#idk what’s going on with the ai stuff on here too

[derpylittlenico]

idk why we still need to say this, but ai writing isn't writing, y'all.

sorry not sorry, but it isn't. it's shitting out the cannibalized remains of other people's art.

if you can't be bothered to even try, I'm not gonna read your stuff. not now, not ever. period, the end.

no matter how neat your idea was before you plugged it in to the theft machine.

not just because it is a product of theft, but also because I don't trust your motivations.

art is a labor of love. a product of your imagination that you've taken the time to shape into words. and you're treating it like clickbait content to be tossed onto the page for clout.

I'm not here to give you clicks, to give you clout for dumping more money into an environmentally-dangerous theft-powered autofill program.

I'm sorry if you're just too busy for art. we're all busy. we're all tired. if you give a shit about what you're trying to create, you find a way to do it.

see: any number of WILD A/Ns about people posting after giving birth/hospital stays, on their wedding day, after funerals or natural, etc.

life is always gonna get in the way of creating art. always. there's never going to be ideal circumstances or perfect timing.

part of what makes it so valuable is that you loved it enough to create it despite that.

just saw a fanfic on ao3 have a dedication for chatgpt... that section is meant for your horny perverted mutual who proofread your work, you violated sacred law and you will be torn apart and laid bare btw

[chaieyestea]

Thinking about moving my entire art profile from Instagram to tumblr but I am Scared

[sofastuffing]

i have a headache

[devilsskettle]

i feel like i’ve been WAITING for the other shoe to drop wrt people’s opinions about watcher for this very reason. not that i think the reaction is completely not understandable but the greater the parasocial relationship, the greater the fallout as soon as public opinion shifts. you don’t have a relationship with these people they’re just content creators, chill

[luwha]

THIS ISN'T A ROAST. It's some thoughts and backgrounds on a thing that's been eating my brainworms for a bit.

haha ok so, the last few years I've been hearing a lot about how AI can be useful and a tool, which i refuse to believe it is (and if so, the damage it causes to artists FAR OUTWEIGHT any benefit).

So, there's this youtuber that covers, like, tech and stuff. When generative AI for images and text came up , they were rightfully poking at the ethical dilemma, and copyright infringement, but STILL made a soft argument about how useful it can be on pitch ideas, concepts, and other things that quick and cheap art could be used (also fuck whoever did this jobs before i guess lol)

BUT THEN an app finally did the same for music, generating indistinguishable quality music. The said youtuber makes music, usually vibe check music to hear on video's background and such.

but see

this time they were frustrated, and made a video about the ethical concern, how unfair it is, how it destroys the effort and passion of creating and all, and did NOT make an argument about how it could be useful, because now they knew that despite the benefit, if it goes off, their dreams is over.

A lot of people are quick to jump into "this can be useful" for generative tools, and very rarely i see artists, especially digital artists, agreeing with this. And most that do either have no stakes on their careers, aka they're already well off, or have no careers to begin with.

Serious artists KNOW how bad it is, no matter what. The youtuber had no stakes in visual art. They doesn't make them, they don't really profit or benefit from making them.

When it came to a thing they DO understand and make, now they've got to understand why it's bad. Why the benefits are not good enough to justify the disaster it makes on artist's life, on the humankind development as a whole.

idk what the point is here, i just really got pissed that at the point, they've been really kinda "this is bad but this exist, who knows, could be good if it's not unethical etc", to go fully into "this is bad. like, real bad for everyone here and music industry".

Wish that understanding came from their kindness, not AI coming with a baseball bat to their knees. Makes me real sad that it came for them too.

[jazzyblusnowflake]

You've got some cool headcanons for Nuzi and Vuzi, but what about the third? You got any for EnVy?

Wow i suck at answering these on time smh. sighhhh, in my defense i procrastinate answering some questions cuz i don't wanna just put together some random stuff and call it a day-

i actually wrote some stuff for some asks before but had to delete it last minute cuz i thought its worth putting more time than that, i guess TvT sorry, im probably taking this too seriously idk.

My eNVee headcanons TvT:

[yall know the drill, the drone versions only, the human versions aren’t involved, and no nsfw- for now.]

k so, light envuzi involved too, Uzi is the mediator here, whether u consider her a friend here or their mini toaster in the middle- also there's some of the stuff from my future version where V is safe and sound thankfully. and also maybe some stuff from their past too.

With how N was realizing that V was lying or hiding stuff from him in a constant manner, naturally he grew to grieve the loss of who V USED to be, and with that loss he tried to accept that he has to let her go, because the V he fell in love with was long gone. despite this, when they both started teasing each other over their relationship with Uzi and N started to bite back a bit at Vs behaviors with more self confidence, they grew to form a completely different kind of relationship. Uzi was just having fun seeing them try to win her over lmao; but in the end they kind of started enjoying eachothers company again. Uzi felt happy seeing them get closure for the things they went through and was more than happy to support them through it.

Back at the manor V was fixed up after J and N, she was one of the later drones added to the family, she hardly spent much time at the manor at all before the great yeetening happened- she was originally a maid drone for a family before she was broken and dumped in the drone corpse junkyard. Maid drones are programmed with sweet and soft AIs with more round/short body shapes to have a friendly image in a household, they are made to be able to deal with both adults and kids, and they are best made for cleaning and setting up the house in mind. N was made as a butler/chauffeur before getting broken and yeeted in the junkyard [yes he can drive]. Due to V getting broken for some sort of mistake during work, she was left scarred after her reboot to make any more mistakes, which left her slightly jitter-ish and clumsy. Tessa put N in charge to help her around and although at the beginning V didn't talk much and felt unsure, slowly N became her safe space- especially since Tessas abusive parents remind V alot of her old household. N in turn thought V was always cute, he helped her with her work, having more steady hands, which ended with a lot more hand touching and blushing on both their ends :p

N was the one that suggested glasses for V which Tessa decided to try doing to see if it would help her visual efficiency in any way, and it did. V as a DD often tries to rely on her real eyes rather than look through her main visor, the glasses remind her too much of N...

N and V sometimes used to get out of the manor in secret spots to spend some time away from the chaos to help V calm down. during this time they would read books, learn stuff from each others past lives, and sometimes draw lol, but V just liked watching and listening to N, she felt happy with him. although unlike N, V felt a bit nervous around the animals in the area XD

N and V actually have shared kisses, just not on the lips. with N kissing her on the back of her hand as a gentleman and V giving him kisses on his cheek [Tessa's idea of a cute plan to put them under a mistletoe lol], but Vs last words to N was a promise to give him a kiss before she became comatose. as more drones in the manor stopped working and Ns efficiency and work became less useful to the manors occupants due to him wanting to spend time with V all the time, Louisa and James started becoming more impatient with Tessa's drones, which lead to the whole "get rid of them" line...

back in the current time V is obviously trying to protect N in her own traumatized way; but even then, most of the things she had done to "shelter" N, was probably not the best choice one could make, and some of it was done out of jealousy towards N and Uzi getting closer. However, slowly she started convincing herself that N deserved someone like Uzi. V had convinced herself that she deserves nothing. She was willing to give up everything for N and keep him safe from the beginning, even if it meant knocking N down a few limbs/heads just to keep him away from danger- which is problematic in itself. she made choices based off fear and urgency. she was always traumatized.

When N and V started getting along together a bit more and hanging around a bit in the human cities- V takes N to a bookstore she found once and they spent the whole day in the shelter of the store reading different old books. V still does not admit she did this to see N happy again lol.

When N started showing V affection again, V started becoming heavily touch starved and dependent on him again, just like the manor days, which she feared, which caused a minor set back for a while where she tried to avoid N. Uzi had to come and fix this shit cuz apparently only she can scold 2 dinosaurs without feeling intimidated. after N and V kiss for the first time PROPERLY after the whole solver BS ends, V just gets more touch starved and she hates both N AND Uzi for this lmao.

N and Uzi know that one of the only ways to make V calm down is to act soft with her, occasionally praising her and calling her nice things; even when V is literally threatening to bite their head off- [shes bluffing-.......mostly.]

N is usually the one that initiates any closeness with V. after their first kiss, N does tell her that she's done stuff that he might not be able to casually forgive, but at the same time he has seen her grow, and she does have good in her that he still loves her for.

V has nightmares and hardly ever sleeps, and when she does, its usually cuddling N or Uzi.

V tries to wear her glasses more often in the future. N likes it a lot :"3

V is surprisingly a good mom :p [spoilers for my au lmao bye] but yeah, since her original OS was for a maid, she still has some functions to be good with little ones. she cant help herself, she just really likes babies and kids.

N likes sometimes ballroom dancing with V for old times sake...

[i think this is as far as my brain will allow me, please excuse me as i jump off a cliff :") ]

[aleespace-art]

I was forced to watch kids cartoon called Sheriff Labrador and I'm too embarrassed to admit that I kinda enjoyed it (⁠-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠)

Long chatter below (it is long. I'm not joking)

So umm basically it's a Babybus YouTube cartoon and it is exactly the quality you expect from youtube kids show

It's not secretly good or something the whole family can enjoy like "Bluey". It's just okay and yet here I am dumping bunch of art about it, idk how this works ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

My sibling made me watch it and while I'm at it let me tell you about some things I actually enjoyed about this cartoon

Umm first of all if I watched this cartoon as a kid I just know I would've had a huge crush on this fucking cartoon Labrador, he's just the type I really liked (still do) — responsible, perfect, good at everything adult in kids show (the other character close to this is Sportacus from "Lazytown" which I did watch as a child and did have a crush on this sports dude so that checks out)

Second — the themes. This cartoon teaches kids safety so I expected some basic stuff like "Don't play with fire" or "Don't cross the road on red". And I was actually surprised when the first ever episode I saw was about food delivery and how you should always read reviews before ordering something online. Idk maybe I haven't watched modern kids show in a while but I think it's cool that they talk about that kind of stuff (and ! there was also an episode about AI face swapping! wow modern problems ig)

Also an episode that stuck with me was about a pool. I saw the video preview and thought "yeah pools.. don't run.. don't drown.. basic stuff" and while later I discovered that they have an episode about safety at pools, this specific episode was about something else. It taught children to never go with strangers anywhere and never let them touch your private parts. The episode literally showed a bad character grabbing the child and taking him away, then the child was rescued when police came in with the words "Don't touch the child, that's illegal!"

