#this is... a lot of exposition ha

[steddio]

steddie vegas au part 3

part 1; part 2

–

“YOU WHAT?” Robin shrieks, nearly smacking Steve in the shoulder with her water bottle as she whips around to face him. They’re about halfway through their morning hike, struggling uphill, and he’s impressed that she even has the energy for such an outburst. Steve is sweating like a pig and trying not to look like he’s gasping for breath.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “In my defense, I didn’t know who he was! And he looked kind of lost, and you know I have a tendency to adopt strays! He had these big, sad puppy eyes…”

“Eddie freaking Munson is not a stray, Steve! He’s a bona fide rockstar. Like, double platinum, Grammy-winning, cover of Rolling Stone rockstar. And you didn’t recognize him?!” Her voice is rising into a nearly inhuman register and Steve reaches out to try and calm her. 

“Why would I recognize him, Robs? I never know who anyone famous is, and I like it that way. And, he seemed to kind of enjoy me not knowing. Like, his whole attitude changed once we walked past his billboard.”

Robin is gaping at him and Steve uses the opportunity to grab the water bottle out of her hand and take a swig. It’s a testament to her astonishment that she doesn’t even yell at him for it. He wipes his mouth with the neck of his t-shirt, and starts walking up the hill. He kind of regrets telling her about last night. After all, he had promised to keep Eddie’s secret. But telling Robin doesn’t really feel like telling another person. Just like having an internal conversation with the louder half of his brain. 

“Besides,” he calls out over his shoulder, “it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s just another hotel guest. I’ll probably barely see him.”

Robin jogs to catch up and grabs the bottle back with a huff. “Steve. You escorted Eddie Munson to an AA meeting. That’s like, intimate.”

Steve shakes his head, “No, Rob, it wasn’t like that. I’m sure he just wants to forget about it. He probably flirts with everyone.” 

“He was flirting with you?!” Robin is back to screeching. 

“Well yeah, I think so,” he shrugs. “It was hard to tell, but he called me nicknames and complimented my arms.” Robin looks about ready to combust, and he tries to change the subject. “Did you see the photos of Max and Lucas from last night? I can’t believe how much she’s grown up.” 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do! We’re not done here!” But Robin’s eyes are soft, and she nudges his shoulder, “did you go all papa bear on Lucas?”

Steve laughs. “No, if anything I was trying to encourage Max to go for it. She called me in hysterics freaking out about whether Lucas liked her. As if that boy hasn’t been in love with her for half a decade.”

They spend the rest of the hike going over every detail he knows of his daughter’s romantic life. Robin is equally invested despite having never met Max, and he loves her for it. Even if he can’t be there every day, being a dad is the most important thing in his life. And he can’t help it, he likes to indulge in a little gossip and teenage love lives are nothing if not dramatic. 

As they say goodbye in the parking lot, Robin sternly meets his gaze. “Don’t let me down, dingus. If Eddie Munson is flirting with you, you better flirt back, or I swear to god I’ll come down there and do it myself.”

“And lose your gold star status?” he teases, and then dodges her halfhearted punch to his arm. 

“Alright, alright, Robs. If he talks to me, and I really don’t think he will after last night so that’s a big if, I’ll pull out the Harrington charm.” Robin gags a little at that and waves him away. He gets into his car, eager for a shower and maybe even a little bit eager to go to work. 

–

When he gets into work at 2 pm, the concierge desk is a shitshow. Some beauty influencer retreat is happening in the hotel, and the person on the morning shift is completely incompetent (they’re new, Steve tries to be generous, everyone is new at some point, but goddammit he’s pretty sure Max could do the job better than this Tammy person), and so Steve spends most of the afternoon canceling and rescheduling incorrectly made spa appointments while reassuring a seemingly endless parade of 19-year-old blonde girls that yes, absolutely, they will be able to accommodate the new time, and he’s so sorry for the misunderstanding. As if that’s not enough, they all seem to be trying to one-up each other for the title of Most Ridiculous Flirt, and if Steve hears “he’s such a daddy” stage-whispered across the lobby one more time, he’s going to pull out baby pictures of Max and start waving them around. 

