#he'd probably like solving a murder right

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[shegatsby]

Hey! Hope you are doing okay! I just had this big angsty idea that I wanted to share if ur interested. So you know how in the show when Hannibal was with Alana, he'd use her as an alibi whenever she'd sleep over?

Ya, so what if Hannibal and the reader (preferably a lady but it doesn't explicitly matter) are in a romantic relationship, and he does that. One night, he comes home in the dead of the night and finds her in his living room either super angry or absolutely devastated because she thinks Hannibal is cheating on her. Like she has no idea he's a murderer at all. Does Hannibal confess? Does he somehow smooth talk himself out of this situation? I have to know!

A/N: Hey! I am back baby!! I hope you’ll like this one, i really loved the idea. Bye 😘

Hannibal slowly opened the entrance door and walked in, his took off his boots so that they won’t make a sound and wake you up. Little did he know that you were already awake, waiting for him with weary expression and damp cheeks, your eyes were red from crying. He saw the fireplace lit, decided to go to the living room to pour himself a drink, tonight wasn’t an easy one, he had to get rid of someone that had clues about his murders, if they lived Will and Jack would solve the murder and he would end up in jail. For life, and he didn’t want that, not just because of his lavish lifestyle, now that you were engaged to him he had responsibility towards you. He had made a commitment and he intended to keep it. Leaving you all alone didn’t sit right with him at all. He pushed the ajar door and found you sitting by the fire, your back turned, “Y/N?” He didn’t expect you to be awake, it was almost dawn.

You bolted to your feet, you were in your short lingerie dress, black, hair loose, face puffy, why were you crying?

“Where were you?!” Your voice sharp like a whip, and Hannibal understood your accusation immediately.

“Darling I-“ he began calmly but he was startled because he was cut in the middle of his speech, “How could you?!” Her voice getting louder, you walked up to him in anger, “I trusted you,” you pushed him with all of your strength, “After years I finally trusted someone,” you started to slap his chest, he was like a statue, unmoving. “How could you?!” You screamed this time.

Hannibal kept his calm, you were assuming things and as you should because to be honest if you were the one who would disappear in the middle of the night and come back like nothing happened he would stalk you and find out what you were up to and if it was a cheating situation… he knew very well that he would torture and kill the man, however, when it came to you… he wouldn’t be able to lift a finger. It was funny to him, you had no idea the effect you had on him.

He held your hands, “Darling, shh, listen, listen to me.” He got you to stop screaming but you were crying.

He looked at you, to see if you could handle the truth or not…

In this emotional state you would probably have a heart attack so he had to come up with a solid lie.

“My patient, Margot Verger was hospitalized.” He began, you had met Margot before when you brought lunch to his office and you had a nice chat with her.

You stopped for a second, “Since they’re a powerful family you can’t find it in the news. They asked for my input about her mental state so I had to go.”

He was very calculated, you exhaled the breath you held, his calm manner made you observe his face, he was determined. “I would never do that you. Can’t even bring myself to say the word, Y/N,” he held your damp cheeks, hating the fact that he caused this on you. “I love you. I know it wasn’t easy to gain your trust and do you believe I would treat it lightly?”

You were much more calmer now, “Hannibal,” you began but he leaned in for a passionate kiss, every time he came back from a kill all he wanted to do was to have you, in a raw way. He even sometimes woke you up in the middle of the night with a hard on.

You kissed him back, letting him guide you to the table near, his plump lips ravishing yours.

As he broke the kiss he made you bend over with a swift move, it made you yelp, he grabbed your hair and pulled your head back, “After your disgusting accusation did you really believe that I would let you go, little one?”

You shivered with anticipation, he lifted the skirts f your lingerie dress, a harsh spank landed on your bare ass. You screamed in pain, “Oh darling, when I’m done with you I guess I have to carry you in my arms anywhere.” He whispered in your ear.

