#me and arthur are totally not projecting btw

[syunkiss]

[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

[team-mythic-beasts]

Team Mythic Beasts: Let’s Talk Designs!

Also Included: (Updated) Birthdays, Ages, MBTI, Heights

(Note: Special thanks to @levijonescc, creator of the Aveyond 4 x Hetalia mod, for inspiring this project; without you we may not be here today. Btw I suck at drawing humanoid characters so I used this base)

It took me almost seven years to finalize the boys’ designs, but here they are!

Besides the pictures, I’ve also invited them here to explain the thought process behind their outfits. They will go in order of color, so this time we’re starting off with… Jones!

❤��� The Wolf - Jones Fitzgerald

(Apr 25 ♉️ | 29 y/o | INTJ | 177cm / 5’9”)

It’s only fair that the best-looking guy in the bunch gets the first word… so why does Luke keep getting all the spotlight? I’m supposed to be the main character!

Anyways, hope you aren’t too scared from all the spikes and flame patterns that I wear. Intimidation is a huge factor in designing a villain outfit, and I take great pride in being called scary. The flames are for another reason too— I’m a fire mage, and those who cross me shall beware the heat.

The cape was a reward from a quest I took up long ago. I saved a village from a demonic wolf, and they gave me some of her fur to wear as a trophy. In a way, it’s a reminder not to let my beloved Hiro go down the same path as his mother… but I do look quite big with the cape, don’t you think?

Even without my armor, cape, and giant coat, I still look like I’m onto some villain-y business, with the vest and jewel… Wait, what do you mean “yeehaw,” Makoto?! I’m not a cowboy!

🧡 The Dragon - Ludovic Brant

(He forgot 😢 | 70+ y/o (physically 25) | ISTJ | 200cm / 6’6”)

… Hello there. I did not expect such a quick debut.

As you can likely tell from my hardened look, my story is about battling demons. I was promised greater progress by the others in Team Mythic Beasts, and they have been of great help in my quest.

I made my armor from various monsters that I have slain in battle, but the helmet, specifically, is from an a assassin sent by my former captor. It put up a tough fight, that’s for sure, but nothing beats the fury of a dragon.

Underneath my armor is a simple outfit I put together in Moriad, where I have lived as a refugee for quite a few decades now. I asked my dwarf neighbors if they could make me custom wear, but it was too much for them. Therefore, every piece is made by hand, by myself.

… Yes. That is all.

💛 The Lion - Mikkel Anderson

(Dec 5 ♐️ | 19 y/o | ISFJ | 183cm / 6’0”)

Evil beware, the Lion of Team Mythic Beasts is here!

When I was a young lad, I’d be carrying heavy stuff everywhere to build up strength for all this armor that I wear now. That means I have to eat a lot of food every day, too! But underneath all this steel, I’m just a humble little guy from the city outskirts.

Oh, this medal? I got it from Lord Kristan! He’s the legendary founder of my hometown, Alphica, and he’s been watching over me and my nan since I was born.

So… that should cover everything about my outfit. You can probably tell I’m not as flashy as my friends; they’ll have a lot more to talk about than I do, I’m sure!

💚 The Weasel - Arthur Blackwood

(Oct 23 ♏️ | 36 y/o | ESTJ | 175cm / 5’8”)

Ha ha ha ha ha!!! If trouble is what you’d expect at the sight of a witch like me, then you’d be right— but you’ve got to be a total numbskull to get on my bad side. My long, sharp nails aren’t the only things you should worry about.

Not a fan of heavy clothes, since potions is my specialty; a simple coat, protective armwear, and a ragged cape does the job for me. As for the bird skull on my shoulder, one of the Raven Lord’s “beloved children” decided it was a good idea to get in the way of my curses— (MAKOTO’S NOTE: THIS DID NOT HAPPEN.)

Purple and cyan? Meh. Black, green, and silver? Classic. No idea what the witchcraft school I went to was thinking when they designed our uniforms, but I’ve done a better job than they ever will. It’s a shame my brothers don’t think the same.

That’s all you need to hear from me. Now get lost before I turn you into a frog!

🩵 The Eagle - Finn Dentrad (né Teryekol)

(Aug 28 ♍️ | 24 y/o | INTP | 162cm / 5’3”)

Looks like my days as an adventurer are not over yet!

My outfit used to be a lot lighter. Shorts, summer jacket, loafers… they’re comfy, no doubt, but I needed something to reflect the things I’m actually good at— engineering and mechanics. So I decided to switch them out for some heavy duty wear.

Now, I’m fully covered up from the neck down, because building stuff, especially gadgets, isn’t really a safe activity. My coat is long enough for protection, but not too long as to get caught in the middle of moving gears. Yikes! Just thinking about that frightens me.

My eyes are just as important for my talent, so I’ve switched out my hat for a pair of goggles. Combine that with my new coat and waist pockets… don’t I look a lot more reliable now?

Oh, one more thing… I’ve had so many people tell me how heavy my backpack is. Is it really? The only stuff in there are bigger mechanical parts and my robot dog Hanatamago, that’s all…

💙 The Bear - Fra’ser Du’randt

(Jun 26 ♋️ | 39 y/o | ENFJ | 175cm / 5’8”)

*yawns* … Oh, hey there. Sorry, I was busy… looking into other people’s dreams.

How is that possible? Well, not long after I came to this world, the Lord of Dreams made me his assistant. He gave me the power to access the dreams of other individuals at any given time, whether I’m awake or in the process of dreaming. Dispelling nightmares is my job, as well as my specialty.

My Lord designed and created my entire outfit. Blue and purple are the colors of dreams in this world, so it’s only natural that he would choose such hues. The sleeves of my coat are styled just like his, and my base wear resembles the uniform I had at my last job. I do miss my friends back there, but I’m happy to be able to serve my Lord. He is truly a kind deity.

Of course, fighting night terrors is a dangerous job, so the cape and armbands serve as protection. My downwards moon earring also acts as a talisman. All in all, it warms my heart that my Lord had considered so much when he made me this costume.