Of course it’s in the midst of this chaos that Eddie happens to show up, leaning over the counter, finger hovering over the bell.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve whispers to him with a glare that quickly dissolves into a grin. Eddie reaches out and boops his nose instead, and Steve can’t help but laugh as he swats him away. 

The spell is broken by the loud pop of gum and a whispered “holy shit, is that-?” The girls swarm to their shiny new toy, asking for autographs and selfies. Steve bemusedly watches as Eddie handles it all with grace, posing for pictures and signing t-shirts. 

He extricates himself with a slight bow and an “excuse me, darlings” that nearly causes several teenagers to go into cardiac arrest, and comes back to Steve’s counter. 

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Steve replies. “What can I help you with today?”

“The question, Steve-o, is what I can help you with.” Eddie looks mischievous and before Steve can clarify what he means, Eddie is asking when his break is.

Steve replies without thinking. “It was supposed to be at 5.”

“Well, sugar, it’s 5:30 so I think you’re overdue. Can I buy you a coffee?” 

Eddie is definitely flirting, Steve is certain of it. He momentarily debates whether he should refuse, but he already broke any semblance of a boundary last night, and today Eddie looks, well, delicious. His hair is pulled up in a messy bun and he’s wearing a cardigan thrown over a tight black sleeveless undershirt and joggers and… studded crocs, Steve realizes. Eddie must catch him staring because he raises one eyebrow and gestures behind him, towards the food court. Steve puts his trusty “Be right back” sign on the desk and ponders flipping the bird at the group of teenagers still staring open-mouthed at them, but decides that he can afford to take the moral high ground.

They weave their way past slot machines and several bars before getting in line at Starbucks. “I know this is basic,” Eddie whispers, his breath hot on Steve’s cheek. “But nothing hypes me up on performance days more than their cold brew. It’s better than cocaine.” 

He pulls away with a wink, and Steve isn’t sure he should be laughing at that joke coming from someone who attends daily AA meetings, but he can’t help letting out a giggle. And it’s worth it for the brief look of joyful surprise on Eddie’s face. 

They order their coffee and take a seat. Eddie is attracting a few stares, Steve notices, but Vegas is a live and let live kind of place and so people mostly leave them alone. Their knees touch under the small table, and Steve finds himself mirroring Eddie, leaning in close to talk. 

Eddie asks Steve about his job, about living in Vegas, about who he was talking to on the phone yesterday. He listens patiently while Steve regales him with stories about Mad Max. Tells Steve about touring, about songwriting, about Chrissy, his childhood best friend-turned-manager. 

Steve finds himself smiling more than he has in months. Eddie is magnetic, equal parts charismatic and attentive. Steve hasn’t had a date (is he allowed to call this a date?) go this well in years and twinges with regret when he glances at his watch and realizes that they’ve been talking for way longer than his allotted break time and he needs to get back. 

Eddie escorts him to the lobby, and once again leans over the counter, chin on one hand. Steve meets his eyes and blushes at the intensity there.

“Thank you,” he tells Eddie. “I had… a lot of fun.” 

“The pleasure was mine, sugar,” Eddie replies softly. Steve tries to think of anything other than the heat that curls low in his belly at the pet name. Eddie starts to walk away, but Steve calls him back. 

“Eddie!” 

Eddie turns, something earnest and eager in his face. 

“Good luck tonight. Or, er, break a leg.” Steve blushes fully at that, feeling awkward under Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie nods, smiles, and then treats Steve to yet another view of his ass, and Steve is on fire, jittery from what he tells himself is the caffeine.

–

Eddie’s pre-show routine has been pretty much the same for a decade. He chugs a giant coffee—today’s had been extra delicious with its side of hunk—throws on eyeliner, and puts on whatever outfit he imagines would horrify his homophobic high school principal the most. Today it’s low rise leather pants with lacing on each hip and an unbuttoned black cowboy shirt. He hairsprays the shit out of his hair, back-combs it a little to get that sex-mussed look, and voila, he’s done. 

From there he normally goes and bugs all the other guys. As the frontman, Eddie gets his own dressing room, which can come in handy for post-show escapades but normally leaves him a little lonely. So he wanders down the green room hallway until he finds the rest of the band. Jeff and Gareth greet him with a fist bump, and he nods politely to their new bassist Ray, who’s drawing on terrifyingly huge eyeliner wings. 