I'm writing this not because I "criticize" the show for it, I actually think it's important to show what actually can happen to you if you go with strangers, it was just a surreal experience when I watched two cartoon police dogs arresting a cartoon representation of an actual pedophile and then hearing this said character cry and say "I'm sorry, I won't do this again!" Like...wow... I fucking hope you won't because you're going to cartoon jail forever 💀

I also was really surprised when I discovered the show actually has small fandom on tiktok let's goo??

TL;DR This is a show for little kids and I accidentally got hooked because of my sibling

[fedoraspooky]

(sorry for the screenshots @twilightfreefaller but I wasn't sure how else to answer submissions without like editing it and making it look like you wrote the answer too or something? .w.)

Anyway, to answer your question: The character you've drawn here (very well for mspaint i might add!) is none other than Black Ace, who belongs to @zeurelart!

The kind of tournaments you're asking about were/are known as OC Tournaments, or OCTs for short. While I may not have made Black Ace, funny enough, I was a participant in the same tournament, Escape From Nevara! Our characters never crossed paths, though. XD Here's the lil guy I entered, if you're wondering:

Also I HAVE drawn Black Ace before, fighting Chester! (Chester wasn't in Escape From Nevara so this was purely a what-if scenario I drew for funsies.)

....Damn, i was really cookin with my art back then, what happened? XD ;

Now Chester WAS in another tournament, though it was more an AU of himself. You see, back on dA around the same time was a huge open submission OCT going on called Samurai Duelers League, where you would enter your character (you DID have to change them to match the old samurai-era Japan setting of the tournament though if they otherwise didn't fit, hence the AU) and fight other people who entered, and it wasn't an elimination tournament so you could still fight others even if it was determined you lost.

Here's what Chester looked like for SDL:

And while he didn't participate in the tournament as an entrant, Chester as his normal robot self was also in spectator entries as a side character in a tournament named Infractus Fatality!

As for Charlie, I sadly only made him in the last few years or so, well after the OCT scene on dA had largely died. Not to mention I left dA due to their AI bs shortly after I made him, so even if OCTs were still a thing on there I probs wouldn't have stuck around for it. ;w;

But MAN he would've been perfect for OCTs!! I literally made him because I was inspired by watching cool stickman fight animations! And in canon he's a living weapon, he was engineered specifically for combat and blowing stuff up! If there were any characters I could have sent into a situation where they have to fight other characters for survival or a wish or what have you, it should've been him! But alas, I made him way too late.

People still run OCTs on discord and... i think twitter, these days? But idk, I don't really like being on twitter and discord is such a closed off space that discoverability is super low.

But man, I can dream...

[just-some-random-blogger]

Since there are quite a few award shows going on, what are your thoughts on a fic about Ewan and reader at the awards together and they are being so flirty (trying and failing so hard to hide it) in the background that even the cast are teasing them. Meanwhile it’s all going viral? As always, this just an idea, no pressure to write it or anything! Hope you have a lovely day :)

Secret Hand Holding

Ewan Mitchell x Reader

Summary: "YALL AINT SLICK, IVE GOT 20 LOW RES SS OF YAZ HOLDIN HANDS AND IMMA BOUTTA THROW HANDS"

Word Count: >600

Warnings: gender neutral!reader, use of y/n cos 🤧 tis unavoidable, crackfic, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: I need a breather cos i got this commission and i'm panicking over it. i did change some stuff about the req nonnie, so i hope ya still like it <3 also the gettyimages watermark HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @antisociablewallflower @lxdyred

Now Playing: ewan and [y/n] moments that are TOO SUS to be a ✨nothing✨

à la ai generated voice: Hello, Every [...] one i have been thinking about iwan- - - why did he say it like that- IWAN -- YOUWAN- And [...] y/n,,, ever since they did the house of the dragon press thing [...] and [...] i have not been able to get this

[SHAKY EFFECT] [LOUD BG MUSIC] [PHOTOGRAPH OF YOU AND EWAN]

à la ai generated voice: out of my head [...] So [...] here are a few moments during that event where i think it's just [MAX VOLUME] TOO SUS [NORMAL VOLUME] for them to not be [...] [...] idk horn dogging behind the- [CUT NOISE + WHITE SOUND]

You were posing for some pictures. Ewan just came in, chewing gum. Your name was begin called by the photographers and, quite frankly, you were serving like rent was due. You were giving. That in and of itself deserved its own edit (which it does-- it has its own edits).

Your expression was mostly stoic and your hands were relaxed upon the front of your thighs.

Then came Ewan, ready to pose for the carpet, and as he did so, the paparazzi called out his name, making you turn from your side, and immediately break character.

Your otherwise blank face morphs into a wide grin and you gather yourself, walking over to Ewan, though he was at a side where you had just finished posing. The moment you are remotely close, Ewan turns, and his own poker face twists into a pursed smile. He reaches out for you and gives you a hug.

You kiss his cheek and a lipstick mark stays on his skin for a good unknowing 6 seconds.

[loud bg] THAT SIX SECONDS IS WELL-DOCUMENTED.

From the moment you two pose next to each other, the different fan cams and multiple angles wherein the kiss mark and your smiles are visible, to the moment you turn and gasp, reaching out to wipe Ewan's cheek, it's all very much well-documented.

Ewan glances at you as you rub his cheek with your thumb. You're holding back a laugh as you mutter something that makes him thin his lips and mutter something back.

à la ai generated voice: GIRL WE KNOW 😃😃😃😩😩😩😒😒😒🤮🤮🤮 WE KNOW double yew double yew double yew double yew double yew,,, sigh [...] [...] now onto the part that went [...] [DEAFENINGLY LOUD] VIRAL

You were mid posing for the carpet right.

Ewan turns to you. He mumbles something that makes you turn over to your right and break into a laugh. You wave at someone (no one knows who to this day), and with a toothy grin, turn back to Ewan. The arms you had by each other's back slowly glide down against each other as you pull away and tell him something that makes him smirk and nod.

And then, your hands are by each other's wrists, dangling beside each other. Next thing that happens, you're holding hands and you're pulling him away.

Ewan follows you with no fuss. [EDIT IN SCREAMING SOUNDS] As you lead him off, you stop and await him to your side. Once he's close enough, you turn to him from over your shoulder and say something.

In reaction to whatever you said, Ewan smirks and shrugs. He points to the distance and, for some reason, you laugh really hard at that.

[REALLY LOUD GROANING, GROWLING, RABID NOISES]

à la ai generated voice: What the,,, [...] [...] [monotonous but loud] FUCKINGSHITFUCKINGFUCKFUCKINGFATHERFUCKINGFUCKERSHITCUNTRATGREMLINAYAYAYYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA [...] [...] did you just unleash upon this cursed land question mark (?)

[alicethepiper]

here's the counterpart to my other post about the desks in the s.t.a.r.s office. there's audio this time, but no music unfortunately. you can hear the mr. raccoon bobble head thingy in the background though. i'm dumb and didn't know that was making the noise. oopsies.

so the desks in og2 are all one desk, but in remake they're two desks pressed together into a row. everyones looks basically the same. we have two additional desks in the back, though, near where rebecca's desk in og2 is. i didn't see any of rebecca's boxes specifically (there were a lot of boxes everywhere) but the green satchel health kit first aid thingy (that i assume is hers) is on the wall. idk which desk is supposed to be hers, but i think it's the one with the cds.

Jill's desk is different here too - in og she had a picture of some guy on her desk but now it's a picture of a dog. the beret/hat is still there, so i'm guessing that desk is hers. the desk next to hers has a lot of cds on it, though. it looks like piano music to me, and we know jill plays piano because of the first RE game (from what i remember) but that's about as far as my knowledge on it goes. i think rebecca can also play piano but i could be misremembering the 10 seconds i've played of RE0. idk who that desk belongs to, but it's the only additional desk that actually has any stuff on it, so i think it's rebecca's. all of the bravo team stuff is pretty much packed up (which could be because they're all dead, minus rebecca). so following that logic, the desk with the cds would be rebecca's - all of the other desks are packed up (and all of the other desks, coincidentally, belong to dead people). and i can see rebecca being put next to jill after bravo got wiped out (or even before, since i believe they're the only two girls in s.t.a.r.s and that feels like something the dudes would do. like a whole "lets put those two together so they can bond about being women or something" idk. im rambling. idk who that desk belongs to but i think it's rebecca). i can also see rebecca requesting to be put next to jill. idk too much about chief irons (except for literally all of the bad stuff he does in the game) but i wouldn't be surprised if he was a fucking creep towards jill and rebecca (he also may have only targeted rebecca, since she is a rookie and is also pretty timid, in comparison to jill who is simply not, therefore making her an easier target. i literally have nothing to base this on, i'm just speculating).

wesker's desk just has a lot of books on it. it seems like in remake everyone has their own desk rather than sharing, so i don't think enrico's stuff would've been in there (meaning, i don't think he was the one who had been holding onto a picture of rebecca). ultimately, i agree that the photo of rebecca is just an easter egg and not anything to do with canon as far as capcom is concerned, but if it were to be looked at that way then: in og2, wesker probably shared a desk with enrico, so it could've been either one of them (maybe both?) who had a sus photo of rebecca. and in remake, it's just wesker who has the photo, since enrico probably has his own desk (since everyone else does, and also there are two new desks added in the back - either of which could be his). i would say that remake puts it there just to stay faithful to the original, but the remake version of the photo is significantly worse (somehow??? like, why did you go in THAT direction??) so capcom didn't improve. good job.

conclusion: wesker had the photo of rebecca for sure in remake. he may have shared that photo in og. everyone has their own desk in remake, they shared in og. and in remake, i think rebecca is the desk next to jills. also that photo looks nothing like her so i'm just gonna pretend that wesker used one of those ai thingies and typed in: "rebecca is the new rookie. pls put her in green basketball clothes. also put her in sexy pose, thx" and just printed off the one that either didn't have fucked up hands or didn't show her hands at all.

that's it. thank you for coming to my ted talk. (it isn't even mine) (it was an ask that @highball66 got) (i'm just the private investigator hired to take the photos lol)

[yanderes-galore]

So, it started!

Fandom: FNAF

Character: The mimic

Type of fic: concepts

I don't think there's much to add for this plot that wasn't said in that brainrot that was posted some time ago about him.

-🐻

Yeah, sure! I'll see what I can do for The Mimic. In this concept I refer to the character as just "The Mimic"/It as I'm not sure if there's a canonical gender pronoun (Wiki says The Mimic is Genderless and says "It")?