💜 The Fox - Lucas Reynard

(May 6 ♉️ | 110 y/o (physically 20) | INFP | 178cm / 5’10”)

Oh wow, I’m finally last for once. You probably know me well enough by now, as I’m all over this blog as well as Makoto’s Instagram page, if that’s how you found us here.

Every single item you see on me is a gift. Most are from my sisters, but gods have asked of my favor as well. I have no idea what they saw in me, but… alright. Pretty cool, I guess. If you want to know from whom is which, do let me know. By the way, if you look very closely at my choker, it has my initials on it.

Somehow, training with my family had helped me grow a pair of wings, fox ears, and a tail. No, this doesn’t make my hearing any better, nor can I fly... These parts are made of mist, and depending on my mood or energy level, can sometimes appear translucent or not show up at all.

The face markings... I got them while learning how to shapeshift under the God of Colors. He told me that every shapeshifter, whether born with the talent or learned it later in life, has a unique mark, or a combination of them. It’s not evident in my main form, but when I turn into a fox, the canine facial structure reveals the full shape of my marks— four diamonds.

Oh, sorry, I spoke too much… Well, if you want to know more about our outfits, feel free to ask. For now, have this— our very own mascot collection, Team MiniB. It was my idea, by the way.

[withonelook]

oh writer asks! resisting the urge to send you every single emoji there.. ✨💫💥 (<- stars + bonus 🎀)

✨ - everything that's been set on fire-- [GUNSHOTS] sorry its the cliche answer because that series is my baby the rest of my series are filing for parental support lol. oh maybe also beasts of blood and bone baby!! hopefully it counts as a fic because it's part of the child ballads rewrite project. arthur and charlie live RENT FREE in my head my insane codependent kids...

💫 - the LONG long ones like peel paragraph L5/30 literary analysis stuff (<3 urs btw)

💥 - okay the least kudosed one is the centre cannot hold which is a zombie apocalypse story set in 1930s oxford in the grey area btwn fanwork and original writing so it has 0 kudos and a grand total of 20 hits which is :( but you know how original work does on ao3. i really like it tbh i love the kind of retroish vaguely british style that i havent been able to replicate anywhere else. the least kudosed fandom one is oh my god. the chat fic from when i was 14 we do not talk about that one.

🎀 - help pls you can't make me do this. i'm already too arrogant :( uhh my pacing and dialogue is always borked but i really really like my prose even if it's purpley and takes me five billion years to complete a para because im too busy worrying about the cadence of each line. i would have gone into poetry if it didnt feel so self-conscious lol

[snarktheater]

Hey, d'you have any French book recs? I'm trying to work on my French, and rn I have downloaded one of my favourite book series' French translations, but I figured maybe books already written in French might work better? Also have you read the Ranger's Apprentice series? 1/2

RA's def flawed - the books' narration does like to point bright arrows at the protagonists' intelligence, and the last few books def have the tone of 'old white man trying to write feminism', although at least he's trying? - and it's aimed more to the younger side of YA, but it is still a very fun series, and I can ignore the flaws fairly easily, at least partly due to nostalgia? This rather long lol but I'm wordy.

I'll start with the second question: no, although every time the series is brought up I have to check the French title and go "oh, right, I've seen these books in stores". But I've never purchased or read them. It sounds like something I probably would have enjoyed as a teen but I just missed the mark, and these days I'm trying to drown myself in queer books, so that probably isn't happening.

As for your first question, geez, I haven’t read a French book in years, so this is gonna skew middle grade/YA, though that may not be so bad if the point is to learn the language. I will also say that as a result, these may read a little outdated.

I'll put it under a cut, even if Tumblr has become really bad with correctly displaying read mores. Sorry, mobile crowd.

It's also likely that old readers of the blog will have seen me talk about most of these. I don't feel like going through old posts.

One last thing: while I was curating this list I took the time to make a Goodreads shelf to keep track of those.

The Ewilan books by Pierre Bottero

(It's a testament to how long ago I read these books that these are not the covers of the edition I own, and I can't even find those on Google. I'm settling for a more recent cover anyway since it'll make it easier to find them, presumably)

There are at least three trilogies (that I know of) set in the same world.

The first trilogy is essentially an isekai (so, French girl lands in parallel fantasy world by accident) with elements of chosen one trope, though I find the execution makes it worth the while anyway.

The second trilogy is a direct sequel, so same protagonist but new threat, and the world gets expanded.

The third one is centered around a supporting characters from the previous books, and the first couple of books in it are more her backstory than a continuation, though the third one concludes both that trilogy and advances the story of the other books as well.

Notably these books have a really fun magic system where the characters "draw" things into existence. It's just stuck with me for some reason.

A bunch of stuff by Erik L'Homme

I have read a lot of this man's books, starting with Le Livre des Etoiles.

They also skew towards the young end of YA, arguably middle grade, I never bothered to figure out where to draw the line. They're coincidentally also using the premise of a parallel world to our own (and yes, connected to France again, the French are just as susceptible of writing about their homeland), but interestingly are set from the point of view of characters native to the parallel world.

It also has a very unique magic system, this one based on a mix of a runic alphabet and sort-of poetry. I'll also say specifically for these books that the characters stuck with me way more than others on this list, which is worth mentioning.

This trilogy is my favorite by Erik L'Homme, but I'll also mention Les Maîtres des brisants, which is a fantasy space opera with a pirate steampunk(?) vibe. I think it's steampunk. I could be mistaken. But it's in that vein. It's also middle grade, in my opinion not as good, but it could just be that it came out when I was older.

Another one is Phaenomen, which was a deliberate attempt at skewing older (though still YA). This one is set in our (then-)modern world and centers a group of teens who happen to have supernatural powers. I guess the best way to describe it is a superhero thriller? If you take "superhero" in the sense of "people with individualized powers", since they don't really do a lot of heroing.

...I really need to brush up on genre terminology, don't I.

The Ji series by Pierre Grimbert

This one is actually adult fantasy, though it definitely falls under "probably outdated". It is very straight, for starters, and I'd have to give it another read to give a more critical reading of how it handles race (it attempts to do it, and is well meaning, but I'm not sure it survives the test of time & scrutiny, basically).