[ryin-silverfish]

Heart and Mind: An Analysis of Tripitaka

I've been wanting to write this since…since I came across some good ol' Tripitaka discourse in the LMK fandom ages ago. Couldn't remember the specifics, but as y'all probably know, it falls under the "Is him an abusive master" and people's strongly worded retort to that question.

On one hand, I dislike the "abusive" take because so often, it is an excuse to reduce a character to an 2D caricature for cheap angst purposes, and both JTTW and its historical context deserve more nuances than that.

On the other hand, I don't agree with some of the defenses either——that Tripitaka is Kind and Wise and The Virtuous Monk, Actually, and people who said otherwise just had their views colored by adaptations, or were ignorant westerners misreading the book.

Because trust me, Chinese readers absolutely have gripes with Tripitaka too, and sass him mercilessly.

We may have a better idea of the historical context, namely, the common usage and acceptance of corporal punishments, but quite a few of us don't think he's a good Buddhist either.

Instead, I'd like to focus on his allegorical role, and how it ultimately forms the basis for my interpretation of his character.

It is commonly acknowledged that each pilgrim represent an aspect of the enlightenment seeker: Monkey is the Mind, Dragon Horse the Will, Pigsy the Desire, Sandy the Determination/Ideation.

Tripitaka is either the enlightenment seeker as a human, or the Heart, the Compassion.

But how can someone represent Compassion when his behaviors don't look all that compassionate, when he seems to care more about what a good Buddhist looks like on paper than in spirit?

How can a compassionate man punish his disciple with a migraine spell and disown him twice, be okay with some violence but not others?

Well, to answer that question, I feel like you have to look at Tripitaka in conjunction with SWK, and what the monkey represents. He is literally the Mind Monkey, the boundless potential of human intellect, and that, by itself, is neutral.

In the word of one of the best poems in JTTW:

"He could be good; he could be bad; present good and evil he could do at will. He'd be an immortal, a Buddha, if he's good; wickedness would cloak him with hair and horn."

To put it simply, SWK is one's wits, one's problem-solving skills, the ability to discern good and evil on a cognitive level.

Whenever Tripitaka, the Compassion, is deceived, it falls to the Mind to see the opponents as they are, and take action to protect the human from harm.

But just as blind compassion without judgement can be exploited by evil, the reverse is true for a mind without compassion, driven solely by their own ambition and whims and practical knowledge.

The Mind knows that robbery is a crime, so these robbers deserve death, but has no idea how disturbing it is for a regular guy to witness six people being brutally murdered in front of him.

The Mind knows that abandoning your wife and family to become a bandit is shameful and unfilial, but cannot comprehend why the bandit's father may not want his son killed for these offenses.

The Mind knows right and wrong, but has trouble seeing the human behind those acts, and why one should care in the first place.

And to see what the Mind looks like without any of Compassion's restraint, one needs to look no further than SWK's "Second Mind", the Six-eared Macaque.

Just like how "Heart" sounds like a lame power for a character, Compassion isn't flashy, nor as useful in a strictly ultilitarian sense. In fact, having compassion makes you vulnerable. It hurts. And unscrupulous people will absolutely use it against you.

So why hold onto your weakness and wallow in it? The world doesn't need another sanctimonious wuss, it needs strong, clever people making hard sacrifices, ruthless, logical decisions! Tough up! Stop caring, and you'll never be hurt again!

Much like a certain crowd who think basic human decency is somehow political propaganda, perhaps, when SEM struck Tripitaka, he was trying to do the same thing.

Kill the embodiment of compassion, the sniveling, useless, fragile human that keeps holding SWK back. Replace him as the true Mind, the one strong enough to break all bonds and seize glory with his own two hands.

But without compassion, without humanity, one is no longer a whole person, and cannot reach enlightenment. In fact, just like how Buddha would only give the True Scripture to Tripitaka, if you are not brave enough to make yourself vulnerable, to suffer and feel other's suffering, you will never transcend it.

At best, you can have some pale imitations of the parts you have willingly shut out from yourself.