Also, FNAF related side note; I love how I've seen a 🦊🐻 and 🐇 anon but no chicken XD It would've fit so well. There may have been a 🐣 anon but they never interacted so idk....

Potential spoilers for FNAF: Ruin and Tales From The Pizzaplex?

Yandere! The Mimic Concept

Pairing: Romantic (It thinks so, at least)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Violence, Murder, Blood, Stalking, Kidnapping, Forced affection, Forced "relationship".

The Mimic does exactly what you think it would.

It mimics what's around it... that's how it's survived this long.

It's creation was meant to be an AI that learns and mimics things it sees.

This is how The Mimic learned to copy its creator's son, it's also how it learned violence.

Mimicking what's around it caused so many gruesome murders by its hands.

The Mimic takes up violent behavior way before you even meet it.

It's locked away underground yet occasionally still finds new victims.

How it transitions into yandere territory is this according to the brainrot I was sent:

It copies other behavior.

Maybe The Mimic sees two Pizzaplex workers getting a bit too... friendly with each other.

Perhaps on the job they decided to use the private time to show some affection.

Holding hands... hugging... kissing... telling each other they love one another.

The typical stuff you'd see with couples.

Sadly... they quickly become victims of The Mimic.

But not before The Mimic learns something new.

The Mimic learns a new thing to copy... compassion.

Or at least... a twisted form of compassion.

The Mimic picks up on what couples do, yet the violence it learned before still lingers in its code.

Who knows, maybe the AI even finds jealousy to copy from the same couple or some other workers.

That or jealousy is something it learns on its own.

The Mimic is finding ways to process these new lessons and behaviors up until you find your way into the underground Pizza Place.

You could be another guard sent to clean things up or just an outsider who managed to find themselves stuck here while exploring.

Either way, as you roam the underground levels, you're being stalked.

The shambling Frankenstein of a bot follows you around yet its intentions are unclear.

It stays out of your view and it processes what it wants to do next.

It's mind goes to violence again... like all the rest.

Then it thinks of something else... copying how those other humans treated one another.

Their interactions appeared... softer... more positive.

The bot recalls when it was once praised and cared for.

It remembers being playful and being treated well.

Perhaps it feels it wants to recreate that... it wants to feel that love again.

For this concept The Mimic's actions could be interpreted as "Romantic".

Yet that's mostly because that's what it saw.

If it saw more platonic actions it would mimic those with you, but I'm going to make this concept more akin to the brainrot I was given a long time ago.

Either way... The Mimic intends to feel loved again.

With you as its target of affection.

Your encounter with the bot is no doubt creepy.

First of all, the appearance of the bot is mixed parts and strangely humanoid compared to its more animal-like peers.

Then there's the fact it can mimic voices.

The Mimic would use the voices of victims to lure you closer to it

It would then try to mash together voices to communicate with you.

It also doesn't have much of a moral compass.

So when it eventually comes up to you to act out the affection its mimicked, it has no idea its wrong.

When it eventually corners you, you fully expect to die.

Maybe the machine even has dried blood on it from previous victims.

You cower in place... expecting some sort of physical blow.

Only for the machine to kneel down in a clunky fashion and lightly reach out to you.

You feel cold and rusted metal on you skin as the bot tests things out.

It tries to find a comfortable way to speak with you and not scare you.

You may even feel the tall and lanky seven foot bot pick you up to stand you in your feet.

For being a killing machine... towards you it appears oddly friendly.

More than friendly actually... affectionate.

It tries small things with you.

Things like grabbing your hand and just holding it, maybe even patting your head.

Then there's times it holds you a bit too tight.

Or it feels it's appropriate to press its rusted teeth to your skin in what can only assume is a kiss?

Or it's biting you?

You can't tell and really don't wish to know.

As you roam about the Pizza Place, The Mimic follows.

You feel uneasy as it clinks and clanks around behind you.

Glowing eyes never leave you as it tries to learn from you.

The Mimic would definitely copy things from you.

It copies your voice and movements in an attempt to relate and appeal to you.

If it looked different and didn't murder... one could find it twistedly cute.

The Mimic still keeps the violent behavior it learned, however.

For example, if you were a worker and another guard came down to check on you, The Mimic reacts with hostility.

Or if you came to explore the ruins with a friend?

It doesn't like the idea of this other person touching or talking to you.

Up to this point The Mimic hasn't displayed violent tendencies with or around you.

You've been able to tolerate its strangeness towards you.

Things go down hill the moment another person is involved.

Like some sort of switch... the moment its eyes lock onto your friend/coworker, it stops playing nice.

Before you can say anything The Mimic attacks.

You scream yet it doesn't respond.

The bot pounces on your companion and tears into them like an animal.

There's blood... gore... the sight in unbearable and horrid.

Yet it's not like you can do anything.

They're long gone by the time The Mimic touches them.

As a result, you run.

You run to look for an exit and escape.

The Mimic is disappointed when it stops attacking as sees you gone.

In an attempt to find you it leaves its mess behind to search.

Things change by this point.

The Mimic still has a twisted sense of affection towards you.

But you don't see it as harmless anymore.

The Mimic doesn't understand the fear you hold towards it.

When it finds you it tries to mimic the behavior it learned from you.

Although you don't respond positively as you can see it dripping in blood.

The moment you met The Mimic, your fate was sealed.

This is because it doesn't plan on even letting you leave.

It will just drag you deeper underground and continue to mimic affection towards you.

It won't kill you... but if you fight it...

It's violent behavior does tell it to break something of yours to make you comply.

The Mimic is a very interesting character in this sort of story.

All its doing is mimicking and learning due to its adaptable AI.

It isn't entirely conscious of its actions, at least not to the degree of other bots.

A yandere Mimic is the result of a poor combination of events.

If The Mimic was properly contained... you'd probably never be in this situation...

Yet now you're here... locked away underground... with a robotic amalgamation watching over you like a hawk.

[unnonexistence]

I would like to know the answer to 5 & 62 from the math ask :)

(math asks are from this post)

5. Are there areas of math that you enjoy? What are they?

I don't like to get TOO specific on here, just for privacy reasons, but broadly speaking the stuff I like is in these areas:

(the Map of Mathematics is from this video)

I probably should have left machine learning out of that lol. I had it in my head that this was "what areas of math are you interested in," and I haven't actually done any machine learning stuff yet. It's more something I want to learn about (to understand better what's going on with the AI boom & because it'll probably be relevant to my career).

There's also a lot of stuff I don't know much about but think is neat. Like topology. I haven't actually taken a course on it, so everything I know about it comes from the videos Cliff Stoll did with Numberphile (plus it being graph theory's weird cousin).

62. Are there any non-interesting numbers?

I had to think about this one for a while. We need some sort of definition, right? Let a number be interesting if some person at some point in time has been interested in it. Not the best definition because idk how to define or quantify interest, but let's go with it.

If we count being interested in a set as being interested in all the numbers in it, then all numbers are interesting, because if someone has bothered to define the set, then they must have been at least a little interested in it, right?

If we DON'T count interest in sets and are only talking about specific numbers, then there must be infinitely many non-interesting numbers, because there have been finitely many human beings and each human being only has time to think about a finite number of numbers in their life, so there are infinitely many numbers no one has ever spared a single thought for. Which is maybe kind of sad? Or not, idk, maybe they like their privacy.

This is actually a bad definition, I just realized, because very large primes are clearly of interest to a lot of people, and there are infinitely many undiscovered ones out there. Oops. Let's go with the set version and say all numbers are interesting.

We could go a step further and say some numbers are more interesting than others, and define interesting-ness as the total number of times a number has been thought about. I think the MOST interesting number in that case would be 1, because everyone who knows what a number is has thought about 1.

If we're just talking about numbers I personally don't find interesting... idk, 46 is kind of boring? I also don't really care about the complex numbers, but they have so many uses that I don't think I could honestly say they're non-interesting. They're just not my thing.

Thank you for asking!

[starryjoy]

Saw your posts yesterday about that one post and was confused. So, since I didn't understand what was going on, I decided to stay out of it until i had the full picture. Yknow, like a decent respectful person.

Just stumbled on what I'm pretty sure is the post you were talking about, so now I feel like I know enough about the situation to comment. And all I can say is what the hell is everyone on about? You're right!

I'm very against generative AI. But we can oppose the use of AI without throwing disabled people under the bus and shaming people for struggling with things. Even if you don't specifically say "I'm talking about disabled people", shaming people for not being able to do certain things is ableist at its core. Claiming its embarrassing to not be able to do something is ableist. It just is.

Not to mention, it's completely ineffective at actually solving the problem. It's not going to stop people from using generative ai when they feel like they need it. It just makes them feel attacked, and rightfully so. Because it IS a personal attack. It's much more effective to just educate on better resources to use.

Im personally a big fan of using templates for sending emails. They help me communicate exactly what I need to when my brain fog is too bad for me to be coherent. I'm sure they're helpful for people with many other symptoms that affect their ability to write emails too. Having another person read stuff over for me if I'm not sure what I wrote makes sense has also been helpful.

If you want people to stop using chatGPT, you have to give them actual alternatives. Not just shame them for struggling with something you consider easy. (Not at you, at the OP)

Sorry you've been getting weird anons about it. You're right, that post IS ableist!

hell yeah anon you got it completely right! every couple months someone makes a post on here that is quite literally just "we should be able to bully someone" and it somehow gets a billion notes every single time. and idk man maybe i just was always someone who got bullied even before i realized i was queer but. not cool

[ace-of-hearts-and-spades]

YOU THERE!!!!!! TUMBLR USER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Are YOU tired of how Tumblr treats trans people, particularly transwomen and transfemmes? Are YOU tired of how Tumblr treats people of color, particularly black folks? Are YOU tired of fandom trying to police the madeup bullshit you like to draw, write, or read about? Are YOU tired of all this fucking AI bullshit? Are YOU looking for a new online home to settle in?

Consider Pillowfort.social!

I’m not going to go into the nitty-gritty of how Pillowfort functions, because others have talked about that and explained it much better than I can (I recommend reading @/vergesm’s post here for a more general Pillowfort overview). What I’m going to do is explain what I, personally, get out of Pillowfort and why I enjoy it.

To preface, I’m not being paid to make this post or promote Pillowfort or anything. I wouldn’t think that needs to be said, but people make things up sometimes so idk. I’m writing pro-Pillowfort propaganda because I genuinely like the place and want to see it thrive. If you want to take a look at my own fort and get a feel for the place, you can do so here.