If I haven't lost you already, the premise is this: a few generations ago, a weird man named Nol gathered emissaries from each nation of the world and took them to a trip to the titular Ji island. Nobody knows what went down here, but now in the present day, someone is trying to kill off all descendants from those emissaries, who are as a result forced to team up and figure out what's going on.

I'm not going to spoil past that, though I will say it has (surprise) a really unique magic system! I guess you can start to piece together what my younger self was interested in. Which, admittedly, I still am.

Once again, this one also has a strong cast of characters, helped by rich world building and the premise forcing the characters to come from many different cultures (though, again, I can't vouch for the handling of race because it's been too long).

The first series is complete by itself, though it has two sequel series as well, each focusing on the next generation in these families. Because yes, of course they all pair up and have kids. Like I said: very straight.

A whole lot of books by Jean-Louis Fetjaine

OFetjaine is a historian, and I guess he's really interested in Arthurian mythos especially, because he loves it so much he's written two separate high fantasy retellings of them! I'm not criticizing, mind you, we all need a hobby.

The former, the Elves trilogy (pictures above) is very traditional high fantasy. Elves, dwarves, orcs, a world which is definitely fictionalized with a pan-Celtic vibe to it. The holy grail and excalibur are around, but they're relics possessed by the elves and dwarves with very different powers than usual. Et cetera.

Fetjaine also really loves his elves (as the titles might imply), and while they're not exactly Tolkien elves, there's a similar vibe to them. If you like Tolkien and his elf boner, you'll probably like this too. And conversely, if that turns you off, these books probably also won't work for you.

This series also has a prequel trilogy, centered around the backstory of one of the main characters. I...honestly don't remember too much about it, but I liked it, so, there you go, I guess.

I said Fetjaine did it twice. The other series is the Merlin duology, which, as the title implies, is a retelling of Merlin's story. Note that Merlin is also in the other trilogy, but it's a different Merlin; like I said, completely different continuities and stories.

This one is historical fantasy, so it's set in actual Great Britain, and Fetjaine attempts to connect Arthur to a "real" historical figure...but, you know, Merlin is also half-elf and elves totally exist in Brocéliande, so, you know. History.

Okay, that's probably enough fantasy, let me give some classics too.

L'Arbre des possibles et autres histoires - Bernard Werber

Bernard Werber is a pretty seminal author of French sci-fi and I should probably be embarrassed that the only book of his that I read was for school, but, it is a really good one, so I'll include it anyway.

It's a novella collection, and when I say "sci-fi" I want to make it clear that it's very old school science fiction. It's more Frankenstein or Black Mirror than Star Trek, what we in French call the anticipation genre of science fiction: you take one piece of technology or cultural norm and project it into the future.

It has a pretty wide range of topics and tones, so it's bound to have some better than others. My personal faves were Du pain et des jeux, where football (non-American) has evolved into basically a wargame, and Tel maître, tel lion, where any animal is considered acceptable as a pet, no matter how absurd it is to keep as a pet. They're both on a comedic end, but there's more heartfelt stuff too.

L'Ecume des Jours - Boris Vian

(no cover because I can't find the one I have, and the ones I find are ugly)

This book is surrealist. Like, literally a part of the surrealist movement. It features things such as a lilypad growing inside a woman's lungs (and, as you well know, lilypads double in size every day, wink wink), the protagonist's apartment becoming larger and smaller to go with his mood and current financial situation, and more that I can't even recall at the moment because remembering this book is like trying to remember having an aneurysm.

It is also really, really fun and touching. Oh, and it has a pretty solid movie adaptation, starring Audrey Tautou, who I think an international audience would probably recognize from Amelie or the Da Vinci Code movie.

I don't really know what else to say. It's a really cool read!

Le Roi se meurt - Eugène Ionesco

Ionesco is somewhat famous worldwide so I wasn't even sure to include him here. He's a playwright who wrote in the "Theater of the Absurd" movement, and this play is part of that.

The premise of this play is that the King (of an unnamed land) is dying, and the land is dying with him. I don't really know what else to say. It's theater of the absurd. It kind of has to be experienced (the published version works fine, btw, no need to track down an actual performance, in my humble opinion).

The Plague - Albert Camus

You've probably heard of this one, and if you haven't, let me tell you about a guy called Carlos Maza

I'm honestly more including this book out of a sense of duty. The other three are books I genuinely liked and happen to be classics. This book was an awful read. But, um. It's kind of relevant now in a way it wasn't (or didn't feel, anyway) back in 2008 or 2009, when I read it. And I don't just mean because of our own plague, since Camus's plague is pretty famously an allegory for fascism, which my teenage self sneered at, and my adult self really regrets every feeling that way.

Okay, finally, some more lighthearted stuff, we gotta talk about the Belgian and French art of bande dessinée. How is it different from comic books or manga? Functionally, it isn't. It really comes down more to what gets published in the Belgian-French industry compared to the American comics industry, which is dominated by superheroes, or the Japanese manga industry, which, while I'm less familiar with it, I know has some big genre trends as well that are completely separate.

The Lanfeust series - Arleston and Tarquin

This is a YA mega-series, and I can't recommend all of it because I've lost track of the franchise's growth. Also note that I say "YA", but in this case it means something very different from an American understanding of YA. These books are pretty full of sex.

No, when I say YA I mean it has that level of maturity, for better or worse. The original series (Lanfeust de Troy) is high fantasy in a world where everyone has an individual magical ability but two characters find out they're gifted with an absolute power to make anything happen, and while it gets dark at times, it's still very lighthearted throughout, and the humor is...well, I think it's best described as teen boy humor. And it has a tendency to objectify its female characters, as you'll quickly parse out from the one cover I used here or if you browse more covers.

But still, it holds a special place in my heart, I guess. And on my shelves.

The sequel series, Lanfeust des Etoiles, turns it into a space opera, and goes a little overboard with the pop culture reference at times, though overall still maintains that balance of serious/at times dark story and lighthearted comedy.

After that the franchise is utter chaos to me, and I've lost track. I know there was another sequel series, which I dropped partway through, and a spinoff that retold part of the original series from the PoV of the main love interest (in the period of time she spent away from the main group). There was a comedy spin-off about the troll species unique to this world, a prequel series, probably more I don't even know exist.

