#wrote this instead of homework

[tinycoded360]

Chapter 12: Luminance Fugue

edit 3/4/25

Will paced the tiny prison cell, hands shaking in rage as he thought of Mathis holding Sage captive. He slammed a fist into the stone wall, ignoring the burst of pain in his knuckles. He had to get out of here.

He had to save her.

“Psst…. Hey.” A voice of a man whispered from the barred window into the next-door cell. “Come to the window, we must talk. Stand on the toilet and you can reach the window.”

Will whipped around, surprised at the new voice. He was curious so he complied. Will stood up on the toilet seat and was able to see into the next cell. There was an older man tied to a chair. He could barely see the other man.

“There you are! Well…. welcome to this shitshow.” The other man greeted Will.

“Ok, so who are you?” Will demanded.

“Unfortunately, I run this place.” The other man replied with a deep wariness.

“That doesn’t seem to be working out too well for you.” Will deadpanned.

“Yes, well normally I’m on the other side of the bars. Name’s Franklin. I’m warden here at Blackrock.”

“Name’s Mackenzie. Franklin…what’s going on here?”

“Mathis and his gang of thugs are trying to break someone out of solitary. We’re still alive, for now, so they must need us for something. The power’s been out for days and nobody’s coming to help.”

“Sounds about right. Mathis took someone I care about from me; do you know where he’d keep someone?” Will asked, his heart pounded as he thought of Sage’s terrified face.

“Hmmm, maybe my old office, he’s claimed it as his. I heard…. the commotion earlier, did he take…. a pet of some sort from you?”

“No! She’s not a pet…. She’s a child.” Will hesitated before continuing, he remembered his promise to Sage about not telling others about her, but the damage had already been done. They needed allies. “Have you ever heard of borrowers? She’s a child, about three inches tall, but she’s no different from any other kid.”

“…. you know, I’ve had…. heard of them before. In old folk tales, it says they bring good luck or good fortune, to those that show kindness to them. I hope you find her, but she’d most likely be kept in the warden’s office.”

“So…... Mathis, you know him?” Will asked, trying to gather more information and take his mind off his gut-wrenching worry over his tiny child.

“Oh yeah, we go way back. He was in for murder on the mainland about ten years ago. He did some time but got off on parole. He came back here for Donner.”

“Donner?”

“His son. Mathis is bad, but he’s old school bad, murder, larceny, and grand theft auto. But Donner……. he’s all that but worse.”

“So……not a good person.”

“Well, he’s looked up in BlackRock, isn’t he?” Franklin paused then continued. “Donner is evil to the core. There’s no redemption for guys like Donner. They should have been able to break him out by now. But something’s wrong. Or someone…. Has been getting in the way.”

Both men tense at the sounds of multiple footsteps echoing down the hall. Mackenzie scrambles down and stands in the middle of his cell. Just in time as Mathis and his men come into view. Mackenzie can only stand and watch as Mathis enters Franklin’s cell.

Mackenzie flinches as he hears Mathis interrogate Franklin. Mathis grows angry, especially when Franklin mentions Donner. In his anger, Mathis starts to beat Franklin. Once Mathis has finished beating up the old Warden, he turns to two of his lackeys and orders them to patch the man up. “Heller! Vachon! Take care of this mess.”

Mathis glares at Mackenzie as he walks by.

Heller curses under his breath. “There’s no way I’m going out there again."

“Well, we’re out of medical supplies, one of us has to go out and fetch something.” Vachon replied.

“Why don’t you do it, I’m not messing with those wolves, they’ve gotten worse.”

“I went last time.”

“Well, if one of us doesn’t go, boss will kill us himself, he’s gotten more unstable.”

“I’ll do it.” Mackenzie piped up. Both convicts turn to him in surprise.

“And why would we let you out, you’d run and never come back.”

"The warden's dying," Will said flatly. "He needs medical attention, or he won't make it through the night. And plus, Mathis is holding my little girl hostage, I’ll be back."

Heller and Vachon exchanged glances. Finally, Heller jerked his head. "Go. But any funny business and the girl pays the price."

Will grit his teeth. "Understood."

******* The outdoor air was cold and bitter. Mackenzie was annoyed that Mathis’s thugs refused to give him his coat back, he’d have to look for a new one. He only had his sweater and basic clothing.

They took everything he had from him. He’d have to collect some more stuff and stash it somewhere before he returned.

He had to make plans for his future escape.

The courtyard of the prison compound was relatively safe.

But to get to the old infirmary, he’d have to step out into the outer fenced section. But there was danger lurking. A pack of hungry wolves stalked the outer and inner gates. He must be careful.

*****

Will’s pulse hammered in his ears as he navigated the dimly lit corridors of the prison infirmary. The infirmary, once sterile and ordered, was now a scene of chaos. Overturned gurneys and shattered glass crunched underfoot. His eyes swept over the bare shelves until they landed on a bulky emergency medkit, sealed and intact. Before he could grab it, he was startled by a sound he was not expecting to hear.

*Ring* *Ring*

Mackenzie turns to the old phone on the wall in almost disbelief. He’s not sure how this works when nothing else has. Still in a state of disbelief, he reaches out and picks up the phone.

“Who is this? And where are you calling me from?” Mackenzie asked into the phone.

An unknown female voice answers. “Somewhere safe. Look Mister Mackenzie, soon you’re going to have to figure out whose side you’re on in this little stalemate we have going on.”

“I don’t know anything about a stalemate. And I’m on my own side.”

“Well, at least you’re honest.”

“Where are you and what do you want?” Mackenzie demanded.

“That question has a long answer. Right now, I’m safe from those prison assholes. But I cannot say the same for you.”

“Look, the prison warden…. he’s injured. I’m just trying to keep him alive and rescue someone that Mathis took from me.”

