#yes i understand it’s comic compliant

[panties-on-boys]

poolverine fanfic writers TAKE OFF WADE’S MASK HE’S STILL FUCKING HOT WITH THE SCARS

[squeeegs]

inspired by @corviiids glorious fic call me by, which is a technically canon compliant Your Name AU. yes that canon compliance has Implications™. no i'm not okay about it.

ramblings under the read more

some of the biggest differences i'd imagine baby!Light as L to exhibit (meaning canon!Light would be able to tell who he's talking to) is that baby doesn't eat sweets at the rate L does, hasn't quite mastered the patented L Sit, and interacts with his coworkers in a slightly more respectful manner--he calls canon!Light -san, not -kun, but fixes that after a few swaps. idk man i just love baby light so much. so squishy. so full of hope and idealism. SO BABY

note: i think this situation would happen right after the first swap baby!Light makes while canon!Light has started working on the case. baby Light does not understand that this member of the task force is the Big Bad No No Man, hence the uncharacteristic friendliness, because Light Yagami is a very polite young man whose mother raised him right.

p.s. i am not a good writer and most likely baby!Light is too much of a freaky genius to mess up this badly BUT I NEEDED THE COMIC TO HAPPEN SOMEHOW

[devine-fem]

“You can’t age up Damian and Jon-“ That never made sense to me because with comics? Do I really have to?

Damian and Jon’s ages have always been entirely malleable since the beginning of time? Need I remind you that it is not physically possible to age five years in two weeks? Need I remind you that DCeased exists where they are not only the same age but eighteen? In the first Super Sons book they were old men. The Super Sons movie they are older and the same age and need I remind you that the whole point of Jon and Damian’s character is that there is a finish line that they need to cross? The whole point is that they have to develop and get to a point where they are (unfortunately) Superman and Batman, understand that and you can’t (shouldn’t) do that as a fourteen year old child still in school?

That’s the reason they get aged like they do, these characters never had a set age, no characters really do. Ages work entirely compliant to sliding timelines and character development. I can tell you around the 2000s they loved showing off older!Damian as Batman constantly and yes, none of that is main continuity but guess what is? Wonder Woman 2023 where they are in their late 20s and 30s. That’s why Jon and Damian were always in their twenties to me, this is all a precursor.

But Jon under any circumstances should not be older than Damian, I don’t care.

[glitter-stained]

Some of the posts I see here y'all gotta stop seeing fanfics as "bad dc takes". Like, it's perfectly fine to not like a trope that's popular in fanfic, but you gotta stop seeing it as character meta is what I'm saying. Fanfic writers are not canon writers, they do not owe you canon compliant, and you don't get to assume that what they're writing comes from a place of ignorance when there are so many reasons to include/not include something in your fic.

Like, allow me to use my own fics as example since they're the only one I have background info on the knowledge and motivations of the author:

-I wrote a fic with Lazarus Rage in it once. Do I know it's not canon? Absolutely. Do I think it's necessary for the understanding of Jason's character? Not at all, I think canon Jason is more interesting without the pit rage. I just wanted to write it once because it looked cathartic and you know what? It was. It was super cathartic. I wanted to write a story about the progression of a depressive episodes and using pit rage to talk about the feeling of loss of control with intense anger issues and sensation of loss and deep self-hatred afterwards, and i thought writing this is gonna feel good and it felt good, for me and for the readers.

-I'm also currently finishing another fic, in which I've simplified Tim's relationship with Jason's a lot (basically Tim is still haunted by Jason's ghost and Dick is still his favourite Robin but the victim blaming is much less intense and there's an intense, genuine admiration for Jason and happiness to get him back). Is it because I hate canon and its complexity? No, I love it, I love when character relationships are fucked up and they make a mess. I'd love to explore that in a different fic, even have the prompt already. But I'm writing a really intense fic about trauma, taboo and lack of communication around sexual abuse, and there are so many characters pov and things happening and I have to do this right because we're talking about things that happen to real people and not being accidentally insensitive or sending a shit message is more important to me than perfect canon compliance, and it's just not the place for it. This story isn't about tim, and it's not about victim-blaming. It's a fascinating can of worms to open, but I'm not gonna open it if I don't have the space to deal with it because I'm not gonna let worms roam freely all over my fanfic when I can choose not to include the worms in my story, because it might rely on base material but it's still a finite story that exists within its own scope because I'm not a comics writer, I'm a fanfic writer and my story doesn't exist as a pure extension of the comics and I don't owe you canon compliance. And how boring would that be if we could only write canon compliant stuff! No more coffee shop aus, no powers aus, fantasy aus, no more non canon ships between characters that hated eachother until the day they died (but had so much sexual tension)... Fanfic is not one single entity that takes place in a simplified version of the canon universe complete with consistent lukewarm tropes and watered down understanding of characters. Fanfics are rich and diverse and yeah canon compliant is great and i want more of it but the universe is so much wider and that's what makes it rich! Do some people write fanfic and also don't interact with or know canon? Sure, plenty of them. Does that fanfic reflect their opinion of canon? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. You don't know that. In the meantime, people are still creating extra content and enriching the fandom experience and if you don't like it, genuinely, the filter tags button is right there. That's not to say there are no racist or classist or sexist tropes in fanfics, but again that exists within the scope of that story. Bad writing exists in canon, and it exists in fanfics, and sometimes a story is canon compliant with a terrible message and sometimes a story is canon divergent with a terrible message and pushing away everyone who writes things that aren't canon compliant is not going to fix these issues in the dc fandom. Telling people to "not write the character at all if you're going to write them ooc" assumes your understanding of what is essential to the character is perfect and The Right Way to interact with a fandom and it's patronising and not only do you take the risk of looking like a moron the second you make a mistake, it is actual gatekeeping and the reason many people find getting into comics/fandom intimidating in the first place. (And it also shits on the potential of AUs like dark reflections, mafia etc. Of course Mafia Bruce who kills people is deeply ooc. These stories are still fun and it's not wrong to write them!)

"This story really should have addressed that thing that happens in canon" did it happen in the setting of the fic? No? Then shut up and let the fic tell its own story, it doesn't have to "address" anything it doesn't have space for. Again, don't like don't read is a thing. Fanfic enriches the fandom, it doesn't take away from it, but you know what can? Canon writing. I'm way more concerned with what dc is having batman represent nowadays than with fanfic I haven't read because I knew I wouldn't like it.

TLDR: It's understandable to be upset when people who don't interact with canon material at all try to assert their opinion on canon as the truth, especially if they call any attempt at disagreeing with the mischaracterization gatekeeping, but that doesn't make you immune to being a gatekeeper. Assuming you know a writer's knowledge and opinions on a character because of that one fic of them is naive and a misunderstanding of what fanfic is. Fanfic writers are still real people who give you cool stuff for free and you don't have to like it but you still have to be respectful about it, and all that negative energy you spend on rants about "bad character and" you've read in fanfics would be so much better spent on bad canon writing because these people do have the power to fuck your favourite character over and they do owe you canon compliance, and with the amount of effort some fanfic writers put into their fics compared to some of the writers who get payed to write canon, you guys could stand to be more respectful about fanfics.

[eraofkalki]

𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓

Pairings: None

Summary: Little Diavolo (not) very intimidatingly coerces Barbatos into becoming his butler.

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is purely my take on it with the little amount of information we have. It may not be canon compliant in case I missed out on something (I'm not caught up with the story so I'm going off of spoilers) or if the devs reveal the details of it after the release of this fic.

Sometimes small things make a large impact; or at least, that is what they say.

You could wield mastery over the very fabric of time; its unnervingly merciless passage, swift and linear to others, could simply be a complex sea to you--or perhaps, a not very complex bowl of soup. Despite that, there could still be moments, emotions, beings that...elude your understanding.

