#hope this is good nonetheless

[bunji-enthusiast]

I accidentally posted the unfinished work, so I had to delete it and re-do your request. All apologies given, I’m so sorrryyyy. I also somewhat implied Guinevere to be a little closer to Lancelot (or reader's age), cause I'm uncomfy with how young she is in the anime/manga. Apologies for shortness as well, but I hope this was okay anyway!

For all the wealth in the world, there was always one inexplicable thing that could never be truly explained in just mere words. Not by humans and especially not by the goddess race or fairies. Yet it was the idea, alone, that made it enough to understand it to a degree.

It was the imaginative ideal concept of love, crying to the connections of begotten dead lovers and blooming sunflowers finding solace in one another.

Yet it was in the one place you last wanted to find it, be it as it may how much you had yearned for such a thing.

The mere idea, the mere concept was unfathomable. If what you had known, been old perhaps, that it really was true. That it had happened, then you just weren't sure about it anymore, that your crush on the blonde was no longer was going to be solid. There was no way you had any chance with someone who clearly saw yo only as a friend, and perhaps there wasn't anyway you wanted to force Lancelot either. It is rather rude and unkind of you to do so, because why would you? Seeing as how the young lady Guinevere and Lancelot had kissed, you wouldn't have a chance in the world after knowing that.

You stifle a short sob, and curled around the cornerstone, keeping yourself shrouded in the safety of the dark. Holding a hand over your mouth and beginning to walk away, and no matter how much you had tried to, your tears would fall, hard and hot, brimming the rims of your bottom eyelids.

Even if, deeply in your heart, that it wrenched and twisted your guts. You had no obligation to pursue Lancelot, you had manners, and simply wouldn't do so.

But, you could at least get it off your chest. So the next best thing was your brother, the two were close in some way or shape, so you went to Tristan. You knew in a way, that Tristan and Lancelot had a kind of bond you surely wouldn't be able to understand or even replicate for the matter. However, all that was important twas' he was close with the fellow prince.

Though, you could busy your mind with other things on your way to Tristan. Constant rampant thoughts of the two beings kissing right there at the stone ledge had unfortunately continued to torment you however, you wished you could just simply stop thinking about it. Yet it was parasitic amongst all other thoughts of the good things you tried to think about, you simply hated it, and wanted to rid yourself of the memory. Oh how you wished you didn't try and find Lancelot -- maybe things would've stayed far better that way.

Later, when you had finally found the very boy you had been looking for. Without the reaper lurking, you had greeted your dear brother; "Hey Tristan!" You exclaimed with renewed vigor, it was always at the sight of your brother that had made you happy to see him. Even if you've had your sibling spats together in your more formative years, he was always such a nice sight to see.

The nephilim's eyes flit up at the sound of your voice, waving his hand with a kind smile. The aura he exuded was ridiculously gentle, you simply had no idea how he was so capable of such a thing at times.

"ah, are you alright?" He questioned, his brows narrowing with clear worry for you.

"I'm okay as they come, I guess?" You repeated the same questioning tone, so unsure. Tristan could puzzle the pieces to a degree, and he could tell you weren't so okay.

"You wanna get it off your chest?" He asked, reaching his hand over to the small of your back and leading you away from the crowd of people bustling in the rainy streets. You nodded meekly, suddenly finding the willpower to move forward sapped from the muscle of your bones. How you wonder, that you would be so bothered after such a thing, seeing it with your own eyes no less.

After the two of you had finally reached the confines of your brother's bedroom, he sat you down, then himself.

"Take your time, okay?"

You nodded, then with a shaky breath, came to admittance. The next few words that had spilled out of your mouth, had nonetheless shocked the knight of pestilence, seeing as how you had told the small tale of the shocking revalation that had come to a halt. All within your field of vision, which was something you had clearly wished you never wanted come to see.

There was then and now, and you were unsure of you if you wanted to confront the blonde prince. Yet, it had seemed that your twin brother had already answered that question in your stead.

The silver wisps had already alluded you as Tristan stormed out of the safety of the bedroom, leaving a shocked face all on you, and the guards stationed at his door.

You had to calm down the guards, and each passerby as Tristan had already been far ahead of you toward's Lancelot's location.

For all you knew, the boy was kind and gentle, and quick to amend and de-escalate any tense situations. Yet it was he, this time, that was quick to be angered, going straight for the unsuspecting poor source of his sister's tears.

It truly surprised you, it did.

But you needed to stop your brother before things would get bad, or even worse then before. The last thing you wanted to do was strain the friendship the two of them had, and you just made that happen.

You straggled your way through the tight spaces amendable between people, and trudged forward, your pace ever increasing as you had heard the volume of an argument increasing.

"You made her upset!" One voice shouted.

Another, "Who the hell are you talking about?" Calm, but also very clearly agitated by such an accusation.

A mention of your name arose, "My sister."

You held your hands on your knees, inhaling your breath as you tried to get the oxygen back in your lungs. Your gaze lifted as you finally caught sight of the two, "Guys!" You shouted breathlessly, and immediately their heads flickered toward the source of your voice.

Getting their attention, you took a few more moments too capture the breath back in your lungs. Once done, you took your steps toward the two, "Im sorry for this Lancelot, this was my fault."

The two gasped in surprise, "Wait, but.." Tristan mumbled, "What about?" He trailed off, clearly gesturing about what you had talked over with your brother. Lancelot looked on in confusion, his posture relaxed, yet also tense.

"I had.." You began, taking your hand off Tristan's shoulder. Almost hesitant to continue, but you did so anyway, "Saw you and that girl, uh," You stuttered.

"Kissing?" He finished for you, his shoulders dropping as he had finally figured out what this was about. You nodded, Lancelot could only let out a stiff chuckle.

"I didn't want to," He said, then added, "Guinevere caught me by surprise, and did so without my permission." You raised a brow, Lancelot raised his hands -- almost tentative as he set them on your shoulders. They were surprisingly warm.

Stop it, you shouldn't think of that!

"She was, and still is someone I barely know." Lancelot commented, "I had no intention of hurting... you." He looked genuinely apologetic.

