sophie speaks #follower celebration #bridgerton #percy jackson #marvel #crescent city #dc #star wars #top gun #the vampire diaries #the originals

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10zenn · 2 months ago

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@lasciviouskrp hi, and thanks for getting back to me + taking the time to answer my ask. i am answering on this blog because it is my rp blog and i don't want to spam my main with this, but i am the person whom you pirvately replied to. first of all, i would like to highlight the fact that public posts and obvious attempts to gain your attention would not have been used had you acknowledged the issue at hand right away, in an honest manner. instead of doing so, you decided to turn off your ask box and keep on posting, which is your decision, but you cannot be upset that it resulted in people getting louder. when you try to ignore something this problematic, it tends to grow. like now, i have no choice but to answer this publicly since i have no means to reach out in private.

the second thing i would like to highlight, before diving in my response, is that i am not "passionate" about this topic for fun, as you have alluded to, and you honestly do not get to appreciate my "passion" for it. my parents have lived through a war, my parents know people who have been human trafficked and forced into slavery. i am a person of colour. and this isn't to throw a pity party at all, it is only to make you understand that the topics you are writing carelessly are real life issues that are happening in the world right now, and that touch people in the very community you are writing.

the third thing i would like to make clear is that you do not get to dictate how someone reacts to your collective. you do not get to create such a space and get upset when people are hostile towards you. to tell someone to lower their voice and be 'less judgemental/accusatory' when they are attempting to express why your presence in the community is harmful is not the move that you think it is. i am allowed to be upset, i am allowed to be accusatory, and no, i will not sugar coat my words and take your hand and walk you through why what you are doing is wrong. furthermore, through my many posts and messages to YOU, i have explained WHY what you are doing is wrong. you have mentioned the importance of fostering an open dialogue, and i agree! however, how can that open dialogue exist when you ignore messages calling out what you are doing, when you block people from answering you, when it takes five days and many public posts to even get a response from you? we know you are active because you are posting ads and instructions on how to join. quite frankly, if we did not answer your post and make new ones last night, you would not have responded to me.

you have mentioned work of fiction such as the handmaid's tale and i agree with you! to rectify, it isn't the theme you are writing, but how you are writing it. my question to you is: have you read and watched the works you mentioned, or did you simply google for examples to throw?

here is why your collective is harmful and not comparable: first of all, you went out of your way to make your collective as immersive as possible, which honestly, would be fine if it didn't include a whole auction system where asian people get sold. you target a specific group of people and enforce that your writers only write faceclaims that are asian, which is entirely tone deaf and disrespecful considering (1) the history of the people you are writing and (2) the current social + political state of south korea and adjacent countries that will be represented in your collective. now, why are those topics harmful in your collective as opposed as a work of fiction such as the handmaid's tale? i will answer this with a question of my own: do you think, whole-heartedly, that people who engage in these topics will not write threads of masters sleeping with their servants (therefore, noncon and r!pe)? will they not write, in detail, how they buy someone, and the sick thoughts linked to such a horrible thing? do you think that your writers will truly remain respectful? do you think that the entirety of your collective KNOWS in depth what is happening in asia concerning human trafficking, sex slavery, and all sorts of things that you are writing? because unfortunately, when you write deep, triggering topics such as this one, you need to be educated. you need to know what has transpired in the past. you cannot compare yourself to margaret atwood, who dedicated her life to writing literature that calls out what you are romanticizing. what are the odds, between me and you, that the topics you claim to be so woke about will get fetishized and romanticized by people who. . . well. . . do find these topics romantic and hot to write about? you are using margaret atwood and her work to back the existence of your rp up, however, atwood has studied in order to write this. the handmaid's tale tackles topic such as racism, sexual assault, islamophobia, anti-native racism, anti-blackness, slavery, female genital mutilation, residential schools, forced assimiliation, and the holocaust. the handmaid's tale has been written to speak up on said issues and defend them: atwood created a narrative to bring light to these topics and explain, through the work of fiction, why they are wrong. you are just writing them to write them. you are just writing them because you think they are fun topics to write about - 'interesting' storylines to be explored. your writers engage in these tropes because they think they are fun to write - atwood did not write the handmaid's tale because she enjoyed slave x master trope. (was this informative enough? i really hope i wasn't too aggressive :((((( did i protect your feelings enough while writing this?)