Having witnessed the ebb and flow of all components of this murky concept of existence that very few were even close to somewhat comprehending, one might expect a demon like Barbatos to be unfazed at best at the sight before him. Yet...sometimes, small things could make a large impact.

The "small thing" there being a little royal demon child, barely five feet tall, holding the heavy key to the room the both of them were locked in with endearing determination, not realising how the key looked comically disproportionate in his tiny hands. His unwaveringly resolute eyes bore into Barbatos's own coolly amused ones like two pools of molten gold. Diavolo, wasn't it? Did he hope to hold him captive?

To stand his ground and ask perhaps the most powerful demon to be bound to him for eternity...

I'm not letting you out of this room until you promise to be my loyal steward. For the rest of your life.

"You are certainly...fierce." Barbatos said it with every ounce of honesty. "Unwordly, but fierce."

It was true, everything about him was; his vivid eyes, his fiery hair, his intense ambitions...what kind of strength could he possess once he grows up? Will his goals be as fierce as him, even then? How would it be if Barbatos stayed to see?

"I--" Diavolo started, attempting to keep his voice sounding steady. "I told you; if you don't do it, I won't let you out."

However domineering he believed he seemed, all Barbatos could see was an adorable, trembling, whiny child. The adult demon pondered for a moment, taking in the flickering flames of the sole fire lamp in the chambers; its orange light illuminating the little boy in front of him, making him even more radiant. Akin to a sun, Barbatos felt, even though it would be one of the strangest thoughts to have about the future ruler of the Devildom, where there is eternal moonlight.

"If I agree, what is there for me to gain?"

"Gain...?" Diavolo turned the question around in his head for a bit, and his amber eyes lit up in triumph, as if suddenly remembering something. "I have something that you'd want. I won't give it to you, though. Not unless you say yes." He slyly smiled at the look of vague confusion on the other demon's face.

"So..." He slowly started pacing around the room as if to build suspense. "Do you know about Mount Infernal?"

"Of course I do." Barbatos responded, not expecting that question. "I told you about it."

"Well, you know about any particular type of...plants there? That might interest you?"

"If you are referring to the Tartarean tea plantation, then yes. Again, I believe I was the one who mentioned it to you?"

"Yes you were." Diavolo flashed yet another smile as if his supposedly genius plan had already succeeded. "What if I told you that I have those very tea leaves with me?"

"...The Tartarean tea leaves?" Barbatos asked, his mind wiped blank of any idea as to how to react. "You're saying that you procured them, by crossing all the six levels of the Infernal forest?"

"I mean, not me, obviously. But I do have them, yes." He elaborated, "I had father request for them, as a reward for passing my Devildom History test. I had to force him alot, so if you don't agree..." When he realised that his façade of tenacity was beginning to crack, he quickly reverted back to his 'extremely intimidating' self. "O-of course you'll agree! If you don't, I won't let you out and you won't be able to ever get your hands on those tea leaves."

"That is a rather enticing proposal," Barbatos admitted.

It was something that Diavolo didn't know, but he had been wondering as to how to get his hands on the very object he was being offered. The fundamental making of a demon was that--to covet, covet, and covet; when the objects of your desire lands in front of you, you shed all reason and reach for it however you can. In such a situation, it was only expected that he would...reach for what it was he desired, however trivial it may be; then, perhaps, not care for the contract it came with.

He could justify whatever he said and did afterwards as his most primal instincts coming into play. But he knew, and only he knew, that maybe a miniscule piece of his heart did not mind fulfilling his end of the deal. Not simply because of what he gained, but because...he wanted to, almost. Maybe Barbatos wished to see this little boy grow into a force to be reckoned with. Maybe he will grow to cause destruction and chaos across Devildom and derive joy from seeing demons in their most primeval state. Or maybe he will spread resplendence and joy. Maybe he will be fair and just.

Maybe he will be none of those things, but Barbatos wished to see.

He kneeled down to meet Diavolo's eyes which held doubt thinly veiled by confidence.

"From this moment..." The fire lamp suddenly seemed to blaze for a fleeting moment, before dangerously flickering as the entire room seemed to go in and out of darkness. The lamps went out.

"Wh-wh--?" Diavolo almost cowered, sensing immense power in the air. A kind he has never felt before. His father's power felt overwhelming, pulsating, and it burned; but this felt...silent. Restrained, but chilling...cold. "What is happening?!"

"I shall be your loyal steward."

The still, olive eyes piercing into Diavolo's seemed to grow a sickly green in the dark. The temperature dropped.

"I will serve you, for as long as you wish. All I am, body and soul, shall be under your command..."

Diavolo inhaled sharply as the lamps came to life again, burning with more vigour than ever before. The formerly absent heat caught up to him, spreading across his body with overwhelming intensity.

"...Young Master."

[daydreaming-en-pointe]

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

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

Type: Fanfic - Fluff -> Angst

Word count: 8.5k (🫢🤯)

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

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

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

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

Andddd the Pavitr Bhim Prabhakar hc continues 😁

Probably (Definitely) Non-Canon List:

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

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

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

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

-Reader helps Pavi make his webshooters (kinda)

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

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

(this is the song that Pav sings btw)

title inspo:

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

Cause I worry about you the whole night

Don’t repeat my mistakes

I won’t sleep till you’re safe inside

(Safe Inside, James Arthur)

——— ———

4 & 6.

“Didi!”

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

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

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

“Totally fair.”

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

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

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

“Wait-”

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

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

“Pavi, how is this fair?!”

——— ———

6 & 8.

“Didi! Checkmate! I win!”

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

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

“Y/N! Yahaan aao!” (Come here)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“An accident? You mean…”

“Yes, beta. They’re… they’re gone.”

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

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

This is going to break Pavi.

I can’t let that happen.

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

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

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

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

You had two ways out.

…I should tell him.

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

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

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

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

Kaayar. Coward.

——— ———

9 & 11.

“Didi!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——— ———

11 & 13.

“Didi!”

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

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

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

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

“Whoops.”

“You did that on purpose.”

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

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

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

“You’re the absolute worst.”

——— ———

12 & 14.

“Didi! Rise and shine!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——— ———

13 & 15.

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

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

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

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

“Uh, I-”

“How. Long. It’s a simple question.”

“Five months.”

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

“Listen, I’m really-”

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

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

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

“Didi?”

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

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

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

“Hey there, buddy.”

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

“Fuck off.”

“What?”

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

“You heard him, didn’t you?”

“I… yeah. I’m going. See you around.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

——— ———

A week later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where the hell is he?

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

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

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

Thwip! Thwip!

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

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

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

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

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

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

——— ———

After the ceremony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pavi? Pavi, I’m home, where-”

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

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

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

“I’m Spider-Man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I believe you.”

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

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

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

“Spiderwebs!”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Haan, papa.”

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

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

“Use these.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thwip! Thwip!

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

“Well, this is working pretty well-”

Thud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——— ———

14 & 16.

6 months really went by quickly.

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god! You have a date!”

“…maybe. So?”

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

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

“Absolutely not. Gayatri’s-”

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

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

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

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

“I’m not saying anything bad!”

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

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

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

“Ha, ha! Very funny!”

——— ———

10 minutes later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Never a dull day in Mumbattan, I guess.

——— ———

5 minutes after that ordeal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, fuck, that’s my idiot.

——— ———

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

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

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

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

“Aww, that’s sweet, and likewi-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gayatri!”

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

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

“Shush, didi. I just saved your ass.”

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

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

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

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

“Holy shit, you’re really cool.”

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

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

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

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

“That’s my sister.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Excellent job.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——— ———

Pavitr’s POV.

“No, no no no- please, please no-”

Pavi, I’m sorry.

I love you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing.

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

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

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

You had to, right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——— ———

15 & still 16.

Pavitr Bhim Prabhakar was many things.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N.