And that's what SEM does. He thought he could do it on his own, singlehandedly replace SWK and reap the benefits of enlightenment, but he is no Monkey Awakened to Emptiness.

He is just empty; cut off desires because it is base, cut off determined ideation because it is foolish, cut off compassion because it is weak, cut off the altruism and curiosity and creativity from the mind, and you are left with a grand total of NOTHING.

A shadow of a self, desperately clinging onto external validation and stolen stories, reading the pilgrim's travel paperwork out loud as if that would actually make the journey his.

Tripitaka needs to trust SWK and learn from him, because compassion, much like good intention, doesn't solve problems on its own, and mercy is not the same as enabling harm.

SWK needs his master's guidance, because even at his most selfish and impulsive, he cares, and only by extending that care to others and accepting the vulnerability that comes with it can he truly mature and become awakened to the ultimate truth.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

One last bit of ramble: I feel like there is something to be said about Tripitaka's tendency to trust Pigsy, and how the pursuit of enlightenment is often derailed by worldly desires.

Unlike the demons they encountered, however, Pigsy is not the personification of mental obstacles that must be destroyed, because you cannot destroy bodily needs, nor the very human tendencies to slack off and avoid trouble.

You should stop listening to its advice, sure. Poke fun at it, absolutely. But what Pigsy represents is part of the human condition, just like every other pilgrim, and also something one must make peace with.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Day #7 - Prompt: Free Space | Word Count: 1500 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Alcohol | POV: Steve | Tags: AU, Wrong Number, Right Person Trope, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Meet-Cute

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days. 

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore. 

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy. 

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him. 

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club. 

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough. 

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring. 

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club. 

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away. 

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

[dyns33]

The Best friend - part 3

Last of of Homelander and his lil bestie

If he'd asked Firecracker, Homelander knew she'd be forced to admit it was her fault.

The idiot had thought that using the purge and the stupidest members of the Seven would allow her to get rid of her rival without being worried.

Even if Y/N wasn't a rival. A rival meant being on the same level, having the same chances to achieve a result. But Y/N was far above Firecracker, who was nothing more than a milk-producing insect.

She was superior, even though she was human.

Homelander didn't like to think about it. This inconsistency in his life, when he hated humans, when he found them pathetic, weak, insignificant.

But not Y/N. Never Y/N. The only one who had always been there for him, who had never lied to him, who had never judged him. Since they'd been reunited, he'd been much happier.

When they were together, he was John again. No more need to play a ridiculous role, to act like a clown to entertain the audience in the hope of scoring points. Y/N's heart beat only for him.

Everyone should be relieved she was back in his life. Thanks to her, he felt calmer and more willing to accept mistakes without using his lasers to solve the problem once and for all.

Well, it didn't change his plan to dominate the country, but he would be a merciful and open-minded ruler with her by his side.

But no, Firecraker's jealousy had visibly fried the last of her remaining neurons, and with her most beautiful smile, she turned to Deep and Black Noir 2, asking them what to do with Y/N.

"What do you mean ?" Kevin had asked, his expression lost and scared. "She's Homelander's girlfriend, right ? We're not touching her."

"Yeah, she's not on the list."

"But he said we had to get rid of all the non-supers who knew our secrets. I guess that idiot Ashley forgot her name. I don't know, I'm just asking."

"… It's true he said that and Ashley is an idiot."

"But if we're wrong, he'll kill us," the fake Black Noir remarked rather intelligently.

"Or maybe it's a test."

Rather than take the time to think, which would have undoubtedly quickly allowed them to see that it was absolutely not a test nor a good idea to go after Y/N, they went to her room, where John had asked her not to leave during the purge. As if thinking it would change anything, they apologized before running toward her with their bats and knives.

If they had touched her, even a little, even without shedding a drop of blood, the world would have burned. Homelander would have left nothing, except maybe his son.

Humanity would probably never know how lucky it had been when Y/N disappeared in front of them, before they could reach her. Deep and Black Noir stood frozen in the middle of the room, uncomprehending.