quite frankly, i think that you just want a space to write disgusting plots and fetishize asian people, and you are now angry that people of colour are speaking out against it. you are angry because you thought you could ignore it and you thought people would move on but we aren't moving on. collective like yours are harmful and rooted in racism - even if it isn't your intent. at the end of the day, you are encouraging people to use real life faces to write slavery with a high chance of writing non-con/r!pe, and you are angry that outsiders find it wrong.

i find it wild, honestly, that in 2024, i have to sit and explain to someone why fetishizing and writing about slavery of asian people is wrong. it is also very sad, because your response really shows that you have not taken what we have been saying to you at all. instead of focusing how people engage with you, maybe take a second to educate yourself and try to understand where we, people of colour, are coming from!

#krp #lasciviouskrp #honestly dgaf that im making another post about this #also dgaf if people find me too aggressive or accusatory like yall are wild if you think that writing slavery isn't wrong #．💭﹔﹙ 10zen ﹚ ooc !#mewe krp #oc krp

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no-where-new-hero · 4 months ago

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Emily of New Moon Catch up

Chapter 16: Check for Miss Brownell

We have a reversal of the account book burning here. Emily will destroy the account book, but that was younger Emily in a state of self-protection. Now, grown in confidence and self-assurance, she will defy Miss Brownell by saving her work and declaring herself a writer whose work is worthy of respect.

"Cousin Jimmy, in his grey jumper, was perched on the edge of the wood-box, whistling at the ceiling, and looking more gnome-like than ever." Jimmy 🤝 Barney Snaith: sympathetic gnomes.

I have always wondered whether Perry having his clothes off meant he was literally stark naked or if he had at least his underwear on. His subversion through obedience is really quite remarkable in any case.

Chapter 17: Living Epistles

"Mike is a smee cat. Smee is not in the dictionary. It is a word I invented myself." Emily "invented" this word 10 years before JM Barrie, I suppose. Although when I Googled it, it does appear in Old English, so Emily can't all the credit.

I am VERY surprised that Emily doesn't know basic punctuation and has to be taught this by Miss Brownell. Like?? Presumably she reads a lot??

Chapter 18 and 19: Father Cassidy and Friends Again

I CANNOT believe this is the first time we get actual Teddy dialogue. I know Batrachised pointed it out before, but I can't believe it took us this long. It is a good exchange and a rare time that Teddy is a supportive force, but considering how effective it is, you'd think LMM would give him more to do more often.

Okay, rereading this actually gives me more fondness for Father Cassidy. LMM writes him so surely, with such whimsy, and Emily does put him on the spot for his more condescending moments, able to see through his jocularity to what might be mockery. He's actually a fantastic appetizer for Dean Priest--the same assigning to Emily of elvishness, the acknowledgement of her writing, the religious connection, the subtle double-meanings in his kindness. Cassidy is also--like pretty much every other sympathetic figure in the story--marginal to the rest of the dominant society, in this case Protestant. He represents a nice bridge between Emily's fanciful world and the real adult world.

"She clasped her hands, she looked up through her lashes at Lofty John, she smiled as slowly and seductively as she knew how--and Emily had considerable native knowledge of that sort." This is one of those moments when its very clear that LMM is writing a century ago because no good children's writer of the 21st century would ever dare writing something like this about their 12-year-old heroine.

#emily of new moon book club #emily of new moon #lm montgomery #lmm lockdown

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sparktober · 2 months ago

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Sparktober Bingo 2024!

Almost in time for the first Sparktober Theme Day: Get A Bingo Card!