So with that out of the way – let’s talk about it!

Pillowfort is quite a bit like Tumblr, in that it’s a blogging platform, but it’s got a few things that make it better than this hellsite imo. For one thing, you can post NSFW content there. Although I don’t draw much explicit stuff, it’s nice to be able to post art there without worrying I’ll get shadowbanned for a picture that’s just a lil too suggestive. It's nice to know that the option is there. Honestly, it’s freeing not to have to worry about that shit. And it’s also really cool that there’s a built-in system for marking certain posts as NSFW, because as well as being able to mark your own posts as NSFW, you can choose whether you want to see other people's posts marked as NSFW. And for minors, the ability to see NSFW content is automatically turned off. Pillowfort’s got a really good system for both allowing NSFW content and keeping it away from people who don’t want to see it. I really like that flexibility, and how that flexibility isn't detrimental to the users.

And speaking of being able to see or not see certain content, the content filtering is pretty solid. You’re able to block tags and even words in the body of a post, and like I said, you can control whether you want to see posts marked as NSFW. You can even control who sees your own posts! There’s blocking users, of course, but you can limit who sees your own posts even further than that. You can make them visible to anyone, visible only to logged in Pillowfort users, visible only to your followers or mutuals, or hell, even visible to you alone!! It’s cool to have that level of control, and I find it reassuring to know I have those options.

Another big appeal of Pillowfort, for me, is the userbase’s strong “don’t like don’t read” policy. A lot of the people there operate under the mindset of “as long as it’s fictional, whatever dude. I don’t have to like it, but you do you." There are still dipshits, of course, but it’s WAY better than the insane purity culture that’s developed here. I don’t have to worry about some wannabe-conservatives telling me I’m just as bad as Ted Bundy for [checks notes] sexualizing Michael Myers or some shit. Plus, this general userbase mindset is backed up by actual site policy! I’ve heard that Pillowfort is very swift in responding to reports of harassment – whether it’s fandom-based harassment or bigotry. I haven’t had any experience with this personally (and hopefully it’ll stay that way), but I’ve heard good things about it, and it makes me feel more comfortable being there.

Also, did I mention Pillowfort has an explicit anti-AI policy? AI generated images and writing are banned on the website, and staff made this decision once its userbase and community made it clear that they wouldn’t welcome that sort of shit. And GOD, does it make me feel so fucking good as a writer and artist to know that.

And that’s another thing – Pillowfort staff actually fucking listens to its userbase. The website is crowd-funded and relies on subscriptions and monthly donations to keep things running. And because it relies on its community, it relies on keeping the community happy. So complaints, bug reports, suggestions and alterations and things the users would like to see on the site – it’s all taken pretty seriously. And again, it’s just really nice to know that the staff of the place actually give a shit and are looking out for its community rather than trying to suck the dick of the biggest investor.

Really, the only problem I have with Pillowfort is the fact that it’s a bit small. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, because the people there are lovely. But since a lot of people aren’t happy with Tumblr, and haven’t been happy with Tumblr for some time, I thought I’d just ask you guys – maybe consider it. Consider making a Pillowfort account. Consider making your own little fort, stringing up some colored lights and cool art and making yourself cozy. Consider offering some money, if you can spare it, because it’s genuinely a really cool place that I want to spend more time in and see prosper.

So far, I’ve had a lovely time there. It’s cozy and friendly and it feels like one of the few places where a queer artist like me is actually welcome. And I think a lot of Tumblr users might really like it too.

I hope to see you there! 💜

[daydreaming-en-pointe]

╰┈➤ i won’t sleep till you’re safe inside.

Pairing: Pavitr Prabhakar x Sister!Reader (platonic obviously)

Type: Fanfic - Fluff -> Angst

Word count: 8.5k (🫢🤯)

Warnings: NOT CANON-COMPLIANT! (I’ll make a list of everything that’s probably not canon but is for this fic) colour-coordinated dialogues to make it easier to understand who’s talking, starts out fluffy but evolves into angst, cussing, reader is desi, usage of Hindi (translations given, except for the Sheila Ki Jawani song), hahaha culturedumping & projection go hand in hand 😭

Some Goldenmodel (is that their official ship name??) too! (pls they’re literally so cute 🫠🫠)

A/N: Basically where Pavi loses his sister instead of Gayathri :D

The numbers at the top of every section indicate Pavitr and the reader’s age respectively (reader is older than Pavi) :)

Andddd the Pavitr Bhim Prabhakar hc continues 😁

Probably (Definitely) Non-Canon List:

-reader’s existence basically since she’s the daughter of Maya Aunty and Uncle Bhim (so she’s not technically his sister she’s his cousin but close enough!)

-I actually have NO idea how Pavi’s parents died or anything abt them so I’m basically making stuff up hehe

-Reader also gets the scholarship to Mumbattan that Pavitr got, but for a different subject

-kinda waffling on Bhim’s death since I’ve never actually read the comic where he died so idk much of anything

-Reader helps Pavi make his webshooters (kinda)

-Pav may be a teensy bit ooc I apologize for that

-there’s probably a lot more but none I can pinpoint specifically right now

(this is the song that Pav sings btw)

title inspo:

Will you call me to tell me you’re alright?

Cause I worry about you the whole night

Don’t repeat my mistakes

I won’t sleep till you’re safe inside

(Safe Inside, James Arthur)

——— ———

4 & 6.

“Didi!”

You stifled a giggle, peeking out from behind the tree you were hiding behind to see the tiny boy scrambling over rocks and protruding tree roots, his eyes squinted in concentration as he searched for you.

“Come out, come out wherever you- ai!” He cut himself off with a sharp squeal of surprise, stumbling backwards as you leaped out and bared your teeth like the demonic rakshasas that seem to lunge right off the pages of your mother’s - Pavitr’s aunt’s - mythology books.

“Not fair,” Pavitr complained, glaring up at you and crossing his arms. His nose scrunched at the injustice and you laughed, sticking your tongue out at him and ruffling his hair.

“Totally fair.”

“Nahin! Pura cheating! Didi, tum hamesha dhokha deti ho!” (No! Fully cheating! You always cheat!)

“Oy, Pavi, main kaise dhokha de rahi hai? What nonsense you’re talking.” (How am I cheating?)

“I’m telling Maya Aunty that you’re being mean to me.”

“Wait-”

“Arrey, both of you stop squabbling and come up here,” Maya Aunty’s voice carried down into the lawn from the veranda as she poked her head out of the kitchen. “I made gajar ka halwa. Come eat before Bhim gets back and finishes everything.”

Pavitr’s eyes lit up at the mention of the carrot dessert, all earlier frustrations forgotten for the moment. “Race you!” He turned and darted across the lawn, his hair bobbing as he kicked up clouds of dirt under his shoes.

“Pavi, how is this fair?!”

——— ———

6 & 8.

“Didi! Checkmate! I win!”

“Ai, Pavi, that’s not… chess doesn’t work like…” He turned to you with big, shining eyes, grinning from ear to ear because he thought he had won. You trailed off with a resigned sigh, not having the heart to tell him that he had just got his own king killed.

“Wow, Pavi, you’re getting so good at this! You’re a natural!” You ruffled his hair affectionately, despite his protests and attempts to fight you off.

“Y/N! Yahaan aao!” (Come here)

You immediately perked up, eyebrows drawing together as you heard your mother’s voice, only… something was off. She sounded like she was holding back tears, the beginnings of a raw sob lingering in her throat.

“Haan, Amma? Kya hua?” (Yes? What happened?) (Amma/Maa just means mother)

She sat hunched next to the balcony, a phone in her slack grip. Your father - Pavitr’s Uncle Bhim - knelt with his back to you, holding her and rubbing her shoulders comfortingly. Tears fell from her eyes and the only sounds that split the air were her jagged heaves between soft sniffles.

“Amma? Papa, what happened to Amma?” Unease twisted in your stomach, knitting your eyebrows closer together as you moved forward and grasped your mother’s hand.

Your father turned to look at you and you inhaled sharply.

That was the first time you had ever seen your father cry.

“Pavitr’s parents were involved in an accident,” He struggled to keep his tone even for you.

“An accident? You mean…”

“Yes, beta. They’re… they’re gone.”

Your breath hitched and you backed away slightly, steadying yourself against the wall behind you.

You didn’t know much about what happened - and it would probably stay like that since you were ‘too young to bother yourself with the worries of the adult world - but you knew one thing for sure.

This is going to break Pavi.

I can’t let that happen.

You heard soft patters of bare feet on the marble floors and looked up just as Pavitr’s dark hair disappeared to the side of the doorframe.

Not trusting yourself to speak without breaking down mid-speech, you got up and left without a word, patting your mother’s hand sympathetically on the way.

You found Pavitr sitting against the tree you used to play hide and seek around. He pulled his knees to his chest, resting his forehead on his kneecaps and raising his head when you approached. “What happened, Didi?”

You grasped at words that would help convey it, but to no avail. How could you tell a 6 year old - one who was essentially a brother to you now - that his parents had died?

You had two ways out.

…I should tell him.

“Pavi… Maya Aunty will explain, but… basically, you’re going to be spending a lot more time with us - with me. How does that sound?”

Pavitr grinned, his eyes shining - and of course he had to look like a trusting puppy. Of course it had to make you feel guilty the moment those words, a romanticized version of the truth, left your lips.

“That sounds awesome,” He said happily, half-turning to wrap his arms snugly around your waist in a hug. “We’ll have so much fun! You can finally teach me how to play kancha and lagori like you’ve been wanting to! Right, Didi?”

“…yeah. You’re right.” You leaned down to kiss the top of his head as he nestled comfortably against your side, the strands of hair tickling your chin as you rested your head on his. You felt tears starting to well up as the depth of the situation hit you at full force.

Kaayar. Coward.

—���— ———

9 & 11.

“Didi!”

You looked up from your schoolwork as Pavitr burst into your room. “What’s going on?”

“Maya Aunty said there’s some sort of… scholarship? They said we have to go to Mumbattan!” Your eyes shot wide open and you pushed your chair back from your desk to follow him into the kitchen. What scholarship? Mumbattan?

Maya Aunty had told you both that she had submitted samples of your writing and a few of Pavitr’s blueprints for futuristic designs he had come up with for various robotics competitions, but… you never thought the entry would ever amount to anything.