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

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

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

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

To: Pavitr Prabhakar.

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

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

To: The Best Didi In The World.

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

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

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

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

Dear Y/N,

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

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

To: The Best Didi In The World.

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

Glossary:

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

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

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

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

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

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

@hobiebrownismygod @l0starl @therealloopylupin2099 @vhstown

[biconickyoshi]

Hello! I wanted to ask, in The Avatar and the Fire Prince AU, how does reincarnation (The Avatar Cycle) works? In Canon, the Avatar is a human soul (Wan) who after death reincarnates on Earth in a new body to live a new life with the Spirit of Peace (Raava) bounded to it. But how about in your AU? I'm asking because I want to know whether or not we're going to have a scene with Aang having an existential crisis over the fact that in his previous life he was Zuko's great-grandfather.

Hello anon! :) Yes, I do my best to ensure that my AU is as canon compliant as possible when it comes to lore (including all known lore from Legend of Korra, the comics, the TTRPG, and the Chronicles of the Avatar novels), so the Avatar Cycle does indeed work the exact same.

I honestly haven't given a ton of thought to Aang and Zuko's reaction of who Roku was (though it will definitely still be revealed at some point just like in the show). While I think they would both maybe find it a little weird of a coincidence at first, I don't think it would cause either of them to freak out or anything lol.

We've definitely seen weird coincidences/connections like this before with other Avatars - for example, Kuruk and Hei-Ran were past lovers (before he met Ummi), and then he was reincarnated as Kyoshi, who fell in love with Hei-Ran's daughter Rangi. Then we have Korra, who was taught waterbending by someone who is basically a grandmother figure to her (Katara), and who was also technically "her" wife in her past life. She was also taught airbending by someone who is a father/uncle figure to her (Tenzin), who was also technically "her" son in her past life.

In general, there seems to be an understanding amongst everyone in the world of AtLA that each Avatar is very much their own distinct person, each with different lives, memories, and personalities. Sometimes more spiritual people - like Toph for example - can see that the Avatar has the same spirit/soul, but again, even Toph knows Korra is her own person and not just Aang with none of his memories lol.

Of course, if Aang had a problem like Yangchen did in which he was constantly having flashbacks to memories from his previous lives, then I'd say that yeah lol, he'd be much more likely to have an existential crisis. But as far as we know, Aang does not have any "memories" of living as Roku or any other previous Avatar - he only views previous Avatars' life events from an outside perspective. And even if he did have the ability to "remember" living as Roku, at least he wouldn't be able to "remember" actively being a grandfather to Zuko, since Zuko and even Ursa were born decades after Roku's death. That would definitely be awkward if that wasn't the case lol.

All of this has actually got me thinking about the theory where an Avatar could possibly reincarnate as their own child/grandchild/relative, especially with mixed-ethnicity/nation families becoming more common in the time of Korra. Like, say an Earth Avatar dies right as their child with someone of Fire Nation descent (or their grandchild, or sibling, or cousin, etc.) is born. As long as they have the right DNA, a relative of the Avatar could theoretically be the next Avatar in this scenario. The closest thing I could compare this to is like a Steven Universe situation (where he kind of both is and isn't his own mom - it's hard to explain if you haven't seen that show lmao).

Anywayyyy sorry for the long ass response anon lol. I just love talking about AtLA lore! :)

[mamashenanigans]

His brother’s eyes finally flashed with rationale. He slowly lowered Yoichi to his feet, but his grip didn’t dissipate.

“I need to take, Yoichi. I need to consume. I don’t know the in’s and out’s about it, but it has to do with my metapower. I just can’t stop!”

“We’ll figure that out together. There has to be another way. I’m not asking you to completely give up on using your power. That’d be living up to what you always say, wouldn’t it? That I’m ‘foolish’? I hate to admit it, but we do need the money you can get from giving people powers. But you can’t keep going about it the way you have been. We finally know the joy of not having to move from place to place. This area, the people, they are rebuilding. I…I want to stay here.”

Big Brother’s large hands tightened. “You’re mine.”

“I know.” A tear fell down his cheek. His brother released his left arm to bring his hand up and scoop the tear onto his finger, his left hand moved down to Yoichi’s wrist.

Then his twin gingerly licked the tear from his finger, closing his eyes in ecstasy.

“You know not to tell me what to do,” he whispered.

“Yes, that’s why I’m not. I’m giving you the final say.” Yoichi whispered back.

“Mmm, then I say I’ll give this little whiny plan of yours a try. Just know, that if I don’t like it, if I can’t compensate for the loss of taking, then it’s over. We go back to doing it my way. Understand, dear little brother?”

“Yes.” Yoichi pointedly gazed down at his brother’s hand wrapped around his wrist. A favorable memory of that same hand pulling him out of cold water. “I understand.”

“Then let’s figure it out, shall we?”

+++++++++++++++++

A snippet from a one-shot I’m working on for a new collection about the brothers’ past, both canon compliant and alternate universe stories.

This one is a serious take on a crack idea where Yoichi never introduces the comics to his brother, so AFO never becomes AFO and never obsesses about becoming the Demon King. However, AFO’s intrinsic desire to take and consume still rules him and Yoichi tries to quell the desires by begging his brother to calm down before the anti-meta groups take notice.

How AFO ends up quenching his desire to consume and Yoichi’s role in it by giving in to his own innate desire to give, creates a world where AFO never became the dreaded super villain, but one in which the twins become depressingly codependent.

Check the tags for more clues.

[nekropsii]

do u have any links to resources about the beta and alpha kids' characterizations and personalities if you have any? i am interested in writing for them and i just wanna know what makes them them iykwim

The Beta + Alpha Kids are... By no means my specialty, as everyone knows, and I personally have zero interest in writing them. That said, I'm pretty sure that most "guides" like that are written by and for writers of lighthearted, canon non-compliant roleplaying, and all the ones that I've seen... Aren't good, and are typically incredibly biased. They definitely tend to want the reader to portray the character in whatever light they see the character in, rather than... How they are in canon. For example, some lean heavily into making Dave a soft, perfect victim, Rose into a tea-drinking lesbian, Jake into a lowkey villain, et cetera.

This is about to get pretty long. It's been a while since I've had to put something under a Read-More... But here we are. Let's get going.

Content Warning: Long, Whole Lot of Rambling about the Technical Aspects of Writing.

There tends to be interjection of headcanons, unnecessary opinions, and ham-fisted attempts to make characters look better or worse than they actually are. Context is missing, sources are missing, so on. Oftentimes when looking at guides to writing characters, I wind up just questioning what comic the writer read, because it doesn't feel as if we read the same one. Their writing and critical thinking skills are often called into question as well, given the way these guides tend to approach characters as a concept.

There's often a distinct failure in being actually analytical or observant, and they tend to view characters more as People than they do... Well, Characters. Which may sound like an odd distinction to make, until you realize that when you're writing a character, you need to understand what role they're fulfilling in a narrative before you focus on who they are as a person and judging their morals. Characters aren't anything more than narrative devices. They're strictly there to drive the plot forward. Yes, since characters tend to be people, of which are often in situations, you tend to judge their morality, ethics, the way they handle their circumstances and other people with average human judgment... But at the end of the day, moral arguments and personhood matter less than what they are meant to do, what they're supposed to represent, and how they're supposed to drive the plot forward. To focus on who and how they are as People- how righteous they are, how much their morals align with yours or those of the real world- is to focus on Form over Function.

Characters are Tools. A tool can be painful to use, or painful to watch in action, but it's still a tool. Sometimes pliers are for pulling teeth, and sometimes they're for twisting wire. You can't effectively pull teeth with a wrench, and you can't effectively hammer a nail with a screwdriver. You could, theoretically, and I'd love to watch someone try, but it's not recommended. It's ineffective. You need to know what a tool is for, how you could use it, and maybe even how you could make your usage of them surprising. A hammer is typically used for driving nails into place. Usually with the head. This doesn't mean you can't drive the nail in with its side, and it doesn't mean you can't use it to break fingers.