They hesitated to tell their leader what had happened. Because on the one hand, it was admitting to the attempted murder, but at the same time, something else could have happened, something serious, and if they waited too long, the result would be the same.

"… Gone. What do you mean, gone ?"

"Well, as we told you, sir, she was there, and the next second, she was gone."

"That's impossible. Find her, now !"

With the pest control complete, it should have been easy to find Y/N. But several hours passed without any sign, no news, nothing to indicate what had happened to her.

Unable to do nothing, knowing he wouldn't get anywhere by relying on others, Homelander had scoured the entire city, using his vision to check every house, basement, hiding place, everywhere.

He was now sitting in his seat, holding his nose, as the idiots around him tried to reassure him with empty words, their hearts pounding with fear.

The moment he was about to break came, ready to cut them all in half, when there was a dull thud, and the doors opened.

"Sorry ! Sorry, I got lost, I ran as fast as I could to get back ! Teleportation is new, I'm not good at it !" Y/N trotted over to John as if everything was normal, placing a kiss on his cheek and apologizing again, before returning to her room with incredible calm.

Wordlessly, ignoring everything around him, he followed her.

"I don't really understand what happened," she said when he entered the room, finding her tidying up the furniture that had been knocked over. "Do you know what possessed them to attack me like that ? A mistake ? Maybe a…"

"How did you disappear ?"

It wasn't fear, no. Y/N wasn't afraid of him, she had never been afraid, and she had no reason to be afraid. But for the first time, she was nervous.

Refusing to look at him, she continued tidying up, apologizing and stammering theories about what had happened before she disappeared. But nothing about the disappearance.

"Y/N."

"I wish I could have gone faster to get home, I swear. Maybe I could have run on water, but I wasn't sure, so I flew for part of the way there, and I'm a terrible flyer, I don't know how you do it, and as soon as I arrived in San Andreas I started running again, and…"

"Fly ? You… You can fly too ?"

"… Sit down, please."

They hadn't discussed it because John hadn't thought it was possible, but Dr. Hobbes had thought he was being clever, smarter than his colleagues, by also trying to create the best superhero. So he had given Y/N some Compound V.

It was lucky for him he was dead, otherwise he would have received a visit from Homelander. He'd seen the effects, he knew the process was painful, not to mention the exercises the good doctor had decided to put the little girl through afterward. It wasn't on the level of his own, but it was still torture.

He knew why he hadn't mentioned it, but John didn't understand why Y/N hadn't said anything.

"At first, he was very disappointed because it didn't seem to have any effect, for a very long time. Then, after a trip to town, I discovered I could make objects move. It wasn't much, so he was still disappointed. And after another trip, I could change size."

"Your powers evolve ?"

"No, John. Not my powers. Those of other people, of the supers I meet and touch. I copy them. I don't remember when I learned teleportation, probably during the last big meeting where I shook a lot of hands. For running, it's A Train, and for flying…"

"… Me ? You stole my power ?" he asked, his voice betraying his fear.

"No ! No, I didn't steal anything ! I'm copying, and I'm not doing it on purpose, I swear ! I didn't mean to ! But if I want to prevent that from happening, I shouldn't touch the person. I'm sorry."

"But why didn't you tell me ?"

"I didn't want you to see me differently," she confessed, looking down. "I wanted us to be John and Y/N. I was afraid Vought would try to bring me into the Seven, and that you'd see me as a threat. I don't want fame or fortune, I just want to be with you."

He could have taken offense, saying he'd never felt threatened by her, but John was smart enough to keep his mouth shut, remembering what happened with Ryan.

Like his son, Y/N was younger, she could do everything he could do, but worse, she could do more—all the powers of the Seven and the other supers she'd met. If they had to choose a perfect superhero, who could rule them all, it would be her.

Except she didn't want that. She wanted to be with him. She could have it all, and she wanted it from him.

"Are you mad at me ?" she asked shyly, nervously playing with her fingers.