"I am sorry."

You shook your head with a laugh, "I should be the one apologizing, I just jumped to conclusions without understanding anything first."

"You still deserved one, I think." He interjected with a grin.

By then, Tristan had already left. The nephilim was happy to see you two make it up to each other, in which he had breathed a large sigh of relief that he wouldn't have to stand at a bridge of two that he deeply cares for.

[imaybeintoomanyfandoms]

Also idk if anyone’ll see this but if you can financially afford to support watcher streaming but don’t want to, maybe consider putting that money towards Palestinian aid, Palestinian GoFundMes, your local food bank or any local charities! I think that would be a better use for those $6/£5!

[mswyrr]

After twenty years, the thing I still don't get is that everything cruel that can be said and has been said against Zutara romance can also be said against their friendship--and Zuko's friendships with the other characters!--and yet somehow friendship is always good and pure but romance would immediately make their healthy friendship dynamic bad and abusive???

But that's not how relationships work. If they can have a healthy friendship, then they could have a healthy romance. If any romance is inherently unhealthy, then the friendship must be inherently unhealthy too.

You've got the original writers saying women who think that Katara and Zuko should be together will forever have "failed relationships"... and then, at the same time, those same writers are like yay let's write them bonding and building a friendship.

People calling a brutally abused child who went on a redemption arc and turned against his father's ways a "colo/nizer" when it's a romance, but when it's friendship it's all good somehow. If lips never touch, it's not possible for a relationship to be toxic??? But if lips DO touch, then a healthy friendship based on mutual respect immediately becomes a Lifetime movie about toxic boyfriends...

The only way this logic works is if you think romantic love immediately "corrupts" or "taints" in a way friend love doesn't. And that's an incredibly ugly, sad idea to push.

[achillean-knight]

I saw others doing this and I couldn't resist lol this is just for fun ngl 💪

[bloody-cupcakes]

i loved your platonic tenth doctor fic sm 💞 would you ever consider doing a pt.2? maybe with the reader sort of figuring out what’s up and trying to get back on their own

I would love to do a part two, I'm so happy to hear you liked it! (Part one is here for anyone who wants to read it first)

Platonic! yandere/dark! Tenth Doctor x teen reader; you discover he's purposely keeping you from leaving

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, the Doctor has possessive tendencies due to seeing the reader as his child, not technically kidnapping but the Doctor goes to great lengths to make sure the reader won't/can't leave so there's that

After your conversation with the Doctor about returning home to earth, you went to your room on the TARDIS and began packing. Part of you felt bad for possibly hurting his feelings (after all, you were currently his only companion, and while you didn't get the whole story you knew he had others before you that met less than ideal fates) but you couldn't just stay with him forever. You knew you had to go back home eventually.

The next day when you found him, he was fiddling with the control panel and humming cheerfully to himself. It was as if you'd never even spoken about leaving the day before.

"Um, Doctor?"

He looked up immediately when he heard your voice, a bright smile covering his face. "Ah, there you are! I was just waiting for you before I put the coordinates in for our next adventure. Are you ready to go?"

You made a visible face of confusion at his words. Next adventure? What was that supposed to mean?

"No, Doctor, I'm not. I already told you, I have to go home now."

His right eye twitched slightly with irritation as you mentioned that word again- "home". It wasn't fair that you kept talking about it as if your time with him didn't matter. I mean, he didn't even have a home to go back to, and he was perfectly fine. He learned how to become a well adjusted Time Lord after some time he assured himself while lying.

"Yeah, yeah. I know that." He waved his hand dismissively as if it was no big deal. "I just figured you'd want to go on one last trip before you had to leave. You know, just to cap off everything."

The exhaustion still in your body was screaming at you to say no, but he looked so hopeful as he stared at you with his big brown puppy dog eyes that you ended up saying yes despite yourself.

"You know what? Sure, why not. One last trip, to commemorate our time together."

The Doctor beamed with joy at your words, estatic that he was able to make you relent so quickly. "Great! Now, let's be off, then. Allonsy!"

It would just be one quick trip, you thought to yourself as the TARDIS started up, prepared to take you wherever you decided to go. It wouldn't take too long, and them he'd take you back home as soon as you were done.

So sure that you were right, you didn't even bother to keep track of the amount of time the two of you spent adventuring that day, which meant the Doctor was able to keep suggesting more and more things for you to do on your "last day" without any fuss. By the time you finally made it back to the TARDIS, you were exhausted, heading straight to bed without any more mentions of returning home for the time being.

The Time Lord was beside himself with delight as he realized his plan on keeping you too busy and tired to even think about leaving was beginning to work. He kept at it day after day, insisting that you just needed one more adventure to top it all off, just one extra trip. And because you didn't want to upset him by declining, you said yes to every single one.

This all came to a head the day he momentarily put his plan on pause due to the TARDIS needing repairs. It had been beeping nonstop at him for the past four days, and he'd finally had enough. He parked the TARDIS and told you to stay put, not that you had the energy to go anywhere.

While he was out for supplies, you finally got the chance to relax somewhat. Deciding to spoil yourself with this newfound free time, you took a long bath and put on your comfiest clothes before settling yourself in one of the several armchairs adorning the TARDIS library. You were just about to pick up something to read when the TARDIS started beeping again.

"I know you need repairs, he'll be back soon, don't worry," you tried to reassure it, but it simply ignored you and continued on.

Letting out a somewhat exasperated sigh, you set down your book and got up, making your way to the control room. "What seems to be the problem here?"

The TARDIS made a chirping sound as it brought up the coordinates that would take you back to the time and place of your home on earth.

You frowned in confusion, your brow furrowing as you studied the screen. The Doctor had been complaining about how it had been malfunctioning lately, so it's possible that what the screen was currently displaying could mean nothing.

In reality it had actually been scolding him for keeping you from your family on earth, but of course he ignored it, meaning it decided to take drastic measures in order to help get you back home.

"Yeah, that's my home. What about it?"