“So…. They let you out of the prison? Then they’re just going to let you back in?”

“Right,” Mackenzie replied realizing how unlikely that sounded.

“But you aren’t helping them?” The unknown caller asked in clear skepticism.

“I’m not helping them.”

“Something about this situation…...about you…. doesn’t fit.”

“Look why don’t you tell me where you are and maybe I can help you.”

“Help me? The caller sounded amused. “Shit man, you can’t even help yourself.”

“Are you the one that’s messing up the convict’s plans?” Mackenzie asked, trying to put the puzzle pieces together.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Either way, I’m not telling you. How do I know you aren’t really one of Donner’s boys?”

“Donner…...so you know about him.”

“Wake up man. This is all about Donner. Don’t you get that? And I’m the only thing standing between that fucker rotting away in solitary and an evil man being unleashed on the rest of this hellhole.”

“Well, I hear the summers are nice here,” Mackenzie replied trying to lighten the mood.

“Take care of yourself, Mr. Mackenzie. Those wolves sound pretty hungry to me.” With that, the call ended.

“Well, that was weird,” Mackenzie muttered to himself under his breath.

Back to his original task, Mackenzie grabbed the medkit and retraced his steps, each creak and groan of the building setting his nerves on edge. Will's mouth was dry, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as he pushed onward, driven by the singular thought of saving Franklin... and Sage.

The final stretch was a blur of shadow and adrenaline. Will pressed on, pushing his body beyond exhaustion, driven by the knowledge that with each second lost, the warden's breaths could be slipping away.

******

“Yeah, you’d better get in there to see him,” Vachon told him as he searched him then led him to Franklin’s cell.

The warden lay slumped against the chair he was tied to, his breathing shallow.

"Franklin," Will gasped, dropping to his knees beside the battered man, the emergency medkit springing open with a click.

"Stay with me," Will murmured, his fingers steady despite the quake of urgency that threatened to overtake him. He reached for an ampule of adrenaline, snapping the top with practiced ease. The needle plunged into Franklin's vein, a silent prayer accompanying the push of the plunger.

As the drug coursed through the warden’s body, Will wrapped a compression bandage tightly around the man's ribcage. Franklin's eyelids flickered—a subtle but promising sign.

"Good," Will whispered, more to himself than to the semi-conscious man before him. His hands moved with care, cleaning cuts, and applying antiseptic.

"Who the hell are you?" Franklin croaked, the words barely audible, laced with pain and gratitude.

“Relax, it’s me your neighbor from the other side of the wall.”

“Ah…. you.”

“I cleaned you up the best I could.”

“Thanks, you seem to know a fair bit of first aid.”

“Well…... I’m marr……I uh…. know a doctor.”

“We’d better hurry before the guards get back. There’s something I need to tell you about the prison.”

“I’m listening.”

“Solitary. It’s……. it’s on its own locking circuits. Separated from the rest of the prison. Mathis and his guys……haven’t figured that out yet.”

“But when they do?”

“When they do, they’ll get Donner out. I can’t figure it out, but someone is out there. Messing with the system.”

“I might have an idea of who it is,” Mackenzie admitted with a sigh.

“You see someone out there?”

“Not saw but I talked to someone on the phone.”

“Right! The old rotary phone system would still work.”

Before they could finish their conversation, they heard clear signs that Mathis and his men were walking down the hallway toward their location.

With panic and urgency, Mackenzie rushes back to his cell, so he’s not caught by Mathis. He makes it just in take as Mathis approaches the cells.

Mathis stands before his cell and then reaches out and pushes his cell door open. Showing that it isn’t locked. Mathis turns to glare at his cronies.

“He……hey how’d that happen? Vachen said, trying to act surprised.

“Wow! Yeah, must be glitchy.” Heller agreed. Trying to play it off.

Mathis chuckles as he enters Mackenzie’s cell. “These Idiots think I’m a fool, I know they were too chicken to take care of the warden themselves. And they sent you out into the cold to do their dirty work.”

“Where is Sage? Is she ok, is she hurt?” Mackenzie asked.

“Who’s Sage.” Mathis mocked.

“The tiny child you took from me.” Mackenzie glared. If his look could murder, Mathis would be dead ten times over.

“Oh! I remember…. your tiny pet.” Mathis reached into his pant pocket and pulled at the tiny wiggling form of Sage. Mathis held the tiny child in a tight fist. Not caring for the tiny girl’s comfort. Sage gave Will such a sad and pleading look, she stretched out her tiny arms to him, with a pleading desperate look on her tiny face. Mackenzie’s heart broke. Mathis' fingers closed around Sage's tiny form like a vice, his cruel eyes gleaming with malice.

"Please, Mathis," Mackenzie pleaded, desperation evident in his voice. "She's just a child! You have a child too, you must understand!"

Mathis sneered at him, tightening his grip on Sage. "This little rat ain't human," he spat out, disgust coloring his words. "And if you ever compare my son to this...this thing again, I'll rip her tiny limbs off." Sage sobbed in fear, her small body trembling in Mathis' merciless grip.

“Please let me hold her, she’s scared. I’ll do what you want, just please give her back to me.” Mackenzie begged, holding his palm out for the tiny child.

“Oh no. You want her back; you’ll have to earn that.�� Mathis sneered, holding Sage up aloft and away from Mackenzie’s reach.

[r-aindr0p]

Oh yeah like two days ago I woke up and I instantly remembered this guy for no particular reason

Green bike guy.....

[hugnknee]

Apartment 224

pairing: Spencer Reid x neighbor!reader

summary: After Spencer Reid gets his parking spot stolen, he must confront the culprit to get it back.

warnings/tags: N/A

word count: 861

authors note: Hii! This is my first post on here. It's not exactly my best work, but I hope y'all enjoy!