Our standby bingo-creation website is inactive this year, so I have cooked up a homebrew solution that will hopefully work smoothly and also satisfy the primal human urge to tick boxes.

How To Play Sparktober Bingo:

Get yourself a bingo card (instructions below & on the google sheet).

Create Sheppard/Weir fanworks of any kind (fic, art, edits, meta) related to your prompts. A single fanwork can fill as many prompts as you can fit in it.

Prompts this year are sourced from other 2024 'tober lists and some new dialogue prompt posts -- see the "credits" tab for links to all the sources. This year's center square is "completed WIP."

Use the prompts liberally! “The Long Goodbye” could be an episode-related fic or a fic about saying goodbye or inspiration for a Raymond Chandler-esque Noir Detective AU. Go wild!

Tag #sparktober to share your bingo card and creations!

Complete a row/column, corners, or a blackout of your card by November 1, or not! Update as you go. Spontaneously declare victory whenever you feel accomplished.

How To Get A Bingo Card:

Visit https://tinyurl.com/sparktoberbingo2024 with a web browser or the Google Sheets mobile app. All tabs have instructions on them.

The Automatic Bingo Card tab is easy mode. Check off which prompt categories you'd like to include, add your name in the yellow box, and generate a random card!

If you'd like to curate your selection manually, the Manual List Bingo tab has the full prompt list and lets you check/un-check individual prompts and even add new ones of your own. If you want to get even fancier than that, copy the whole document and have fun.

Want to make a card of your own to fit your WIPs or un-filled prompts from previous years? Type your own card on the Blank Template tab.

Screenshot the card to share it. You may need to zoom out in your browser or on mobile if the template is too big to capture on your screen.

Please close out of the browser tab when you're done, so other users don't worry that they will interfere with your changes.

Please let me know how it works, and upload your cards to tumblr and/or the Sparktober discord for all to enjoy!

If you have any issues or this sounds annoying, I'll pre-generate some cards and make a post for folks to pick from. Just let me know!

-mod @mylittleredgirl

#sparktober #sparktober bingo

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siryouarebeingmocked · 1 year ago

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Google does it again!

I had to replace my phone a few weeks ago. I updated it yesterday.

Then I noticed that the "Wi-Fi" notification button is now "Internet". Meaning the process to turn on the Wi-Fi was;

1. Swipe down for the notifications. 2. Tap the Wi-Fi button. 3. Swipe out of the notifications.

now it's

1. Swipe down for the notifications. 2. Tap Internet. 3. Look at the dialogue box to be sure I'm not about to accidentally turn on my Mobile Data, which is in the same popup. 4. Tap Wifi. 5. Hit "Done", or swipe Back, or tap outside of the dialogue box. 6 Swipe out of the notifications.

Twice as many steps.

I basically never, ever use my data plan. Never. That's why I had it as a on page 2 of the notification buttons, so it would take two swipes before I could even hit the Data button.

So, how do I get the old one back? I can't. Not practically. Not without modifying my OS, and I still have trauma from rooting my first tablet.

Google, of course, claims it's "simpler and more intuitive".

You know what's simple and intuitive? Tapping a button. Once.

Google says there are people who turn off their Wifi so they can use data, and forget to turn it back on, but that's really a them problem.

And I say this as someone who once wasted most of a 20 quid top-up doing precisely that.

That's what Data Saver is for.

Like Chrome's side panel button, this is yet another Google 'improvement' that makes things just a little worse.

#google #stupid #technology #personal

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yours-the-author · 6 months ago

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Hey, so...

Does anyone remember this post I made recently?

I made some art for it...

If you wanna see it...

Here it is:

I'M SO MAD AT MYSELF IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SURVIVING THE MANSION BUT I DIDN'T REALIZE UNTIL AFTER I FINISHED IT AAAGGH

...Aside from that little oopsie, though, I'm actually really proud of how the logo came out? I based the font off a style called "Micro 5 Charted". Thank goodness I was using graph paper!