Something that sounded like a huff of annoyance came from the control panel. What its next few beeps meant you couldn't know for sure, but you were almost positive it had called you stupid.

"Hey, I'm doing my best here! I'm not a Time Lord, how would I know what you want?"

You could practically feel the way it was rolling its eyes at you before pulling up all the other places you'd been to recently. The log dated that they'd all been auto-saved on the same day, the day you told the Doctor you wanted to go back home.

A chill went down your spine as you realized he'd planned this out all ahead of time, knowing you'd be far too exhausted to argue if he kept taking you on one trip after another.

"Wait, why are you showing me this? What does this all mean?"

The TARDIS let out a few more beeps as it showed you the coordinates for earth again. It seemed to be trying to tell you something, but it was hard to know what it was exactly.

"Are you... are you trying to say that I should make my way back home, all by myself? Without the Doctor?"

The affirmative chattering of beeps and boops that came next told you the answer was yes. Now that you thought about it, the TARDIS seemed to be working perfectly fine, bringing you to the conclusion it had lied to the Doctor on purpose in order to help you.

"That's great and all, but I don't know how to manage these controls. I'd probably cause us to crash before we ever got there." You rolled your eyes at the noises it made in response. "Yes, I realize the Doctor crashes you all the time, and no, I don't want to take that risk. At least he knows how to fix you afterwards."

Your argument was cut short by a series of anxious beeps, the TARDIS frantically trying to warn you of the Doctor returning. You could hear him cursing from the outside as he tried to get in through the doors, the TARDIS having apparently locked him out.

"I can't fly you. I don't even know how to work all these buttons and knobs on your control panel." The sad and dejected boop it let out made you give it a look of sympathy. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to get home some other way."

The doors finally opened, the Doctor nearly falling over as he entered. "Ah, there you are! I was just about to look for you. We should be ready to leave for our next trip once I've fixed whatever's wrong with the controls."

The TARDIS made an offended noise at the implication that there was something wrong with it, which both you and the Doctor ignored.

"Actually, I was wondering when you were going to take me back home."

The grin on his face immediately dropped at you words. "Home? You want to go home now?"

You hesitated briefly, not exactly sure what to think after the recent discoveries you'd made involving him trying to keep you from leaving. Surely he wouldn't do anything to actually hurt you, but you decided to tread carefully regardless.

"Well, yeah. I miss my family, and I'm sure they must be missing me. And I can always come back to travel with you again, you know." You added the last bit in hopes of easing the apparent pain of him losing you.

"But I'm your family now," he insisted in an almost pleading manner, gesturing to the inside of the machine. "This is your home. I don't understand why you'd ever want to leave any of this."

The Doctor shot the control panel a dirty look when it made a noise that sounded like sarcastic muttering. "Besides, I can offer so much more than they can. Can they take you anywhere in time and space? I don't think so."

"I'm not your family, Doctor," you blurted out in a desperate attempt to get him to see reason. "I'm not. I'm not your kid, and this isn't my home. I need to get back to my real home with my real family."

He turned away from you, resting his hands on the control panel so he wouldn't fall over from shock. His hands gripped onto the side of it so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Doctor...?" You questioned gently, starting to feel bad for what you'd said. "Are you alright?"

Shaking his head, he responded in a quiet voice. "No, I'm not." He sighed as he leaned over the controls. "You're right, I'm not your family."

You felt a tiny bit of hope bloom within you despite yourself, hope that maybe, just maybe he was starting to see reason.

"So, does this mean-" You began eagerly before he suddenly cut you off.

"But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you leave, just like that." He turned back towards you, his face hardened as he gave you a look of determination. "Maybe I'm not your family yet, but I will be. And this will be your home, whether you like it or not."

A shiver of fear went down your spine at his firm declaration, causing you to realize you'd made a severe judgment in error when you decided to tell him you weren't family. It was at this point that you were beginning to wish you'd listened to the TARDIS when it told you to run while you still had the chance.

[knowlesian]

not to project like a motherfucker on natalie berzatto but ohhhh boy the impact of a narrative that says “hey, is your desire to make sure everybody around you is okay also about you? and could that perhaps be partially a maladaptive trauma response you should look into and maybe mitigate? because if it’s a genuine question that’s fine, but if the only answer you will respond well to hearing is yes that’s a You Issue Too, Babe”

[charcubed]

Loki's Sacrifice – "My Body Is A Cage"

(featuring found family + Lokius)

Twitter | YouTube

[theperksofbeingstupid]

tu cuerpo ya no da más

Roier knows he's going to die. They brought someone new into the cell next to his the other day, the one that's been empty this whole time. He doesn't know when exactly, because the Feds did something to his food, and he's been sleeping at weird intervals on and off for the last week. Roier knows the ship is running out of power. They turned on the emergency lights weeks ago, and the main lights haven't come back on since. They've taken to placing physical locks on the doors to the cells instead of relying solely on their programs; he's seen them when he pretends to be asleep. Roier knows he's going to get out, and he'll make them pay.

my gift for @ender-princee for the @mcythorrorgiftexchange !!!! i hope you enjoy 💥💥💥 (and make sure to keep the tags in mind)

[demigod-of-the-agni]

Spider-Man India, but... where from India?

A SUPER long post featuring talks of: cultural identity, characterisation, the caste system, and what makes Spider-Man Spider-Man.

I’m prefacing this by saying that I am a second-generation immigrant. I was born in Australia, but my cultural background is from South India. My experiences with what it means to be “Indian” is going to be very different from the experiences of those who are born and brought up in India.

If you, reader, want to add anything, please reblog and add your thoughts. This is meant to be a post open for discussion — the more interaction we get, the better we become aware of these nuances.

So I made this poll asking folks to pick a region of India where I would draw Pavitr Prabhakar in their cultural wear. This idea had been on my mind for a long while now, as I had been inspired by Annie Hazarika’s Northeastern Spidey artwork in the wake of ATSV’s release, but never got the time to actually do it until now. I wanted to get a little interactive and made the poll so I could have people choose which of the different regions — North, Northeast, Central, East, West, South — to do first.