Les Démons d'Alexia

Something I can probably be a little less ashamed of including here.

Some backstory here. The Editions Dupuis are a giant of the Belgian bande dessinée industry, and for many, many years I was subscribed to their weekly magazine. That magazine was (mostly) made up of excerpts from the various books that the éditions were publishing at the time; those that were made of comic strips would usually get a couple pages of individual scripts, while the ongoing narratives got cut into episodes that were a few pages long (out of a typical 48 page count for a single BD album). Among those were this series.

For the first few volumes, I wasn't super into this series, probably because I was a little too young and smack dab in the middle of my "trying to be one of the boys" phase. But around book 3 I got really invested, to the point where I own the second half of the series because I had canceled by subscription by then but still wanted to know more.

Alexia is an exorcist with unusual talents, but little control, who's introduced to a group that specializes in researching paranormal phenomena, solving cases that involve the paranormal, that kinda stuff.

As a result of the premise, the series has a pretty slow start since it has to build up mystery around the source of Alexia's powers, but once it gets going and we get to what is essentially the series' main conflict, it gets really interesting.

Plus, witches. I'm a simple gay who likes strong protagonists and witches.

Murena

There was a point where my mtyhology nerdery led me to look for more stuff about the historical cultures that created them, and so I'd be super into stuff set in ancient Rome (I'd say "or Greece or Egypt" but let's face it, it was almost always Rome).

Murena is a series set just before the start of Emperor Nero's rule. You know, the one who was emperor when Rome burned, and according to urban legend either caused the fire or played the fiddle while it did (note: "fiddle" is a very English saying, it's usually the lyre in other languages). He probably didn't, it probably was propaganda, but he was a) a Roman Emperor, none of whom were particularly stellar guys and b) mean to Christians, who eventually got to rewrite history. So he's got a bad rep.

The series goes for a very historical take on events, albeit fictionalized (the protagonist and main PoV, the titular Lucius Murena, is himself fictional) and attempts to humanize the people involved in those events. Each book also includes some of the sources used to justify how events and characters are depicted, which is a nice touch.

It's also divided in subseries called "cycles" (books 1-4, 5-8 and the ongoing one starts at 9). I stopped after 9, though I think it's mostly a case of not going to bookstores often anymore. Plus it took four years between 9 and 10, and again between 10 and 11. But the first eight books made for a pretty solid story that honestly felt somewhat concluded as is, so it's a good place to start.

[dusiashipsthings]

Hey, I’ve been tagged by @daily-happiness-11​ (thank you, btw!) like a million years ago to do this and guess what? It’s time! I’m late but I feel like sharing! So let’s go!

Top 3 Ships:

1. RenMasa - Ren Jinguji x Masato Hijirikawa (Uta no Prince-sama)

It’s weird, because it’s not a ship that I really think about nowdays, but no-one deserves the first place more than these two. They’ve been my obsession for solid 8 years (2011-2019) and I’ve spend a lot of money buying doujinshis, anthologies, figurines, keychains, and posters of them - I could build a whole-ass shrine with all the things I’ve acquired over the years! They were my first serious "enemies" to lovers ship, the first pair that made me look into the shippy side of a fandom, and the tropes they represent definitely show in my other ships – a flirtatious, charming blond, that has a way of getting under the skin of his rival, an exceptionally pretty and irritatingly serious brunette.

It’s funny, because looking at these three ships, there are clear age categories – teenagers, young adults in their 20s, and adults in their 30s. RenMasa represents the teenage category, the self-discovery and growing up alongside each other, of realizing they’re more than their family rivalry, the first kisses and first relationships and the total lack of experience. When I think about teenage romance I think of RenMasa.

2. Dreamhusbands – Eames x Arthur (Inception)

I told you I had a type, right? What was it, “a flirtatious, charming blond, that has a way of getting under the skin of his rival, an exceptionally pretty and irritatingly serious brunette”? Yeah, this is right on the money here. Except Eames and Arthur are completely different than Ren and Masato to me – they’re not rivals, not really. They’re both adults, have been adults for quite a while, both have a lot of life experience and are above petty rivalries. And yet, they banter and butt heads, seemingly not able to work together while simultaneously fitting perfectly with each other. Eames and Arthur are the adult love story to me, of two people, who have been in relationships before, yes, but don’t really know much about love, and can’t really allow themselves to catch feelings in their line of work. Oh, and there's another thing – the amount of fanfiction these two have inspired is INCREDIBLE. People have written literal books about them! And the quality of it, too! Having only 2 minutes of shared screentime there’s so much you can do with them and it’s probably THE reason they’re so easy to project onto. I love this pair to death.

3. Drarry – Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter (Harry Potter)

They’re actually one of the newer ships for me! I’ve always been a die-hard Harry Potter fan - waiting for new books to come out and going to the theatre to see the movies was a biiiig part of my childhood. Harry Potter is THE series I associate with my family the most (and not even a nasty TERF like JK can tear that love away from me). But Drarry? I was never into them. In high school when my friend got into it and recommenced me some fics I politely declined, saying I don’t really see these two as a couple. And then, in 2019, YouTube recommended me a Darry animatic made by Danasauurr (or Danasauurrr) to the song of Safe and Sound. The ONLY reason I clicked on it was to listen to the song, since it was one my favourites at the time. And, well… Yeah. It took one animatic to see these two in a different light. After that I had gone though Dana’s entire Tumblr blog (you can even see how their portray of Draco and Harry are very similar to mine, and that’s because they were my first and biggest inspiration in this fandom!). Then I started reading Saras_Girl’s stuff and found my all time favourite Drarry fanfic – “What We Pretend We Can’t See”, by gyzym (who’s also the author of my all time favourite Dreamhusbands fanfic, what!!!). And, well. After that I knew I was a goner. I’ve only had Drarry for a little over 2 years now but I would kill for them. They’re definitely in the forefont of my ships at the moment and I can honestly say there’s not an hour in a day that I don’t think about them.

Last Movie:

Okay, I’ll try to keep this brief, since this is getting super long and we’re only on question two. The last movie I saw was “Scott Pilgrim vs. The World”, which I watched with @crowslikecheesecake through a Netflix Party! Fun times, fun cast!

