#see your reading level of the words you use

[brattyspence]

hellllllllooooo! i've had this idea for awhile and nobody else has done it when i've requested it ? pretty much spencer is super old fashioned (as everyone has seen in the show) but he kinda takes it to the next level by making a sex tape with reader on a video camera because he doesn't wanna use his phone!! and it could start off with spencer taking pictures of reader on a polaroid camera because she's wearing pretty lingerie and he wants to capture the moment :)) have a great day !!

take a picture, it'll last longer | s.reid

summary: spencer is welcomed home from a case by reader's new lingerie set, and he decides to take a picture to capture the memory.. tags: suggestive fluff, reader wears lingerie, uhhhhhh. taking nudes. not beta read a/n: hi anon sorry this took 12 years to publish and also sorry that it sucks and only hits part of your request. i'm not ready to write actual smut again idt but were getting there. love u and thank u for requesting! word count: 700+ masterlist

You were only half listening to his ramblings as you stepped backwards into the doorway of the bedroom. 

“You wouldn't-” kiss “believe how-” kiss “rare this-” kiss “kind of case is,” he rambled. His fingertips pressed against your hips, guiding you backwards. With a final step, you felt the back of your knees brush the bed, and with practiced ease, you found yourself suddenly hoisted up, falling back against the comforter. 

“Mhm,” you mumbled. He swiftly kicked off his shoes, and then removed with watch with a single motion, tossing it somewhere on the nightstand. You felt the bed dip underneath you as he climbed over you, his nose brushing yours to encourage you to tilt your head back.

“And it was truly-” kiss “a complete improbability that-” kiss “we caught him when we did.”

You were growing impatient with his ramblings. Spencer had been away for four days, somewhere in rural Ohio, and you'd had ample time to clean the apartment, wash the bedsheets, shop for a new matching set, and then finish the day with the longest shower you'd had in recent memory. You were scrubbed and lotioned and done up just for him, and he was taking his time.

“Yeah?” You replied, linking your arms over his shoulders. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, this time trailing his kisses down your jaw and along the side of your neck. “Because statistically-”

“Spence,” you whined. “Come on.”

“I'm getting there,” he chuckled. He let his fingertips trail up and down your thighs for a moment. 

“Taking too long,” you huffed. 

“And when-” kiss “have I ever not made that worth your while?”

“But there's a surprise,” you huffed. You looked up at him, a hint of a pout on your lips, which was only met with another soft chuckle. 

His fingertips trailed further up your side this time, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake, stopping when they met the lace edge of your bra. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly in acknowledgment. The palms of his hands warmed your skin.

“This surprise?”

You nodded emphatically, pulling your lower lip between your teeth as he thumbed over the fabric for another moment, his eyes still locked on you in thought.

In an instant, he drew your shirt over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor somewhere. His hands settled back into their spot against your hips, his touch still warm and possessive. 

“You don't want to see the bottoms?” You asked.

After a moment, his fingers looped around your waistband, gently tugging away the fabric of your shorts and again discarding them somewhere to the abyss that was the bedroom floor. He watched you carefully, studying eyes working to remember every detail as he always did. 

“I don’t want you to take them off,” he said, lazily looping his fingers into yours.

“That’s no fun,” you smiled. “The whole point was that you would take them off. 

“Yeah, but… you look so pretty like this,” he replied. He looked away for a split second, and you saw a hint of mischief in his gaze. It was a rare sight for him. 

“What’re you thinking?” You asked, tugging his hand. 

He leaned over you one more time, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping away. 

“I had an idea.”

You watched him make his way across the bedroom, where he quickly sifted through a drawer. He returned a moment later, instant camera in one hand, quickly configuring the device as he stood at the foot of the bed.

It was a gift, one he’d accepted reluctantly. You’d insisted that he needed something to capture moments with, especially if he would continue to refuse a smartphone. He had always insisted it was useless to him; an eidetic memory could work just the same. 

“That was not why I bought you that,” you giggled, propping yourself up on your elbows. 

“So?” he replied. “Lie back down.”

You huffed, falling back into the comforter. You tossed an arm over your face as he raised the device, angling it towards you, quickly snapping the picture. 

“You're ridiculous.” You giggled. “I thought you didn’t need a camera.”

You listened as the camera dispensed the picture, which he quickly put away for safe keeping.

“No one needs anything. I’m not allowed to take pictures of my beautiful girlfriend?”

“You can do whatever you want,” you smiled, watching him climb up onto the bed. You took his face in your hands as he hovered over you. “I just want you to admit that I was right.”

“You were right,” he sighed. “But you know what they say. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

[misshuntereevee]

a continuation of the 5-star kindled moment memory, "business trip" w/ zayne... this was my first ever 5-star memory and it's everything to me so take this spicy time that picks up right after the fade to black.

content: smut and fluff

[ reminder: i'm not beta read ]

"I changed my mind. Is that okay?" He murmurs against your lips before nearly devouring your lips.

You giggle as he descends on your lips. It leveled him how honest you were. How you admitted to missing him, even though he was beating around the subject himself. You readily admitted that you needed him.

And it made him -- a man of ice and steely resolve -- feel like he was burning alive. He needed more of it. More of you.

"You're definitely allowed to change your mind," you tell him, as his lips move down to your neck. His lips start off gentle before nipping and sucking at the tender skin. You give little gasps and moans as he works his way around. One of his hands comes to grasp yours, pinning it down next to your head.