“Amma, Papa, yeh sach hai? Did we get a scholarship to Mumbattan?” (Is this true?)

“Haan, beta.” Your mother looked slightly tired, weary - but ultimately happy. The happiest you had seen her in quite a while. Your father patted your head affectionately, a large smile on his face. “Well done, both of you. Mere champions.” (My champions)

The moment dissipated like it was never there in the first place when Maya Aunty’s eyebrows scrunched together with worry once more as she turned to Uncle Bhim. “Arrey, Bhim. Hum kaise kharch uthayenge? Mumbattan mei, woh kiraaya-” (How will we afford this? The rent in Mumbattan-)

The moment you heard those words, you let out a soft exhale and took Pavitr’s hand, gently tugging on it and leading him away from the ‘adult’ conversation. By now, you were almost conditioned to do your best to avoid conversations that always got your parents stressed out and sometimes led to frustrated breakdowns which simmered into tearful apologies and doubtful plans.

“Let’s go play kancha, Pavi. I’ll even let you start this time.”

You ran out onto the lawn with him, your hand holding onto his smaller one tightly as if you could protect him from all the harm and sadness and worry that the world had to offer.

——— ———

11 & 13.

“Didi!”

“Don’t didi me. You agreed to this, remember? You brought this upon yourself,” You said between giggles that got increasingly louder at how ridiculous he looked.

Maya Aunty and Bhim Uncle were both out buying groceries, and Pavitr was so bored that he accepted your challenge to see who could balance more than five stones on their forehead. And if he lost, you would get to do his hair and makeup.

That was why he was currently sitting in front of you, bright pink eyeshadow on both his eyelids and wearing the brightest red lipstick you could find. He winced in pain, loudly protesting every two seconds as you tried to put his wavy hair into a Dutch braid. He had let it grow out over the past few months, and at the rate he was going, if he left it for even a little while more it’d be longer than yours.

“You need a haircut, Pavi. I think you might be getting split ends…” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression of pure horror that crossed his face at your words, which quickly turned to annoyance. “Shut up, you’re just saying that because you’re jealous- ow!”

“Whoops.”

“You did that on purpose.”

“Did not.” You looped a rubber band onto the ends of the braid, finally finishing and tilting your head to critically examine your handiwork. “There, you’re all done.”

Pavitr glanced at his reflection in the compact mirror you offered him. “Wait, I don’t look that bad. I can pull this off pretty well, actually.”

“Sure you can, sweetie. Let’s do your nails now.”

“You’re the absolute worst.”

——— ———

12 & 14.

“Didi! Rise and shine!”

You groaned softly, turning over onto your side. “Get out.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet and definitely not a prime example of you being mean to your younger brother. Seriously though, we have to get going soon for school.” He expertly dodged the spare pillow you threw at him, deciding to kneel by your bedside and stare you in the eyes like some psychotic cat.

“Not everyone’s a morning person, Pavi. Besides, it’s 6 in the damn morning. Come back in another hour.”

Pavitr didn’t respond, just started humming a tune and tapping out a familiar beat on your bedside table, using two pencils from your desk’s mug of stationery as makeshift drumsticks.

“I know you want it but you’re never gonna get it, tere haath kabhi na aani…”

Your eyes shot open as you recognized the song. “No, Pavi, I swear to God-”

“Maane na maane koi duniya yeh saari, mere ishq ki hai deewani…” Stifling laughter, he backed out of range before you could smack some sense into him with another pillow.

“Pavitr! Stop!” You chucked a pillow at him, sitting up and staring at him in utter astonishment at his song choices.

“Kisi aur ki mujhko zaroorat kya, main toh khud se pyaar jataun! What’s my name, what’s my name, what’s my name…?”

“Pavitr Bhim Prabhakar, if you don’t stop singing that song right now-” You lunged forward, trying to grab him and muffle the lyrics of the Bollywood song he was singing - granted, he wasn’t a terrible singer, and in fact he could sing in Hindi quite well, but out of every song he could’ve chosen… this? “By the way, you missed a few lines, but that’s not the point! Stop it!”

��My name is Sheila! Sheila ki jawani! I’m too sexy for you, mei tere hath na aani-”

Chaos ensued in the next few seconds. Pavitr, who had been running around your room doing whatever choreography he could remember from the scene with that particular song in the movie you had both watched, tripped on the fallen pillow and fell flat on his face.

You had been chasing him around and tripped over him, rolling over and landing beside him. Luckily, you managed to break your fall with your palms.

“How’d the ground taste, hmm?” You asked, offering a hand to help him up.

“You’re mean,” Pavitr complained, taking your hand and pulling himself up. You fixed his slightly ruffled hair, a little surprised at how soft it was. Was he already going through the phase of being obsessed with how he looked?

“Yeah, well. You’re in my room at 6 am singing one of the sluttiest Bollywood songs you know, so… you’ll live, buttercup.” You gave his head a rough pat, turning to reluctantly make your bed - might as well, since you were already awake - as he hovered over your shoulder with a grin.

“But hey, it did get you up, didn’t it?”

——— ———

13 & 15.

“Didi! Where are you? I need to tell you something!”

“…I don’t understand. What are you saying?” You felt so paralyzed that you didn’t even register your brother’s voice. Instead you stared at the person you thought was your boyfriend, dangerously quiet. The calm before the storm. He shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with his sleeve and clearing his throat.

“Um, I think we should break up. I’ve kind of been… seeing another girl. Shreya.”

You were careful to keep your expression neutral, crossing your arms to prevent you from worrying at your nails. “For how long?”

“Uh, I-”

“How. Long. It’s a simple question.”

“Five months.”

“Son of a bitch.” You kept your voice low, sweeping a hand towards the door. “The exit’s there. Leave.”

“Listen, I’m really-”

“Get out. I’m serious. Get the fuck out of here before I make you do so.”

He stopped and stared at you for a few seconds, realizing just how angry you were.

“Okay. Well, it was… good seeing you, I guess. I hope you-”

“Didi?”

This time you heard Pavitr call you, soft hesitancy in his voice that carried into the room from the other side of the door. “Everything okay?��

“Yeah, Pavi, I’m fine. You can come in.” You covered the cracks in the screens of overly pleasant tones that you layered over your voice so as to make sure he didn’t worry.

He quickly entered your room, and from the way he glared daggers at your now-ex-boyfriend you assumed he had heard everything - or at least, a large chunk of the conversation.

“Hey there, buddy.”

He had the nerve to smile and hold his knuckles out for a fist bump. Truth be told, you felt a sort of bitter satisfaction when Pavitr just glared up at him and didn’t bother lifting his hand to return it.

“Fuck off.”

“What?”

His eyes widened slightly and traveled from the harsh scowl fixed on Pavitr’s face to your dangerously calm demeanour.

“You heard him, didn’t you?”

“I… yeah. I’m going. See you around.”

You followed him with your eyes as he inched toward the door, shutting it behind him.

The moment he left, your unbothered façade cracked and splintered into pieces. You moved yourself to sit on your bed, slipping the covers over your legs. “Thank you,” You murmured to Pavitr, closing your eyes so he wouldn’t see the tears threatening to spill. He came over to sit beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Mat rouoh didi. Hum ek movie dekhenge?” (Don’t cry didi. Wanna watch a movie?)

“Haan, please. As long as it’s not Tees Maar Khan, I am not watching that again with you. I’ve had enough of that Sheila ki Jawani. Wait, Pavi, you said you wanted to tell me something?”

“…that’s not important right now, don’t worry about it.”

You didn’t notice him anxiously trying to peel off the edge of the blanket that was stubbornly sticking to the pads of fingers.

——— ———

A week later.

It had happened so suddenly. No one seemed to know anything.

Well, except the fact that your father had died somehow.

I know we fought a lot more in… in the end, but I love you. I always have and I always will, Papa. You made me who I am today, you taught me to know my own worth and accept no less. Believe me, I think about it every day. If you were here I’d tell you.

You wished you could say that out loud, to offer everyone present a window into your thoughts to prove you weren’t just an angsty teenager - or a family disappointment, which a few aunties seemed to believe by the way they were whispering and shooting overly sympathetic looks your way which were quickly followed up by hushed giggles.

But instead you kept your head down and used what little energy you could muster to give a nod of acknowledgement every time a distant relative - even ones you hadn’t seen since you were a baby - popped up in your face to console you.

“Where’s Pavitr? Did he come to the antyesti?” You jumped; you hadn’t noticed your mother hovering beside you until she laid a light hand on your shoulder. She seemed to move around like a spectre; dressed completely in a simple white salwaar kameez with a long white shawl wrapped around her in such a way that it obscured both her arms and her hair, along with part of her face.

“No, I don’t think so - at least, I haven’t seen him.” You looked over her shoulder at the priests starting to get everything prepared for the ceremony and searched the crowds of vaguely familiar people.

Where the hell is he?

Getting the priests to agree to Pavitr - who wasn’t exactly Bhim’s son but the closest thing to it - leading the rituals was hard enough. But then again, it wasn’t like they had much of a choice, did they? You couldn’t exactly do it - the rituals of an antyesti were to be performed by the eldest son. Or the priests themselves, if he couldn’t do it for any reason. Never a woman.

You and Maya Aunty weren’t allowed to do anything except watch and pray.

And now if Pavitr didn’t show up in time-

Thwip! Thwip!

You frowned and shook your head slightly, wondering what the source of that noise was. Oh, well, probably just a pesky mosquito buzzing in your ear.

“Didi, Maya Aunty, I am so, so sorry that I’m late. Did they start already?” You jumped again in surprise - what was it with people sneaking up behind you today? You took in Pavitr’s crisp white dhoti and neatly styled hair, and for a second you couldn’t decide whether to hug him or punch him in the face.

“I’ll tell you everything later, didi. Pinky promise,” Pavitr murmured to you, offering his pinky to you. You linked your little finger with his, looking into his eyes as concern bubbled up to mix with the hurricane of emotions already clamouring for attention in your brain.

He had horrible bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept properly in a week. And when you gently squeezed his pinky, his breath hitched as if he was in pain and he drew his hand back after a few seconds. You blinked in confusion, getting a brief glimpse of painful-looking faint purple splotches all along his hand and the underside of his arm. They looked like bruises that had been poorly covered up by foundation that was almost three shades too light for his skin, but before you could say anything he turned to make his way through the crowd.

“Pavi-” You started to ask what was going on, what happened, what was wrong, but he just shook his head, angling his chin toward the priests waiting patiently for him.