They shoot the shit for a while, Gareth telling them about a cute girl who was totally hitting on him at the bar and who was definitely not a hooker. Eddie and Jeff are understandably skeptical, but Gareth doubles down until their increasingly agitated debate is settled by Ray, who calmly states that the girl was indeed a hooker because she saw her counting cash in the bathroom.

When the opener goes on, Chrissy swoops in and they run through their set list one last time before huddling up together in a tight circle. This little ritual has been their good luck charm since their first ever set in their hometown dive bar. 

Eddie starts them off: “Come! This is the hour we draw swords together!” 

Gareth continues: “For glory!”

Jeff adds: “For death!”

“For the babes,” Ray adds, getting a chuckle out of them all.

And Eddie finishes, solemnly, “For Frodo.” They press their foreheads together and jump back with a holler before running down the hallway and into the wings. As they step out onstage and the familiar adrenaline rush fills Eddie’s veins, he can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness, like someone who should be in the audience isn’t there.

–

For the next few weeks, Eddie makes a point of stopping by the concierge desk every day. Sometimes he brings Steve coffee or takes him out during his breaks. Sometimes he just stands there and flirts over the counter, making more and more of a fool of himself just to see Steve blush. He learns that Steve has Mondays and Thursdays off. That he hates cinnamon gum. That he’s an expert at being just bitchy enough to shut people down but not so bitchy that people realize what he’s doing. Eddie gets a secret thrill of satisfaction when he watches Steve very firmly decline outrageous requests and people who think that full service means more than it does. 

He finds himself looking forward to their daily conversations, unexpectedly captivated by how ordinary Steve’s life is. Because Steve loves to complain. But his complaints are about someone taking forever in line at the grocery store, or the Audi driver who cut him off in traffic, or how he can’t stand the stay-at-home moms who clog up the trailhead parking lots. All these benign moments that Eddie never gets to experience, instead worrying about ticket sales and tour dates and, in his darker moments, whether anyone actually wants to be close to him or if they just want to be close to the spotlight.

Eddie feels like they’re on the cusp of something, waiting to be pushed off the edge. This routine of flirting is fun, and it’s safe, and Eddie’s enjoying it. Steve is hot, and he treats Eddie like a real person, and their banter is sexy but harmless. They could be suspended in this mutual attraction without consequence until the end of Eddie’s residency and that would be that. But the little demon on Eddie’s shoulder that always wants, needs, begs for more tells him to take the plunge, consequences be damned. 

He’s mulling this over during breakfast one morning, sipping coffee across from Chrissy. 

“What’s on your mind, Didi?” she asks quietly, always observant. 

He sighs dramatically and throws one hand over his forehead. “I pine, Chrissy! I yearn!”

She chuckles. “Steve? Again? Why don’t you just ask him out already?”

“I have been!” Eddie insists. “I’ve bought him, like, a hundred coffees.” At her exasperated look, he gets more serious. “Can I, Chrissy? I don’t–. I can’t afford to crash and burn again. What if I ask him out for real and the worst happens? What if it’s Adrian all over again?” 

He tries to avoid her eyes, not wanting to see the pity there, but when he finally looks up she’s hiding a grin behind her hand.

“Chrissy!” he admonishes. “It’s not funny!” 

“Alright, alright,” she concedes, still smiling. “It’s not funny, but Eddie, hon, you have to put yourself out there sometime if you want something real. And from everything you’ve told me about Steve, I think he’s a good bet.”

Eddie takes a moment to ponder this. Unlike most of the people he’s courted, Steve is markedly unfazed by the whole famous rockstar thing. He’s been meticulously checking his Instagram follow requests every day and hasn’t seen one from Steve so he’s pretty sure the guy’s not on social media. Plus he has that dorky dad vibe going for him, and Eddie is a sucker for a DILF. 

“But what do I do next, Chris? I’ve already been flirting my little ass off, and sure he flirts back but it’s not like he’s made any moves to get more serious. Where do I go from here?”

“Leave that to me,” she tells him, and reaches for her phone. A minute later he gets a text notification.

“Chrissy, doll, why are you sending me backstage passes to my own show?” She just looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Oh. Oh. You think he’d really go?”