The outcome was not what I expected. As you can see, out of 83 votes:

THE RESULTS

South India takes up almost half of all votes (44.6%), followed by Northeast and Central (both 14.5%) and then East (13.3%). In all my life growing up, support towards or even just the awareness of South India was pretty low. Despite this being a very contained poll, why would nearly half of all voters pick South India in favour of other popular choices like Central or North India?

Then I thought about the layout of the poll: Title, Options, Context.

Title: "Tell us who you want to see…"

Options: North, Northeast, Central, East, West, South

Context: I want to make art of the boy again

At first I thought: ah geez. this is my fault. I didn't make the poll clear enough. do they think I want them to figure out where Pavitr came from? That's not what I wanted, maybe I should have added the context before the options.

Then I thought: ah geez. is it my fault for people not reading the entire damn thing before clicking a button? That's pretty stupid.

But regardless, the thought did prompt a line of thinking I know many of us desi folk have been considering since Spider-Man India was first conceived — or, at least, since the announcement that he was going to appear in ATSV. Hell, even I thought of it:

Where did Spider-Man India come from?

FROM A CULTURALLY DIVERSE INDIA

As we know, India is so culturally diverse, and no doubt ATSV creators had to take that into account. Because the ORIGINAL Spider-Man India came from Mumbai — most likely because Mumbai and Manhattan both started with the same letter.

But going beyond that, it’s also because Mumbai is one of the most recognisable cities in India - it’s also known as Bombay. It’s where Bollywood films are shot. It’s where superstar Hindi actors and actresses show up. Mumbai is synonymous with India in that regard, because the easiest way Western countries can interact with Indian culture is through BOLLYWOOD, through HINDI FILMS, through MUMBAI. Suddenly, India is Mumbai, India is a Hindi-only country, India is just this isolated thing we see through an infinitely narrow lens.

We’ve gotten a little better in recent years, but boy I will tell you how uncomfortable I’ve gotten when people (yes, even desi people) come up to me and tell me, Oh, you’re Indian right? Can you speak Hindi? Why don’t you speak Hindi? You’re not Indian if you don’t speak Hindi, that’s India’s national language!

I have been — still am — so afraid of telling people that I don’t speak Hindi, that I’m Tamil, that I don’t care that Hindi is India’s “national” language (it’s an administrative language, Kavin, get your fucking facts right). It’s weird, it’s isolating, and it has made me feel like I wasn’t “Indian” enough to be accepted into the group of “Indian” people.

So I am thankful that ATSV went out of their way to integrate as much variety of Indian culture into the Mumbattan sequence. Maybe that way, the younger generation of desi folk won’t feel so isolated, and that younger Western people will be more open to learning about all these cultural differences within such a vast country.

BUT WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH SPIDER-MAN INDIA?

Everything, actually. There’s a thing called supremacy. You might have heard of it. We all engaged with it at some point, and if you are Indian, no matter where you live, it is inescapable.

It happens the moment you are born — who your family is, where you are born, the language you speak, the colour of your skin; these will be bound to you for life, and it is nigh impossible to break down the stereotypes associated with them.

Certain ethnic groups will be more favourable than others (Centrals, and thus their cultures, will always be favoured over than Souths, as an example) and the same can be said for social groups (Brahmins are more likely to secure influential roles in politics or other areas like priesthood, while the lowers castes, especially Dalits, aren’t even given the decency of respect). Don’t even get me started on colourism, where obviously those of fairer skin will win the lottery while those of darker skin aren’t given the time of day. It’s even worse when morality ties into it — “lighter skinned Indians, like Brahmins, embody good qualities like justice and wisdom”, “dark skinned Indians are cunning and poor, they are untrustworthy”. It’s fucking nuts.

This means, of course, you have a billion people trying to make themselves heard in a system that tries to crush everyone who is not privileged. It only makes sense that people want to elevate themselves and break free from a society that refuses to acknowledge them. These frustrations manifest outwardly, like in protests, but other times — most times — it goes unheard, quietly shaping your way of life, your way of thinking. It becomes a fundamental part of you, and it can go unacknowledged for generations.

So when you have a character like Pavitr Prabhakar enter the scene, people immediately latch onto him and start asking questions many Western audiences don’t even consider. Who is he? What food does he eat? What does he do on Fridays? What’s his family like, his community? All these questions pop up, because, amidst all this turmoil going on in the background, you want a mainstream popular character to be like you, who knows your way of life so intimately, that he may as well be a part of your community.

BUT THAT'S THE THING — HE'S FICTIONAL

I am guilty of this. In fact, I’ve flaunted in numerous posts how I think he’s the perfect Tamil boy, how he dances bharatanatyam, how he does all these Tamil things that no one will understand except myself. All these niche things that only I, and maybe a few others, will understand.

I’ve seen other people do it, too. I’ve seen people geek out over his dark brown skin, his kalari dhoti, how he fights so effortlessly in the kalaripayattu martial arts style. I’ve seen people write him as Malayali, as Hindi, as every kind of Indian person imaginable.

I’ve also seen him be written where he’s subjected to typical Indian and broader Asian stereotypes. You know the ones I’m so fond of calling out. The thing is, I’ve seen so much of Pavitr being presented in so many different ways, and I worry how the rest of the desi folk will take it. 

You finally have a character who could be you, but now he’s someone else’s plaything. Your entire life is shaped by what you can and can’t do simply because you were born to an Indian family, and here’s the one person who could represent you now at the mercy of someone else’s whims. He’s off living a life that is so distant from yours, you can hardly recognise him.

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, yeah? But, again, you’re looking at it from that infinitely narrow lens Westerners use to look at India from Bollywood.

AND PAVITR PRABHAKAR DOESN'T LIVE IN INDIA

He lives in Mumbattan. He lives in a made-up, fictional world that doesn’t follow the way of life of our world. He lives in a city where Mumbai and Manhattan got fucking squashed together. There are so many memes about colonialism right there. Mumbattan isn’t real! Spider-Man India isn’t real!! He’s just a dude!! The logic of our world doesn’t apply to him!!!