Spencer couldn’t believe that he was so upset over something so trivial as this, but there he was: on the phone with Penelope using her expertise to track down the owner of a car.

Every day, Spencer parked last spot in the left corner of the lot furthest from the door. He knew he wasn’t home often, so his car typically stayed at his apartment.

Today was his day off, so he decided to ensure that all was right with his vehicle. He was only gone a few hours, yet when he got back, he noticed a car. A different car. A car that was not his parked in his parking spot. Parking spots don’t have names, yes, but Spencer believed that it was common decency to know that if someone parks in the same spot every single day, it is their spot.

Spencer hated her. No. Not hated. Hate was a strong word that he’d rather not use. Loathed or extremely disliked was better. Either way, he refused to let anyone disturb his way of life.

He parked next to the car.

He could do nothing about it besides storm off. He didn’t know her at the time, but he wanted to. He wanted to tell her that that spot was rightfully his and that he should be the only one to park there. 

“Found her,” Penelope said.

“Who is she?” Spencer paced around his apartment, car keys in hand.

Penelope said her name; he didn’t recognize it. Spencer didn’t talk to many people in his building, though. His apartment served as more of a house than a home. Penelope also said her apartment number: the one directly across from his. 

“Spencer, what are you going to do?” Penelope asked.

“I’m going to ask for my parking spot back.” Spencer stopped his pacing.

“Okay, and don’t hate me for this, but it is just a parking spot.”

To Penelope, it was just a parking spot. To Spencer, it was the most convenient place to park his car, especially for someone who was never home. In all of his years living there, he always parked in that spot. He would have liked to continue it. 

“Which is why she should have no problem giving it up. I’m going over there. Thank you for your help.” Spencer hung up his phone and shoved it in his back pocket. He ran a hand through his hair—all of this stress had given him a headache. Taking a deep breath, he trudged across the hall.

The door read “Apartment 224.” Music that he didn’t recognize blared through. He felt sorry for the eardrums of whoever lived in there. His hand rapped against the door harsher than he intended, but it still worked. He was coming with complaints, after all.

The door opened. There stood a woman with deep brown skin and blonde braids flowing down her back. She stared at Spencer. “Hi, can I help you?”

Every complaint he had left his mind as he took in the silk pajamas she wore. “Umm. Hi, I’m Spencer,” he muttered. In his head, he thought he was coming to lay down the law. “I know this is super menial, but the parking spot you’re currently parked in is mine.” His head lied. “Well, rather not mine, but I prefer to park there because I work a really weird schedule so my car just sits there and it’s the best way that I can keep it out of peoples way, so for future purposes, I would prefer you use any other parking spot than the one you’re currently using.”

He sounded dorky, as opposed to the assertive nature he wanted to put on. He couldn’t help it, though she distracted him. Her eyes never left his, and he was sure he was getting lost in them. 

The woman nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. Sorry about that, I also work super hectic hours. I guess we were thinking alike.” Her voice was like iced tea on a hot day to Spencer. He wanted her to keep talking. “Would you like me to move it now or…”

“No. It’s, umm, fine. You seem to be in a very relaxed state, and I’d hate to disturb you.” Spencer wanted to keep this going, but he didn’t exactly know how. His brain was scrambled, and the raging headache he had was not helping him. The music still raged behind them. 

The woman nodded again. “Sounds good. Thank you for telling me.” She went to close the door. Spencer had one last chance.

“What music are you listening to? I don’t think I’ve heard it before.” 

The door swung back open. "You've never listened to Beyonce?"

Truth be told, he'd only heard her in passing from Penelope's office, or if Savannah was playing it at Derek's house. "No.

The woman chuckled and smiled. Spencer’s knees went weak. “Why don’t you come in? I could give you a lesson about the greatest performer of this generation.”

Spencer smiled. “I’d like that.” He stepped into her house, music thumping in his ears. “But do you think we could turn it down a bit?”

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

The Dilemma of a Rubber Duck

Alastor x Reader (Queer-Platonic) ft. Bestie Lucifer

(TW: Mentions of depression, mentions of suicide attempts)

You knew Alastor didn’t like Lucifer. You weren’t 100% sure why, only that the King of Hell really got on Alastor’s nerves. Ever since Lucifer had moved into the hotel in the aftermath of the battle with the angels, Alastor had spent hours ranting and raving to you about him. They were constantly trying to one-up each other. It was comical, really.

Except that you were stuck in the middle of it. 

Unlike Alastor, you and Lucifer had hit it off right away, getting along like two peas in a pod. There was a certain camaraderie that came with being clinically depressed and still having to force a smile, which both you and Lucifer were experts at. Many late nights had been spent exchanging stories and finding humor in things other people might not otherwise find humorous. 

(“I tried to kill myself twice, and then end up getting hit by a car! That’s how I end up in Hell? What did I do all that work for?” That was the first time that story had been met with laughter, and that was when you knew Lucifer was a good guy.)

You were constantly thinking about how Alastor would react to knowing you enjoyed hanging out with Lucifer, or vice versa. It worried you to no end, so you tried to keep your friendship with Lucifer under wraps, for Alastor’s sake. He needed someone to back him up, and you wanted to be that person. You wanted Alastor to know he could trust you.

One evening, you and Lucifer were talking in the parlor, drinking tea. Alastor was out for a fancy Overlord meeting, so you were able to relax a bit. 

“I’m so glad we have Niffty around,” you were saying. “Sometimes I just can’t find the energy to do my laundry, but I know that if I leave it on the floor, she’ll take care of it right away.” You thought for a moment. “It’s not like I’m forcing her to do it. Or taking advantage of her. Right?”

“Nah, I thought cleaning was her job,” Lucifer reassured. “My loophole with that is all my outfits are the same. Also magic. Magic is very helpful.”