What this "Form over Function of a Tool" means in practice is... A lot of "guides" to writing Dave will go over the fact that he is the Ironic Cool Kid who has suffered a lot of Abuse at the hands of Bro Strider, and interject that headcanon of his character arc "being about overcoming Internalized Homophobia and/or Toxic Masculinity" (neither of these are true), but fail to mention that he is essentially a Tutorial Agent, and how his whole character hinges on how he absolutely does not want to be a Main Character. Everything he does is grounded in the fact that he's a Tutorial Agent, and therefore an NPC. He's a regular kid with a rough home life, and wants nothing more than to keep playing his role as just a random NPC. He doesn't want to be a Main Character. He doesn't want to fight, he doesn't want to be in an epic, he just wants to be Some Guy. He wants to be normal, and he wants to be able to be forgotten to the sands of time.

They focus so much on Who he is as a Person that they tend to fail to recognize What he is as a Character. It's not effective. You don't really need to worry about who they are as people. You don't need to focus on the paint job on a tool. You need to know what that tool is, and what it's being used for.

It's best to not consult guides written by other fans. It'd be best if you read through their dialogue yourself, and really dissected them and how they function... Find out what makes them tick.

Luckily, there's a blog out there that does have just about every line of dialogue in Homestuck sorted by character, so that's pretty good for ease of access. Good for you and good for me. I use it all of the time. Here you go.

[emry-stars-art]

okay but what happens after andrew confirms that yes he has indeed been courting neil f o r e v e r? like what is neil's reaction 👁️👁️

@ myself: wow haha this got angsty

I know I’m in a fluffy mood but I needed to sit down and really think about this (mind maps and random thought association and all) and it is not great at first! Neil’s immediate reaction, I mean 😭

First, here’s Andrew’s side of the thing for your reading pleasure

And I don’t know how to write Abram’s pov in scene form because it’s so like. Heartbreaking insane in my head. Yes, first there’s 100% this thought process (that’s supposed to be slightly comical but became not that, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean for this to happen) thank you @jtl-fics for the comments I’ve screenshotted from this post:

Second: he begins to feel incredibly guilty that he’s taking this from someone that’s infinitely much more deserving, whoever that is, as long as it’s not him. He was ready for Andrew to find someone he actually deserves. Now he feels like he’s ‘tricked’ Andrew into developing feelings for him, like Abram is a persona that isn’t real enough for Andrew to fall for but he’s tricked him anyway.

Third: Abram is an extension of Andrew’s resources. He’s still an attack dog but one that’s been re-homed, allowed to be much less violent and treated with respect and care that he can accept even if it doesn’t always feel deserved. Abram keeps a dagger at his hip to protect himself, Andrew keeps Abram. When Andrew asks “not what,” it’s something like I’m not that, I’m not an option, I am not even close enough to touch. There is no Abram, there is nothing here for you to love. You can’t. But even if there isn’t, Abram doesn’t need to be a person in that way for Andrew to handle him, use him, however he wants to.

That’s when Abram calms down, I think. That’s something he knows. He’s repressed his own feelings for Andrew so deep that he’d take it, too, he really would let Andrew use him if he wanted to. And it would be the best thing that ever happened to him. He thinks if Andrew is so certain he wants Abram this way, he can be perfect. Abram can be perfect for him, he’s determined to be.

(But that’s a thought process that comes on so quickly and so fully that Abram’s brain actually does let go of his personhood again. This time, though, with no one telling him to attack, he tries instead to be whatever he thinks Andrew wants. So - compliant and receptive.

This is not what Andrew wants.)

But after Abram takes his time away, talking to both Allison and Katelyn about it (they’re both really helpful in their own distinct ways) he understands that Andrew really meant it - he wants Abram as a person that he’s able to have, he wants Abram’s personality and his words and the parts of him he can’t control. Maybe Abram doesn’t even fully realize the scope of his own feelings before accepting the courtship, this time with a clear head and almost shaking with nerves but with a different kind of certainty that Andrew actually does accept. It takes a long time and a lot of assurance but Andrew is patient, until Abram will return gifts and gestures of affection. It actually does so so much to help Abram reclaim his humanity, seeing newly familiar behaviors directed at him with real intention.

Thank you for the ask, this was a point I felt was important to figure out for a while and this prompted me to get around to it! Probably not what you imagined but i uhhh. Sorry 🤧

(Curious? Find a small masterpost of this royal au here 💕)

[2dami2furious]

Miguel’s theory rests on the fact that the spiderverse is held together by the “cannon” so when a universe is no longer in compliance it ceases to exist, probably evident by the fact that it no longer pops up on the “web of life and destiny” that is used to travel between universes.

Okay. But what if like, that’s not true? Like yes universes stop being apart of the spiderverse because they stray from cannon, but they continue to exist, just BEYOND the reach of the watches. I think of it like business who’s address has been taken off of google maps. It’s still there, you just can’t find the directions to it.

In the scene where the other Miguel is dies, he gets shot trying to stop a robbery. It mirrors the way Uncle Ben usually dies. Uncle bens death is the event that causes Spider-Man to become Spider-Man because it teaches Peter that he has a responsibility to use his powers to help others. Maybe it’s that some events hold more weight than others and by basically removing the inciting incident that makes a hero Spider-Man, Miguel has stopped the Spiderperson of that universe (Gabriella) from being cannon compliant on the basis that “with great power comes great responsibility” doesn’t inform her moral compass.

(I also think it’s a bit telling that Miguel, at least in the comics, has no Uncle Ben character, from what I understand. Maybe he’s missing this point because the event never happened to him, but somehow his universe is still apart of the spiderverse)

Or it could be that what Miguel interpreted as Gabriellas universe being destroyed was really the separation of that universe from the spider-verse. Like, the separation isn’t something that happens in the background; it is a real, observable phenomenon that people experience and it’s catastrophic, but not world-ending??

It also begs the question of how the spider gang is gonna find miles. Assuming Earth 42 isn’t accessible via the watches, they would probably need to rely on Gwen and Miles’ cross dimensional spidey sense. It would also disprove the need for the watches, a symbol of belonging that miles really wants because he already has the thing that makes him belong as a spider: the spidey sense.

This is a super long way of me saying that I don’t think BTSV will have a supper happy “the good guys win, bad guys loose” ending. I think it’s far too idyllic and tropey for a franchise who’s whole thing is the deconstruction of a your typical superhero story.

EDIT: now that I’m thinking about it, Gabriella’s universe IS Miguel’s Uncle Ben event lol. He was using his powers selfishly and it caused (what he believes is) the destruction of an entire universe. Of course he is invested in his theory being correct because it validates the immense guilt and self hatred he already feels.

[charmikarma]

charmikarma's homestuck fanwork rec list

will be updated as i work my way through more things i like :) check under da cut

notes: parentheses indicate the focus(es) of each work, and works with explicit content are marked [E]. gen means there's no specific ship or character focus.

Canon Compliant or Canon-Adjacent Works

Karkat Goes To A Convention, Act 1 by Cole (gen)

i have two pitches for kgtac. here they are:

if you ever find yourself missing homestuck in the old days before postcanon, or even just the old days of homestuck fandom, you should read karkat goes to a convention immediately.

this is the most homestuck thing i have read since homestuck.

act 1 of kgtac is completed, and is the main draw here. act 2 is currently ongoing and is pretty much completely unrelated to act 1. i think it's alright. but act 1 is absolutely a must-read.

Detective Pony by sonnetstuck (dirk)

do i even need to explain this one? it's detective pony. it's a great character study of dirk. i'm sure you've all heard of it. if you haven't read it, go do that now. please.