His knee comes up, pushing against your core, and you give another loud groan for him. He nearly eats the sound from your mouth, kissing you as he drags it from your lips.

"You're not thinking clearly if you think I didn't miss you," he finally admits, pulling back to drag his nose down the column of his neck. Just the scent of you was addicting. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you. The thought just pounds in his head and he has to make sure that you feel it.

You're about to say something in return when he keeps speaking. His free hand starts to roam, pulling your leg up to his waist. "Just because I can survive without you, doesn't mean I want to. You should know that."

And just like that, he seems to be done talking. His mouth descends upon yours once again, but his hands are fast, efficient at taking off your clothes. It's your top that goes first. His time as a doctor has his movements exact and sharp. Buttons are carefully undone and the top is removed.

When he sees your bra, he finally lets out a groan. "You're beautiful." His hand comes up, palming you through the cup. "You fit perfectly into my hand. I wonder..." He pushes the strap down on one side, and a breast spills out. "How sensitive you are for me right now?"

His fingers are feather-like, circling your nipple. He's going painstakingly slow and deliberate. HIs eyes drink in every movement. on your face. Every flicker of pleasure, every bite of your lip as he continues those feather-like movements.

"Zayne," you whimper, arching your back to ask for more. He chuckles, shaking his head at you. In fact, it makes him pull back. "Zayne!" You complain. "Where are you going--"

His fingers finally find the back of your bra, and the whole thing falls away. He's quick to bury his face in your breasts. His head turns, pressing kisses, nipping and sucking at the skin. Your head falls back against the couch in pleasure. He chuckles again. "I'm not going anywhere. You're being impatient."

Your hands find his hair, pulling and tugging with each wave of pleasure. "It's not my fault you feel s'good." You say, the last few words more of a groan as he drags his teeth ever so gently across your nipple.

"Oh fuck --" you gasp.

"You know I'm almost hurt you thought I didn't miss you. I thought it was a given. Maybe I should make it abundantly clear how much I missed you."

With that, his head moves further south. His fingers dip into the waistband of your shorts. Every movement is dedicated to laying you bare to him. You pull at his shirt now that he's released your hand, but that only earns you having them pinned again.

"I'm showing you how much I missed you, remember?" He chides

You groan, but it's lost into a moan the second your pants hit the floor. His mouth is everywhere. He sucks and nips at your stomach, your navel, your thighs... everywhere that he can get ahold of.

You are squirming underneath you, but he's quick to use his weight to pin you, and his hands to hold your hips down. He's not letting you escape the onslaught of pleasure.

The teasing kisses continue for what feels like at least 10 minutes, and you're dripping with the need for him. Your panties are the only thing still on, and you're almost sure they are soaked.

"Zayne," you groan. "Stop teasing me..."

He chuckles, his lips finally finding the front of the waistband of your panties. "I won't tell you again... I was showing you how much I missed you. And I missed kissing your pretty skin. How it feels under my touch..." He drags a finger down the front of your panties and you almost lose it.

"Zayne," you whine. "Please!"

It's then that he finally slips a finger under your underwear, finding your slick clit. A smirk plays at his lips as his green eyes peer up at you. "You're so wet for me. You meant it when you said you missed me, didn't you?"

He needs to hear it again. He needs to hear that you missed him as much as he missed you. There was a reason he checked the weather where you were. There was a reason he was relieved when you texted back. There was a reason he texted in the first place.

"Yes," you gasp, euphoria flooding you as finally get a bit of stimulation. "I missed you so much. I wanted to be here with you."

That's enough for him to completely give in. With something that sounds like a growl, he rubs your clit faster. You're groaning his name loudly as he works on you. It's not long before he slips a finger inside of you, and you find yourself riding his hand.

His eyes watch you in amazement as you grind down on his hand. "That's it. Good girl, show me how much you missed me," he groans, his eyes still locked on you as chase your high.

"Zayne, I'm gonna-"

Your high crashes over you, and you can faintly hear Zayne's little chuckle as you do. You feel like your legs are jelly, but you still want... no need more from him. Together, your panties are cast aside, and he gets on his knees on the couch, looking down at you as he slowly starts to undress.

You giggle, leaning up -- a hand being naughty as it chases every inch of free skin. He's not immune to your touch, his breath hitching every time you find new purchase. Finally, your hand finds his happy trail, and then his belt, aiding him. His cock springs free, standing at attention. He's already leaking pre-cum, and you can tell he's desperate for any friction on his member.

You're about to put your mouth around him when surprisingly, he shakes his head, pushing your back down against the sofa seat. "No. I need to be in you. I need to be home."

"Yes, yes, please, Zayne," you murmur almost like a chant.

His mouth leaves hot kisses on your shoulder as he positions himself to enter you. Slowly, he slides in, stretching you out in that delightful way only Zayne could. Other men had been ruined the first time he ever took you to bed.

He groans at the feeling of you fluttering around him, pausing to just feel you. "You are so tight," he groans, but then with a sharp snap of his hips, he surges even deeper than you thought possible.

His hands come up, pinning your hips down. He loves this position. He didn't care how boring it might be called. To him, nothing is better than getting to fuck into you with your love drunk eyes looking up at him. Nothing is better than seeing you blissed out and safe in his arms. "Say it again," he demands. "Say you missed me again."