“Man, I’m jealous!” You gave a lighthearted groan. “I wish I could have magic like that.”

“Who’s saying you can’t?” Lucifer shrugged, sipping at his tea. 

You snorted. “Have you seen me? Do I look like Overlord material to you?”

“I didn’t think Mr. Crimson Asshole was an Overlord, so looks aren’t everything.” Lucifer hesitated. “Oh, shit, I shouldn’t have said it like that. You two are like, dating, right?”

You made a ‘fifty-fifty’ gesture with your hand. “Eh… Not really? It’s like… a mutual relationship. Neither of us are the ‘dating’ type, so we just kind of… vibe. But it’s fine, I get it. You should hear the things he says about you.”

“Oh?” Lucifer leaned forward, curious. You mimed zipping your lips, grinning playfully. “Alrighty then, keep your secrets.”

The feeling of guilt you’d been getting used to returned, but you smiled past it. If there was anything Alastor taught you, it was that you could hide everyone behind a smile. And it worked, for the most part. The only person who’d ever been able to see though it was Alastor himself. Similarly, you were the only person able to see through his ever-present smile.

Setting his cup down, Lucifer waited for a lull in the conversation. “Before I forget, I have something for you.” With a wave of his hand, a little yellow rubber duck appeared in his palm. Its features and markings made it resemble you. 

Eyes wide, you carefully took the duck from his hands like it were an actual duckling.

“This one doesn’t breathe fire or anything, but…” Lucifer paused, like he was struggling for words. “I haven't had a real friend in… a really long time. S-so I wanted to thank you. For that.”

You were at a loss for words. The only other person to get you gifts since you’d died had been Alastor. That feeling of guilt hit you like a train, but it was masked with a bright, grateful smile.

“Lucifer, I… I’m honored. Thank you.” You struggled to tear your eyes away from the duck. “Can I hug you?”

Instead of replying, Lucifer pulled you out of your chair, hugging you close. You matched it, hoping your appreciation for his existence was properly conveyed.

“Ahem.”

You and Lucifer pushed each other apart like a teenage couple caught making out. Alastor was standing in the entrance to the parlor, teeth bared. His grin was sharp, borderline violent, and his eyes were narrowed. 

“Al,” you tried, but no other words followed.

Then Alastor sighed, and the murderous look in his eyes disappeared. You were still holding the duck Lucifer had given you. Looking down, you realized you were shaking, and felt a little faint. 

You stumbled back, right into Alastor’s arms. Head spinning, you allowed him to set you down on the chair. Alastor kept a hand on your arm, watching your every movement with surgical focus. He knew, you realized. He knew how guilty you felt, how much anxiety it was causing you. How long he’d known, you had no idea, but you could feel it in the way he wouldn’t let you go. You didn’t want him to let you go. 

“Are you okay?” Lucifer looked frantic, obviously worried. “Do you need water? Something to eat? Medicine? I’m sure there’s some around here somewhere, if you just give me a minute—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted, trying to muster a smile. You failed. How Alastor held his grin all day, every day, was a mystery to you. “Well, okay, maybe not fine.”

“They could use water,” Alastor provided, only a slight edge in his voice. Nodding, Lucifer ran off to get a glass of water, leaving you and Alastor alone in the parlor. 

Alastor was silent for a moment. You could tell he was trying to figure out what to say. “I apologize for not noticing your anxiety sooner.” A little joy fluttered in your chest. Alastor enjoyed watching everyone’s suffering—everyone except for you.

“It’s not your fault,” you told him. “I should’ve been more upfront. I just…” You were still a little shaky. Alastor’s hand moved so it rested over your hand. The rubber duck was still in your other hand, and you turned it over with your fingers, fidgeting with it. “I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“Now that is nonsense if I ever heard any!” Alastor laughed. “What a ridiculous sentiment, my dear. It would take more than that to take me from you, I assure you.”

“But I know how much you hate him.” You looked towards the direction Lucifer had gone. “You hate that he’s here. You hate that he’s meddling. And this is just another reason to hate him.”

Alastor was contemplating his words again when Lucifer came back. He gently handed you the glass of water, causing you to have to put your duck down. Alastor was right to ask for it—the water helped. The air was tense as Lucifer and Alastor glared at one another while also keeping an eye on you. 

“When you are happy, I am happy,” Alastor said out of the blue. Both you and Lucifer looked to him for clarification. “If talking with Lucifer makes you happy…” Alastor swallowed, gritting his teeth, glowering deeply at Lucifer, “then, by that logic, it makes me happy.”

“Hey, same here.” Lucifer put his arms up symbolically. “I’m not gonna leave my friend just because I hate their boyfriend– er, whatever you are, that is.”

“Partner,” you and Alastor said in unison.

“Right. That.” 

The air was still tense, but it made you feel better knowing that Alastor and Lucifer wouldn’t be fighting over you, at the very least. 

“Okay,” you said suddenly, having finished your water. “I’m going to bed. Thanks again for the duck, Lucifer.”

You barely heard Alastor growl at Lucifer upon realizing that he’d given you a gift, but it just caused you to smile fondly. Alastor was quick to step in beside you, taking your arm to escort you up to your room. 

“You’re welcome!” Lucifer called back. “But don’t think that just because you and Alastor are partners that I’ll make one for him too!” You had to stifle a laugh. Lucifer was too sweet for his own good, no matter how awkward it made him seem.

You turned so Lucifer could see your grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[aureumms]

once again I have been given permission to be delusional so here we go again!

CHARTS FIRST—THEN EXPLANATION

This is it

Disclaimer: if you don’t headcanon cPunz and cPurpled to have had a sibling-like relationship then this won’t make sense and that’s okay. Another thing, if you don’t see cPurpled to be manipulated by cQuackity, that is alright and your personal opinion : )

Purpled and Tommy are both in the roles of children who have had difficult decisions placed upon them by their manipulators/society in general, and their choices are seen as good or bad depending on who is viewing them.