I'm not sure if that Kanji is correct; Google Translate doesn't seem to like the word "oni" or "stick", especially together, so I spelled out the Romanji in the English box and then tried to copy the characters Google offered me as closely as possible. I think I'd be more surprised if I got the Kanji correct, honestly.

Henry Stickmin title screens usually have two different fonts for the verb and the noun, and I thought about trying to make "Mansion" look like an actual house, but that made my brain hurt to much to conceptualize, so I stuck with different colored fonts. Hmm, that clock sure is there. I wonder what it means gets hit by a bus

-----

Anyway, here's some theoretical scenarios of what the main gameplay would look like! This one stars General Hubert Galeforce and some other guy:

Option 1: Shoot

Result: The monster hears you move as soon as you pull your gun from its holster. No time to defend yourself.

FAILURE (DiE!)

Option 2: Backup

Result: Your radio refuses to work, even though it was just fine before you entered the mansion. The monster waits until you've realized this, then goes for your throat.

FAILURE (No one will hear your screams...)

Option 3: Time Out

Result: The monster does not hear you and goes into a separate room, out of sight and out of mind. Galeforce survives... for now. But what was that thing...?

-----

I don't know how feasible it would be, but I imagine this would be a cross between typical RPG Maker-styled games (pixels, speech boxes with pictures of the characters, moving around a set floor plan, puzzle solving, etc) and typical Henry Stickmin-styled game play (cutscenes, choices, possible interactivity [grabbing items/bios], the occasional quick time event, etc) (voice acting would be a stretch). Most of the gameplay, like exploring the mansion, puzzle solving, and running/fighting the monster, would be RPG style, and then occasionally switch into a cutscene that requires you to make a choice; usually with just one correct answer but possibly others that could result in diverging dialogue/interaction/paths/endings? Something to think about.

Anyway, Galeforce! Poor man has no idea what he almost walked into, haha. I experimented with perspective and limb placement here, which was exhausting but also a lot of fun! Dynamics are hard with stick figures, but considering that they're they only character medium I've ever been decent at, I made it work.

And the Oni... I tried to give it some sort of anatomy, but quickly realized that I do not have the skills to pay those bills. I opted for a more of a shadowy figure looking thing with a big smile instead (you can see some of the lines where I tried to make it have arms, I think). I opted for Ao Oni's purple-y blue color scheme verses HetaOni's gray alien look. Back in the day of fan made Ao Oni games, people would usually try to put their own unique spin on the Oni sprite, with HetaOni's being the most unique I ever saw (keep in mind, it was one of the few designs I ever saw, so there might be cooler ones out there, who knows). In theory, a game called Sutikku Oni would use a stick figure shaped monster, but with my current art skills, that would just look like a normal stick person with a big head (look! Geoffrey Plumb's cousin!). I think the less we see, the better; all good horror games know when to leave things to the imagination!

-----

I also made a second one, featuring my boy Dave Panpa!

...Dave, I'm so sorry... *MAKES HIM PEEP THE HORROR*

Option 1: Call for Help

Result: You call for help...

FAILURE (...but nobody came.)

Option 2: Run

Result: You tense your muscles in preparation to run. The monster is faster.

FAILURE (YoU... wOn'T... eScApE...!)

Option 3: Pretend to be a Piano

Result: Frozen with fear in front of the piano, it's all you can do to hope the monster thinks you're also a piano (a sopping wet piano, but still). It's deadly quiet. You can hardly breathe, and you're afraid to. The monster stares at you for an uncomfortably long time, before walking away, out of sight and out of mind. You stay still a little longer before collapsing to the ground. Dave Panpa survives... for now. How on Earth did that work? Or... did that thing let you live out of pity...?

-----

UGH the piano! Pianos are so hard to draw! Luckily, I had an almost head on reference that I was able to use for the first picture. For the above view shot, I had to do some wild guessing. The red stuff near Dave's head in the second picture is the red stuff he was referring to. Is it blood? Paint? Something else? Who knows! But as we all know, any self respecting Ao Oni fan game needs a piano puzzle!