And the way he's chasing your pleasure right now is evident on his face. He's chasing it just as fast as he own. Every inch of pleasure, every twitch of a smile... he's taking it all in as he purposefully angles each thrust where you need it most.

"I missed you so much," you nearly wail from both the intensity and sheer honesty of it. "I wanted to come home as soon as I left -- Zayne, I can't hold on--"

"I know. I've got you." He says, his fingers coming down to rub circles on your clit. Your head is thrown back as your orgasm starts to ram into you. You're already starting to mewl his name. "Come for me. It's okay." Despite the gruffness in his voice, gentleness can still be found and heard.

And for the second time, you come for him, this time with your walls around him. Your nails dig into his back and shoulder with the intensity of it. He doesn't even seem to notice.

That's because the second your start tightening like that around him, he's doomed. He pumps one, two and three more times before a shudder and groan falls from his lips, and a warmth fills your abdomen. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He then moves like he's about to pull back, but you hook a leg around his waist. He's surprised by your boldness, but then chuckles. "What is this-" he starts.

"Don't go. Not yet," you tell him. "I want to hold you."

Zayne presses a kiss to your forehead, shifting his weight to a comfortable position. "I'm not complaining."

[starz4ieee]

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒

includes: smut, sexual game play, getting caught

the house is dark, fear and adrenaline rush through me as i wander through the darkness.

my breath hitches as the wind from the open window makes a whistling sounds, i almost give in to my boyfriend’s sick games, but i don’t, i keep searching.

this was one of his favourite games, i had 30 minutes to find him in the darkness, if i do he does whatever i want, but if i dont, well i think we all know.

i take deep breaths, frustrated and angry ‘i feel like i’ve searched the whole house, where is he’ i think to myself-another rule is no taking, the house must be quiet.

chris and nick were out at dinner with nathan and maddison, giving me and matt hours to play our games.

i act like i don’t enjoy them, but when i win i feel like im on top of the world, being in control of my possessive boyfriend is a feeling that is unmatched.

him usually stuck up and tough guy persona crumbling as he begs and whines under me, for only myself to see, that’s what makes the game worth it.

i check my phone, it reads ‘10 minutes remaining’ i rack my brain for ideas of where he could be and only one comes to my attention, i slowly make my way downstairs and into the garage, stumbling around before i make it in, my hands search around guiding by the walls,

the final seconds click and my alarm goes off “FUCK” i yell out, suddenly the lights flicker on and i look towards the other side of the garage “your getting better love” he walked over to me and held my face in his hand “oh don’t pout, you won last time, its only fair if i take over this time”

he pulls out his phone and switches the lights on and he takes my hand and leads us upstairs, “go to my room i’ll be there soon” he smirks at me and i roll my eyes walking down the hall and he slaps my ass as i walk away causing a small laugh from me.

i open his door to his room and i strip down into my underwear and bra and i lay down on his bed, my legs pressing together in anticipation.

suddenly the door opens and matt turns off the lights in his room, that same adrenaline rushing through me again.

“i wanna see you” i whisper “don’t forget who won tonight baby” he chuckles darkly “you’ll see me, feel me and taste me in no time” i feel his hands on my ankles, his large cold hands rubbing up my legs and on my thighs.

my eyes start to adjust to the dark and i see him and watch him and he massages my things, he kisses me through my underwear and a whine gets caught in my throat.

his tongue licks up to my stomach and once he reaches my belly button he lifts off me and pulls off my underwear, he kisses my stomach and presses his hard on against my newly exposed pussy, i whine at the friction and i subconsciously grind lightly on him and his hands hold down my hips

“don’t be greedy” he says looking at me in the eyes, i try to listen to him, letting him enjoy his time being a winner, but deep down i wanna fuck that attitude right out of him.

i listen to his words and his lips continue to kiss my body, his hands swing around me to unclip my bra and his head is in my neck as he sucks and nips at it

i moan softly and my eyes squeeze shut, he tosses my bra across the floor and leaves me bare while he’s still dressed in his black shirt and red and black pj pants that have a very noticeable bulge poking through them.

for the first time he kissed my lips, in a way to comfort me and ease the anxiety that i have without using words.

his legs rest on each side of my hips as he pulls off his shirt and he flips us over so that i’m on top of him

he reaches down to take off his pants, i take the opportunity and my hands caresses over his boxers making him grunt, i shimmy down until im at face level with his underwear, i slide them off and his cock spurts up, my hand grips the base of it and i stroke slowly

my tongue extends out to lick his tip in short kitten licks and he looks down at me with dark eyes “don’t tease me baby” he moans, trying his best to hide his whines, my mouth takes most of him and i bob my head, swirling my tounge around in the process, his hips jut forward and his teeth bite his lip as his head tilts back, he rests on his elbows, holding himself up for a better angle, i feel his cock harden more and his breathing stuttering “ffuckk” he moans has he releases in my mouth.

he sits back up and looks at me, i give him the most innocent face and his hand reaches down and wipes the cum with his thumb off the side of my lip, he proceeds to push his finger into my mouth “suck” he tells me, my eyes stay on his as i suck his finger, after a moment he takes it out of my mouth.

he moves to the end of the bed, his head up against the head board and he pats his lap i sit down and the tip of his cock slides between my folds, his hands grab at my hips and motions me back and forth, sliding on him.