“But his surname originates from ______” okay but does that matter?

“But he’s wearing a kalari dhoti so surely he’s ______” okay but does that matter?

“But his skin colour is darker so he must be ______” okay but does that matter?

“But he lives in Mumbai so he must be ______” okay but does that matter?

I sound insensitive and brash and annoying and it looks like I’m yapping just for the sake of riling you up, so direct that little burst of anger you got there at me, and keep reading.

Listen. I’m going to ask you a question that I’ve asked myself a million times over. I want you to answer honestly. I want you to ask this question to yourself and answer honestly:

Are you trying to convince me on who Pavitr Prabhakar should be?

... but why shouldn't i?

I’ll tell you this again — I did the same thing. You’re not at fault for this, but I want you to just...have a little think over. Just a little moment of self-reflection, to think about why you are so intent on boxing this guy.

It took me a while to reorganise my thinking and how to best approach a character like Pavitr, so I will give you all the time you need as well as a little springboard to focus your thoughts on.

SPIDER-MAN (INDIA) IS JUST A MASK

“What I like about the costume is that anybody reading Spider-Man in any part of the world can imagine that they themselves are under the costume. And that’s a good thing.”

Stan Lee said that. Remember how he was so intent on making sure that everybody got the idea that Spider-Man as an entity is fundamentally broken without Peter Parker there to put on the suit and save the day? That ultimately it was the person beneath the mask, no matter who they were, that mattered most?

Spider-Man India is no less different. You can argue with me that Peter Parker!Spidey is supposed to represent working class struggles in the face of leering corporate entities who endanger the regular folk like us, and so Pavitr Prabhakar should also function the same way. Pavitr should also be a working class guy of this specific social standing fighting people of this other social standing.

But that takes away the authenticity of Spider-Man India. Looking at him through the Peter Parker lens forces you to look at him through the Western lens, and it significantly lessens what you can do with the character — suddenly, it’s a fight to be heard, to be seen, to be recognised. It’s yelling over each other that Pavitr Prabhakar is this ethnicity, is that caste, this or that, this or that, this or that.

There’s a reason why he’s called Spider-Man India, infuriatingly vague as it is. And that’s the point — the vagueness of his identity fulfils Lee’s purpose for a character that could theoretically be embodied by anyone. If he had been called “Spider-Man Mumbai”, you cut out a majority of the population (and in capitalist terms, you cut out a good chunk of the market).

And in the case of Spider-Man India? Whew — you’ve got about a billion people imagining a billion different versions of him.

Whoever you are, whatever you see in Pavitr, that is what is personal to you, and there is nothing wrong with that, and I will not fault you for it. I will not fault you for saying Pavitr is from Central due to the origins of his last name. I also will not fault you for saying Pavitr is from South due to him practising kalaripayattu. I also will not fault you for saying he is not Hindu. I also will not fault you for saying he is a particular ethnicity without any proof.

What I will fault you for is trying to convince me and the others around you that Pavitr Prabhakar should be this particular ethnicity/have this cultural background because of some specific reason. I literally don’t care and it is fundamentally going against his character, going against the “anyone can wear the mask” sentiment of Spider-Man. By doing this, you are strengthening the walls that first divided us. You’re feeding the stratification and segmentation of our cultures — something that is actually not present in the fictional world of Mumbattan.

Like I said before: Mumbattan isn’t real, so the divides between ethnicities and cultural backgrounds are practically nonexistent. The best thing is that it is visually there for all to see. My favourite piece of evidence is this:

It’s a marquee for a cinema in the Mumbattan sequence, in the “Quick tour: this is where the traffic is” section. It has four titles; the first two are written in Hindi. The third title is written in Bengali*, and the fourth title is written in Tamil. You go to Mumbai and you won’t see a single shred of Bengali nor Tamil there, much less any other language that's not common in Maharashtra (Western India). Seeing this for the first time, you know what went through my head?

Wow, the numerous cultures of India are so intermingled here in Mumbattan! Everyone and everything is welcome!

I was happy, not just because of Tamil representation, but because of the fact that the plethora of Indian cultures are showcased coexisting in such a short sequence. This is India embracing all the little parts that make up its grander identity. This scene literally opened my eyes seeing such beauty in all the diverse cultures thriving together. In a place where language and cultural backgrounds blend so easily, each one complementing one another.

It is so easy to believe that, from this colourful palette of a setting, Pavitr Prabhakar truly is Spider-Man India, no matter where he comes from.

It’s easy to believe that Pavitr can come from any part of India, and I won’t call you out if the origin you have for him is different from the origin I have. You don’t need to stake out territory and stand your ground — you’re entitled to that opinion, and I respect it. In fact, I encourage it!!!

Because there’s only so much you can show in a ten minute segment of a film about a country that has such a vast history and even greater number of cultures. I want to see all of it — I want him to be a Malayali boy, a Hindi boy, a Bengali boy, a Telugu boy, an Urdu boy, whatever!! I want you to write him or draw him immersed in your culture, so that I can see the beauty of your background, the wonderful little things that make your culture unique and different from mine!

And, as many friends have said, it’s so common for Indian folks to be migrating around within our own country. A person with a Maharashtrian surname might end up living in Punjab, and no one really minds that. I’m actually from Karnataka, my family speaks Kannada, but somewhere down the line my ancestors moved to Tamil Nadu and settled down and lived very fulfilling lives. So I don’t actually have the “pure Tamil” upbringing, contrary to popular belief; I’ve gotten a mix of both Kannada and Tamil lifestyles, and it’s made my life that much richer. 

So it’s common for people to “not” look like their surname, if that’s what you’re really afraid about. In fact, it just adds to that layer of nuance, that even despite these rigid identities between ethnicities we as Indian people still intermingle with one another, bringing slivers of our cultures to share with others. Pavitr could just as well have been born in one state and moved around the country, and he happens to live in Mumbattan now. It’s entirely possible and there’s nothing to disprove that.