I imagine Dave was dragged along for the ride when the Toppats decided to find the treasure of the mansion (or something to that degree), fully intending to leave him there to die if there was, in fact, a monster inside. Poor Dave... Maybe there could be an ending where amends are made? Or maybe not...

I mostly put the smile on the monster's shadow as a means of showing that, indeed, it is the monster, but now I'm wondering if the monster's mouth glows or something? Hot fires of Hell, delivered right to you! Can you beat the heat?

-----

Thank you all for coming to my fixation ramble that absolutely no one else except me finds interesting! Any thoughts before you go?

(A cricket chirps, then leaves because it's in the wrong conference room)

...Yeah, I figured.

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derseprinceoftbd · 1 year ago

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In honor of the new Upd8, here's the updated version of my Personal Homestuck Explainer.

An explainer for Homestuck, typed up on a Google doc for Reddit, and now transplanted onto Tumblr, and too long to fit in a single reddit comment. Most explainers I've seen utterly fail to get the tone of the series across, thus not answering the main question I see: "what is Homestuck *and why is it like this*". Why does it evoke the reactions it does? Why are so many things considered a reference? Who is Vriska? (I can't actually explain that one in under 3000 words, it turns out.) But, here's a briefer briefer (heh) on the subject of "What the actual fuck is Homestuck":

Andrew Hussie, a person (now going by any pronouns) then known for various obscure things around the net, made an interactive reader-driven comic-type-thing called Jailbreak where he would draw panels demonstrating the events of the story as dictated by other posters in the thread, putting his favored suggestions in the narration and responding in kind. The happenings and variables were influenced by his own strange brand of humor and set of fascinations, such as rap, horses, clowns, and H!rry P!tter as a cultural presence. He would eventually compile this, along with the unfinished followup, Bard Quest, on its own website.

The third installment of the so-called MS Paint Adventures, Problem Sleuth, was a massive step up in production value, featuring impressive art and output speed as well as evolutions such as some pages being flashing gifs. This sort of thing was considered to be one of the best demonstrations of the potential of the internet. It ran for 1674 pages over the course of about a year.

Homestuck was the followup to that, running 8123 pages from April 13th 2009-2016 with numerous hiatuses in the latter half of that time. It featured such advancements as videos with sound, small WASD-controlled computer games on various pages, and most significantly, actual conversations between characters, semi-hidden behind clickable boxes at the bottom of some pages, allowing them to become three-dimensional and truly sympathetic. Hussie, it would soon be revealed, was heavily skilled at writing compelling and unique character voices and dialogue writing in general.

Homestuck was definitely the most complex MPSA, with a grand overarching plot being integrated into the results of the actions of the readers. The plot revolved around an in-universe game called SBURB with the power to influence reality, sort of a Jumanji with time-travel mechanics that would soon be revealed to be the centerpiece of reality itself, destroying the home planets of its players to motivate them to enter the world of the game and fulfill an unknown grand purpose, complete with millions of fully sentient NPCs. (Homestuck is, technically, an isekai.)

Homestuck has been described as "a story that's also a puzzle", and this lens has gained authorial approval; events are often told anachronistically, as a kitchen sink of high-concept ideas are explored by a man who sometimes wants to show off his semi-deconstructive version of a classic sci-fi/fantasy trope, sometimes wants to infuriate readers through anticlimaxes and misdirections, and sometimes wants to just go off on a tangent about a random movie from his childhood that somehow soon becomes integral to the plot in an absurdly esoteric fashion.

Eventually the suggestions from readers became so numerous and difficult that the suggestion boxes were closed near the end of the first year, leading to less meandering from Act 4 onwards, but the influence of the audience remained; one easy example is a character only seen from the top half initially being theorized on the official forums as using a wheelchair, a fact which would not only become Canon, but highly relevant.