my head tilts up and i moan out when i feel the veiny base of his dick glide over my clit over and over again “shit” i cuss and he chuckles at my whines “such a good girl, grinding on me like this, fuck i could watch you all day” his words hypnotize me, making me feel like i belong to him and his words keep me safe, i stop for a moment and i slip the head of his cock into me and i sink down onto him

“fuck baby” his nails dig into my hips “i didn’t tell you you could do that did i?” he groans “are you telling me to stop” i ask as i start bouncing on him, a string and curses leaves his mouth

his whines turn pathetic and for a moment he becomes the loser of our game, but he doesn’t last a second more

he presses me down so im stomach to stomach with him, his hands grip my ass and he starts thrusting up into me, a scream erupts out of me and i’m a moaning mess as he pounds into me until i start seeing stars, i bury my head in his neck as muffled cries are heard in his ear

he hits a spot in me that i didn’t even knew existed and my teeth bite down on his shoulder and my eyes roll back “ngh” escapes from the back of my throat and i let go of his shoulder “right there, f-uck” i moan loudly, his grasp on my ass losens and his hips start stuttering, groans leave his lips

“fuck i’m gonna cum baby” he tells me and i nod my head, my face on his shoulder, my body weak from the pleasure it’s receiving “me too, fuck keep going” after a few more thrusts i cry out matt’s name as i finish on his dick, him releasing in me shortly after.

“holy fuck” i say, rolling over next to him as im panting and trying to catch my breath, he looks over to me, his chest going up and down, but that mischievous look hasn’t left “matt..” i say to him

“get on your hands and knees baby, this night isn’t over yet” i sit up and follow his instructions, im placed in the middle of the bed, on my hands and knees for matt as he’s behind me, i look forward, not being able to see him makes me anxious on what he’s gonna do and when.

my breath hitches when i feel his dick between my folds again, my head tilts down “talk to me baby” he says to me “shut up” i say to him “shut up? don’t tell me to do something that you can’t” he laughs and i roll my eyes, struggling not to let out another insult

“i can feel your eyes from here” he tells me, i hate how easily he can read me sometimes “are you gonna stand there and talk or are you gonna fuck me?” i ask looking back at him he tilts his head to the side at the sass in my voice “oh you wanna get fucked?”

he asked, taunting me as he slammed his cock into my dripping core, i let out a scream and my back arches, my head against the bed, he slams into me, thrust by thrust

“you wanna talk like a whore?” another thrust “you get fucked like one” he pounds into me and i moan out loud, he hits a spot inside me and my throat is dry from screaming, my mouth is wide open against the sheets and only small whimpers can escape my mouth,

tears fill my eyes as my pussy is being pounded into, the pleasure is so much greater than i’ve ever experienced and i think i might die right here

“matt, fuck” i say in a pleading voice “what, want me to stop?” he’s just trying to get a rise out of me but i feel so weak that it’s working “no” i say softly “what’s that baby?” my words are caught in my throat as his cock continues to push deep inside of me “don’t stop” i say in a pleading voice “don’t stop? whatever you say princess”

one of his hands rests on my hip, the other rubs my ass cheek before giving it a smack, a loud gasp leaves my mouth and i groan at the feeling “you like that don’t you? hmm baby?” i nod my head “tell me how much you love it” he slaps my ass again “fuck-i love it so much!” i scream cry into the bed

“fuck i’m close, harder” tears coat my eyes as i feel a knot in my stomach “yes baby, fuck” my walls squeeze around him and i feel myself building up “you should see the way your squeezing on me right now, your so fucking hot” the headboard is slamming against the wall and i’m thanking god that no one is home

i feel myself come undone and i yell out and matt rides out his orgasm with me, he collapses on me and breaths out heavily

, his hands wrap around my waist and he lays us down, he spoons me for a few minutes and my eyes flutter open and closed at the exhaustion and comfort from matt’s arms

“let me get you some water and a towel to clean you up my love” i nod and he stands up, a cold feeling against my back, i wrap my naked body tight in his sheets and i fight off sleep while i wait for matt.

matt walks out of the room after putting on his pj pants and grabs his phone scrolling through his missed notifications while he walks to the kitchen he hears a cough and his eyes widen and he looks up

“hey guys..” matt looks at his two brothers and two of there close friends “i thought you were getting home at 11” he says “we did, its 11:15” nick says matt nods his head “cool cool i’m just gonna” he points to the cuboard and grabs two water bottles “just keep it quiet for the rest of the night?” chris asks and matt chuckles “don’t worry i’m pretty sure she’s passed out” chris and nick groan and matt laughs as he walks back to his room.

i hear as the door opens and i groan against the pillow, it seems like a cloud right now “i got you water love” he says to me and i look over at him and groan again

“sit up for a minute baby” i sigh and do what he asks, he pulls the sheets from off my body and hands me the water bottle, i take a small sip and matt grabs a lightly damp towel and holds one of my legs over his shoulders as he cleans up our mess.

he gets back in bed with me and i take a few more sips of my water and he does the same with his and we put them beside the bed, he spoons me again and kisses my temple “goodnight love” he whispers “goodnight” i mumble.