We don’t need to clamber over one another declaring that only one ethnicity is the “right” ethnicity, because, again, you will be looking at Pavitr and the rest of India in that narrow Western lens — a country with such rich cultural variety reduced to a homogenous restrictive way of life.

THE POLL: REINTERPRETED

This whole thing started because I was wondering why my little poll was so skewed — I thought people assumed I was asking them where he came from, then paired his physical appearance with the most logical options available. I thought it was my fault, that I had somehow influenced this outcome without knowing.

Truth is, I will never really know. But I will be thankful for it, because it gave me the opportunity to finally broach this topic, something that many of us desi folk are hesitant to talk about. I hope you have learned something from this, whether you are desi or a casual Spider-Man fan or someone who just so happened to stumble upon this. 

So just…be a little more open. Recognise that India, like many many countries and nations, is made up of a plethora of smaller cultures. And remember, if you’re trying to convince Pavitr that he’s a particular ethnicity, he’s going to wave his hand at you and say, “Ha, me? No, I’m one of the people that live here in the best Indian city! I’m Spider-Man India, dost!”

(Regardless, he still considers you a friend, because to him, the people matter more to him than you trying to box him into something he’s not.)

*Note: thank you dear anon for letting me know that the third title was Bengali, twas my mistake for literally completely forgetting

[septimusmoonlight]

You doing ok?

hi

[lynzishell]

So here we are

...again

[itoshi-s]

I really don't know but — aiku,sae and rin having a pillow princess girlfriend!! I'm crazy for it. How are you btw?

oooohhhh :(((( yes def they love their girl like that !!!!!! let me expand

rin's a service dom and i will die on this hill !!!!!! he gets off on ruining you so much oml it's not like he's even doing this for your pleasure at this point. nahhhh he's doing it for HIMSELF and that's the single hottest thing he does kghadskfhsa like.. mouth full of ur cunt, fingers deep and messy all the way to the last knuckle and he groans so loud while he's at it :( ruts into the bed bc all the sounds you're letting out and the taste of u on his tongue makes his head dizzy and vision starry. so OF COURSE he's not lettin u do as much as move a single finger. he has the upper hand w u at all times - easily manhandles u into any position he wants to try this time,, pins your hips down when you try to move away. orders u around bc he knows you'll listen - he makes u feel so good after all :(

i did mention it b4 prob in dawn's ask sometime ago kjfhsaf but sae on the other hand is the meanest dom ever !!! GAWD i think yall can get the appeal already from my works but he absolutely ADORES ruining u completely. loooooves the sight of u crying and grows ridiculously hard at your begging to stop already :( he needs you to be as pliable 4 him as possible and you are more than happy to oblige !! he wouldn't want it any other way tbh i feel like despite him being so seemingly in control over everything, he rly isnt. it messes with his head real bad (therapy babes. pls try it out) and he finds that seeing you, his one and only, completely at his mercy and giving him the prettiest look when you give into all of his fantasies, is making his mind slow down and leaves him feeling a little better </3

OLIVER AIKU ON THE OTHER HAND...... NAURRRR that boy is a REAL pussy pleaser man he rly is. he's not deranged like the itoshis !!!!! he just LOOOOOOVEEEEEEES the sight of you when you lay back on the pillows, legs spread and cunt already leaking for him. make m' feel good, oli? please? HE GOES NUTS AKJHFSKJ man i feel like he just has sm fun with sex really. and seeing his girl writhing w pleasure that he gives her so enthusiastically is what makes it so enjoyable :( he just doesn't think a pretty girl like u should do as much as bat an eye in terms of receiving pleasure. unless that's not what you're after - that's fine !!!!! he's just rly focused on u n loves being at your service <3 wouldn't call him a service dom tho this mans is just so in love with u and wants to show it !!!!!

[palabraasinnecesarias]

“Then let’s get married.”

ao3 | ff.net

ship: ranma/akane words: 2,159

warnings: hormonal idiots

“We’ll have to wait until we’re married.”  “Then let’s get married.”  “We will.” “Tomorrow.” She laughed, amused to be hearing him say such things, “We can’t do that.”  “Sure, we can.”

Ranma Saotome wasn’t one for showing affection so easily; it might have something to do with the way he was raised, or rather with the man who raised him. There was some sort of vulnerability that came with the territory of letting his guard down, and in a world where he needed to ensure all his grounds were covered, there was never any room for emotional attachments. 

Of course, that changed when the duo of father and son were welcomed into the Tendo household, in the promise of unity through marriage. Such an absurd idea – considering that at that time they were just sixteen-year-old idiots.  

But somehow, not quite sure understanding how it happened, Ranma couldn’t help but allow himself to admire his fiancée as she mindlessly pouted her bottom lip momentarily, lost in thought it seemed.  

Akane bounced the eraser of her pencil against her opened textbook, scrunching her eyebrows as she read silently, rather enthralled by whatever the pages had to say as his keen sight noticed the way she mouthed every word in a hushed manner. He had taken over her bed, laying quite comfortably with one leg over the other, pretending to read the manga in his hands (although he knew the panels by heart, due to how many times he’s read the volume).  

He had been fascinated by the fact that after high school Akane had willingly continued her education well into university, rather than take over the dojo with him.  

It was settled, according to their parents – he was to wed Akane by the end of the upcoming spring semester.  

Akane had urged him to meet her inside her bedroom a few years back and asked him if it would be okay if they married after she graduated university, rather than in the next two weeks after finishing high school. He had appreciated that she had gone to him and asked, valuing what he had to say, it seemed. He agreed and introduced the idea to their parents.  

Of course, that was more than a year away, considering she was just finishing her third year. In fact, finals were just around the corner, and she dedicated herself fully to her studies, which usually consisted of a couple hours inside her bedroom. Normally, Ranma wasn’t welcomed into her bedroom during these times. After some persuasion, knowing he only wanted access into her bedroom because he wasn’t allowed, she caved.  

He came to find that her panicked outbursts against upcoming assignments were enough convincing that the college lifestyle was never going to be for him. He had also learned that she took her education career quite seriously when he tried to strike up conversation during her study time, and she simply kicked him out. He wasn’t allowed back in for days, making him feel like some child, and he promised that this time he wouldn’t disturb her focus.  