“Eddie. Think about it. How many people throw their underwear on stage during your performances? He’ll go crazy.” She comes to stand behind him and throws her arm around his neck. “Plus, I think it’s time he sees you at work instead of the other way around.” 

–

Steve is in the midst of his Wednesday evening routine of making weekend dinner reservations at every upscale restaurant in Vegas, held under the hotel’s name at first so they can offer them to guests who call at the last minute. He’s just hanging up with Koi when he makes eye contact with Eddie across the lobby. Steve leans onto the counter and watches Eddie’s approach, lets his gaze trace the man from head (curly hair loose and slightly damp from a shower) to toe (the studded crocs, again), and everything in between (slim waist tapering into slinky hips, white t-shirt that clings deliciously, low slung plaid trousers). He knows Eddie can see him staring, and his cheeks heat slightly, but he looks anyway. 

This tension between them has only escalated since that first night. He can’t get Eddie out of his head, he wants him so badly, and even more dangerous, he honest-to-god likes spending time with him. He’s funny, and insightful, and he seems to genuinely care when Steve tells him about Max, and not in that fake way of so many of his dates who were clearly just trying to get in his pants and had no interest in a family man.

Part of him wants to throw caution to the wind and ask Eddie out to dinner. But who is he to ask a world famous rockstar out. He’s nobody. Just a divorced guy ostracized from his hometown working in the service industry. 

He’s torn out of this morose line of thought by the familiar greeting of, “Hey sugar,” this time followed by “I got something for you.”

Steve meets Eddie’s eyes, and is surprised to see uncertainty there. But Eddie is smiling as he extends his arm, phone in hand. “Here, put your number in.”

Steve does. Wants to make a joke about Eddie finally asking for his digits after the tenth date but stops himself when he sees Eddie’s telltale signs of nerves (rocking on the balls of his feet, chewing his hair). He hands the phone back and waits while Eddie does something with it.

“Okay, sugar, there you go.” 

Steve checks his phone, clicks on a text from an unknown number. “What–. Eddie, what are these?”

“VIP tickets to my show tomorrow.” Steve meets Eddie’s expectant gaze with wide eyes. “Will you come?”

Steve takes in a breath. As if he would ever, ever turn this down with the way Eddie is looking at him as if he’s just placed his heart in Steve’s hands. 

“Yes. Yes, of course I’ll come! I’ll bring Rob.” Steve sees Eddie’s face fall, looking every bit a wounded puppy, and Steve hurries to correct himself. “Robin. I’ll bring Robin. My lesbian best friend. She’s kind of my platonic soulmate. Crazy, but you’ll like her.” 

Eddie’s face brightens at the word “lesbian” and Steve feels his cheeks warm, pleased that Eddie is pleased that he’s not bringing a man. 

Eddie “oohs” dramatically. “A lesbian? I’ll have to introduce her to Chrissy. Christ knows that girl needs to get laid.” Suddenly he leans in close, right in Steve’s space, mouth close to his ear. Steve can feel goosebumps where Eddie’s breath hits his neck, and he blushes even deeper.

“Those tickets include backstage passes. I expect to see you there after the show, big boy.” With that, he smacks a wet kiss on Steve’s cheek, turns, and walks away. 

Steve is left standing there, red-faced, awestruck, slightly horny, and full of anticipation.

--

continue to part 4.

read on ao3.

--

tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @knightofthieves @exhibit-no-restraint @zerokrox-blog @nelotegreitic @samthemissfit @impeachy @mentallyundone @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx @ameliajwho1993 @abstractnaturaldisaster @hellomynameismoo @epiclazershark @dogswithforks @i-less-than-three-you @aveys6 @anaibis @sofadofax @sunswathe

[junixscribble]

SCREAMS ur responses are so good ty for feeding us I'm so excited for your writing omggg

ANYWHO. SO. You mentioned Jayce giving Viktor a raspberry and also the tags on the s2 art so~ let's humor that~

Raspberries are arguably one of the most childish and intimate forms of tickling because well duh. I feel like Viktor probably never had a raspberry before Jayce (at least not one he remembers). He probably saw parents blow raspberries onto their giggling kids and thought to himself "I guess it's funny, or feels weird". Never considered just how bad it could tickle.

Jayce on the other hand is FULL OF LOVE and definitely has fuzzy memories of his mom pressing her lips to his belly when he was younger. Even just tickly kisses would take him down! He's a tummy guy.