[randomaccessmind]

tips for translingual people!!

find worksheets for the language you want to learn!! ill provide links for language worksheets in a spreadsheet, with different sheets representing difficulty level! (basics, beginner, intermediate, advanced, etc)

find communities that are mostly spoken in your desired language! for example, im going to use japanese. some services that are mostly in japanese are LINE, niconico, and ameba/ameblo (basically japanese tumblr/wordpress)! you can also make a secondary account on most social media platforms and set the language to your desired, thus increasing the likelihood of seeing content in that language!

listen to songs in your desired language! read the lyrics and their translations, and try to pinpoint what each word in your desired language means!

[undeadoracle]

Would love to hear your thoughts on Emmrich being autistic if you don’t mind sharing? I hadn’t really considered it myself but I’m curious

Sure! to be fair, emmrich being older means he’s had a lot of time to grow into himself, develop confidence, and cultivate his personality traits in ways that work for him in his environment. But here’s a few things that stuck out to me as rather neurodivergent of him:

-he’s typically very tidy and organized. we see that he keeps inventory of what he brings to the lighthouse, and does not like things messy, even though he as a LOT of stuff; Sylvia Feketekuty herself described him as “fastidious.” he gets upset about assan coming into his space, getting into things and making messes, he doesn’t want taash to use his bone tools, says he’s glad he doesn’t share an office with neve because she leaves paperwork everywhere, etc.

-deliberately precise use of language that he considers a point of pride. He tells rook, “I always choose my words carefully,” and we see that to be true in the way he speaks to others, as well. Autistic folks often use language very meticulously because they want to be specific, and to avoid being misunderstood.

-he sometimes (perhaps even often) gets distracted at inappropriate times by things that are relevant to his interests and has to be guided back on track by rook/other members of the party.

- he’s is an extremely polite & courteous person, of course, but that’s not the same as being socially intuitive. In fact, autistic people often gravitate to being extremely polite because social conventions are rules that can be followed in order to ensure a Correct Social Interaction; they don’t require interpreting nuanced cues or reading between the lines. Emmrich often does not immediately pick up on the other companions teasing/poking fun at him; it takes a few exchanges back and forth for him to catch on, if he does at all. It’s not because he’s dumb or naive, he obviously isn’t, he just is inclined to take people at face value in a way that’s common for folks on the spectrum. See also: him getting tricked by the guy selling fake charms in tevinter. Even when he gets revenge for that, it’s less about being embarrassed on his own behalf and more a righteous indignation that someone would lie about something like that, it’s dangerous don’t you know!

- in the same vein, he’s totally bewildered and caught off guard by the flirting (at first), and wants to confirm it’s intentional and serious on rook’s part by communicating very clearly about it. Which is a good and mature thing, of course, but it’s also him clarifying that he’s interpreting rook’s overtures correctly.

- he simply cannot stop himself from constantly infodumping about necromancy and botany, his most dearly held interests. He will happily spend all day with these subjects, then talk about them some more, then read about them some more before bed. He never seems to get tired of absorbing more of them or talking about them. Most people, no matter how passionate about their work, don’t have that level of commitment in their off time. Even the fact that he wants to become a lich, which very few members of the mourn watch are willing to do, is indicative of how deeply he’s entrenched his life in necromancy. And when talking with someone who doesn’t care about either of those things, or actively dislikes them, he tends to flounder and cut the conversation short.

- furthermore, he doesn’t really know how to set people at ease with necromancy; he thinks if he just talks more and more about what he finds beautiful and valuable about it, eventually people will “get it,” even if they’re clearly uncomfortable. See especially: his conflicts with taash, some of his conversations with lucanis, etc. you could chalk this up to cultural differences, but I think most people in his position would approach the subject with a little more discretion when dealing with foreigners who definitely have different perspectives on the subject.

- he and bellara (who is deliberately neurodivergent coded) get along very harmoniously. he has no trouble keeping up with her, and they’re very much able to tap into each other’s wavelengths. Conversely, taash (also neurodivergent coded) has all the opposite traits: very unemotive, struggles to articulate themself aloud, special interests he doesn’t care about, etc., and they get on each others’ nerves without even trying. He can’t figure taash out because he can’t read between the lines of their behavior, but when it's finally made clear to him that taash is afraid of his necromancy he immediately switches gears, because he’s no longer trying to guess what he's done to offend them.

- being empathetic towards nonhuman creatures is a very common experience for autistic folks, and he’s deeply empathetic towards spirits, moreso even than other members of the mourn watch. He says they were his companions growing up, despite having other humans around that he could’ve turned to for comfort and companionship after his parents’ deaths, and he displays a degree of understanding and compassion for them that is really only on par with like, solas, as far as other characters of the franchise go.

- Sylvia also described him as “a man of large emotions,” which is a big mood, pardon the pun, for neurodivergent folk.

- obviously being homesick in and of itself isn’t unique to autism, nor is not being well traveled, but he clearly misses his personal routines; he’s thinking about how he misses his old norms and schedule when rook asks him about homesickness, and later when rook talks with him about his youth he says the repetitive rituals of the mourn watch were exactly what he needed to heal from the loss of his parents. Spending their entire life in the mourn watch could feel confining or limiting to many people, but emmrich gets away for the first time in a long time and immediately misses it. You could also link this desire to have consistency to his conflict with harding about camping; the idea of getting to see fereldan is exciting to him in theory, but having to change his regular routine (leaving behind his books, dressing gown, shaving kit etc.) upsets him. It’s not about being spoiled—he grew up poor, after all—it’s about having to give up his regular habits.