Currently reading:

“Battle Royale” by Koushun Takami – it’s for my thesis! I’m writing about kids killing other kids and how Battle Royale could have been subconsciously inspired by real life murders, for example that of Ayaki Yamashita and Jun Hase. It’s a work in progress! But I’m glad I get to write my 3rd year thesis on topics I’m passionate about – true crime and horror stories!

Food I’m craving:

This:

God, a kingdom for one of these sweet bastards and a can of Pepsi. I could technically get them in a store 2 minutes away from my house, but I’m on a diet. It suckssss.

This is an old tag so I’m not sure which of my mutuals has done this before, so let’s just say that anyone who wants to do this - go ahead! You can say that I tagged you, would love to read your takes on these! ^^

[jq37]

The Report Card -- Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 1

Sophomores and Spring Break 

Note: Hey guys! I decided to try something a little bit different and slightly more structured than my usual recaps for FH: Sophomore Year. I’m hoping this will be a little easier for me and a more useful tool for keeping up to date since there will be a lot more eps to keep track of and they’ll be easier to miss. Lemme know what you think and if you want raw, unfiltered opinions on anything specific, feel free to send me an ask. I’m always down to go off about literally whatever. 

We’re back, baby! It is Sophomore Year at Aguefort and the gang is on Spring Break. A lot is going down so lemme break it down. The Bad Kids, having defeated Kalvaxus last year, are all entitled to a share of his hoard and all the red tape is finally cleared so they all get 20k gold each (which is an insane amount of money converted to USD if you use the WOTC conversion rate of a gold coin being around $145 (circa 2006 when they answered the question)--which would be close to $330 with inflation). Jawbone and Sandra-Lynn are moving in after less than a year into a profoundly haunted house and it’s kind of a Full House situation because Adaine, Fig, Kristen, and Tracker all officially live there (plus it seems that Zayn has also anchored himself to Adaine’s tower--btw, Adaine took the tower that the haunted house obviously has) and you know all the other Bad Kids are gonna be there on the regular. 

More importantly, Aguefort gives the gang their big project for the year--finding the crown of the Nightmare King which was stolen at the end of last season--which is worth 60% of their grade (Adaine does a full Hermione at this information). Each of the gang has info about the NK but the trail has mostly gone cold. Luckily, Fabian just got a hot tip about where Falinel is keeping Aelwyn and she seems like a pretty good lead to start with since she was super tied up in the bad side of all the messiness of last year. Adaine is displeased to say the least. 

Going off to find the crown is super exciting story-wise for two reasons. First of all, it means the gang gets to hire, well, hirelings to help them and temporarily join the party! They ping basically every cool NPC they can think of (except for Tracker for some reason which is BONKERS because (1) she probably would have done it for free and cutting her in would still be keeping the money in the family, (2) she’s dope as hell, (3) she’s a cleric and the party can always use more healers, (4) she’s a werewolf so presumably she has skills that would help in the woods, and (5) they’re t r a c k i n g down a crown and the girl’s name is literally T R A C K E R, but I will not backseat D&D) and eventually end up with Ragh (who has been without an adventuring party all year, poor guy), Sandra-Lynn (swayed by a nat 20 rolled by Fig), Cathilda (!?) ,and, for some reason, Gilear (which Fabian is happy about, mainly for the opportunity to maybe bump him off on the way). Second of all, if you recall, Elmville is a pretty modern town but the rest of the continent is less fantasy high, more high fantasy. Horses and lanterns and all that pseudo-medieval goodness. They are gonna stick out like a sore thumb. I am very here for it. 

Everyone goes home to rest up but, after some ominous dreams, only four of them wake up. Riz and Fig are left asleep and then Brennan mic drops and ends the episode which is a power move and I am extremely upset about it but also, respect. Right for the jugular immediately. I heard Murph and Emily are on tour in the UK next week which probably has something to do with this but, in the moment, I did not know that and I really felt the hammer drop in my heart. It was wild. Cannot wait to see where we go from here. Plus, who doesn’t love watching characters freak out because their friends are in danger?

Random Thoughts

I have no idea what the title of this episode is or if it’ll even have one and not a number but I gave it a placeholder one for now. I also don’t have access to the stream yet so I didn’t get to include some info I wanted to (like a record of nat 20s, and nat 1s so I can track their stats for the school year) and I probably missed some stuff because my brain can only hold so much info guys. I’m not Brennan. 

I mentioned this yesterday during the stream, but there will never be anything better than the pure D&D joy of everyone, in character, talking over each other to clown on each other. They get the friend-group banter that’s a hair breadth’s away from bullying so true to life and it’s so fun to watch. On the flip side, the opening scene with everyone introducing themselves and affirmatively claiming each other as their best friends was also peak D&D. Found family= best trope. 

Fig and Adaine burn spell-slots at basically the same time to try and beat each other to the best room in the (Scooby-Doo ass) house--which is exactly the kind of thing that would happen in this world. It’s such an intuitive setting. I love it so much. (BTW, Fig ends up staying in the false space under the revolving grand piano because, of course).

Fabian and Gorgug went to recruit Ragh, who assumed they were propositioning him for a three-way. In his defense, they did do it in a super proposition-y way and they were in the middle of the LGBTQ student union.

Also, Gorgug gives Ragh an inspiring speech about thinking you’re your own dad which makes him burst into tears. 

Speaking of, Jawbone offhandedly says he’s poly but, like, based on some of the stuff he’s said, I feel like that’s not really a reveal. He also gets along well with Gorthalax and would be down w/ a three-way if Sandra-Lynn wanted to which, again, totally checks out. 

Arthur Aguefort uses Chronomancy to rewind time and catch a snide comment Adaine made under her breath, which is exactly the kind of frivolous use of God-like power I’d expect from him.  

I really love Adaine’s energy coming into this season. She’s in therapy. She’s in a good home environment. She’s comfortable enough with her friend group to do stuff like prank Fig (love that they’re gonna be living together now). And she’s good friends with Zayn now which I want to see more of based on their one interaction in this ep which was very cute. I am already on record as saying I would be down with her getting a ghost boyfriend--I mean, for the aesthetic alone--but I’d be happy with just more friendship. 