Anyway, I feel like Jayce would suddenly remember that he can Do That to Viktor one day, and he just HAS to try it out. Poor Viktor probably looks in absolute horror as Jayce pushes his shirt up and takes a big breath in Like???? What are you DOING Jayce?!?!? Then when he touches down, Viktor SCREAMS. Like full on EEEEEEEEEEs because holy shit it tickles so so so bad. Probably knocks his head against the floor as he shrieks. Jayce has big ol powerful cheeks and a scratchy face (before the beard) so it's unbearable 💔

Poor Jayce probably gets a metal leg brace to the head as Viktor jerks his legs involuntarily. And oh boy does Vik blush because ??? WHAT WAS THAT????

You know how I said I was taking so long cause I had Ideas? Well. Here you go!

Fruit

Title: Fruit

WC: 1376w

Summary: Tensions are high in the lab with tight deadlines. Arguments are had, resolved, and when under inordinate amounts of pressure one must make time for stupidity.

——————

Viktor rested his head against the blackboard, sighing. Work had been trying lately. The council was expecting something big, and fast, so he and Jayce often found themselves burning the midnight oil more often than not. Their late nights and stressed disposition had led to a decent few arguments, mainly about stupid things such as who left the dishes all over the kitchen. Most recently it had been about an equation that had ended up half rubbed out - neither of them could decide who had done it, and both were saddled with figuring out what had been written down and rewriting it. 

They had been ignoring each other for most of the day, and to be honest Viktor was tired of it. These hours only passed quickly when there was chatter and ideas being thrown about like darts at a board. With nothing but chalk scratching breaking the silence, the seconds were painful. Usually Jayce was the one to break such silences, but he had been steadfastly soldering one of his gauntlets for the past hour and a half. 

For once in his life, Viktor put his stubborn nature aside and relented. He set his chalk down and wiped his hand on the side of his pants before walking over to Jayce, leaning on his crutch. Jayce didn’t look up on his approach, and Viktor stood awkwardly by him for a full minute until he put down the soldering iron.

“If you have something to say, say it.” Jayce said through gritted teeth. Viktor shifted his weight awkwardly. 

“I… am sorry. About the equation. Truthfully, the last few days have been melding into each other, and I can’t remember who wiped the board. It very well could have been me.” 

Jayce sat up straighter, genuine surprise in his eyes. “You’re not here to berate me some more?”

Viktor flushed, looking aside. It was hard to keep composure when Jayce was looking at him like a kicked puppy. “No. I should not have done so in the first place.” 

There was a moment of silence where Viktor was convinced Jayce was going to turn his back on him, but before the idea could make a home in his head Jayce was up and his arms were wrapped around him. 

“It’s okay. We’ve been working hard, and I’ve said some things I regret too. Still partners?” Jayce asked, pulling back slightly. 

Viktor allowed himself a smile and put a hand on Jayce’s shoulder. “Of course. Now, I’m sure I have some alcohol in here from last time…” 

…

The next few days were a complete turn around from the stress. Now that they weren’t on edge around each other the ideas were flowing and problems that seemed impossible suddenly had clear solutions. 

“Ha! If I reverse the polarity on this, it will stop the hex crystal from spinning out of control!” Viktor exclaimed, nearly throwing his screwdriver. Jayce pushed away from his workbench and cheered. 

“Man, we are on a roll.” He sat contended for a bit before furrowing his brow. “Vik, I’ve just realised I’ve never asked you about your family.” 

Viktor turned to face him, amused. “And what started this train of thought?”

Jayce shrugged. “I was just thinking.” 

“Dangerous, coming from you. Anyway, there was never much to speak of. Never had siblings, my father was absent before I was born, and my mother passed when I was quite young. As was the way of most in Zaun.” Viktor said.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Don’t be. The life I lead now… it makes up for it.” 

Jayce tilted his head to the side and smiled. “Aw, I’m glad to hear I’m like your family.”

Viktor sputtered. “I- what…well-”

Jayce laughed and shook his head. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Ooooh, we should do family things! Have a big awkward dinner with aunts you’ve never met, create unnecessary drama,...”

“Jayce, it sounds like you are describing the council.” Viktor commented, half a laugh on his breath. 