They have had important things ripped permanently away from them, also by said manipulators (Dream basically influencing it), Purpled’s important thing being his UFO, Tommy’s important thing being L’manberg. Funny enough, both of these things were considered to be their home/place of refuge, and Both were blown up unexpectedly.

Both of them were in places they were brought to by their manipulators and wanted to get away from, and did! Tommy escaped his exile that he was brought to by Dream, and Purpled left Las Nevadas that Quackity wanted him to join. Circumstances are different but if I squint I can make it a parallel.

Quackity and Dream were the manipulators in this situation. They targeted the vulnerability and the insecurities of their victims, and managed to break them down.

They attempted, to varying degrees, to play some nice game with their victims. Both wanted their victims to depend on them.

Both of their victims eventually had an upper hand moment for revenge.

Both of the victims wanted to kill their manipulators at some point.

Both of their victims had plans to close the bad chapters in their lives, ONLY TO BE KILLED BECAUSE OF IT.

Punz and Wilbur played older sibling figures who harbored dislike towards the victim’s manipulators at SOME point in time, or all of the time. While this is my weakest parallel, it is still a parallel I need to make in order to complete the triangle.

Both Punz and Wilbur played older sibling figures who tried to convince the younger brother figures to do things—to be on THEIR side. Purpled and Tommy had contrasting feelings to their older sibling figures, but I like to think Purpled used to have a positive relationship with Punz, just like Tommy used to have with Wilbur. Both the younger sibling figures have Neutral/Negative feelings towards the older sibling figures now.

Both Punz and Wilbur were in positions where they were on opposing sides to their younger brother figures, whether it was known or Not. Punz’s instance being his loyalty to the Eggpire while Purpled betrayed it at the red banquet (despite Punz not being in attendance), and Wilbur’s instance being his betrayal to L’manberg, Tommy’s home and greatest ambition.

That’s all I got : )

[xingchens-eyeballs]

istg ppl do not get shipping anymore ive seen like 5 videos in a row on tiktok saying that ppl can't ship anything outside of mizisua, ivantill, and hyuluka cuz it 'goes against their characters and the plot' or some shit, like no duh thats kinda the point?? its not like we're saying it should be canon but sometimes these alternate dynamics/AU's are fun to explore yknow? like cmon ur killing the spirit of fandom here dude, loosen up a little, let the silly in, or at least let me doomscroll in peace without seeing tons of ppl calling me a proshipping homophobic stain on society 😭 itd b different if it was an actual like pedophilic ship but this??? these ppl r just making up problems now

fandom has changed a lot from what it used to be i think now we're getting judged and policed about our way of interpreting and transforming the canon work like theres a reason fanon is called TRANSFORMATIVE yk it TRANSFORMS the canon like u can enjoy the canon without needing to stop everyone else from having fun u can choose not to consume transformative media that u don't like, ur giving MHA fandom but anyways

and for those who say like 'omg mizitill sucks cuz mizi is canon lesbian and ur destroying representation', its not like we're saying mizisua sucks and mizitill should replace it, its just that some people enjoy that dynamic like let us live man. its giving delusional, stop putting words in our mouths, the majority of ppl shipping alnst rarepairs r not trying to be homophobic we just have ✨imagination✨ and ✨whimsy✨

its also weird how ppl r so resistant to rarepairs that don't change the character's implied sexuality either like ive seen so many ivanluka haters like if u dont see the potential then GO AWAY u dont have to hate on every ivanluka video u see just smile and scroll goddamn theres bigger issues to white knight around about why don't u actually go fix homophobia in actively homophobic communities instead of fighting imaginary antis in a mainly lgbtq+ community. im not saying there arent ANY bad apples but if ur genuinely in this for some kind of moral/social problem reason there are more urgent and important issues for yall to be worrying about than random ass internet ppl who ship hyumizi instead of mizisua

anyways bye bye guys uwu stay safe out there don't get jumped <3

[kawaiicoot]

AP classes that I think the glee characters would take (as an AP student who is losing their mind)

Rachel: she would probably take a lot of APs because she canonically is an academic weapon but her favorite is AP Music Theory. I could also see her being the most annoying person in AP seminar

Kurt: AP art history, Ap Music Theory & Ap 3d Art (fashion focused portfolio)

Quinn: same as Rachel, she would take a lot of APs but she is definitely a AP Psych and AP Lit girlie

Mercedes: AP Music Theory with Rachel and Kurt

Tina: AP Human Geo, Ap 2d Art and Design (photography portfolio) in my mind Tina does photography and she’s really good at it

Santana: AP Spanish she is already fluent and just took it to boost her GPA and do nothing all class

Artie: AP US History, AP World, AP Euro, AP Calc AB, AP physics (he’s a nerd)

Everyone else wouldn’t take any APs I think

[not-sure-what-im-feeling]

Me: ooh yay!! Math homework time!!

rational brain: you should listen to classical music! You know you focus better with it on!

Evil Gregory house that live in my brain like a devil on my shoulder: put on house Md. nothing bad will come of it.

James Wilson who’s also a devil on my shoulder but he has a halo headband and fake Angel wings: house will you make out with me?