Ranma considered Akane smart, not a brainiac by any means, but a bright person and far more intellectual when it came to her studies. He didn’t quite understand why she allowed herself to freak out each time exams were coming up (having been a witness in previous years, and more recently throughout her midterms). Although, after earning her passing score, and she came home with a giant sigh of relief, he couldn’t help but feel his own chest release all the tension he hadn’t known he’d been carrying along with her.  

He pressed his manga against his chest as Akane exasperated a breath, setting her pencil down and stretching her arms high. She glanced at Ranma with a mild wince before smiling softly at him, “You’re really into that one,” she said referencing his book, now leaning back on her desk chair with a more relaxed ambiance.  

She was talking to him, that meant she was done studying for the night. It was pretty late, just past nine in the evening, and if Ranma knew any better he needed to start making his way down the hall towards his own bedroom and let her rest. But instead, like some puppy excited to play, the pigtail wearing martial artist quickly sat up and grinned at her, “Not as entertained as you are by that textbook.”  

Akane scoffed, rolling her eyes endearingly as she tensed her shoulders, “I mean, it’s not my ideal way of spending my evening,” she laughed shortly. He watched her begin to clean her desk as she bookmarked her page and closed the book, gathering her pencil and eraser into her pencil bag and then closing her journals. Now she was really done for the night.  

And, as if on cue, Akane felt herself get pulled onto the bed to land perfectly on his lap. Although she had been expecting him to hurry her, his movement had been done so swiftly and quietly, it took her a few blinks to realize where she was. His arms hooked around her back, and she was trying her best to hold in some laughter, feeling like some child sneaking sweets before dinner. “Geez, Ranma,” her voice was quiet now, captivating as she wrinkled her nose at him in a playful manner, “if you want me this close, all you have to do is ask.”  

He smacked the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, smiling quite mischievously at her as he replied, “Where’s the fun in that, ‘Kane.” And then he kissed her.  

His lips pressed softly against her plumped ones, feeling bliss at the flare that trailed throughout his face and down his neck; especially when he could feel her hands reach to hold onto his top, senselessly playing with the golden frog buttons. He could taste her fainted cherry balm, more prominent when he’d glaze his tongue against her mouth, his grip firming when she’d squirm in surprise.  

She grinned against his kiss, but her heart never failed to feel as though it were going to beat out of her chest.  

The room was quiet, and for a moment the only thing that was audible had been the way their lip-smacking noises echoed silently with every kiss, until Akane managed to pull away so she could breathe. She panted deeply, unaware of how swollen her mouth was and at the speed that her chest rose with every short breath she took. It was as if he wanted to eat her, and she couldn’t keep up. “Ranma,” she whispered, her hands reaching up to push strands of his messy fringe behind his ears, “you should probably go to bed.”  

“Are ya’ tired?” he asked, sincerely, his large blue eyes bouncing about her face, feeling his heart squeeze when she smiled softly at him and her cheeks only got rounder, showing off her rosy tint.   

“No, but you’ve got that class in the morning.” He was teaching Introduction into Anything Goes Martial Arts to a class of toddlers, there was only so much he could really teach.  

“Are you kicking me out?” He challenged, and she couldn’t help but let out a charmingly musical laugh.  

How did she do that? She had the sorcery of bewitching him so easily, just by smiling, he felt like a feeble, helpless man at her bidding. He snugged his face at the crook of her neck, his arms tightening their hold as he relished her subtle fragrance that was wearing off and now faintly mixing with her natural scent. He wanted to remain in her hold, forever, if she’d let him. Emotions were to be considered a weakness, turn one fragile, but he was too lost to recuperate against her charm.  

She was warm and cozy, and just where he needed to be. He could feel her take a deep breath before her arms hovered over his shoulders, her hands reaching for his braid and gently tugging at the tie before detangling it. She was now running her fingers through his hair, every now and then daintily scratching his scalp, and oh god, it felt so good. He could fall asleep in her arms all too easily.  

It was nice, staying within her embrace as they talked for a while; not a long time, just enough that she believed he was beginning to doze off.  

When he pulled away, she was grinning at him like some dork, teasing his dazed look, and all he could think about was how much he wanted her. He kissed her again, and although it surprised her, she welcomed it. This kiss was rougher, she noticed, and a tad more desperate, her mind felt like it was turning into putty at the way his mouth caressed hers.  

She almost didn’t notice the way he began adjusting her atop her bed, laying her completely with him on top. She broke off the kiss, gasping loudly as she pulled away, trying her best not to release any embarrassing sounds when Ranma’s lips dragged across her cheek and onto her jaw, gnawing at her flesh. “Ran-Ranma,” she heaved as her eyes rolled backwards, his hands now traveling up and down at the side of her body, “wait,” she tried to say. But his knee was already nudging her legs apart, and she couldn’t stop her hips from rising against his thigh.  

Oh, god, she could feel a flame ignite at the pit of her stomach, her arms freely reaching to hold onto his hair as she gasped again. He was kissing her neck now, clasping her mouth shut as she held her bottom lip with her teeth, unable to muffle the mild groan that crawled up her throat.  

Everything he was doing to her – kissing her, touching her, softly grinding his body against hers, as she reciprocated with her own jolt against his hips – fogged her mind into a blithe disregard for just a mere moment that her bedroom door hadn’t been locked and anyone could barge in. But she really liked the way he was giving her neck attention.  

Akane gasped louder at the way Ranma arranged himself to gently straddle her hips, observing her reaction, which had been one he savored as her eyes offered a hazy gleam when she felt his body mount hers. He leaned down and hovered his mouth over hers, and for a moment she hadn’t known where his breathing began and hers ended. He didn’t do anything, didn’t move aside from pecking her lips again, every day finding it harder to resist her beauty.  

He wanted to possess her in a way he hadn’t known possible, and having her so close as she looked at him the way she was now, his blood boiled with desire. He smiled meekly at the way she felt her hands hook themselves behind his back, pulling him for another kiss. It was slow, and passive, although still very fierce and wet.  