Jayce mimed vomiting and pouted before lighting up like a candle. “No, of course not. I couldn’t do this with any members of the council.” 

Viktor assumed he was talking about their banter, so he smiled and turned back to his work. However, the minute he picked up his pen he was grabbed from behind and wrapped up in a hug. He squeaked in surprise and swore in his native tongue before going limp in his embrace - he’d learned there was no escaping Jayce when he got lovey-dovey. 

“You know something else families do?” Jayce sing-songed, being a dick about it.

“What, Jayce?” Viktor sighed, playing along. 

It turned out there was no verbal response to that question - that being because Jayce had taken the opportunity to worm his fingers under Viktor’s arms and start wiggling on his ribs. Viktor immediately curled in on himself and made a strangled noise, pushing at Jayce’s hands. 

“No! Jahayce, you bastard-” He yelled, squirming. Jayce just laughed, pulling him away from the bench and over to the couch they had set up. Viktor knew what that meant, and he knew it could lead to him not getting back to his work for at least an hour. When one of his moods struck Jayce was hard to escape - not that Viktor minded too much. He could admit he needed the break, and he could put up with Jayce. 

Nevertheless, he protested. “Jaaaayce JayceJayceJayce we can talk about this, no? You don’t have to- haha! You don’t have to do this!” 

“Oh, but I do.” 

Viktor half-fought Jayce trying to shove him down on the couch, swearing the whole time. The minute he was down, Jayce would go ham and he wouldn’t know peace. Despite the half-assed attempts at escape Jayce successfully pinned an already laughing Viktor to the couch, and Viktor braced himself. What came, however, was hands deftly pulling up his shirt in one quick movement. 

“What the fu-” was all Viktor managed before Jayce took a deep breath and blew a raspberry on his stomach. Now, Viktor had seen this done before - often parents with small children - but always assumed the resulting laughter was because of the general silliness of the action. Never in a million years had he expected it to tickle so fucking badly. 

Viktor let out what could only be described as a screech at the contact, immediately kicking out and bashing his head on the back of the couch. Jayce nuzzled his face into his tummy, grinning, and Viktor broke into a chorus of cackles. 

“JAHAYCE! Whahaha- whahat are you dohohoing??” 

“What do you think?” He replied, still speaking into Viktor’s stomach and by god he was going to dissolve because his stubble made it so much worse. Viktor shrieked again when Jayce blew yet another raspberry, squirming within an inch of his life. 

“Yohou fucking asshole!” He yelled out for nothing, getting rewarded with Jayce’s fingers joining in the fun by kneading into his lower ribs. He made a series of high pitched sustained yelps at this, caught between the sensations of rough hands on sensitive skin and lips over spots he was discovering were really ticklish. After one particularly potent raspberry, Viktor accidentally sent his knee straight into the back of Jayce’s head, finally halting the onslaught.   

“Ow!” Jayce cradled his head while Viktor caught his breath, quickly covering his stomach. 

“You deserve that!” Viktor admonished, sitting up. His eyes were wide, staring at Jayce.

“Have you… have you never had someone blow a raspberry on you before?”

Viktor shook his head. “That affront to dignity is named after a fruit?” 

Jayce laughed. “Yes.”

“I was not expecting it to… have such an effect.” 

“No? If it’s too much, I won’t do it again-”

“No!” Viktor said before he could stop himself. “I mean, ah, I can handle your bullshit if I must, Jayce.” 

Jayce raised his eyebrows. “Do you want me to do it again?”

Viktor turned red. “Of course not.” 

Despite this, he sank further into the couch and his shirt rode up slightly. He didn’t pull it back down. Jayce grinned. 

“Well regardless, I’m not done with you.” 

It took very little time for Viktor to start cackling. Again.

[boinin]

Chapter 271 spoilers

So, a couple of interesting things about chapter 271, which is all from Rin's POV and mostly in flashbacks. The main reveal was about the Itoshi parents.

They're not particularly important figures in Rin's life, but apparently this is not due to neglect. The parents in this chapter seem conflicted in how to raise and guide their children, rather than actively harmful in their parenting. The worse you can say about them is that they seem hands off. Sae does the heavy lifting when it comes to consoling and advising Rin, not their mom or dad.