"No. Of course not. Just hurt that you didn't trust me."

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Just… No more secrets."

"Oh."

Y/N pouted slightly, getting nervous again. She mumbled that she wasn't sure what he considered a secret or important. For her, having powers hadn't really been a big deal. She would have told him if he'd asked.

Not wanting to rush her, John simply placed a hand on her shoulder with a smile, saying that even if it was nothing, he wanted to know everything.

"Okay. I… I killed Doctor Hobbes."

"…"

"Are you mad now ?"

"I've never loved you more than I do right now," he sighed, kissing her.

He hadn't thought about it, but she could hear his heart, so she knew he wasn't lying to her. He had nothing to hide from her.

Together, they were completely happy and unstoppable.

Even if Y/N didn't want to be part of Vought or interfere with his work, she still resented them for what they'd done, even though it had allowed them to meet.

She still whispered to him to be wary of Sage, whose hand she'd shaken several times. He'd keep that advice in mind for the future.

[gentleralts]

not to be a downer but while i agree with the sentiment of what the "death note AU where hbomberguy solves the kira case while investigating light yagami for something unrelated to the murders" post is trying to go for, it gets a bunch of stuff fundamentally wrong about light as a character and of how the death note itself works, and as a noted Light Yagami Hater™ i feel like i should set things straight here:

light was top of his class in high school and got into one of the most prestigious universities in his region. he does his research pretty thoroughly and would not even consider plagiarizing anything, especially with how unreliable it would make you look if you got caught. this "light would probably be a plagiarist if he was a youtuber" bit seems like it's there just because the james sommerton video is so fresh in our minds; if that post was drafted like a year ago there'd probably be a bit in there instead about light straight up lying about his accomplishments and how his mother is very proud

"light would have unhinged right-wing political takes if he was on youtube" there's a pretty significant possibility that he would, although not intentionally. light would brand himself as more of a center-left intellectual debater type and gets popular going up against people who are so right-wing that his points seem progressive by comparison (on top of him being conventionally attractive), and that would make stuff like his misogyny and pro-cop stances and "there are some types of people the world would be better off without" sentiments stand out when comparing him to more leftist youtubers. hbomb's initial investigation into light likely started out with the thesis of "light yagami can get away with saying shit like this because he's an extremely fuckable twink"

the thing about that post that stood out to me as its most egregious mistake though was the insistence of legal names being the ones you need to kill someone with the note. you've probably seen joke posts going around before like "if you write a trans person's deadname into the death note it kills you instead," and that's built upon one of the rules of the death note:

[id: The names you see with the eye power of a god of death are the names needed to kill that person. You will be able to see the names even if that person isn't registered in the family registration.]

a name doesn't have to be legally registered for it to work, and a legal name might not even work in some cases. granted a change of a legal name could still be a viable defensive strategy to throw off someone trying to research what your name is, but outright saying "i've legally changed my name to something you won't be able to find out so you can't kill me" will not protect you from the death note at all.

in my opinion, i believe the point in which hbomb spots the thread leading to his conclusion of light yagami being behind the kira murders is around the end of the yotsuba arc. he'd be able to intuit the first, second, and third kiras being separate entities by the types of people they kill, and the situation of "this guy i've been looking into has dropped off the face of the internet for like two months and the kira murders are suddenly different" would probably be too interesting of coincidence for him to ignore

[capn-twitchery]

how would your little guys have done in the other ambitions? like what if the arctic guys final wish was to kill the vake. or if twitch wanted to play a card game or perhaps get a massive cow sized diamond

ohoho anon you've opened a can of worms i've thought about So many times already >:)

ok i'll go by ambition, why not!! hearts desire first 🃏

honestly, HD probably would have made more sense for twitch considering their ultimate goal is immortality. why didn't they do it? well, you see, i clicked BaL before i knew how FL worked-- they uh, they didn't wanna make a deal with the masters?? card games are boring?? takes too long??

honestly, i'd bet they didn't know it was even an option. man they're gonna be so pissed when they find out they missed out on the marvellous & now it's over. that would've been way easier than sinking all these ships for fathomking immortality.