[feelo-fick]

Headcanon: Chilchuck and his Bad Takes on Literature

i think chilchuck would be like my mom in the sense that he wouldnt like sad stories. dont get me wrong, cautionary tales? absolutely fine. they serve a purpose to him which is to tell people "dont be an idiot and do this or else something bad will happen"

generally sad or angsty stories though? no point to him, and in his perspective its really confusing how people just read things that make them sad. like whats the use of reading something if its just gonna make you sad. whats the lesson? its not even real so it doesnt help anyone.

whats the point in making yourself cry when you could just avoid that entirely by not reading it at all?

but the one of the biggest reasons why sad stories exist is to let you release all the built up grief in you. to send you something to let out all your emotions in a healthy way. catharsis. empathy.

even when i dont relate to the tragic experiences in some stories, several ones ive read have lead me to realize that im in a bad situation or that im following in the footsteps of the character suffering. its like a wake up call.

and making yourself cry isnt inherently a bad thing. if crying allows you to let go of building pressure and tension in you then thats good!

but chil wouldnt see that. of course he wouldnt, hes avoidant of most situations that would allow him to release emotion, and fearful of letting his mature (read: repressed) persona slip.

hes someone that runs away to quick comforts and distractions at the earliest sign of issue. hes already been in too many horrifying situations, dealing with another is a pain. and he knows denying everything and refusing to look at the situation doesnt help, but it definitely provides a quick and easy happiness in the comfort of ignorance.

because of this, reading something made to make one empathize with and confront these bad emotions is defeating the point of his cowering. if he faces his issues, even if only through the perspective of a story, he'd have to deal with acknowledging that things are bad and need fixing, and he'd feel terrible and guilty in the moment - which of course is the worst thing that could happen to a person (his thought, not mine).

which is why i find the concept of him being/becoming a tragedy himself at the same time as this headcanon soooo interesting. imagine the irony of him bashing on the protagonists of tragic stories for acting on emotion and impulse rather than logic, when he himself has fallen victim to irrational thinking while in grief.

cause... thats what people do when they grieve. they lash out, make bad decisions, ruin themselves, ruin others.

for a tragedy to be prevented, the protagonists would have to change fundamental parts of themselves, and act perfectly rational when under extreme stress. and chilchuck holds himself to these kinds of unrealistic standards because he unwittingly believes he can handle it all.

he cant, obviously. we see it for ourselves in his relationship with his wife. they were doomed from the beginning by chils already-established avoidance and lack of emotional vulnerabiltiy (and whatever else his wife had going on).

this is all just to say that if you told him about orpheus and eurydice, he'd probably be one of those idiots trying to point out the "plot hole" that he couldve "just not looked back" and "just trusted her"

i dont understand. whats the point in reading tragedies? the protagonist is stupid, anyways. why would you take bitter medicine? why subject yourself to that?

i think its just a bad story.

[i-eat-large-amounts-of-pasta]

I don't understand why I never hear people talking about Wreck-it Ralph. Maybe it's because it's not something that adults nowadays are nostalgic about or something, but I loved that movie. I still do. It's one of those movies that nobody talked about because it wasn't awful and wasn't perfect. It was just really good.

But it's SUCH A GOOD MOVIE. It's a movie about being a fish out of water, about coming to terms with the consequences of your actions, and making friends who love you for all your flaws. But most of all, it's about coming to love yourself for all of your flaws. Self-acceptance is a core theme especially in the climax of the film. Ralph is only able to beat King Candy by accepting himself and using his unique skills to help in spite of his label as a "bad guy". He is not defined by the label he was given. He doesn't need other people to tell him who he is anymore.

The one quote that I'll never forget, one which helps me to know myself, is said once at the beginning of the film and once at the end, with both having completely different context

"I'm bad, and that's good. I will never be good, and that's not bad. There is no one I'd rather be Than me."

This is significant to me in ways I don't have the words to describe sometimes. I am broken. The way I see the world is fundamentally different to most other people. There are others who are also warped in similar ways, who see the same bent shapes as me. Ralph is not alone, and neither am I. Neither are you. Don't let other people tell you who you are. Life isn't binary. Make friends with people who understand and love you for exactly who you are, and remember to extend them the same courtesy to them. Don't treat people differently based on what labels society has given them.

All these lessons from an animated comedy movie for kids that's rated 87% on Rotten Tomatoes.

If you haven't watched this movie, I highly encourage it. It's still my favorite Disney film (followed closely by Treasure Planet) and still watch it from time to time. It's just called Wreck-It Ralph and it's on Disney Plus. Or pirate it. I don't really care. I hold an immense amount of disdain for Disney, sooooooo...

[sandeewithtwoe]

This is what happens when someone tells me I can “go ahead”

EDIT: NEW DOC HERE

[reddawnmultimuse]

The impossible had happened: Hanzō the Great Salamander, the man who once dictated Ame with cruelty and poison, was dead. Executed.

After his death, Amegakure wept, not tears of sorrow but happiness. For seven days, the rain fell heavier, colder.

And from the rain, the Six Paths of Pain emerged like spirits of justice, or vengeance, depending on who you asked. They silently walked the flooded streets akin to ghosts, and the people of Ame--tired, soaked, and broken--parted as they passed them by.

One by one, Hanzō’s remaining loyalists were dragged from the cracks where they hid--the old guard, the corrupt, the fanatical. They were lined up in the central square, shackled and trembling in the cold rain to be punished for their treason. Before each execution, the Naraka Path would kneel before the condemned and mutter a prayer, not for forgiveness, but for peace.

Then, with mechanical precision, the Asura Path sentenced them to death with a sudden boom that cracked the sky like thunder and an explosion of blood and gore. It wasn't clean, but it was merciful; an undeserved quick and painless death.

The citizens gathered.

They came by the hundreds, standing beneath umbrellas fashioned from tarp and scrap metal, faces stoic, water dripping from hollow eyes. Children perched on rooftops. Elders leaned from broken balconies. All watched as bodies were dumped into the river like waste. It ran red for days.

For seven days, the executions continued--one after another, without pause. On the eighth day, there were none, and the rain finally stopped.

Amegakure was free.

[breakingmyreverie]

why pjo's portrayal of the greek gods is fucked up and how it's affected perceptions surrounding ancient Greece.