[magical-wishies]

Hello again and happy new year!! ❤️ We're entering 2025!

It's probably not midnight yet for a lot of you folks, but it is January 1st for me in my timezone!

Thank you for all your support throughout 2024. I know I haven't been as active as before, but I appreciate those of you have stuck around regardless! I wish you all a wonderful new year, and let's continue enjoying the moment together!

🎉

And of course, a yearly artist summary is needed..

Overall, I'm quite satisfied for this year's art! With the experience I got from 2023, I could finally match my skill level with the ideas I came up with and push my limits.

Now that I've kinda gotten the basics down, in 2025 I want to start making a presence for myself! What does that mean? Well, I'd like to:

1. Post more variety (Sketches, snippets of writing)

2. Improve more (Use references, do stuff :P)

3. Have fun!!! (Do whatever I like :D)

These are my goals for 2025. I hope I can work on them steadily!! See you next year 🌟

Extra (I just want to shout out my favourite projects from this year!)

"Wonderland in the sky" (January for the art summary) is currently sitting at a whopping 700-or-so notes! I was really proud of it since it's my first animated art. Thank you for the love!

Also, I loved participating in Marxolor Week 2024! I never thought that a ship week for my favourite characters could actually come into fruition, but I'm so glad it did! Co-managing it was a blast, and I loved seeing everyone's beautiful art. Special thanks to Dess for organising the whole thing and making "Marxolor Day" real!

(Though, I did push myself a little too hard to finish the art... avoiding that next time ^^')

Last but certainly not least, a very, very special thank you to everyone who supported Darling Dance! It was a very tough and time-consuming project, but I'm so happy with the final result (^^)

My personal goal for it was 1000 views, and it's currently sitting at 1272! If there's one thing I really hope I can do in 2025, it's making another MV.

That's a wrap for now! Thank you for reading all that text, I just had so many things I want to say!! And thank you for enduring through all the thank yous! There's very few words that can describe my gratitude towards everyone that's ever looked at or complimented my work.

It's 4AM, so I'm gonna dip out now... Sweet dreams and once again, Happy New Year 🎉🌟💕

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Kingsguard part 1

M!troll x f!reader

1.4k words

It was a dream come true, being the first archivist allowed to really document the cultures of Kor’mal, the monster kingdom. Well almost. Unfortunately you had drawn the attention of one of the king’s guard and he was annoying persistent.

(So fun fact for anyone who’s read the Arranged Marriage series with Zen’jan: I wrote like 1k words of that series, got distracted by Ba’tual and wrote like 7k words for him, never posted anything, then went back and wrote so much Zen. Also Zen and Ba’s character designs were switched once I really started writing Zen lol)

————

“Like what you see?” he called to you.

“Leave it, Ba’tual” your guide Bira, called back at him, “she doesn’t have time for your nonsense!”

Ba’tual stood outside the hold, sparring with a few other trolls. He was an intimidating sort, large and clearly a dangerous fighter. His movements were quick and precise, easily flipping his sparring partner over without effort.

You had arrived in the orcish capital of Kor’mal a few days prior and now today you were on your way to meet with several leaders and scholars to start your writings on culture and politics in the Southern Alliance.

“What?” Ba’tual called back as the two of you passed by and into the hold “She’s here to learn about us, right? I can definitely teach her a thing or two”.

“Ignore him” Bira muttered as she ushered you inside.

Even after spending a few days in the city it was still imposing to walk into a room of orcs, trolls, and minotaurs. The orcish king sat front and center on a simple throne inlaid with claws and tusks. Surrounding him were his advisors and several scholars.

“Deal with Ba’tual or I will” Bira snapped at one of the advisors.

The advisor sighed, “Thank you, Bira. I will deal with him” the poor troll man sounded so resigned.

Hours flew by as you spoke with everyone, occasionally new people flowed into the hold as you wrote pages upon pages of notes. Histories of each race, societal structures for each and how everything functioned as a city of many peoples, values, naming conventions, everything you could think to discuss now that the war was over between your kingdom and the Southern Alliance of the local orcs, trolls, and minotaurs.

You left on your own much later, stepping out into the soft glow of the setting sun, confident in your ability to trace your route back to the inn you were staying at without Bira’s guidance. Not more than a few steps outside the hold a familiar voice called out to you.

“Where’s your guide, little human?” he moved quietly, slipping out of the shadows without a sound.

Ba’tual towered over you as he closed the distance between the two of you. He stood taller than an orc or minotaur, which was easily several taller than you. He had the same muscular, lean build as many of the other trolls you had seen, not quite a broad in the chest and shoulders as the orcs.

“Going home” you answered, trying to side step to get away.

“It’s so early though,” he placed a hand on the wall behind you, somewhat blocking your way, “why not enjoy some time in the city? I know a few good places”.

He was just about as close as he could get to you without touching. His tusks nearly touching the wall on either side of you head as he leaned down to your eye level effectively pinning you there. Up close his eyes were a dark blue you had never seen on a human that stood out against the light blue tone of his skin. His hair was a dark blue, closely shaved at the sides of his head and a left as a long mane running down the center of his head.

“I need to get home and organize my notes” you assert again, clutching your notes defensively as a barrier between you and him.

“Those can wait. Why not explore the pleasures of the city?”

“Ba’tual” came an annoyed voice, “If Brinedeep declares war again I will know it is because you are harassing one of their emissaries”. It was the troll advisor leaving the hold.