AS FOR GRACE-he was going to be a HD player! that was my original plan. before i chose nemesis for reasons i don't remember at all, his only goal was to get back home to the surface. but i guess it's a good thing he didn't do this, because, uh

no i had no idea about this being the ending when i first made that decision. i almost wish i had done it bc the reveal would have been so fucking funny

light fingers! 💎

so i was 🤏 this close to switching twitch to LF for basically the entire time i was playing through BaL. it just seemed like a more interesting story to me, and i Know twitch would want to steal a giant diamond

it's probably a good thing i didn't, though, bc it would really show off how much twitch sucks. they would throw that baby to mr fires without a second thought, i'm so sorry. they wouldn't care about it at All. frankly they'd be more upset that the diamond wasn't actually cow sized

there might be some interesting parallel/mutual understanding between twitch's time & treatment in the cage gardens & the orphanage, but they wouldn't be reflecting on it or anything,they're just burning the place down. captain zero self reflection

i don't know how you could possibly get grace to do light fingers. i don't think there's a single timeline where he does-stealing diamonds? crimes? handing him a child that looks like him? guy trying to marry him? he already went on the expedition to avoid marriage & children. this is the least grace ambition possible

also he can't marry poor edward, they have the same name, it'd be weird

ok i'llput the other two under a cut, this is already so long

bag a legend 👜

twitch already did this, for bragging rights at the medusa's head<3

grace doing BaL on behalf of the guy he killed is really fucking funny i honestly can't top that--him doing nemesis for that guy feels like he's solving a death in exchange for a death at his own hands, and maybe making it up to that guy's family-but just killing the vake for the guy??? 0 self-imposed justice here. why is he doing all that

this one does still work with the story of twitch finding out about his ambition and sticking around like "sorry you're doing What??? ok i have Gotta see this" bc they would not think he could do all that. i'm also not sure he could do all that

wait i just remembered the part where you have to kill the nuns. ok i'm gonna be real i think he'd fumble it there. he's not finishing this ambition :( vake hunter grace dream is dead

nemesis 🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡

grace already did this, it sucked & he was weird about it

for a fun detour tho: revival ending would be awful for grace. he'd do it with the intention of bringing the brother back to his family, but. he wouldn't learn til too late that grace Or the brother can't go back to the surface. so grace would just be stuck with this random teenager he has to look after, i guess, with all the guilt of murdering his brother. this solved nothing

twitch nemesis i've mentioned briefly before, but it would suck. because they have a whole mixture of people's memories inside their brain, their family members that they "remember" are an amalgamation of the family members of other people. twitch's mother, for example, is a mashed up mess of the memory of 50 other people's mothers, she never would have existed for real. but twitch doesn't know that! they think their memories are all their own

so twitch doing nemesis would require a memory of a loved one being murdered. so, basically, two options for outcomes here:

either they're doing nemesis for someone who doesn't exist & the masters are just. letting them keep going, i guess?? to see what happens?

they're doing nemesis for somebody else's family member (wow just like grace) without realising, based on one single memory of that person being murdered. the revival ending for that one would be rough

final verdict:

grace has a real bad time with all of these ambitions huh

twitch is having a pretty ok time everywhere except nemesis. but that tracks, because nobody is having a good time doing nemesis

[yesihaveaobsession]

tom ellis lucifer (dc) x female!reader

Summary: Lucifer forgets to pick you up in the pouring rain, leaving you furious. You confront him at LUX, soaked and angry. He’s guilty, apologetic, and offers comfort. Despite your rage, you stay—because deep down, you didn’t want to face the storm alone.

A/N- Luci being afraid of you?? WHAT? okay.. pop off✨️

Lucifer Morningstar—you know the one—had always claimed to be a man of his word.

Except tonight.