*breaks down the door to your inbox with an axe*

start talking now oh my god I want to hear your hot take so bad. I've been interested in religious studies (primarily the Hellenistic and early Roman religious atmosphere (of course acknowledging that the word religion is post-Enlightenment and conceives of supernatural belief as a subjective individual belief, which is inconsistent with how supernatural matters were dealt with in the Ancient world) and how they intersect with early Christianity and proto-Christianity) and I've been fascinated with the Greek gods and I need your hot take on why their portrayal is wrong and leads to incorrect assumptions about Ancient Greece.

oh you bet your bottom dollar i will talk about this. true to the post from which this originated, i will prep no material and all this is off the top of my head so don't quote me!

If you follow my Greek mythology sideblog, you'll know i am unequivocally a Zeus defender. Now I can make a million posts about Zeus alone but I will take a more holistic approach on the gods in general and the perception of Ancient Greece.

The West has been obsessed with Ancient Greece for centuries: the culture, philosophy, history, mythology, mathematical and scientific advancements, and much more. Now it's one thing to take interest in a country's history or a historical era; it is completely another to claim it as your own and make it an ideal state of life to achieve, because if you know literally anything about Ancient Greece, it was anything but. What I'm trying to say here is that Ancient Greek culture has been commodified, glorified, rewritten, and reclaimed by the West when it was never theirs to do so. I've often seen this sentiment expressed by Greeks about their homeland: "The history comes first, the people second." I think a prime modern example of this mindset was when same-sex marriage was legalised in Greece, which was a huge step forward for an Orthodox country with an extensive history of homophobia, but people outside of Greece began making jokes of Greece "returning to their own values" (referring to Ancient Greek practices of pederasty which is hugely problematic and not at all representative of any gay rights if you know what it entails) and people excited to "finally hold lesbian weddings in Lesbos" (signifying the West's perception of Greece as simply a tourist hotspot and not a country with an intricate history and culture). In short, Greece is already unfairly used for the West's agenda of glorification and attempts to build itself a culture that frankly isn't theirs at all.

Now, how does this involve pjo? A lot, my friends, a fucking lot. The publication and popularity of the Percy Jackson series has simply exacerbated all the aforementioned issues in this post. First off, the worldbuilding on which The Lightning Thief relied and the rest of the series ultimately holds is that "Olympus moves with the centre of Western power", which is just. Wow. There are a million things wrong with this concept that would need its own post, so I recommend this article called The Whitening Thief that essentially explains the white supremacy of it all. If you do not want to read the full article, the main premise is that the Percy Jackson series equates Westernism with civilisation and that without it there was "chaos and darkness", which as Paule describes it, is "sipping at a pretty racist cocktail".

note: I have realised how aggressively off-topic this is to the original statement I made, I'm getting there, I promise (although I did warn you it was something I could talk on for hours with little material)

Let's finally delve into the depiction of Greek gods in Percy Jackson. I'll actually start on a bit of a positive note that apart from the weird (for lack of a better term) comparisons of Hades to Adolf Hitler, the original Percy Jackson and the Olympians had some okay characterisation of the gods (I have some reservations about the goddesses on which I will elaborate later). They're prideful and neglectful parents (the myths actually contradict that latter part but I digress) but each with their own complexities and concerns. To use Zeus as an example because he's actually the god who falls short the most in terms of consistent characterisation in my opinion, he lets Percy live in TLT "for the sake of peace in [his] family", indicating a care and sense of duty for Olympus and for his fellow gods, and while he lets his pride and paranoia get the better of him at times, he is shown as a serious authority figure and someone who's trying to keep his realm together, and such characteristics wouldn't be too far off from his mythical counterpart.

But as the series progresses, either Rick got lazy or he attempted to further capitalise his work to make it more palpable, he turns the gods into caricatures by excessively inflating one characteristic they may have into their entire personalities. Returning to Zeus, his paranoia is amplified to an absurd extent that one can simply not fathom why the gods would be the better option than the Titans. As I said initially, he had bouts of paranoia that would be almost normal for someone with such a powerful position, but this is completely derailing any connection with his mythological counterpart, he may as well be an OC with the same name and title as him. To use other gods as an example because I promised a holistic approach and I have seemed to only talk about Zeus (sorry!), the writing of the goddesses Hera, Artemis, Aphrodite, and Athena is simply misogynistic. I'm sorry, there is no other way I can find myself to describe it. Typically feminine goddesses Hera and Aphrodite are extremely demonised and condemned for their flaky and vain attitude; Hera is the evil stepmother archetype and Aphrodite ultimately becomes weak and useless. The "virgin" (quotations referring to Athena) goddesses Artemis and Athena also don't seem to extend past superficial, unoriginal characteristics like being a vehement man-hater who kicked out two sapphics from the Hunt and a goddess who Rick stops at nothing to render her a horrible parent and person (using the Roman myth of Medusa, exaggerating her prideful nature, etc) respectively. And you cannot tell me they're not misogynistic portrayals because just a few minutes on pjo tiktok will show you just how many times Hera is referred to as a bitch (keep my wife's name out of your fucking mouth!!). Then there is TOA and COTG, which makes me want to cry just thinking about Zeus' portrayal there (yes we're going back there). The god who was consistently thought of as a gracious, protective saviour of the people in Ancient Greece (full list of epithets of Zeus, read at your leisure) is an abusive autocratic tyrant?