Fabian is also hilarious this season because you can tell he’s gone a bit soft from having friends and leaning into that (the friendship necklace with Riz) but also he’s fully aware that it’s happening so he’s, like, ping-ponging back and forth like, “These are my friends,” and, “What am I saying? I used to be cool,” and it’s very funny. Very happy the Aelwyn storyline is happening right out of the gate, both because I think Aelwyn is a very interesting character with a lot of potential for nuance but also because Fabian reacting to her and Adaine reacting to Fabian reacting to her is always gold. 

Prompted by an offhand conversation from Fig about rock and roll, Brennan--earning another feather for his Cap of God Tier DMing--goes on an impromptu five minute long improved diatribe about a bard who played such a good concert that it instantly impregnated everyone in attendance (dudes too) who gave birth to kids with sick rocker hair and denim jackets and ascended to Rock Heaven on their 18th Birthday. You truly have to watch it to believe it. At a certain point I thought he was gonna drop it but that was the moment he doubled down and kept going. Amazing. 

Watching Murph, in real time, make up a girl/boy/whateverfriend in Fantasy Canada was a gift. 

I don’t have access to the stream yet but best quote of the night that I can remember is Kristen choosing her room: This is triggering and I’ll take it. (Her line about her lesbian starter kit and the one about wanting a horse were also bangers). 

The group talks about what they’re going to do for transportation outside of Elmsville since they don’t really use cars out there and they somehow get from “disguise Fig’s tour bus” to “commission Aguefort to create a brand new animal that can hold six people plus hirelings, one of which is Fabian who is also riding his motorbike”.

I love that Sandra-Lynn’s Mom Powers work on Tracker. 

Basrar doesn’t accept the invitation to come with on the quest, but he does give Kristen a bag of infinite ice cream sandwiches, which is basically just as good, IMO. 

Oh Gilear. The man is sleeping in the Seacaster garage, being bullied by skater kids, and now he’s stuck on this quest with his ex and Fabian who actively wants him dead.  

Speaking of, I’m psyched to see more of Sandra-Lynn. She was kind of a sleeper badass at the end of last season. 

Ragh is keeping secrets which I hope the cast doesn’t forget because it could be nothing serious (like the high school drama happening with Skrank and the 7 maidens--maybe he’s just crushing on Gorgug who did full kiss him during Promocalypse) or it could be Serious Business that will blow up if the don’t stay on top of it. We’ll see. 

Oh, almost forgot. Adaine wants an emotional support frog. Every time I think I can’t love her more.   

Detention

Fig for Not Respecting Personal Boundaries

Fig goes full Emily right out the gate and, after finding out that Skrank (nerdy bird dude who apparently can get it) was not only dating Ostentasia (rich, popular dwarf) but also dumped her in pursuit of Danielle Barkstock (one of Ostentasia’s party members, the scandal), disguises herself as him with Danielle to figure out what’s going on. And, wouldn't you know it, when she gives herself away, Danielle immediately is shocked and appalled, as you would be, obviously. We also learn that she’s still catfishing Dr. Asha which is, how you say, for sure a crime. Fig, please, I’m begging you. Cease. 

Honor Roll

Fig, Riz, and Adaine for Researching the Nightmare King

Fig made both lists, look at that. Wasn’t my plan for this to be a three-way tie (also didn’t expect to use the word “three-way” this many times in this writeup) but I think their contributions were pretty much equally valuable. Rainsolo on the Discord wrote up this summary of the lore dump Brennan gave them.

[jokerownsmysoul]

for the f/o ask: #1, #2, #6, #7 (of course!! 😉❤️), #13, #19 ? ☺️ sorry for so many, i'd just love your thoughts on all these!

all about your f/o ask game

read more because I’m very chatty for Artie 🥰 except when I have to finish editing my pieces lmaooo

1. How would you describe their eyes (their color, how they make you feel)?

Okay first of all, I’ll never saw eyes most beautiful than his. Saying that he has the most beautiful eyes of the multiverse is an understatement.💙 Every time I look at them I wonder how in the world such marvel can exist, they are surreal. His eyes were the first thing that impressed me about him, the first thing that made me fall in love with him. Every time I look at them, I get disoriented, and at the same time it’s like I’m coming back home. I get lost as I find myself when I look at them, they are both my death and what gives me life. His eyes are green, they look like coral reef or like those areas on the bottom of the sea where the water looks greener than the surface. 

Depending on the light and the weather, sometimes they seem slightly blue and it’s fun to wake up in the morning and wonder if that day they will be more blue or greener. In any case, even if the imperceptible shade of his color changes, its bright light color is always there, emeralds glowing eyes. His eyes are paintings framed by two thick, dark eyebrows, I’ve never seen eyebrows match two eyes as well as his. They’re so noticeable and the combination of the dark color of his eyebrows with the light color of his eyes makes his face otherworldly and he looks like an angel. His eyes always have a twinkle inside that makes them  shine like shooting stars, and yet, they are also full of pain. I’ve never seen eyes that can make a person fall in love and happy with just one look being so full of pain and carrying inside sorrows that every man should never feel. It’s said that the eyes are the mirror of the soul, and looking at his eyes we immediately understand that his is a precious soul that in life has suffered more than he can bear, his eyes are an eternal plea to be loved and seen and the most beautiful gemstone I’ve ever seen in my life and I’ll ever see. Ugh I got carried away as usual 👀

2. What’s their favorite article of clothing they own?

Lmao probably I'm projecting 😂 but in the movie we see him wearing his red/chestnut sweater veeery often, so this makes me think that it's one of his favorite articles of clothing, maybe one of those which makes him feel comfortable in his own skin, you know, one of those clothes with which you feel good, for one reason or another. And he likes wearing red so 🥰 And also he'd love it because I myself love him on this sweater, so he'd always wear it to make me happy 🥰🥰 And truth be told, he’d always wear not only to make me happy, but also to tease me. It would be a silent question of being cuddled, a secret way of telling me that he needs me, because he knows that when he wears this sweater my hands are attracted to his fabric, I can't help it. 👀 So he would wear it as if it were my personal siren call to tell me he wants me to lay love on him without actually tell me out loud because is still insecure, although I would teach him that when he wants my touch and cuddles he doesn’t need to ask my permission, I am his, and I would want his touch as much as he does, he doesn't need to ask me to love him.