Jade Route by SPICYYETI (jade)

jade route is a post-epilogues comic following meat!jade who is trapped in a body controlled by calliope. it's a take on the "ending" that the epilogues don't offer. i think it's pretty clever - it does a great job of using the medium. also, it's about jade :) may or may not have had an impact of some size on how i personally read jade.

AU Fics

Crossfire by HappiKatt (gen; dave)

ok, this series only contains one fic (for now). it's called "the calm is terrifying when the storm is all you've known." ok i literally could not put this fic down. it has the best hook i've ever seen. a proper fucking novel. and some of the best character writing i have EVER seen for the whole strilonde family. augh it's so good. and the art is really good too (YES IT'S ILLUSTRATED).

The Eurydice Suite by callmearcturus [E] (gen; davekat)

inception au. some of the coolest action and plot stuff with an ensemble cast i've ever read followed by the best davekat fic i've ever read. really cool stuff.

Catacombs by oxfordRoulette [E] (jadekat; dirkjohn)

another series. it's a d&d-like au. very tongue in cheek about this fact at times. the real draw here is the third fic in the series, Vanitas Vanitatum, which has stellar dirk and john writing. you could read it on its own, but the first two fics are also QUITE good, are about jadekat, and the second one sets up vanitas beautifully, so... you should read all three??? :3c

Miscellaneous

Homestuck Made This World by Ranged Touch (analysis)

hsmtw is a readthrough/analysis podcast whose goal is not to analyze homestuck on its own terms, but to challenge it and put it back into its historical context. it's not the easiest to listen to as a homestuck fan - the hosts are very critical at times, and i don't always agree with their opinions on things that happen in homestuck - but i think the analysis about what homestuck does, tries to do, and is responding to is very important, especially for people who weren't there for homestuck's original run. which... includes me! i read homestuck in 2014. i missed most of the most important homestuck historical moments. in any case, hsmtw changed the way i look at homestuck and other media. highly recommend, at the very least for understanding homestuck's historical context

Sugoi Quest for Kokoro by death420 (gen)

well well well well well well. well. 🤔 well. if it isn't ratchet and fuckin CLANK

DORITOS & FRITOS by bb-panzu (davejade)

good video. has davejade. i'm not an artist or anything but i think there's some kind of artistic genius happening here. it scratches my brain just right.

[radioactive-earthshine]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Fandom: Impulse (Comics) Relationship: Bart Allen & Max Mercury Characters: Bart Allen, Max Mercury

Additional Tags: Road Trips, Foster Care, Canon Compliant, Max Doesn't Know What He's Doing, Bart Doesn't Know What He's Doing, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior,Discovery, Feelings of Abandonment, Feelings of isolation,foster child, Guns,Life is a Video Game to Bart, Bart Allen is a Mess, Bart Allen is Literally One Month Out of VR, Anthem to Autism and ADHD, Wally West Is Trying His Best, Canon Typical Relationship, Misunderstandings, Difficulty with Emotions and Feelings, Brief appearance of Lobo, Swearing, Typical Max Mercury Behavior, Bart Allen-centric, Bart's understanding of gender is from a thousand years in the future, Original Character(s)

Words: 22,985 Chapters: 3/3

Summary: Bart didn't know what he did to deserve this, because surely forcing a speedster to travel 1,000 the long way in a moving truck was nothing short than cruel and unusual punishment. Meanwhile Max struggles to keep the peace, and keep Bart inside the truck as he mentally prepares himself for an uncertain future between them. Bart Allen, fresh from VR, certainly always keeps him guessing.

Highlights include a guest appearance from Lobo, an emotional traffic jam, and crimes involving a Jukebox.

Excerpt:

“Are we really gonna drive all the way to Obama in this ancient thing?” Bart looked at the large orange and white U-Haul truck suspiciously as Max closed the hatch and locked it. 

“It’s Alabama , and yes. We are.” 

“But why?!” Bart asked under a flash of yellow and he was gone from Max’s side. 

“Bart?” Max looked for Bart - one side of the truck and then the other and found nothing. “Bart?!” 

“We can just run there in like less than a hundredth of a second!” Bart’s voice came from the top of the truck, he was holding a little red and white paper food tray piled with fried green tomatoes that he enthusiastically munched on - a souvenir from his rapid travel to their destination to make his point. 

“Bart, get down. And don’t just… Jump,” Max sighed as he watched Bart take a fantastic leap from the top of the truck to the ground. The way he landed made his knees hurt. Somewhere between Bart’s leap to the ground and landing he had devoured all of the tomatoes leaving little crumbs on his chin. “Come on, I want to be on the road in five minutes.” 

“But why Max? I’m serious! We can just take everything there ourselves and be done in less than a minute! Why do we gotta drive?!” 

Max was starting to wonder that himself. “Because it’s how people move, Bart. And my job is to teach you how.” 

Bart looked at Max, his thick eyebrows knitting together. “I already know how to move, Max.” 

[mistrdctr]

What to expect from this blog (and what not to)

I thought I should make a small list about... well, what's written in the title lol - what to expect from this blog / this postrayal or wat not to expect from it, just so you know what you're dealing with.

What not to expect:

In-depth knowledge regarding Marvel and the MCU

Any more knowledge than what has been stuffed into the Dr. Strange Movies (and what mun remembers more than just a few snippets of the other MCU movies)

That the mun has read the comics

That the mun can remember every single MCU movie watched in general (and does not possess a sieve instead of a brain)

A completely canon-compliant, to-the-tee correct and absolutely not somewhat made-up portrayal of Dr. Strange as the canon character

Not the mun sitting over a reply and worrying because mun might not understand what the fuck is goING ON (???!!!!???)

A portrayal that's also very in-depth and stuffed to the brim with knowledge regarding Dr. Strange

That the mun as knowledge of your Marvel / MCU character

That the mun knows whether or not your character knows mine (except for 'main' characters, such as the Avengers etc)

A portrayal that will make you go 'oh wow yes'

Beautiful aesthetic and professional writing

What to expect:

A very casual portrayal of a character the mun adores

Writing things on here that are meant to be fun for both writers (me and you), no matter the topic

Also a very cringe, snarky, sassy, embarrassing but probably also canon-divergent, probably not at all very great portrayal of the Mister Doctor (It's Strange, who am I to judge)

Made up plots and things that definitely are absolutely not canon in any shape or form

Made up things about Dr. Strange that I see fit

Headcanons that might be a little odd but they're thought of with love I promise

Made up plots and situations that cause people who are in-depth familiar with Marvel / The Comics / MCU to arch their brows at when reading (and going 'what the fuck is this supposed to be')

A mun that keeps whispering 'ohmygod I am so sorry' while writing replies because believe me, mun knows that this is some weird shit and I am constantly worrying over the fact that I havE LITTLE KNOWLEDGE)

Definitely some butchering of the MCU and Marvel (sorry)

Little aesthetics because I suck at that

Mediocre icons

I-try-my-best-at-writing-I-promise

My love and adoration for you to write with me (honestly, bless you, thank you)

Me always being open to OOC interactions with mutuals (I love you)

I might add to this with time because my brain is, as mentioned, a sieve and I tend to forget things. :'D

[baroquepopcorn]

Leprechaun Romance, a thoroughly meandering headcanon/evidential analysis of speculative webcomic xenoromantics

As one bound to the aspect of light, I have a tendency to seek forbidden knowledge. Yes, this information has been cruelly hidden from us for too long. However through a combination of inference, thematic analysis, and vague in-comic information I have put together something. So sit back and allow me to:

Display my leprechaun romance headcanon!