It had been three bloody days since your car went into the shop. Something about them being backed up or whatever. Lucifer had promised, with his usual sultry, stupidly sexy grin that made most women fall to their knees (and into his bed). But you weren't one of them—at least you tried not to be. Oh, and he winked and said he'd pick you up once your shift ended. “Wouldn’t want you braving the mean streets alone.”

Except now you were. In the pouring, downpouring rain.

You had waited. And waited. Checked your phone, even tried calling and texting him—no response. You'd sworn he'd keep his word.

You were wrong.

Almost two hours passed. Each minute soaked your clothes a little more. But you had turned down two separate offers for a ride, because truth be told (and God bless you), you were excited to see him. (Wasn't every woman?)

Big mistake.

You finally got a ride from an Uber, and he dropped you off right outside LUX. What a total creep— you weren't even sure if he was taking you to LUX. You thought he was gonna make a wrong turn and that’d be the end of you. You didn’t even say thank you. You were too pissed.

Soaked, mascara probably halfway down your cheeks, your purse dripping like a leaky faucet, you tried fumbling for your ID once you got to the door. Your fingers were freezing, the black leather squelching with water. You were gonna have to solve that issue later.

“Go ahead,” the bouncer said with a faint smirk. “He’s been in there the whole time.”

Of course he has.

Your heels echoed on the marble floor as you made your way through LUX. Heads turned, conversations dimmed, and a few men winced and instinctively stepped out of your path—like they knew someone was about to get murdered with words. You wanted to do more than murder with words.

And of course, there he was. Lucifer bloody Morningstar, leaning on the bar in his usual black suit, glass of whiskey in hand, grinning like sin itself (you’re not too far off there), flirting effortlessly with some couple at the bar.

You marched straight toward him. With your soaked heels, you tried not to slip and fall on your face. That’s when he spotted you mid-step and his eyes went wide. His posture straightened instantly—no longer leaning on the bar. He lowered his glass slowly like he was bracing for impact. And he definitely was.

“Oh, darling—” he began.

“Don’t you darling me.”

The conversations around you seemed to pause. But you had been brewing—ready to burst. Lucifer just stood there straight, like a man who realized he'd stepped into oncoming traffic.

Lucifer’s face dropped. “I—”

“I waited in the rain for almost two hours,” you snapped, standing in front of him with your arms crossed, soaked to the bone. “Two hours, Lucifer. I turned down two rides because I thought I was gonna see you. And for almost an hour I kept thinking you’d show. Then I had to take an Uber with some guy who kept asking me if I had a boyfriend and looked like he was one wrong turn from kidnapping me.”

He blinked. “…Did you get his plate number? I could—”

“Lucifer, focus! I turned down two rides because I thought I was gonna see you.”

His brows knit, guilt flashing across his face. “I—I lost track of time, love. I truly—”

You cut him off, voice still sharp like a knife. “You're dry. You're standing here as dry as can be. And look at me. I look like someone pushed me into the damn river.”

A few people nearby flinched. Even Maze, sipping her drink in the corner, raised an eyebrow and whistled, not even hiding the smirk. Lucifer's lips parted slightly, like he was searching for a way to charm his way out of this one.

“Well, I must say, even when you’re soaked, you still look—”

You glared. That was all it took.

“Right,” he said, backing down instantly. “Wrong time. Terribly wrong time. Got it.”

And the worst part? Even furious, you could tell his eyes still held that hungry, adoring look—the one that made your chest twist. It was almost, no—a crime that this man was that pretty.

Almost, but not tonight. Not tonight.

He downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp, then shrugged off his designer suit jacket and stepped forward to drape it over your shoulders like it could somehow undo everything.

It was gonna take a heck of a lot more.

“I know it doesn’t fix it,” he said quietly, sincere now. “But I am sorry.”

You didn’t answer. You were cold. Wet. And your rage was the only thing keeping you warm.

“Come on,” he said, his hand gentle at the small of your back. “Let’s get you out of those clothes before you catch your death.”

Damn it.