He grinded back, almost timidly, and this time she did moan into his mouth. Her eyes rolled again, and her chest pressed against his when she pulled him closer to her. “Ranma,” she inhaled deeply, hiding her face against his chest when he thrusted forward. The way his name rolled out of her tongue aroused him immensely; he couldn’t resist his urge to do it again. And he knew, if he continued, he’d find it hard to stop.  

Akane’s arms embraced him firmly, "We need to stop,” she murmured onto his skin, quite disappointed at herself for knowing better.  

“Already?” He joked, and she couldn’t help but grin at herself, having some sort of satisfaction in knowing she provoked such urges within him, but keeping up with his stamina proved to be hard to do at times.  

He rolled off her, carefully, laying on his back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before shutting his eyes and breathing in deeply. Akane curled next to him, resting her chin atop his chest before she said, “We’ll have to wait until we’re married.”  

“Then let’s get married.”  

“We will.” 

“Tomorrow.” 

She laughed, amused to be hearing him say such things, “We can’t do that.”  

“Sure, we can.” He was looking at her now, a wicked smirk challenging her and she doesn't quite know if he's serious or not. “Ya’ve said it before, ‘Kane, ya’ love me, and well, you know how I feel...”  

“That you love me all the way to the moon and back?” She teased, a playful smile taunting him before snorting, quite obvious that she was dramatizing his confession, but it was always nice to hear it again once in a while.  

“Exactly,” he grinned.  

She simply rolled her eyes and called him an idiot, affectionately, of course. And when she looked at the time she rushed him out of her bedroom, through the window in case someone was in the hallway. He had been with her for far too long, even if he insisted otherwise. But just as he was about to crawl out of her window, he kissed her again, quickly saying, “For the road.”  

“Go take a shower, you dope.”  

[triona-tribblescore]

Hi!!

Just came by to say I hope your day will or has been very kind to you!! And I thank you for the follow!! :D

THANK YOU QwQ <3

same back to you!! :)))

[holocene-sims]

happy birthday to me 🎂

as a gift to y'all on my (not) special day, on this semi-okay monday, i am restarting my story queue 🎉

oh yes, everything the stars promised is so back! and running again at 2 posts at 8 and 9 PM EST for the time being 🥂 i'll slow it down if necessary, but 2 posts a day seems to work pretty well!

[quirkle2]

JUST READ EVERYTHING THERE IS ABOUT THE ZOMBIE AU !!!!! LOVE THIS SO MUCH WAAAA

you mentioned that ritsu, by the end of the story, is broken and practically insane. once shigeo is cured and "back to normal," i'm guessing that ritsu doesn't exactly go back to "being normal" either :( he'd gone through too much to be the same after everything... do you think he ever goes back to old habits and treats mob like he's still a zombie, only to be shellshocked at the fact that it's all over?

also this au is very reminiscent of this post (grieving the undead) https://www.tumblr.com/applejuicewerewolf/735120232698593280/no-need-to-keep-this-in-the-tags-youre

WEEEE IMSO GLAD U LIKE IT it's the direct result of my brainworms

yes ritsu is definitely Not Normal by the end and he should be put into therapy immediately. poor kid's seen way too much at way too young of an age, and he's been put through unreal amounts of stress that is definitely not good for a growing brain. he most certainly does not go back to "normal" when mob is cured, and much like his brother, he's never quite the same as he was before

he Absolutely has trouble squashing old habits, yes. he tends to just Do Shit for mob that he's fully capable of doing now, no matter how simple, bc as a zombie mob couldn't rly do all that. he opens food packages for him automatically, he unlatches doors even though mob is perfectly capable of Figuring Out a Lock. sometimes when it's raining ritsu will even pull mob's hood over his head—he used to do that for him when he was a zombie, to keep the rain off him, even if zombie mob didn't rly give a damn if it was raining or not

if mob were anybody else, he'd prolly find it a bit insulting, but instead he finds it kind of amusing most of the time

sometimes he grabs mob's hand and leads him around and it's only when they're like halfway there that he realizes what he's doing. mob doesn't particularly mind, but when his goal is elsewhere and they're aiming for different places he has to go "ritsu ..." and it's this awkward blinking session like . oh .right. yes.ofc

i think mob would ? maybe get a little annoyed at the hovering that ritsu totally unintentionally does. he hovers so closely bc zombie mob never rly minded, or ,, noticed. so now that he's back to "human" levels of awareness it is . extremely obvious. and it's not even that ritsu is Worried, it's just like he's spent so long Hovering and Fretting that it's just kinda second nature to him now

it's a strange role-reversal—it's very weird for mob to wake up and have scattered memories of the last two years, and suddenly feel like he's the younger brother instead. ritsu is now the caretaker, and it's... strange. and honestly, the first real goal mob has in mind after waking up and recovering for a while is settling back into the role of older brother. it's important to him

but much like how reigen now has trouble corralling that kid, mob has some difficulty getting ritsu to settle back into it too. he's too high-strung and stressed and permanently scarred to rest and let people take care of him, too used to being the caretaker himself. for the longest time he was forced into the mindset of, "you stop, you die," so ritsu keeps going bc his instincts r shot and he feels like he's in danger all the time

after a while of gentle nudging, mob gets the hang of convincing ritsu to lean on people, to lean on him, but mob is quietly distraught at the overall state of ritsu's mental well-being. it takes him a while to rly get a grasp of how bad it truly is, but once he realizes the damage, he's .. so fuckin upset w himself for letting this happen to his brother

as if it's rly his fault at all, but he regrets being slow and getting overrun by that zombie horde to begin with. maybe if he hadn't turned, ritsu would be a lot better off now—they woulda been able to join a settlement, and live in a place where there is supplies and food and clothing and other people to talk to other than your mumbling brother who no longer fully understands you. it likely would've spared him a lot of trauma

and alsoYES that post is EXACTLY it the concept of mourning a person u still see every day is ougougouhoguhg ,., .,witsu ..................