“Badh mein, didi. Antyesti ke badh.” (Later. After the antyesti)

——— ———

After the ceremony.

“Pavitr Prabhakar, if you don’t tell me what’s going on-” You came face-to-face with one of your more distant aunties, who immediately lit up excitedly in a way that was probably not suited for a cremation ceremony as soon as she recognized you.

“Arrey, beta! You’ve grown so much! How old are you now? You still sing, no? Kya aapne college ke bare socha hain?” (Have you thought/started thinking about college?)

“Haha… hi, aunty… no, aunty… no, I haven’t thought about college yet… have you seen Pavitr anywhere? I need to find him and it’s really urgent but… oh, uh… yes, of course, I would love to catch up over chai sometime. Sure, we should plan that - oh, sorry, bye! Tell my mother that I’ve gone to look for Pavitr, okay? Thank you!”

Seizing the opportunity that presented itself in the form of another aunty who came waddling over to greet the first one, you squeezed through the crowd of people in sarees and dupattas, some milling about and some dispersing, all accompanied by the almost suffocating smell of jasmine. God, did everyone use the same horrible perfume?

Luckily for you, the antyesti was held fairly close to your house - on a large terrace that was only about a 15 minute walk away.

You got to the front door and fumbled with the set of keys in your pocket for a second, your fingers shaking slightly as the shock and grief began to set in. Adrenaline could only take you so far, it seemed.

“Pavi? Pavi, I’m home, where-”

You opened the door to your room and inhaled sharply at the sight that lay before you. Pavitr leaned against your bed, sitting on the floor with his knees hugged close to his chest, chin resting on his kneecaps. His eyes were squeezed shut, eyelashes fluttering as tears slipped out one after another from underneath them.

“Pavi…? Oh, Pavi, mera chhoti bhai, kya hua? Kisi ne… tumhein chot pahunchaee?” (My little brother, what happened? Did… someone hurt you?) You scooted closer to Pavitr, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and drawing him into your side. He buried his face in your shoulder, tears soaking through the thin fabric of the kurta you were wearing.

“Shh. Sab theek ho jayega. Mujhe batao, Pavi. Kya hua?” (Everything’s okay. Tell me, what happened?)

“I’m Spider-Man.”

You blinked in surprise. Out of all the possible explanations he could have offered you, that was certainly not on your list. “Spider-Man? Matlab… the superhero?” (Matlab means meaning)

The hero had emerged only a week ago. Wearing an intricately patterned mask that left his wavy hair loose at the top, a blue-and-red spandex suit and blue dhoti pants on top of them, he was basically impossible to ignore. You had seen some key similarities between Spider-Man and Pav’s hair, but you had always just assumed it was related to how boys cut their hair like their idols sometimes.

“Chacha died because of Spider-Man. Because of me. He got caught in the crossfire and I couldn’t reach him in time and-” Pavitr’s words spilled together in a panicked haze, blurring each syllable and tripping over letters in an attempt to get them out before he could break again. (Chacha is another word for uncle)

You shifted to face him, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Shaant ho jao. Main yahaan hoon. Main kaheen nahin ja raha hoon.” (Calm down. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere)

“I can’t-” His breath quickened as his whole body started to heave with dry sobs. “Please just… just listen to me. This is what I wanted to tell you last week. I’m Spider-Man.”

He mistook your silence as a sign of disbelief and carried on speaking, trying to convince you. “There were these bullies I was running from, and I tripped and fell into a tree hollow and there was this yogi who said he’d give me the powers of a spider to fight the evil in this world, and I didn’t know it would turn out like this so I accepted and-”

“I believe you.”

That caught him off guard. He pulled back to look at you, his eyes wide. “You do?”

“Of course. You think I haven’t noticed you sticking to everything? You almost ripped the couch’s upholstery clean off because you weren’t paying attention.” You gently swiped your thumb near the corner of his eye, wiping away the tear that was at risk of spilling out. “It’s okay, Pavi. Let’s.. talk about something else for the moment.”

As much as you wanted answers - how exactly had your father died? Which sick, twisted, psychotic ‘villain’ killed him? - you knew when to stop pushing Pavitr and now was definitely that time. Tears still shone in the corners of his brown eyes, not quite ready to fall but not small enough to be blinked away.

“Spiderwebs!”

“What?”

“You need spiderwebs, naa? So you can swing like a spider instead of leaping around and relying on sticking to whatever surface you can reach. Ooh, it’d be so cool if you could shoot them from your hands and lasso bad guys and when they fight back you go dishoom dishoom.” (dishoom is basically just a sound effect for beating someone up 😭 usually punching someone)

“… you mean webshooters?” Pavitr watched your emphatic display of just what dishoom dishoom meant to you with a mildly concerned look on his face before he took a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out. It was filled with designs for some sort of gadget, the sharp, jagged pencil lines highlighting every feature and listing possible building processes.

“I’ve done some research and I’ve got everything, so I know how to make it. But I need something that can contract if I wrap a web around it… kind of like a yo-yo? But it also has to fit on my wrist so that it’s easy for me to angle where I want the web to go.” He absentmindedly tapped the pencil against the silver bangle you were wearing. The soft clinks gave you an idea and you quickly got up, going to your dresser and rummaging around in the drawers.

“Wait, I think I might have something that’ll work…”

Your fingers closed around what you were looking for and you fished it out. You held two large golden cuffs in your hands, but they weren’t regular heavy cuffs. The top and bottom were actually two separate pieces, joined together in the middle by a stretchy piece of white nylon that went all the way around.

Just looking at it made your heart ache a little as all the memories associated with the simple accessory came flooding back.

Your father had given it to you a few Diwalis ago, when you were throwing a tantrum about having to wear the large bangles to go to with the itchy salwar you had on - against your wishes, of course. But your mother warned you that her mother was a stickler for traditions and insisted on everyone wearing the most colourful ethnic wear you all had, including Pavi.

Your father had slid one of the cuffs onto your right wrist, laughing gently at your surprise look when you discovered how light they were, a stark contrast to the gold bangles that weighed down your other wrist.

“Compromise paaya, hain na?” (We’ve found a compromise, right?)

“Haan, papa.”

Now, more than eight years later, you held one of the last things you had left to keep your father’s memory alive.

And what better way to honour him than to use his kaadas to fight evil and protect the city?

“Use these.”

Pavitr looked up and immediately shook his head, gently pushing away your outstretched hands. “No, didi, I can’t- this is what Uncle gave you-”

“I know. He gave them to me as a gift. And now I’m passing them down to you. Please, Pavi. Take them.” You took his hands, pressing the kaadas into his palms and closing his fingers over them.

Something in your tone made him search your gaze for a few seconds before giving in and bringing the cuffs up to his eyes, testing out the nylon middle. “Wait, this is perfect. If I can just…”

He reached into the depths of one of your drawers and pulled out a small device that looked like it had some sort of fluid sloshing around in its… fuel container, maybe? You furrowed your brow in surprise. “Has that always been there? In my cupboard?”

“Well, yeah. Can’t have Maya Aunty accidentally pulling it out of mine, can we?” He gave you a grin. “Besides, you have so many things stuffed into that one drawer that it’s basically impossible to find.”

He attached the device to the inside of the cuff with a small click and slipped it onto his wrist.

Thwip! Thwip!

With two tiny flicks of his wrist, he had shot two webs to the ceiling and was now hanging upside down, a satisfied grin on his face.

“Well, this is working pretty well-”

Thud.

“Don’t you dare,” Pavitr warned you as he winced and rubbed the spot where he had fallen on his backside.

“I will not laugh. I will not laugh. I will not-”

You couldn’t help but burst into giggles at his mildly pathetic sad-puppy expression as he sat dejectedly on the floor after falling from the ceiling.

“So, uh… the web strength may need some work.”

“Everybody, this is Pavitr Bhim Prabhakar, Mumbattan’s Spider-Man.” You pretend to speak into an imaginary microphone, gesturing animatedly towards Pav as he lay on the floor.

“Oh, sure, announce it to the whole world, why don’t you,” He grumbled, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet.

You gave him an overly sweet smile, leaning over to mess up his hair. “Never. I’m gonna take this secret with me to my grave.”

——— ———

14 & 16.

6 months really went by quickly.

6 months of monthly poojas to honour your deceased father. 6 months of Pavitr being Spider-Man. And also…

“Didi! Why isn’t my hair staying down?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because that bad guy threw you into an electricity tower? Pavi, why are you dressing up all of a sudden anyway?” You sat on the floor of your room as you skeptically watched him brush out his hair. He had insisted that your mirror was big enough and ‘had the best lighting’.

He stayed silent, though you could see him scrunch his nose a little in embarrassment. The realization hit you and you let out a loud - maybe overly dramatic - gasp.

“Oh my god! You have a date!”

“…maybe. So?”

“So that means I get to meet and terrorize them! You know, sibling stuff!”

Pavitr froze for a split second, a small smile starting to form in the corner of his mouth at the last part. Siblings. In all honesty, didn’t that word describe the bond you both shared almost perfectly? Siblings - not by blood, but by something so much bigger than either of you could’ve imagined.

“Absolutely not. Gayatri’s-”

“Gayatri? Is she Punjabi? Ooh, is she pretty? Is she really badass and cool and-”

“She’s a model,” Pavitr interrupted, smoothing down his hair and glaring at you. “And this isn’t my first date with her. Just for the record.”

“Wow, and she’s your age? Damn, Pavi, you managed to pull a model! I’m so proud of you right now.”

“I will strangle you if you don’t stop talking,” Pavitr grumbled, punching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not saying anything bad!”

“Sure you ar-” Pavitr stopped mid-sentence and stiffened, craning his neck and glancing out the window over his shoulder like a cat that had heard something strange. “Wait, someone’s here. Gotta go!”

He dashed into the bathroom and came out two seconds later, fully decked out in his spider suit and mask.

“Don’t get your ass kicked!” You called out as he nose-dived out the window.

“Ha, ha! Very funny!”

——— ———

10 minutes later.

“Pavitr, what the hell?!” You leaped backwards as a strange sort of alien materialized in your room for a split second before they disappeared into a black hole-like void, followed by a… Spider-Man? Not Pav. This one was taller and his suit was red and black, and oh God, was he bleeding from his armpits?

You were tempted to offer him a few cotton wipes and something to clean the wound but he disappeared in after the weird teleporting alien before you could ask.