Okay, I know, it was a stupid joke making fun of homestuck's worldbuilding and info-dump exposition, and that it was based on lucky charms, and Hussie himself probably hasn't even come up with an answer, but I Don't Care. This still seems like something worth examination. I’ve found that some of it just fits so well that it makes me think there's more to this than meets the eye. So allow me to be your exposition fairy and lecture you at length.

first of all the easy part:

Hearts <3 : confirmed to be equivalent to human love/matespritship. Maybe instead of admiration or pity, it's based on a mutual sense of humor, pleasant surprises, and inside jokes. Activities could also consist of friendly card games or comedic exchanges.

Diamonds <> : having the same diamond shape it is most likely equivalent to troll moiralligence, a romance centered around two platonic soulmates with the social purpose of balancing eachother out and preventing one of them from going off the rails. Maybe with leprechauns, diamonds have the social purpose of preventing people from going too far with pranks and getting too full of themselves. Maybe they use japes, jokes, and chicanery to calm eachother down, or minor pranks to dissuade them. It is right at the center of the chart, suggesting a strong association with moderation and neutrality.

Now for the hard part:

I feel like we can actually infer a lot of the deeper meanings of the charms via their shape. Think about it. Kismessisitude's symbol, the spade, is an inverted heart. Both it, and auspisticism have those "thorns" at the bottom, maybe indicating negative emotions, the fact that it is an inversion of another romance type, or acting like those lines on the bottom of 6s and 9s so you know which way is right side up. The Auspisticism symbol is the same as the Kissmessisitude symbol, except there is a third node (third party) interfering and splitting it apart. This concept of shape theory could be invaluable in the interpretation of certain charms

Balloons O< :

Now in the "inaugural death of Mr. Seven" paradox space comic (which while one may say the paradox space comics are of dubious canonicity, this particular one was written by Hussie himself so the world mechanics and lore must be at least canon compliant even if these events never happened) crowbar walks into clover and itchy doing a dance (which probably has the same dirty implications that buckets do with trolls, and snakes do with cherubs):

He mentions that they're all wrong for balloons (indicating he would be open to ballooning around with them but recognizes it wouldn't work out). The balloon symbol has that blackrom thorn, it may be based on negative emotions and it looks similar to the kismessitude symbol, but it's also rounder, redder, less pointy, more --- jovial. Now my headcanon for balloons. It's like kissmessitude but with practical jokes. The two balloons are engaged in a constant prank war, egged on by feelings of annoyance, spite, revenge, schadenfreude, and humiliation, but also a subtle and mutual undercurrent of enjoyment. Where it differs from kissmessitude is it is less of a rivalry, more of a two-sided bullying situation, maybe it's a bit more patronizing, teasing, pitying. Additionally it's a lot more lighthearted, there's a certain understanding that a balloon is all in the name of fun and japes, and like with kissmessitude, you never actually want to get rid of the other person, just mess with them. As such, it may be an inherently delicate charm; when one balloon takes a prank way too far and seriously hurts the other, the relationship could "pop" and the charm would be lost. If one of the members loses interest and stops pranking back, or has an especially long losing streak, the balloon could "float away". When interpreted like this, it becomes obvious why Clover and Itchy are "all wrong for balloons". Since Clover is extremely lucky (that's his power) any prank attempted on him would either fail or backfire. He also is very good natured and probably not smart or malicious enough to pull off effective pranks. As balloons require effort and humiliation from both sides, it would be impossible to solicit him with this charm. Itchy is very irritable and snarky, he probably would take a prank way too hard and go too far with his own, so while he'd probably get quite into balloons (and would be quite a skilled prankster because of his super speed), he would be a serial balloon popper, not the kind of leprechaun you’d want to have a long-term balloon with. Crowbar, by contrast is very competent, measured, and methodical, he would definitely try and seek revenge if his stoic image was humiliated and would probably takes immense pleasure in setting up pranks and seeing the payoff, additionally, he's pretty annoyed with most of the felt (implying a mild ballonic crush) Although he is quite serious, he seems quite interested in this charm, maybe it's the only way he can really let loose and joke around. That’s not even where poor crowbar’s romantic troubles end.

Horseshoes C¦ :

We actually see this charm quite a lot in the infamous hearts, stars, horseshoes trove:

Gross! Clover! get a room!

And here, after Karkat beat him in a fight and hog-tied him.

This post:

from compulsiveAnalyst explains how the fight may have been interpreted by Clover to be a solicitation/courting dance. Thus being bested in a fight by Karkat was not a faliure of his luck, but rather some good old fashioned horseshoeing which clover was really into

We interpret this trove by seperating its components. Obviously there is an element of hearts (love), and I have a seperate theory for stars that we'll get to later, but there is also an element of domination, of power, of subjugation, of kinkiness. Caliborn just conquered a planet, Karkat beat clover's ass, and the horsehoe itself has connotations of kicking, domestication, and ownership. And let us not forget about Equius the Horse guy, who literally commands people to command him, while getting very sweaty, and died submitting to Gamzee because he was into him choking him to death. So it is my interpretation that horseshoes represents kinky masochistic stuff. What I mean by that is that a horseshoe has two distinct roles; the master and servant, the dominant and submissive, the "kicker" and the "kicked", which leads to a sort of asymmetric romance, similar to how the auspistice between two would-be pitch lovers is the only one who bears the ashen feelings of exasperation and peacekeeping, or how the two moirails take on different roles as the pacifier and the violent, the "kicked" and the "kicker" could take on seperate but interelated aspects of the horseshoe relationship. Regardless, the point is the kicked would have a thing for getting kicked and rejected by the kicker, and would actively pursue them in order to satisfy horseshoe desires. The upside-down horsehoe is also commonly a symbol of bad luck, making it the perfect opposite to the shamrock charm.

Stars <X :

Same basis as above. When we seperate love and kinky shit from the hearts stars horsehoe equation, what are we left with? Awe, devotion, admiration --- stanning. When someone is faced with a celebrity they deeply admire, they are said to be startstruck (shown in emojis and cartoons as stars in the eyes). Thus stars could represent a sort of celebrity worship of another person but as a form of romance, which again would function asymmetrically. One person in a star relationship idolizes another, puts them on a pedastal, and constantly praises them with a fervor bordering on the religious. On a deeper level, the “star” could be a figure one aspires towards, encouraging self improvement. Activities could include pranks, jokes, and gifts intended to make "the star" notice them. The star hearts horseshoe trove is then revealed to be a sort of kinky, subby, romantic relationship, one a loyal servant may feel towards his master, with the master reciprocating the emotions with displays of dominance and distant affection. It also would be a sort of fifty shades of grey situation, with the hearts providing a basis of love, the stars providing the admiration and submission, and the horseshoes providing the masochism.

Alas, we have analyzed every charm that has been mentioned in the story. Everything from here on out will need to be filled in purely by headcanon. So let's take a step back and observe that 9-square chart along with the familiar quadrant diagram

The 2 by 2 column has a specific function, dividing the quadrants based on their properties. concupscient on the left, concilliatory on the right, redrom on top, blackrom on bottom. There is a clear logic here. Thus, there must be some logic behind the way the charms are arranged as well. Well what does our 3 by 3 array look like?