To go back onto the topic, how do Riordan's works affect the overall perception of Ancient Greece? Well, as I said before, it contributes to the white supremacist view of Ancient Greece as the epitome of civilisation and the glorification of the era, but it also turns Ancient Greece into a fandom to an extreme extent. Now, obviously, I'm not talking about people with a healthy obsession with Ancient Greek history and Mythology (myself included) who like to engage in content about it. I'm talking about people who claim Ancient Greece as an extension of Western, mostly American culture, and ultimately engage in a form of cultural appropriation that strips Greeks of their own history and narrative. This includes writing 'feminist' retellings of Greek myths, taking Riordan's (inaccurate) readings of the mythology as indisputable fact, and removing the myths from their historical and cultural context. People forget that much of these myths were stories written for entertainment and take them as a sort of Hellenic Bible (which delves into the Christianisation of Greek Mythology but that's a whole other post). In short, Westerners think they can do whatever the fuck they want with Greek mythology and Greek gods because they think it's theirs with which to play around, ultimately ignoring the country, history, and the culture from which they actually originate, and it's thanks to Rick Riordan that this attitude has blown up to an insane extent.

*sighs* Thank you for coming to my TedTalk and I seriously admire you if you made it this far.

[anamenooneowns]

AN: just so ppl know. my works are almost always going to be with black, chubby women in mind (and if not chubby they will still 100% be black). also, i have not seen EITHER of the spiderverse movies, i'm just a hoe who thirsts over any fictional man so i just kinda made an amalgamation of hobie's personality from the fanfics i've read and viola. i just free-flowed this to procrastinate from doing my anatomy and physiology homework. enjoy.

warnings: shibari, cam-girl, face hidden, voyeurism (hobie is watching behind the cam), masturbating, bar-spreader, fem!reader, afab (and i think thats all, lemme know if i missed sum)

MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

Just Enough

You shrieked, legs trembling but unmoving. The intricately knotted ropes where your knees met your thighs were kept open with a spreader bar at your ankles. All from the diligent hands of your lovely boyfriend - watching from behind the camera as you squirted - stroking his cock as the steady hum of your wand echoed in the room.

Your head rolled back between your shoulders, a sob of - "Fuck!" - pouring out of your lips as you clit throbbed and ached. The pearl was shiny and round as it stuck out from under it's hood.

The gentle chime of a noise akin to coins dropping on the sidewalk were like adlibs to the symphony of your moans, his slick strokes, and the vibrator. Your body - lovely in all of it's curves and planes - open for the eyes of ten-thousand horny, voyeuristic people around the world.

But Hobie? Oh, Hobie got all of this for free. He was an artist - obviously. A connoisseur of music... in his own way, of course. But there was no denying that the moment you handed your time over to him, your emotions, your love - your very heart. He knew you were something special.

Your voice was dulcet. A sound that talking-wise he would never be able to get enough of. Hell, talk to him about the Big Bang Theory and he'd be sleeping like a baby from your voice. So when you gave him the grace to make you feel good, and bestowed your sounds of pleasure in his ears? Hobie knew he had to make you a star.

In your own right, of course. With the mutual condition that it was anonymous. Now, Hobie was a man who liked to show off, but your face was his. He can imagine it right now, even with your head pushed into the pillows and your back bowed from the overstimulation of six - going on seven - orgasms. Hobart Brown was a very imaginative man. And he could see how your eyes smoothly looked inward before rolling back, your bottom teeth tucked between your lips before releasing when a moan bubbled out, and those pretty tears rolling down the sides of your face.

He growled when the rise of his orgasm nearly came and firmly grasped himself just under the head of his cock. It hurt more psychologically than it did physically to stave off his climax, saving it for the clenching hold between her chubby, brown folds.

'How much fuckin' longer?' Hobie thought to himself, looking at his phone. The timer of three minutes looked back at him, and his thick lips pulled into a smirk as he ended the livestream and slammed the laptop shut.

"B-baby?" you whimpered, picking up on the familiar sound.

Hobie hushed you gently, removing the bar and your blindfold to see bloodshot, baby browns staring back at him.

"S'alright love. Looked all gorgeous 'nd that tonight."

You smiled, laughing lightly. "You always say that."

"Cause you do," he insisted. Then his hand grasped your face, fingertips digging into your soft cheeks. "You'd look even prettier with my cum on your face though."

Your eyes flitted down to his bobbing length - black with a purple-pink head and soft, trimmed curls at the base - it made your mouth water.

"Got enough in you for another round? Saved everything just for that snatch," he murmured against your lips.

It was comical. The way your eyes glazed over and he felt the air around you bend and shift to the taking girl you were. "Yeah... just enough."

[northwind808]

...well what did I say *checks watch* about five days ago? Anyways Biotech AU fans, come get your food!

@sunsetcougar

[pergaminaa]

Modern au

Manon and Dorian are kinda sorta pretentious af and they made sure their daughter has a name that has its own weight but also they made sure it’s beautiful.

Their daughter’s name and middle name translates to: beautiful gracious queen (her first name is welsh like her mama and Dorian was the one to pick her middle name and he made sure both names worked together both in sound and meaning)

The daughter accidentally learned of her name’s meaning and with her ego it wasn’t a good kind of knowledge.

Because when anyone referred to her as ‘princess’ she’d just roll her eyes (like her mom) and mutter “why call me a princess when I’m a queen”

Anyway baby ate her pride when she started school and was forced to learn how to write her name. Because her name (first) is long. With eight letters there were a lot of tears involved.

Manon negotiated (she actually lost the negotiations because her daughter is small and too pitiful she had to help) again pushover mama so anyway baby would write it only three times and Manon would write the rest.

Dorian was like ‘witchling, you can’t do that’ and he’d sit with his daughter instead because ‘you need to learn how to write your name’ but his daughter argues that his and Manon’s names are short and they don’t understand her plight

Dorian is like, it’s only two letters more than his name, and three letters more than Manon’s so it’s really not that bad.

He lays down on the floor next to the tantruming child. He helps by writing her name twice but she has to do the rest.

Honestly Manon is weak and gives in easily this is why Dorian took over homework because he can handle their child and her dramatics (which she takes after him that’s why he GETS her while Manon just gives in)