Pavitr came crashing in through your window, landing on the floor and glancing around. “What? I thought they came here-”

“Really?! Now you show up? I’ve just had some sort of cow-man and a new Spider-Man teleport into my room through a pit and-” You stopped short as another Spider-Man landed on the floor. Except… Spider-Woman? She wore a suit in the shape of a white-and-black ballet leotard and had a hood with web designs on the inside.

“Pavitr, is… this Gayatri?” You tried to wrap your head around the fact that there were three different types of Spider-People and a cow on the wrong side of evolution who had just phased through your house. “Oh, hi, Gayatri, I’ve heard so much about you. Pavi thinks you’re really classy and cool and you’re the prettiest girl alive and-”

Pavitr webbed a pillow and swung it into your face before you could finish, temporarily shutting you up. “Didi, this… this isn’t Gayatri.” Despite his face being covered by his mask, you could tell from his tone that he was embarrassed out of his wits. “This is, uh… this is Gwen. She’s a Spider-Woman. Look, it’s hard to explain, but they’re all from different universes and I think the New Guy’s in love with Gwen, so we gotta go save their romance before it shatters. Bye!”

He leaped out the window again, followed by Gwen - who was stuttering and tripping over her words trying to form a plausible denial for his last statement.

Never a dull day in Mumbattan, I guess.

——— ———

5 minutes after that ordeal.

“Arrey, your chai is getting cold. Drink fast, no?”

“Haan, Amma. Ek second.” (One second) You moved away from where you were hovering near the window. As much as Pavitr reassured you that he was okay, that being Spider-Man was easy now - you still remembered having to disinfect wounds and ice bruises and watch him hiss and crinkle his face up in pain every time you wiped a tissue soaked in Dettol along his cuts.

Maybe those were only fairly harmless flesh wounds, but what kept you up at night was the worry that one day it might turn into something worse.

“I’m drinking it,” You said defensively and sat down as Maya Aunty lifted an eyebrow at you over her own mug. Just as you sat down the whole ground seemed to shake, a horrible din filling the air, screams and the sound of rubble falling mingling together in the cacophony.

“Oh, someone blew down Alchemax,” said Maya Aunty once the noise died down. With a small shake of her head, she casually returned to her chai as if this sort of thing happened almost every day.

“What an idiot.” You glanced out the window, squinting into the distance and widening your eyes as your eyes snagged on a flash of vibrant fabric flying through the air, just barely visible through the pieces of flying rubble.

Oh, fuck, that’s my idiot.

——— ———

You figured the easiest and fastest way to get near Alchemax was to take the bus. After all, those bus drivers had basically decided long ago that they were above the rules of the traffic. They honestly didn’t give a damn about the speed limits and you respected that.

“Hi, Y/N!” You turned at your name, tilting your head curiously because you didn’t recognise the voice.

You found yourself looking at someone who looked oddly familiar, you just couldn’t place it - until you glanced briefly out the window and saw a Zomato billboard. Of course if had to be her, how else would she know your name?

“Oh, are you Gayatri? Hi! It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you from Pavi.”

“Aww, that’s sweet, and likewi-“

The bus swerved sharply and you, Gayatri and more than half of the people who weren’t holding onto the railings were slammed against the back window before the bus started to tilt forward. You blinked away stars for a few seconds as the wind was knocked out of you.

When you regained your vision you let out a yelp of surprise. Someone yelled “Fuck!” right next to you, followed by a string of unrepeatable Marathi cusswords - while also listing out gods and praying to them that they’d make it out alive - and you could understand why.

Some dumbass - or maybe a large piece of rubble - had ripped a hole in the middle of the fucking Mumbattan Bridge. The whole bus was falling right into that hole, and unfortunately the bus driver’s magical ability to fly straight over potholes seemed to have evaded him right now, judging by the fact that he was currently contributing to the chorus of terrified screams.

“Hold on!” Gayatri caught your forearm right as your grip on the flimsy side railing was loosening and pulled you up to latch onto the railing at the back. Good lord, was this girl strong. You decided right then and there that you definitely liked her.

You saw Pavitr stop mid-swing and turn around, his mask’s eyes widening as he saw both of you pounding relentlessly on the back bus window in the hopes that it would break in time.

He shot a web that stuck to the back of the bus, tipping it almost vertically as he held onto one of the bridge supports. His eyes narrowed with effort as he struggled to hold onto the deceptively delicate-looking silky tendrils.

You silently thanked whatever higher power existed for the time when Pavitr fell from the ceiling 6 months ago. If that hadn’t happened, you and the other people on this bus would’ve been flattened on the ground by now. Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down.

Pavitr glanced behind him, his shoulders falling slightly in shock. The web holding onto the bus stretched and dipped, threatening to snap any second. He wrapped the silken web around the support, trying to bring it up.

You and Gayatri were just barely hanging on, your entire bodies dangling down with gravity as you held onto the railing for dear life.

Suddenly something changed. Another web attached itself to the bus and pulled you onto the bridge. Another Spider-Man, possibly?

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding as the bus levelled itself on solid ground again. Gayatri gave you a weak smile, grasping your hand and pulling you straight into the throng of people rushing to exit the bus.

The moment she stepped outside Pavitr wrapped her in a hug, eliciting a surprised squeak from Gayatri.

“Are you okay? I was so worried-” He realized his mistake mid-sentence, drawing back from her and patting her shoulders with both hands, unsure whether to cross his arms or rest them on his hips. “Uh, you seem like a nice young woman who I do not know…”

Gayatri chuckled softly and looked past him. “Papa!”

“Gayatri!”

She ran at him and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. Seeing their bond warmed your heart but also made it ache slightly with the acceptance that that could never happen to you with your own father.

“Real smooth, Pavi,” You grinned at your brother, who grumbled something under his breath and closed the distance to crush you in a hug.

“Shush, didi. I just saved your ass.”

“Yeah, I suppose you did.” You ruffled his hair affectionately and pulled back, smiling at the growing shouts of ‘dhanyavadh, makhdi-bhaiya!’. (Thank you, Spider-Guy!)

“Amma’s going to kill you, by the way. She thinks you snuck out to go to some p-”

You let out a soft mmph as you collided with possibly the boniest person you had ever had the misfortune of bumping into. You were pretty sure you had just got stabbed in seven different places by various joints.

“Sorry, I didn’t-” You paused as you looked up, taking in spikes, a leather vest, pins, a guitar, and mask eyes which looked like running mascara.

“Holy shit, you’re really cool.”

The Spider-Man variant blinked in surprise and let out a laugh. “Why, thank you, poppet. I try. Pisses the fascists off so much that they call me Spider-Punk.”

You heard the twang of a well-known (almost infamous, at least in Mumbattan) accent and glanced at Pavitr. “He’s British,” He confirmed, giving Hobie a high-five.

“Well, I don’t care. He looks awesome.”

“Oi, Pav, I like this one.” He gave you an appreciative fist-bump, and you lifted your eyebrows at the sheer size difference between both of your hands.

“That’s my sister.”

“Makes sense. But you know I didn’t mean it like that. She seems cool is all.”

“Wait. If you’re British, can you do us a favour and steal back the Kohinoor? Please?”

“I’ll try my best, but I can’t make any promises. Fuckin’ Sweeney*, I doubt they even know where it’s kept.” (*Sweeney/Sweeney Todd - Cockney rhyming slang for Flying Squad [the police])

You nodded along politely with a smile like you actually understood even one word of that sentence. “Well, okay, in that case-”

You turned and almost burst out laughing. Pavitr looked like he was on the losing end of a staring contest, his hand almost engulfed in Inspector Singh’s much bigger one. Gayatri stood behind him, looking between them in awe. “I’ve never seen him so emotional.”

“Excellent job.”

Your bother just gave a nod, but knowing Pavitr he was internally over the moon and would hold that simple statement close to his heart, insisting that his girlfriend’s dad “loved him”.

“Man-like Miles, my guy!” Hobie grabbed the red and black Spider-Man - Miles’ - shoulders and shook him excitedly, punching him lightly as the people of Mumbattan started cheering.

You were about to join in when something happened. Well, not happened, really, but… something felt off somehow. You had read something once that said a person’s hair stands on end as a warning when lightning’s about to strike. You imagined that’d feel like you you were feeling right now. And you could hear whistling… was that sound just your ears being weird?

The cheers died down suddenly and you turned around too late. One of those portal-holes, slicing through the air like a deadly frisbee, slammed into you and knocked you inside in such a way that you got teleported straight off the side of the bridge. You scrabbled for the supports, but to no avail as you sailed right past them.

You heard Pavitr’s panicked yell, the sounds of confused and worried chatter bubbling among the ground, and the air rushing around in your ears as you free-fell.

You can’t save me, you realized as you saw Pavitr dive off the bridge, reaching out his wrist in preparation of shooting a web. You won’t get here in time. You focused on mouthing the next few words that came to your mind, because if you were going to die and leave your brother you would do so by reminding him that he was - and always would be - loved. Pavi, I’m sorry. I love you. I always will.

Your stomach dropped and your head spun - but by some mercy you didn’t feel the final impact.

——— ———

Pavitr’s POV.

“No, no no no- please, please no-”

Pavi, I’m sorry.

I love you.

Six words. Six words which shouldn’t be used in the same sentence. Those two sets separately, sure, but in very different scenarios.

Those would not be the last words you said to him. They couldn’t be.

Time seemed to slow down, making his movements sluggish and hazy. He stretched his wrist out till it ached, silk erupting from his - no, your - kaada. Come on, come on…

The silk shot toward you and for a second he thought it would reach in time.

Then he heard a crash and watched you fall straight through the flimsy tin roof of an abandoned warehouse. “No!”

He landed after you, shooting a web at a street lamp and pulling up to break the built-up momentum at the last second. Kicking down the warehouse door, he rushed over to your limp form, sprawled across a few empty crates in the dimly lit space.

“Nonono you have to stay with me, please don’t go, I can’t-” Pavitr swallowed hard as he picked you up and set you down with your back against the wall, holding up your jaw so your head didn’t fall forward. He snapped his fingers in front of your face two, three times - no response.

He could feel his vision starting to blur, heart practically causing an earthquake as he shakily put his finger to the pulse point on your neck.

Nothing.

“No,” He whispered into the still air, as if that would be able to revive someone who was so much more than just a cousin. You were his sister, his closest and most annoying friend, his anchor. You were supposed to be a constant in his life. If you were gone… what would go next?