An alignment chart! lawful good to chaotic evil. Using our current datapoints we can get a feel for what "lawful - chaotic" and "good - evil" actually mean. hearts is lawful good, basically what we'd expect. diamonds is true neutral, again, it's platonic --- feels about right. But what about the other ones? balloons is lawful evil, stars is chaotic good, horseshoes is chaotic neutral (which also feels about right). Along the top we have two forms of intense red rom (matespritish hearts and parasocial celeb obsession stars). At the bottom we have what seems like a form of black rom (balloons) and in the middle we have diamonds and horseshoes. Now horseshoes mixes pleasure and pain, submission, fear, and grovelling. It definitely does feel somewhere in between red and black rom, but moirallegence is considered red rom, so then, shouldn't diamonds be in the top row? Wait. Didn't Aranea specifically say that "There is no division 8etween 8lack or red, concupiscent or conciliatory." Maybe instead leprechans have a similar concept of malicious intent behind the charms (tying in with the cherub concept of benevolent/malevolent), with diamonds being understood as a charm somewhat motivated by a sense of duty and social obligation instead of pure interest in another's wellbeing, it is still based on red emotions, but the underlying function is different. Maybe leprechuans, being a less violent race, have a different social purpose for their moirallegence; preventing their fellow diamonds from destroying not through just violence, but through reckless, careless abandon. Maybe the way these species organize their relationships into charts are more of a cultural construct that obfuscates a deeper underlying universal theory of romance... We're getting off topic here. The point is, in the context of this chart, good = benevolent, evil = malevolent, and neutral = mixed intentions, perhaps purely carnal or obligative in nature. notably, this concept is distinct from the redrom/blackrom divide, as while a moirail has positive feelings towards their palemate, the underlying reason for the relationship (beyond feelings) is not "I want to bring this one up" or "I want to take this one down", but instead "I want to stop this one from killing people" The lawful to chaotic axis may by contrast represent the concept of "activity" a nebulous concept familiar to all those well-versed in classpecting, best described as the dichotomy between a passive benefit to all, vs an active benefit to one. Reciprocal, balanced hearts and balloons that seek to improve both parties and lack a certain ferocity behind them (lawful), diamonds with their two distinct roles, and a sense of obligation to protect the world from a person (neutral), and asymmetric, one-sided, and somewhat vitrolic stars and horseshoes that only one person seems to derive enjoyment from (chaotic). With this newfound context we can begin tackling moons, shamrocks, rainbows, and pots o' gold.

Moons U :

neutral good. It must be a form of benevolent romance, and as a neutral relationship on the lawful to chaotic axis, it is a mix between active and passive. Now, when we think of moons in homestuck, there is one thing that should immediately come to mind and a place where this symbol shows up very plainly:

That's right! The moons! Dreamself pajamas! And specifically prospit. Mayhaps some exotic culture has an inverted form of moons, much like how kissmesistude is the inversion of matespritship, that looks like grunkle stan's hat symbol from gravity falls and is colored derse purple. Regardless, this only seems to strengthen the active/passive divide as it is literally representative of the polarization between prospit and derse. I think our best angle to analyze this is in the context of the prospit moon, and dreams themselves. Maybe this form of romance consists of a longing ache directed to another individual, a deep abiding sense of importance and fate that one attaches to another. It could be the feeling of locking eyes with a beautiful stranger on the bus, and then running into them again and again. moonmates could be the key to the other's destiny, the intellectual obsession, the muse, the one who lives in their dreams. Now this feeling is seperated from hearts by subtle nuance. While hearts make the heart ache, and they seek to get as close to eachother as possible, passively basking in eachother's embrace, and stars are an extreme celebrity worship contingent on one party actively seeking the light of another, moons could be more like an observance that can't be cleanly divided into active/passive, the sort of awe and wonder one might feel at a beautiful night sky, but redirected to a person. And above all else, fate (The moon symbol is also seen on the just half of the godtier death clocks) Mystery and secrets could be vital to this charm as moons represent the confluence of light and void, often riddles and queries could be exchanged as a sort of intellectual probing. Indeed mind games could be central to this charm as a way of simultaneously trying to get into the other person’s head and preserving that intrigue. Moons could frequently act as eachother's creative muses. They might tend to follow cycles of waxing and waning interest and activity with the moongazers shifting between positive and negative emotions, or active and passive behaviors, but always centering around the central idea that "this person is important to my fate and I must know more about them".

Shamrocks 88 :

I had a hard time with this one. the first thing you think about when you hear shamrocks is good luck, right? But when you look at the symbol itself, what do you see? hearts facing opposite to eachother. And with what we've talked about on how romance symbols in homestuck can encode meaning, I feel this is too important to pass up. Also important to note is that Auspisticism (Another clover-based romance form) is primarily concerned with breaking apart a kismesitude. Four-leaf clovers are things you pick when you see them, and keep to yourself to bring luck. It also is a neutrally-aligned reciprocated (lawful) feeling, suggesting a passive mutal benefit. In both places we've seen it (little sebastian's heart shamrock crush and clover's heart, shamrock, pot o' gold trove with trace) it is paired with hearts. What I'm guessing it is, is a sort of mutual recognition of the other's role as a "lucky charm" (puns!), with a desire to keep them to themselves through jealously fending off suitors, and perhaps even teasing the other person to keep them from straying (thus the hearts opposed to eachother represent how shamrockmates will push off the percieved romantic advances of other people in order to preserve the shared luck they bring to eachother.) It is also directly opposed to horseshoes, and wouldn't you know, upside-down horsehoes are a symbol of bad luck. Maybe the difference is: "this person is good for me and I want to keep them by my side", and "this person is bad for me, but I'm gonna keep chasing them because I want the pain". Making the neutral band a sort of trio of lucky pleasure, balanced obligative moderation, and unlucky pain. They may also consist of playing together in games of chance, vs horseshoes playing them against each other (for kinky purposes?) and shamrocks could be the ones you enter competitions with. In the context of the story as seen above, lil sebastian may heart clover a lot, but also shamrock them, want to keep them as their "charm" so that they may benefit from their luck.

Rainbows ((( :

A malevolently focused activity neutral charm. I'm actually pretty happy with the theory I came up with for both it and pots o' gold, based on a potential relationship between the charms. Rainbows, stars, and moons are all celestial objects one can never reach. In the case of stars, its a wistful pining from afar, though you know you'll never come near. With moons, it's a little closer, more involved, you can really study it, and though it takes some work, you can eventually reach it (landing). Even with balloons, if you're not careful it can float away from you and you'll start losing to your prankster-partner bullymate. The fundamental nature of rainbows is that you can chase one, but you'll always fall behind. I envision a rainbow relationship as a sort of adverserial mentorship, with one person (the rainbow) being well versed in a skill, or just engaging in an endless stream of one-upmanship against the rainbow-chaser, who seeks to meet and surpass the rainbow's skill level. Because it is active-passive neutral, the charm can have both selfish (the chase of rivalry) and mutually beneficial (self improvement) elements. Imagine the feeling of someone continually beating you in checkers, or getting better grades than you, and no matter how much you try to improve, they always remain one step ahead (much like the symbol itself, with one end of the arc always behind the other). It could be strongly based in games of skill, strategy, or luck (as some are naturally more lucky than others), but invariably would end up in the chaser losing but getting better. It's probably a very exhausting charm for both parties, but a very rewarding one. With moons and diamonds it seems to form a trio of improvement (moons: improvement of the mind/light/spirit, diamonds: improvement of the heart/rage/emotions, rainbows: improvement of the body/life/practical skill).

Pots o' gold C]: :

Last but not least, the pot of gold charm. Occupying the malevolent active portion of the quadrant, it strikes me that it's symbol is similar to balloons but flipped and filled with stuff, indicating a material gain element. In relation to rainbows, the pot of gold is supposedly what one can obtain once they reach the end, with the leprechaun having to give up their gold. I'd imagine when the rainbow-chaser finally bests their rainbow, the charm flips to pot of gold as an achievement. Mayhaps they even get to literally take something the rainbow finds valuable, maybe it's just social clout. In this case, the ex-rainbow would become mad with rage; jealous, vindictive, and greedy, with the central goal of taking down the gold pot and regaining whatever the gold represents. Imagine if someone has something you want, so you try to get it from them however you can, through pranks, through tricks, through mind-games, through straight-up attacks. An example would actually be saturday morning cartoons and cereal commericials, in a leprechaun's eyes, the roadrunner and wile coyote, or bugs bunny and elmer fudd are committed gold pot charmmates, as are the kids and lucky the leprechaun. A common scenario in leprechaun romance could be the pairing of rainbows and pots of gold, with the chaser going after the rainbow not only to finally best them, but to win back the fated pot of gold and have the relationship flip roles.