When he wears this sweater I can’t help but caress him more studiously, my hands were made to caress his body and this fabric makes him so cuddly. The fabric of his sweater is almost as soft as his skin, it absorbs the heat of his body and when I touch it is so heated that it feels like it's boiling like a bonfire. His sweater totally smells of him. His scent is so intense that if I lay my nose on the sweater his smell fills my nostrils, it’s like that the fabric itself was embroidered with the fragrance of his odorous skin. Arthur’s scent is gentle, soft, one of those shy but strong fragrances that linger on your skin all day long, like when you wear a perfume in the morning and once you came home at night you find out that it's still lingering on your skin after all this time. His scent is as much intense and delicate as these kind of perfumes. In the sweater there is always a faintest hint of cigarette, and this combination of smoky smell with the sweet one of his skin creates an addictive, intoxicating fragrance.

Arthur smells of kindness and smoke, and the sweater is a tangible element that carries the olfactory sign of his smell itself, it is an object through which his smell becomes bodily and palpable. I yearn to embrace him as he wears it, lay my cheek on his skin, left uncovered by the V-neckline after unbuttoning the buttons of the sweater, and kiss the taut muscle of his sternum and the point where his collar bones meet. I yearn to breath him in, my hands wandering on his body covered in red and cotton, feeling his muscles underneath the sweater stretching as my love envelops him. I love that this sweater has buttons at the ends of the sleeves, too, and he also loves it, because when the buttons are unbuttoned (and they are most of the time) allow me to kiss his wrist, and ngl he'd probably leave the button unbuttoned on purpose so as to have his wrists kissed all the time. He can be sly pff 👀 He adores it when I lift the sleeves up along his arms to uncover his skin and kiss the soft inside of his arms, rubbing the baby hairs of his arms (which drive me crazy as hell btw), and he adores even more wearing this sweater because he knows that sooner or later I will take it off to enfold him completely with kisses and caresses, usually it doesn’t take long for me to take off his sweater btw 👀 

Also, his mustard hoodie and his white socks. It looks like he can’t help but wear them, and I can’t help but watch him wear them either. His mustard hoodie is so worn, but I can tell how much important it is for him. He carries it everywhere he goes, and I’m sure he went throught a lot of things wearing it, that hoodie carries in its fabric so many memories and life. And his white socks sksksk I’ve a thing for them ngl. I don’t know why, but there’s something so cute and adorable in his socked feet, I’ve never had a fetish for feet but his? Ugh girl they’re so cute. must kiss and love and squeeze 🥺 and ngl, it’d be sooo erotic taking his socks off slowly, very slowly as i’m uncovering his ankles, my gaze locked with his, eventually kissing the back of his foot, his ankles, before blowing him. there, I said it. and my sock-y wip might be about that uups 👀  

6. When was the exact moment you knew you were in love with them?

I answered here, it’s too long to copy and paste it sksk

7. What do their hands feel like?

Home, protection, safety. His hands are rough, his fingers callous, but Arthur’s touch is gentle and delicate. He caresses as if you were an instrument to play and through his fingers would compose a melody on your skin. When he caresses you the callousness of his fingertips collides with the smoothly of his touch and the warmth of his skin, creating a wonderful contrast that takes your breath away and warms you inside to your soul. When he rubs his hands on your body you feel the friction of the folds on his fingers on your skin, leaving you hungry and at the same time feeding you with this sweet contradiction that are his hands. Rough, but soft. Worn, but of a young touch. When he touches you, you’d say nothing could ever touch you with the same delicacy, not even a feather. The back of his hand, like every part of his hands and body as well, is soft and always smells of him, but it’s dusted with baby, soft hairs which look like brown flower’s stems blooming on his skin, and when you place your fingers on the back these light hairs wandering on its surface tickle your fingers, a perfectly contradictory soft friction. In his fingers and especially in his fingertips there is always a hint of the stale smell of greasepaint that always remains in his hands even if he washes them very often. I yearn to pass my fingertips on the swollen veins running through the back of his hands as if they were roads to travel along his warm and odorous skin, I yearn to trace the protruding tendons from under his skin with the tips of my fingers and lick and suck his thick, boney fingers, feeling the aftertaste of smoke and the hint of the cigarette he just smoked on my tongue. There are black patches on the back of Arthur’s hands, they look like snowflakes fell on his skin in a winter to keep warm, a speckled map that shows you the exact path you need to travel to stroke his hand wholly. His wrists are breakable and fragile, they need gentle touches and soft kisses. In the center of his right wrist he has a wound, right on the most sensitive part of his wrist, where there are the small superficial veins. I yearn to kiss the most sensitive part of his wrists, to lay my lips on the pulsating spot where I can feel his heartbeat go faster because someone is touching him. His body, his subtle essence, his heart, would never be as close to mine as they are when I kiss his pulsating wrist. Whey they tremble I hold his writs in my hand, I kiss them and I trace the colored lines of his veins along his wrist and arms soothingly. I only want to be held, and his hands would always be there to hold me.

13. What’s one thing that surprised you about them after you got to know each-other? 

He makes me feel comfortable. I’m veeeeeeery shy and insecure, it takes me months, years, to be 100% comfortable with a person, actually iI’ve never been so comfortable with a person to be myself, yet with him it is different. With him I know that my fears and insecurities would take a step back, I know that I wouldn’t be afraid to show myself for what I am because he would understand what I feel or, if he didn’t understand it, he would listen to me anyway, and be close to me even if the topic is bigger than us. And that was matter. I never looked at a person and thought "with you my fears would be empty", I never believed it possible. I’ve always given up living because of my security and God knows how many good things I’ve missed because of myself, I’m always so afraid of everything, of love, of touching someone, of living, but when I look at Arthur I only feel this warm feeling of protection, security, trust. I was surprised by the fact that Arthur overcomes my anxiety, he gives me the possibility of being vulnerable and brittle in front of him, I always try to hide my fragility but he’d see it. With him, I’m sure, I would feel comfortable and I could love and show myself totally and he’d look at me and at everything I show him. I wouldn’t be afraid to reveal myself in front of him 💙