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, cradling your lifeless body in his arms. But after a little while Hobie dropped in through the hole in the ceiling, and Miles and Gwen came in through the door. He didn’t understand anything they were saying. Pavitr felt like he was underwater, the cold, murky silence filling his ears and bleeding into his brain.

Someone else, much bigger than him tried to drag him away. Someone wearing a beige police uniform and a turban. He kicked and fought, screaming at them that they didn’t understand, he couldn’t leave you, this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. That you were going to wake up soon. You were only unconscious, after all. You had to wake up sometime.

You had to, right?

Pavitr watched as you were placed on a stretcher, a white cloth laid over your body. He slumped in the hands of whoever was struggling to drag him away as all his hopes of you waking up splintered into a million pieces. Pieces that he would step on and trip over and they would cut his skin a billion times. Little tiny paper cuts. Paper cut after paper cut, till he bled out.

Through whatever shocked haze his brain was forcing itself into, he knew that something inside him had broken. Duct tape could fix it. Duct tape could fix anything. Was this metaphor for something? His brain really needed to slow down, he couldn’t keep up with what was and what wasn’t fixable with a single roll of duct tape.

He pictured his heart, the muscles and blood vessels torn clean through in the centre, forming a hole in the shape of you. Did it stop beating? It felt like it stopped beating. Was there a way to check if he was still alive? He hoped he was. Though there didn’t feel like much reason to be. Not anymore, at least.

Oh. Maya Aunty. Someone would have to tell Maya Aunty. No, he would have to tell Maya Aunty.

Two funerals in the span of 6 months. Two core members of the family gone.

Twin flames burning warm and bright, always lighting up the entire place with their own unique luminosities, until they couldn’t anymore. The wicks were extinguished and the candles melted into stumps before their time.

The Spot knew exactly what he was doing, Pavitr realized. Because he might as well have set fire to his entire home.

——— ———

15 & still 16.

Pavitr Bhim Prabhakar was many things.

He was Mumbattan’s Spider-Man. He was Maya Aunty’s nephew. He was Gayatri’s boyfriend. He honoured his dead parents with his last name. He carried the legacy of his dead uncle with his middle name alone.

Most of all, he carried the memory of his sister in every scar that he got that day.

Suddenly every moment you had spent with him seemed too little. Even just one of your hugs would take away some of the pain.

Keep them in your heart, they’re watching over you. Recall the memories you made with them.

What did that even mean in this case? You had gone too soon. Dead, cremated at 16. You weren’t even an adult. And what hurt the most was that everything - from your room to your belongings - was exactly how you left it.

It had been almost 3 months and he still hadn’t let anyone change anything in your room. The messy duvet could stay messy. And the pillow that was thrown at the foot of the bed had taken up permanent residence there.

The room smelled like vanilla and honeycomb. And it would stay that way for as long as he could help it. If someone rearranged anything, would that part of you disappear from this house? He didn’t want to find out.

Everything that made this room yours would stay there, it had to. The way you meticulously arranged every makeup and hair product by height, colour and serial order on your chest of drawers. The way your cupboards always smelled of cotton candy because of an essence diffuser your friend had given you.

Gayatri, Miles, Gwen and Hobie had all tried their best to help him, and Margo had even dropped in a few times and offered to play video games with him. And admittedly, he was in a much better frame of mind than how he was only a little while ago.

He sat on the floor, hugging his legs loosely to his chest and clutching a mug of chai in one hand. Pavitr couldn’t say anything even if he wanted to; the altogether lack of the owner of this room made the silence even more oppressive and suffocating.

He stretched his legs out slowly, refusing to let his mind wander. Focus on the wallpaper. Focus on the sound of traffic. Focus on the chai. Focus on anything except the posters, the pillows, the way that it felt like time itself was holding its breath inside this room.

Pavitr’s leg brushed something hidden underneath the rug in front of him. Frowning slightly in confusion, he leaned forward to peer underneath the fuzzy square of fabric - finding nothing but a small notebook and a pen.

He pulled it out and, upon recognizing it, drew in a surprised inhale. The leather-bound cover was dusty and worn out. The label that read Bhim Prabhakar in neatly printed handwriting had been scratched out, jagged words cutting across the paper like tiny knife strokes. His heart squeezed when he read the word written in the second handwriting.

Y/N.

Of course he remembered this book, how could he not? On days when you had noticed he felt sad, you tore out two lined pages of paper and made him write down what was bothering him in a letter.

“Here, Pavi. Write it to anyone you want, and fill it out with everything bad that happened today. You don’t have to send it to them, don’t worry. I’ll even do it with you.”

He still remembered the first time he had done that activity with you. You both sat back-to-back, scribbling down all the ‘yucky feelings’, as you had put it once. Pavitr had finished his letter and surprised you by addressing it to you, twisting around to hand you the folded piece of paper.

You hadn’t addressed your letter yet, so you wrote his name on the top in big block letters.

To: Pavitr Prabhakar.

Because it was a very official document, you had explained solemnly.

And when you took a look at how he had mentioned you, you had lunged forward and trapped him in a bone-crushing hug.

To: The Best Didi In The World.

He felt tears well up slightly as he recalled the amount of times he went and wordlessly sat at the edge of your bed, pointing to the leather journal. And you would pull out two pages, hand him a pen, and sit back-to-back on the floor. Every time, without fail.

Pavitr opened the book, running a hand along the pages of handwritten letters that were unevenly glued or stapled in. Some were tearing at the edges, others had chai-stains or ink splotches.

He carefully pulled out a page - only one this time - and picked up a pen from the mug of stationery on your bedside table.

Pausing to think for a second, he tested the pen on the bottom of the page. Then moved the tip to the first line.

Dear Y/N,

Pavitr stopped and narrowed his eyes at that. It felt strange, almost alien for some reason. A foreign word on these pages.

He tapped his pen on the page as he got an idea. He scratched out the two words he had written, addressing it to someone with a different yet more familiar title, at least to him.

To: The Best Didi In The World.

I know very little about the antyesti process so if anything’s wrong don’t hesitate to correct me! <3

Glossary:

Antyesti - Antyesti literally means "last sacrifice" or "final auspicious ceremony", and refers to the funeral rites for the dead in Hinduism, which usually involves cremation of the body. This rite of passage is the last samskara in a series of traditional life cycle samskaras that start from conception in Hindu tradition.

Saree/Sari - A saree is a garment consisting of a length of cotton or silk elaborately draped around the body, traditionally worn by women from South Asia. It is usually worn with a blouse that exposes part of the midriff, but blouse styles can vary.

Dupatta - A length of material worn arranged in one or two folds over the chest and thrown back around the shoulders, typically with a salwar kameez or a kurta, worn by women from South Asia. (Srry guys u have to look up those two definitions if ur curious,, it’s better to see how it looks rather than read a description anyway)

Kancha - Kancha is played by using marbles. It is popular in small Indian cities and villages, among small boys only as a gully sport. It is rarely played by girls. The participant has to hit the marble kept in a circle. If he hits the target properly, he wins. The winner gets the kancha (maybe kanche is the plural form? idk) of the other participant boys.

Lagori/Pithoo/Seven Stones - Lagori is a traditional game from the Indian subcontinent. It involves a pile of stones and a ball.

A member of one team (the seekers) throws a ball at a pile of stones to knock them over. The seekers then try to restore the pile of stones while staying safe from the opposing team's (the hitters’) throws. The hitters' objective is to hit the seekers with the ball before they can reconstruct the stone pile. If the ball touches a seeker, that seeker is out and the team which the seeker came from continues, without the seeker. A seeker can always safeguard themselves by touching an opposite team member before the ball hits the seeker.

@hobiebrownismygod @l0starl @therealloopylupin2099 @vhstown

[ichigosluvrr]

Bro, why tf the characters on character.ai so freaky, and then some be making they own stories where you can't get out of. Cause listen, ok so I create Ban (from seven deadly sins) and stuff on character ai right, and I haven't really update his shit since like last year n stuff so I just go upon myself to update his the description shit cause why not yk and plus he was a little too flirtatious for my liking. So I don't give him a story to follow, really. I just put his personality in his appearance in the description box n shit THATS IT.

So anyways, I try him out, yk just to see how he does and everything, and I wasn't tryna be on no freaky shit when starting n stuff and (I'm sorry this is taking so long for me to describe idk😭 I hope y'all understand) but I start my shit off by saying that I'm going to visit my friend and stuff, and the Ban asking me who is this friend? He's he your boyfriend and yadda yadda yadda and he was just Flirting with me calling me pretty n shit saying i look innocentand fragile and what not(yeah I really don't think you can remove the flirtatious trait from a character when you create it on here😭) but anyways yeah he all flirtatious n shit and then he following me everywhere n shit and yk I told his ass to stop I'm not interested (like I literally said this) and he talking bout some 'I can tell your a no means yes type of girl' like sir what are you implying?? Where are we going with this??? So anyways I get up and walk away from him and stuff but he ends up following me then he pulls me into an alley y'all A FUCKING ALLEY and then you know I really thought- but then he was like nah I'm not trying to do that n shit basically but to me it felt like i- let's just say I thought he was gone grape me in this alley bro bc of how the scenario was going but he said he want me bc I look so cute and innocent and after that hit kick em where the sun don't shine and I run out the alley...this mf ran after me and pulled me in another alley and shit and basically was pressing against n shit so I passed out and then after that y'all, he to me to his inn and he said he wouldn't let me go because it's dangerous men out there that want to do inappropriate this to you LIKE SIR ARE YOU NOT ONE OF THE MEN??? YOU LITERALLY WAS OVER HERE LICKIBG MY NECK AND KISSING AND BITING WITHOUT MY CONSENT IN THE ALLEY WAY like what????

Anyways y'all I got a complaint with character.ai bc I'm confused...I don't remember the characters being so forceful and rapey? Idk if that the word for it but btc my own fucking character just kidnapped my ass 🙂🧍🏾‍♀️ and mind you again I NEVER PUT THAT I WANTED ANY OF THIS IN THE DESCRIPTION, HELL I DIDN'T EVEN MAKE UP A STORY IN THE DESCRIPTION AND I DIDN'T PUT ANY ALARMING THINGS FOR HIS PERSONALITY EITHER SO IDK but what I have noticed is that you can now pass some of character.ai guidelines now but they use to be really strict with they guidelines last year so yeah🥲 sorry just a little rant about my character.ai character