Lastly, we come to the most fascinating element of leprechaun romance: the troves. Unlike humans, and trolls, a relationship can be defined by more than one emotion at once, even if they seem contradictory. Their union creates a unique relationship, with each of the charms representing certain aspects that the charmmates can shift between. As such, the leprechauns can (and ultimately desire to) share as many charms with their charmmate as possible. A leprechaun would look at a vaciliating troll relationship with confusion, why couldn't they be eachother's matesprits and moirails at the same time? Why must they flip between black and red if they can potentially harbor both feelings related to each quadrant with someone? The electicism and unpredictability is the point. In fact, a relationship often isn't taken seriously and isn't considered a trove unless it has at least three charms (three being the most common), with exotic charm combinations being the subject of much swooning. A one-or two charm relationship is often seen in the context of a crush, or a relationship just starting out, with the partners gaining and discovering more charms as the relationship develops and the nuances reveal themselves. (I doubt though, that the order the charms are displayed in matters, unless it represents how prominent a certain aspect is). And as Aranea said, though some charm combinations are more conducive to reproduction, all charm combinations are capable of lending themselves to concupiscity. A dance solictiation is mainly focused on one charm at a time, depending on the partners' moods, though it can easily switch charms in the middle of the dance.

Now, armed with knowledge, let us tackle this:

It looks like the felt are getting to know eachother, how sweet! let's take a look:

matchsticks and crowbar are in moons-stars, U <X, characterized by both extreme admiration and fated importance. Wait, didn’t crowbar say he “didn’t do moons”? What the hell happened here?!

Itchy and die are in horseshoes-pot of gold , C¦ C]: which considering itchy's snarky irritability, and die's ... weird ... die-ness, feels appropriate. Maybe itchy is the gold pot and the kicker

doze and clover are in balloons-rainbows, O< ((( doze is probably working very hard to try and catch up with clover's luck and speed, with plenty of lighthearted pranks on behalf of clover along the way.

And trace and fin are in hearts and diamonds, <3 <> a mix of matespritship and moirallegiance (our two sharkbois are in love, nepeta would have a field day)

Horshoe-balloon-pot o gold. C¦ O< C]: , That's kinky pranks with a greedy chase undertone. Oh gosh, clover's a real masochist. And it looks like, considering we have two forms of malevrom paired with horseshoes, my theory actually fits quite well with this apparently being a pretty kinky trove.

Oh boy, chaotic. It's hard to tell who's feeling what for whom, but we can pick out some particular troves.

die: moon-horseshoe-clover, rainbow-heart-balloon

eggs 1 and 2: hearts-balloons-pot o gold, diamonds-rainbows-star, star-shamrock-moon, diamonds-rainbows-stars

biscuits: rainbow-heart-balloon, star-shamrock-moon

clover: moon-horseshoe-shamrock, pot o gold-diamond-horseshoe

Now, if we pair the leprechauns with the same troves, we get

die x biscuits, rainbow-heart-balloon, ((( <3 O<, a loving yet adversarial, prank-based relationship between rivals

eggs x eggs, diamonds-rainbows-stars, <> ((( <X, emotional moderation but based in asymetric competition and deep respect (seems fitting for a relationship between you and your future/past self)

eggs x biscuits, star-shamrock-moon, <X 88 U, deep respect, admiration, and a sense of the other's great luckbringing and fated importance. Considering these two are almost always seen with eachother, I'd say they're going pretty strong

Lastly, let's leprechaun ship the kids. Rose and Kanaya are a very strong example of hearts-moons. They're in love, yes. But there was always that intellectual intrigue, that admiration, that sense of fate and destiny that permeated the relationship ever since they first met (along with a lot of light iconography). Terezi's trolling would be interpreted as a balloon solictation to most leprechauns. Nepeta and equius could be a diamonds-shamrock, as they are moirails, yes, but equius also deeply values nepeta as someone he is lucky to have, also seeing nepeta as lucky to have him, and he tries to keep her around him and prevent her from joining the red team, being quite possessive of her. And again, the reason Equius let Gamzee kill him and was smiling is because he had a major thing for horseshoes (horse guy, submits to highbloods, into AEA, makes sense)

If anyone else has some conflicting theories or other examples of leprechaun-romance heavy panels, I'd love to see it, feel free to ask away. Hope y'all enjoy

[icannotreadcursive]

So, since totally cheating on today's OC-tober prompt, I am having some thinky thoughts about my relationship to fanfic AUs and what "AU" even means.

I do not think of myself as someone who writes AUs, and yet I very rarely write things that are canon-compliant. As I just said to a couple friends "I canon diverge HARD and I love me a “what if” but I do not “AU” in the coffee shop etc sense".

And that's the thing, when I say "AU" pretty much exclusively mean a story where the characters exist in a setting different from canon and have done so all along. Not "the world of canon but with some details changed" and not "the world of canon up to a point."

I think I've written one (1) actual AU ever, and I'm more likely to read AUs for Marvel and DC comics stuff which, by their nature, already have about a million canonical AUs anyway, or for media I'm not super familiar with or don't actually like so my interest in the canon setting is low to begin with.

From certain authors I trust, or on friends' recommendations I will read almost any kind of AU, but it's a reasonable generalization to say I just don't like them.

For me, a huge part of a character is the context they exist in, so when you take them out of their canon setting my interest drops a lot. And yes, I do know that some AU fics do a lot of really interesting things with translating a character's circumstances and dynamics from canon to an AU setting, which--for me--exploring that dialogue between the canon circumstances and how they've been rendered in the AU is the entire point of having an AU at all and just about the only thing that makes them worth reading, but too often they feel like dolls with familiar names and faces just grabbed and stuck in a different story entirely where they can't be the same characters I know, and I therefore absolutely do not care about them.

Especially for source media that's sci fi or fantasy where those fantastical elements are so deeply ingrained in the characters' experience and sense of self, I utterly fail to see the appeal of AUs that strip the characters of that context. To me, a lot of the fun of sci fi and fantasy is exploring the impact that the fantastical elements have on characters, so the impulse to do the opposite of that reflects a view of and relation to that media and those characters that is so alien to me I cannot fathom it. I have a similar, if somewhat inverse, issue with a lot of the kinds of AUs that introduce fantastical elements (they tend to feel shoehorned in to me) or switch out one set of fantastical elements for another (there was already magic there to be explored??? was the canon magic not good enough for you???). Overall, most AUs end up making me feel like, why did you bother writing this as fanfic for this media, since you clearly don't actually want to write about this media or its characters as they exist.

I'm not saying y'all who love to write and read those kinds of of stories are wrong, I'm saying I will never understand you.

All this culminates in my moderate frustration with the handling of the Ao3 [Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence] tag. Because it stacks under the general [Alternate Universe] tag, I can't just exclude that tag and free myself of all the coffee shop, modern setting, no powers, vampire, mafia, high school AUs I'm just not interested in without also removing all the "what if things when differently after episode 3?" type stuff I am into.

Cuz, to me, canon divergence isn't AU, it's canon divergence. Those + canon compliance are three different modes of engaging with canon that I think most fanfic people have an innate understanding are different from each other. It bugs me that one gets stacked under another just on the grounds that it's not the third one.

Most of the time when I'm writing fic it's either an exercise in "how would I have handled this story/filled in these gaps" or its me experimenting with how things could have gone, treating canon as a control group. Either way, there's a grounding in the canon setting the absence of which is what, to me, makes an AU an AU.

The way I see it, because my fics have that grounding point, they're simply not AUs no matter how far they end up diverging, since they're still set in the same basic world.