“I’m not harassing her, just offering to show her around the city” Ba’tual said.

“Ba, I know you well, behave” the advisor warned.

Ba’tual took his hand off the wall and took a step back, “Fine, whatever you say, Zen. And you,” he turned his attention back to you, sly smirk on his lips, “I’ll be seeing you later”.

He walked off with the unfounded confidence of someone who had gotten their way. An annoying swagger to his step and you could not help but wrinkle you nose in disgust at his attitude.

“I am sorry about him,” the advisor said, “I promise he is harmless”.

“Is he always like that?”

“Cocky and overly forward? Yes, he has been like that since we were kids. But do not worry, he would not dare touch you. He is harmless”.

“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is”.

“If he makes you uncomfortable or does anything like that again tell me or Bira, I will make sure he knocks it off. I will not have him making people uncomfortable in my city”.

“Thank you, though I didn’t catch your name earlier.”

“Zen’jan” he replied.

Weeks flew by, you traveled between the hold, the archives, and speaking to people all throughout the city, but there was one annoying constant: Ba’tual.

No matter what he was doing, or who you were with, Ba’tual made sure to say something every time he saw you. He would call out to get your attention and then show off sparring, pester you to grab a drink with him, catcall you, anything to get your attention.

And it was obnoxious.

However, in this time you had gleaned more information about him: he was Zen’jan’s closest friend and part of the king’s personal guard, he was incredibly skilled with combat magic along with hand to hand combat, and he was incredibly persistent.

You were willing to give Zen’jan credit though; true to his word, Ba’tual never once attempted to lay a hand on you. He got at close as possible, seeing how far he could push your boundaries, a game of chicken of sorts, but always waited to see if you would be the one to close the distance.

“Hey, hey!” Bira’s voice cut through your thoughts, “Everyone’s leaving, come on!”

You followed her out into city, everything was livelier than usual, preparations for a festival were well underway.

“You are still coming with me tonight, right?” She asked.

“Of course, it would be good for my notes to observe some festivals first hand” you said.

Bira snorted, “Observe? No! Come and enjoy the festival! And you have to let me dress you! I’m sure I can find something that’ll fit you”.

Before you could even begin to argue with Bi’ra a familiar presence swept up behind you both.

“I love a festival, even if it’s orcish” Ba’tual said, draping one arm over Bira’s shoulder and butting between you two. “Food, drinks, an excuse to get dressed up, can’t beat it”.

Bira shrugged his arm off of her, “Aren’t you supposed to behave and be part of king’s guard tonight?”

“The king? Bah!” he scoffed, “You know well as I that he doesn’t really need any guards, it’s all ceremony. Besides, I want to have some fun!”

“Well, have your fun away from us! She doesn’t need you pestering her all night!”

Ba’tual let out a low hum, “I don’t know about that, she hasn’t gone running to you to stop me? Mmmm? Maybe she likes a little attention?”

“No one likes your attention” she fired back flatly.

“Ah, well, we’ll see” he smiled and leaned over to Bira and said something in the troll language.

“No!” she yelled at him and smacked him on the arm as hard as she could you reckoned.

“I’ll be seeing you tonight!” he called as strolled off.

“Cocky asshole” Bira muttered.

“What did he say?” you asked.

Bira shook her head “Believe me, you don’t want to know” she sighed, “He’s still been bothering you?” she turned her attention back to you.

“It’s not that bad” you answer, “He’s really just all talk”.

“You don’t have to put up with him, you know? You should have told me. I can tell Zen’jan, and he’s the one person Ba’tual will always listen to”.

“It’s fine”

Bira’s eyes darted across your face as she opened her mouth only to quickly close it several times, trying to find something to say. “Fine. If you insist”.

————

Part 2

[astracora]

A Mandated Holiday Break - Chapter 11

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc (poly lads)

Warnings: Suggestive

Word Count: 1024

Written: 22nd December 2024

Notes: Established relationship Sylus/MC-centric but poly LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. I wrote this a while back and stewed on it, but I guess I'm posting it so it stops sitting in my drafts for 500 years, until I forget and come back to be like ??? tf was I working on?

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Masterlist AO3

Sylus enjoys training with you. If he treats your training in earnest, you respond in kind, determined and focus. As a hunter you want to be good, you want to be capable, you want to be best placed to help people.

However he feels about hunters in general, he knows your drive comes from a determination to help.

There are times, however, that you let the competitive spirit snarl. That's his favourite. Watching you throw yourself at him, determined to knock him on his ass. It's a part of you that stays consistent, and he sees it most when he teases you, when he takes your challenge too lightly. When he pushes you the right way.

When he says you can't do something.

You become determined to prove him wrong.

You always prove him right in one regard, looking at you with your arm pressed into his throat, legs locked. You're as much a dragon as he is.

"So what do I win?"

You gloat, smug, and he flips the two of you, pressing all his weight in. Amused to hear the little wheezed gasp, as he does so. "Did you win?" He holds himself up on his elbows then, nose against yours. Gleaming eyes sharp but not harsh.

He blinks as you blow in his right eye, and pulls back a little bit, a gasp pulling out of his throat. You follow him though, and bite his nose. "Misbehaving little kitten."

Your laugh shoots him through the heart, but you press your advantage, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling. He can taste you on lips already, leaning in to you. His hand plants next to your head, other reaching for you, but you intercept it. Grabbing him, canting your hips up, against his.