What's most interesting to me, in terms of Rin, is that they're never fully depicted. Rin's memory shows them in detail, but never with eyes. Compare this to how he recalls Sae, his kindergarten teacher and fellow kindergarteners. Even the bloody pigeons are well rendered in his memory—but not his parents.

Lastly, the body language of the parents speaks volumes. Rin and Sae's mom is somewhat present in their lives, or at least tries to be despite her own doubts. Their dad though? Really avoidant. His body language is evasive, and the only time he seems truly present is when he's comforting his wife.

As an aside, while their dad has dark hair, Sae looks just like him now that he's older. Their mom has lighter hair like Sae, but the way her hair sits looks like Rin's. She's also willowy and tall like Rin. Nice seeing how they both inherited different things from their parents.

Other than that? The panels of baby Rin trying to be a Kaiju are too damn cute. We're starting to get a sense of where he started, and how those natural instincts of his got twisted and repressed over time. I really liked this development, even if it refutes my theory about what his ego was.

The other thing that's really clear this chapter is how protective Sae is towards Rin. He steps in without a second thought to take his mother's reprimand about the broken toys—even though their mom seems to know he's lying about it. He's quick to suggest taking Rin out of the house for ice cream when he senses his little brother feeling bad.

Sae's aim seems to be to cushion Rin from every bad thing, whether or not it'd be ultimately beneficial for Rin to undergo that experience. Which makes you wonder—how does his outburst post-Spain fit into that agenda?

[firstofficerkittycat]

rewatching human nature just realized that in end of time the doctor went to the racist lady's fucking granddaughter's book signing and had a full conversation with her but didnt even say hi to martha he showed up like 90 feet away and stared at her like that was enough. was he scared she was gonna punch him out i would be

[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

[an-actual-floof]

best vindication I’ve ever received is learning that Leonard Nimoy and I are of the same opinion that Amok Time is one of The best Star Trek episodes. this is so false but at least we are both delusional

[gingermintpepper]

Finished Wuwa's main campaign last night and after sitting on it for, well, the night, I felt compelled to talk about how fantastically they handled the atmosphere of the conflict. All of the playable characters in Jinzhou helping out? Seeing Yuanwu fight alongside Midnight Rangers, or Verina healing the injured soldiers huddled behind weapons and getting healing items from them -- Aalto and Encore seeing the escalating disaster and being like "Okay damn, we'd really love to stick around and help but we need to alert the rest of the world that we might have a global disaster on our hands", the way they used communicators to keep Jinshi, Mortefi and Baizhi in the loop without ever needing extraneous cutaways and decentering the conflict. There was a TON of environmental storytelling that I really appreciated -- Jiyan still seeing vivid phantoms in the Retroact Rain because he didn't take an antidote and is instead saving them for his troop + any unlucky person caught in it, the Midnight Rangers staying at their posts to combat the TDs even when they get super close, the amount of corpses everywhere like!! !!!! Yes!! This is it!!! This what I wanted!!! I love that it FELT like this is a city that's seen a shitton of wars and conflicts, everyone was on the ball and knew exactly where they needed to be and do!! This is how you do crisis situations in games!!! Oh my god yes!!!!

[prolibytherium]

I've got big opinions on dream sequences in writing. Which is mostly that they really shouldn't be there like 90% of the time because they grind the narrative to a halt, but I think they CAN have value. It's just that they tend to be executed in a way that's kind of pointless.

It's mostly that a lot of writers have the sequences be literal 1:1 depictions of the character's anxieties or feelings, or otherwise the absolute most on the nose symbolism possible. And it's not like dreams are NEVER like that, but why bother stopping the narrative to include a full sequence that essentially just repeats information the reader already knows?

If it's established that Character A is scared that Character B will get murdered by Jeff the Killer, and then A has an entire dream sequence of B getting Jeff the Killed and A wakes up sweating like 'Noooooooooo I do not want that to happen noooooo' it's jsut like. Yeah I knew that already?

[kyouka-supremacy]

Well.

[perpetualexistence]

Bad news: I don't think I'm going to be able to write for ever day of TD horror week as I'd originally imagined.

Good news: The days I am going to be part of will be Cooking. I shan't spoil too much about it but one day already has 2.5K words and is only like a fourth of the way done.