19. What are they like in the kitchen (clumsy, focused, pro level)?

Focused, totally focused. Arthur is a neat man who loves to get everything right 💙 He never takes his eyes off the television when Murray starts and he’s headed to bed, and that’s enough to understand how much attention and dedication he puts into everything he does. When he cooks he is my opposite lmaooo. I am very clumsy, I always make everything dirty even if I have to do a single meal. I don’t know how I manage to do it, but e.g, when I have to do a simple sandwich I dirty thousand of pots and I mess up lmaoo, and I’m very distracted ngl. He is all the opposite: he is very attentive, dedicated, devoted to every move. When he cooks he hums soft tune with parted lips in a low voice and likes to sway with his hips, his head is elsewhere in a dreamy world made of music only, this scenario seen from the outside can be mistaken for distraction by those who don’t know him, but actually in those moments when he hums and swings to a music that only he knows he is very devoted to what he’s doing, he wouldn’t take his attention away from what he does for nothing, it’s something I adore about him. Despite being so devout, however, it is very easy to make him unfocused and bring him back to us by caressing him suddenly or giving him a kiss on his shoulder blades, embracing him from behind or even just standing next to him. He would turn his face right away, a guilty smile on his face, and loving eyes. He’s a focused person with everything he does, yet the only thing he never takes his eyes from, ever, it’s the person he loves, he’s always focused on his one and only all the time, 24/7, and it’s the only thing he could never be unfocused from 💙

[mednotes]

how many books have you read?

tagged by my pumpkin @thestudyfeels thanks!! (btw this tag game is the best really)

The BBC estimates that most people will only read 6 books out of the 100 listed below. Bold the ones you’ve read.

Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien (fav book) Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte Harry Potter series - JK Rowling To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee 

The Bible (made me read it during school eh) Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman Great Expectations - Charles Dickens Little Women - Louisa M Alcott Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy Catch 22 - Joseph Heller Complete Works of Shakespeare Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien Birdsong - Sebastian Faulk Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger Middlemarch - George Eliot Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald Bleak House - Charles Dickens War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy David Copperfield - Charles Dickens Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis Emma - Jane Austen Persuasion - Jane Austen The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne Animal Farm - George Orwell The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy. The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood Lord of the Flies - William Golding Atonement - Ian McEwan Life of Pi - Yann Martel  Dune - Frank Herbert Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens  Brave New World - Aldous Huxley The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov The Secret History - Donna Tartt The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas On The Road - Jack Kerouac Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie Moby Dick - Herman Melville Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens Dracula - Bram Stoker The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson Ulysses - James Joyce The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome Germinal - Emile Zola Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray Possession - AS Byatt. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell The Color Purple - Alice Walker The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry Charlotte’s Web - EB White The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks Watership Down - Richard Adams A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas Hamlet - William Shakespeare Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

total: 21/100 There are so many books on this list I want to read. In my reader’s career I have definitely read more Polish books tho.

you can check out my goodreads account and add me as a friend if that is what your heart desires :’)

tagging: @ina-studies @studylustre @einstetic @theorganizedgirl @pro-project and literally everyone who wants to do this 

[movietvtechgeeks]

Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/atlanta-falcons-fans-deal-patriots-super-bowl-51-win/

Atlanta Falcons fans deal with Patriots Super Bowl 51 win

Right about now would be a good time for Atlanta Falcons fans to take up another passion project.

Never before has it hurt so much to be an Atlanta sports fan.

Never.

New England gets their fifth Super Bowl Trophy in a completely unbelievable comeback.  Brady is the best ever if you didn’t realize that beforehand.  As is Bill Belichick.

Congrats…..I guess.

I’m bitter just minutes after the ending of Super Bowl 51, but the fact is that the last two rings were just handed to the Pats.

Pete Carroll gave Seattle’s ring away on one play. Dan Quinn gave Atlanta’s ring away with a loose defense in the second half.

I’m not mad at Matt Ryan for taking a sack when the MVP should know to throw the ball away to stay in FG range with under five minutes left in the game.

I’m sad for Ryan who will be crucified on local talk radio on Monday.

I’m not mad at Devonta Freeman for letting the defender blow up Ryan on the fumble that allowed the Pats back in the game in the first place.

I’m sad for Freeman who was as valuable as any Falcon in 2016.

I’m not even angry about the holding call on Mathews that knocked Atlanta out of field goal range near the end of the fourth.

I’m sad for the O-line who played their asses off all year, making an MVP trophy possible for Matty Ice.

BTW Ryan looked anything but chill on the sidelines in the fourth quarter.

The biggest city in the south will wake up tomorrow once again as a loser. I’m sad to say that, but damn if it isn’t true.

I’m sad for the all the fans who have a bad taste in their mouths right before bedtime.  I’m doubling up on Listerine myself (out of beer anyway).

Mostly I’m sad for the players and coaches who worked so hard all year. All that grinding. All the brotherhood talk and belief. All the playing through injuries.

And then to have the greatest NFL franchise in history on the damn ropes, only to let them creep back into the game and rip your trophy.

Sickening.

Now Atlanta will be the butt of jokes for the entire week.

Even worse, I don’t believe the franchise can make a comeback from this ridiculous choke job.

This was the worst meltdown in Super Bowl history. Arthur Blank had all but started his victory dance.

Then it all went away.

Did Matt Ryan even play in the fourth quarter?

Did Kyle Shanahan not realize they could have simply ran the clock out after they went up 28-3?

Did Dan Quinn forget he preached “attack” and “aggression” all year long?

Again, I’m not mad at the coaches or players.  Just sad for them.

I’m of course selfishly sad for myself as well. This disgusting feeling is why I don’t have much loyalty when it comes to sports.

Too painful.

My Super Bowl experience wrapped up with my grandfather asking me who won the game. He cares nothing about sports at all.

Yet he knows how I feel about the Falcons.

His totally sincere response when I told him my team lost……..”I’m sorry.”Me too Pop. Me too.

Me too Pop. Me too.

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