Sylus doesn't think of himself as a needy man. He's had no problems controlling himself in any situation. You have a habit of walking his ideals back, in a way he loves and hates.

For a moment, he feels you against him, and his hips jerk, seeking you out more. A growl deep in his throat. Hand by your head clawing at the ground...

Before you flex again, leg wrapping around him, bite his neck and roll.

His undignified 'oomph', is one thing, he commends you anytime you best him (though he would rather you not use methods like that with just anyone), but the disappointed little whine he feels escape him, is another.

This time you don't pin him, you relax and rest your arms over his chest, crossed, and your chin rests on them to watch him. He stares up at the ceiling, huffs once, and then levels you with an irritable look.

"So my prize?"

You're so smug, wearing a smirk he knows is an impression of him. All canines. He loves you, irritable little kitten that you are, because you're as smart as you are curious. As feisty as you are gentle.

As warm as you can be cold.

"I don't remember offering one, what would you like?" Because how could he deny you anything, when all he wants in this world and the next, is to gift you every treasure so you can't think of anything but him when you see your own home in decor.

You tap your chin with a finger, then reach over to tap his nose, "I want..." you pause and hold him there. Over the precipice, as you enjoy to do, knowing his patience is nigh infinite for you. "You to read a book to me."

He blinks, not sure what he expected, but he's learned if he expects anything with you he'll be surprised and shocked more than he's not. Sometimes he cannot understand what goes through your head, though he thinks that could be part of the joy of knowing you.

Even if it does often result in you blurting out something with very little context.

"A book?"

"Yep."

He blows a little bit of hair out of your eyes, resting his hand on your waist and trying to ignore how thrown off his pace he is. A second ago he wanted to devour you. Well. He always does, if you're around, if you're not. He always wants to sate his hunger. Even if it's just burying his nose into your skin and inhaling.

"What book?"

You push yourself up, ungracefully. This time your smile is yours, excited and ready to drag him along again. You're sweaty and you're tired but he's opened a door to another of your interests and now you won't be able to focus until you show him.

He loves little else than allowing you to talk or share. He's record every word if he could.

You barely wait for him to follow, racing off to where his bookcase is, to where you've begun to place your own. Somehow, when he'd offered, he'd gained a bigger reaction than when he made an entire room up for you. Or cleared out space in the closet in his.

As he enters his own room... your room, because truly isn't this whole base yours now, you thrust a book into his arms.

He barely sees the cover before he's being dragged to the bed, arranged how you like, and then unceremoniously sat on.

Sylus exhales and pulls you into his arms properly, brackets you, and rests his chin on your shoulder so he can open Stardust in front of you.

It's well worn and even though the pages haven't been folded, they're greying at the edges. He can tell you've owned it for years. You tilt your head so you can look at him as he starts, chest vibrating against your back and his deep voice lulling you into a calm it's impossible not to relax into.

He has no idea if he's reading it right, if he's supposed to pull voices out of a hat, if you're even going to enjoy his rendition, but your nose nuzzles against his cheek and you close your eyes as he recites words he knows you know off by heart... and he doesn't think too hard about it.

[someguywriting]

People are sleeping on the amazingness of WORD COUNTER DOT NET as a writing tool Don't have the patience to log into google? Use word counter! Don't wanna load up word? Use word counter! Want an accurate count of your words, characters and reading level? Use word counter!

[designernishiki]

it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now

[demigod-of-the-agni]

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE RESULTS

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

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

Title: "Tell us who you want to see��"

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

Context: I want to make art of the boy again

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

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

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

Where did Spider-Man India come from?

FROM A CULTURALLY DIVERSE INDIA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BUT THAT'S THE THING — HE'S FICTIONAL

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

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

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

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

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

AND PAVITR PRABHAKAR DOESN'T LIVE IN INDIA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

... but why shouldn't i?

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

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

SPIDER-MAN (INDIA) IS JUST A MASK

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE POLL: REINTERPRETED

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

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

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

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

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

[raskies456]

GRE today…..

[lunarrampage]

I'm a big advocate of just blocking and moving on when seeing bad takes about your interests but that's mostly because I rarely travel outside the small circle of artists and mutuals I follow and ohhhh boy after having seen the worst take about a beloved blorbo I suddenly understand everything, it was like a redditer overtook my body and I almost went into a rage as I resisted the urge to "um actually" and type up an entire essay in ops comment section but I persevered. Are you all proud of me.

[pa-pa-plasma]

redditors are so fucking weird, sometimes they don't even know what hill they're dying on all they know is that they're gonna die on it for sure

[ace-with--a-mace]

i definitely think quarantine stunted everyone under the age of like 25's growth and its detrimental to society today

[inmirova]

In an ideal world, it would be a program for Deaf teachers, the government could even put it under vocational rehab if they wanted to! Unfortunately, even some Deaf schools don't employ many Deaf teachers and a lot of teaching jobs end up going to interpreters or just hearing & non-signing people instead. But you're right and I love what you said, we can hope 🩷

idk man. i just think itd be really cool if sign language classes were mandatory throughout primary school. yeah because it would make communication with deaf kids and autistic/nonverbal kids much easier. and those kids would be accessible to the others so they cold make friends and have healthy relationships. yeah. and kids would eat that shit up man. like their own little secret language? they love that.