The early MSPAs curated an audience through programming humor and 80s-90s film references as filtered through the styles of Terry Pratchett, Mark Twain, and the Something Awful forums, but the audience for Homestuck, due to the nature of the characters, was markedly different, especially after the Trolls showed up.

You've probably seen them.

The Trolls, initially presented as some extremely odd and bothersome fellows on the internet, were soon shown to be a race of grey-skinned, orange-horned aliens. Trolls possessed multicolored blood in both organized castes and clear deviations, psychic abilities, unique typing styles, insectoid traits as opposed to hominid, near-universal bisexuality with the sole known exception being Sapphic, and a complex romantic system with its own symbols, comically vague-yet-comprehensive reproductive system, and of course, relationship dynamics.

I cannot express how perfect the Trolls were in terms of catching on. Tumblr loved these fuckers and it's not at all hard to see why.

It's also worth noting that this wasn't the only market-perfect part of Homestuck; Classpecting, the equivalent of Hogwarts Houses, featured a 144/168/288/336/384(depending on who you ask and what they count)-strong grid system of human personality traits that not only seemed eerily accurate as a personality mapper, but corresponded to what elemental powers one received in the game of SBURB.

So... yeah. Homestuck was an incredibly complex and engaging work, driven by a single incredibly talented and flawed creative voice, which was perfectly made to attract a massive, unabashedly bizarre/proudly cringe, and notably largely queer fanbase across a younger internet; you may well be aware of incidents such as cosplay failures and inappropriate recreations of Troll culture. The style of presentation, art, and character writing was instantly recognizable and relatively easy to imitate, leading to fanfiction and even fanmade adventures galore, most of the latter hosted on MSPFA.com.

The main site for Homestuck is broken now-it's recommended that new readers download the [Unofficial Homestuck Collection](https://bambosh.dev/unofficial-homestuck-collection/), and starting with Problem Sleuth to ease into the format and writing is a pretty popular choice. The ending is also considered generally quite poor in a number of ways, particularly regarding unfollowed foreshadowing and blatant abandonment of character arcs, with some fans even [making](https://friendlybatteringram.tumblr.com/tagged/altstuck) their own [works](https://mspfa.com/?s=44153&p=1) as [substitutions](http://mspfa.com/?s=12003&p=1). You can find The Homestuck Epilogues (a sequel novel) on the official site, and Homestuck^2 Beyond Canon (a sequel webcomic after the Epilogues) on its own website, but neither of these are very well liked by fans (at all). YouTube also has several dubs of the comic; by far the largest and most popular is [Voxus](https://youtube.com/@Voxus), which has unfortunately slowed to a crawl at around the 65% mark.

Content warnings for Homestuck include: blood, violence including decapitation, clowns, brainwashing/mental possession, dicks-out furry bara art in the background of like ten pages, brief black-and-white nudity, swearing, the R-slur, a joke about an acronym organically forming the F-slur, child abuse, discussed child abuse and homophobia, mocking of the disabled (as an unsympathetic action), cartoonish levels of sexism (as an unsympathetic action), statements that an antagonist is analogous to Hitler, mocking of otherkin, a minor character being a racial stereotype of Japanese people (Damara), a somewhat major character being a stereotype of Black people (Meenah), minor characters being stereotypes of disabled people (Meulin and Mituna), a controversial and prominent depiction of blindness, eye trauma, underage alcoholism, written depections of noncon facilitated by mind control (as an unsympathetic action), sexual assult (an unwanted kiss, as an unsympathetic action), jokes about pedophilia, and child grooming (textually 100% non-sexual, but sexually-coded).

Also: when I said the Trolls type weird, I wasn't kidding. Every character gets at least one color for their speech text, plus a pattern for how they type, generally worse for the Trolls, ranging from "no caps" to "British" to "drunk" to "ebonics" to "aLtErNaTiNg" to WH4T3V3R TH3 FUCK K1ND OF L33TSP34K BS T3R3Z1 1S DO1NG. So that's worth a warning.

And that's as abridged as you can get when summing up Homestuck.

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