[beansterpie]

rewatching LoK, i'm being reminded how much I dislike the.... the brothers, mako and bolin, yanno? they're such underwhelming characters on basically every level. it'd almost be impressive if they weren't in every episode and didn't annoy me so much ugh

[shummthechumm]

was kind of hoping g5 would explain where tf the rest of the pony population is, honestly. its hard to believe that every unicorn/pegasi/earth pony was compressed down into their respective towns/cities.

mym had a rough time juggling it's story so im not surprised this was never fleshed out more but--if they had the chance in a future series--i would love to see that. getting more into it below the cut (loosing it i fear):

back when we only had the movie i had a theory that there had been a major conflict that ultimately ended in the pony populations plummeting; and that ultimately fueling twilights decision to seal away their magic in the crystals--which would lead to the races separating after the fact. eventually, by some form or fashion, the crystals were separated (maybe stolen....?) between bridlewood, maretime bay, and zephyr heights.

however opaline being introduced in mym tripped up this theory to the point where it's pretty obvious that's not what happened--or at least not exactly. discord alludes to something too terrible to describe in the comics so there's that? (also "mane-ificent 7"??? lmfao)

not even mentioning how this page utterly destroys the "magic removal resulting in pony exodus" theory; because it seems unified-equestria was able to exist for a while longer after the crystals were created:

perhaps opaline instigated more conflict in the following years (after the mane 6 have died off...?) which ultimately resulted in magic failing the ponies. if not her, then im sure the hard work the of our g4 girlies slowly faded because the equestria became too comfortable, and perhaps stopped fighting for unity. (another point i remember appreciating when we only had the movie to go off of:)

if so, that then brings up the question of HOW DID THE CRYSTAL GET SPLIT BETWEEN THE RACES BEFORE THE MOVIE???

did argyle find the earth pony piece during a history excursion or was it passed down to him??? how did alphabittle get the respective unicorn piece??? the pegasus crystal was literally a part of queen haven's crown--was there a point where all pony types swiped the crystals following the failing of unity to PREVENT the other races from using it against them???

but then???? we had the whole thing with elder flower and her fuckass story about a bat and web and whatever tf that implies that the time passed between g4 and g5 is way shorter than i anticipated??? also "opaline was here the whole time guys we swear. dont you remember our good friend opaline??? the opaline who was CHILDHOOD FRIENDS with LUNA and CELESTIA in SKYROS???"

so maybe the equestria we've seen so far (as of chapter 6) is just a pocket of the current pony population, but if so, does that also imply that the other settlements are ALSO hostile towards other pony types? because wouldn't the unity crystals have been unrestricting magic to some extent (depending on how many ponies/creatures were collectively getting along)? the simplest answer is that the writers failed to think ahead but i wanna give them the chance to reveal a little more because there are still MAJOR things we dont understand.

[razzle-zazzle]

BRO IMAGINE GARMALOUVIN DURING SEASON ONE-TWO OF NINJAGO

WHAT IF—

Cole finally visits home only to realize that his father is interested in dating again, doesn’t catch the name becuase he’s a little busy lying (trying to win the fangblade) and then later when Garmadon is on the bounty annoying the heck out of the ninja by being evil they hear him calling someone on the phone being disgustingly sweet and then ONCE THE GREAT DEVOURER is released and Garmadon disappears, the camera man personally congratulates them and hugs both Cole and Lloyd saying that he just knew that their dads were proud of them before he walks off. WHAT IF

-stepdad anon

JSKFLGDJSDKLFHFDLJGKJH???? OH MY GODDDDDDD

[chiarrara]

i caught up on jjk. favorite panels in the last few chapters, plus:

thematic catharsis coming around

[toomuchblthoughts]

I've just started to read 'Necromancer Survival' novel.

I've already read the manhwa so I've been wanting to read the novel for awhile.

I'm at chapter 12 and it's. Soooooo different from the manhwa. Like the novel really screams 'survival'. It's a horror alright.

[lecliss]

Sakura gets a second point for being the first to complete the tree climbing at being better at chakra control, but at the same time it just feels like she was made good at it so no extra training segment time would have to be put into her getting good at it and it can be all about Sauce and Nart. Idk that feels too pessimistic but also could totally be true.