The elevator ride to the penthouse was silent, save for the hum of thunder in the distance. When the doors opened, rain hammered against the windows like it had followed you up personally—just to keep the mood, like a tease, a taunt.

Lucifer led you straight to his bedroom. The tone in his voice was softer than you'd ever heard. Part of it was because he was actually scared of you when you were this pissed off. It explained the smirk on Maze’s face downstairs—she knew you scared him. The devil.

“Hot shower’s all yours. Towels are there. Take your time.”

You didn’t speak. You just nodded.

When you stepped out twenty minutes later—dry and warm, hair wrapped in a towel—you found a clean white dress shirt neatly folded on the bed. One of his. It smelled like sandalwood, whiskey... and him.

You couldn’t lie. That made you a little giddy inside.

This still didn’t make up for it.

But you slipped it on anyway.

Lucifer was waiting in the open living room. His vest was undone, his hair ruffled like he’d been anxiously running his hand through it the whole time. His other hand held a glass of alcohol. You walked over, arms crossed, the shirt hanging to your thighs.

He looked up at you with soft, remorseful eyes. “I know I messed up,” he said gently. “You have every right to be angry.”

You stared at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed.

Thunder cracked again and the windows lit up with white-blue lightning. Rain poured down the glass like a waterfall.

“Yeah,” you said finally. “You did.”

“…But you’re staying, aren’t you?”

You didn’t answer. At least, you didn’t want to.

You just sat next to him on the couch and curled your legs under yourself. His jacket still hung on a nearby chair, water pooling underneath it.

His hand found yours—tentative, unsure.

But you let it stay.

Because as angry as you were, as pissed as you’d been—

You didn’t want to face the storm alone.

And he knew that.

So did you.

And you had a feeling you weren’t leaving tonight.

You’d be right.

[y2ksnowglobe]

Dndads Dad characters and what I consider to be their most notable parenting crime

The amount of seriousness for any of these is highly variable

Barry: Using a giant hamster water bottle type thing to hydrate the soulless bodies of your grandkids. Bill: Not letting his son murder him. Cern: Getting your kids involved in the doomsday cult you're a member of. Darryl: Honestly? Being a slightly more boring version of my own dad. Frank: Not super canon, but like...he'd give the "Eat some peanut butter to stop being depressed" advice. Gartok: Enslaved his kids. Glenn: Pretended to not like minions with an intensity that it made him look really bad in court. Grant: Probably should have taken Lincoln to a therapist right after the cat incident. Henry: Seems to have forgotten he has a daughter. Jodie: Gave his child a flashbang. Lark(?): Didn't tell Normal about the bulletproofing in the mascot outfit. Poor kid was probably wondering why all the cheerleading moves were harder now. Marco: So unsure of himself that he's able to be convinced he signed a permission slip for his son to go to Seattle. Nicky: Suggests friend murder way too easily as a problem solving method. Ron: "Who's your daddy now?" Scam: Hermie is a teenager because that's the funniest age for him to be. Sparrow: Did not stop Normal from being Vinny the Vulture during a heatwave. Terry Jr.: Offered Scary some kale chips that one time. Willy: Honestly? It's the I have two fish and two plates...lemme just stack these plates together and eat both of the fish moment. That's just such an inexplicable, what the fuck? moment for me.

[raviolirash]

Gift.

Astarion struggles finding a gift for his love.

Astarion was a great charlatan. When it was time to put on a charade, he didn't have a humble bone in his body. Bragging about being the master of everything, how everything suits him, how he is a vampire of endless talents and beauty and clever words. How he's above everything, how flowers are overrated and never make good poisons.

He couldn't even pretend to be good at... this.

They all had some downtime in-between trying to solve a murder and taking down a tyrant, just every day things. Most scattered to explore the city for the remainder of the day. The Baldurians of their party sought out friends they wanted to say hello to before the city inevitably burns down again, the wizard was trying not to faint in the giant library, Halsin was probably feeding ducks to quell the stress this cursed stone city was choking his heart with, and Lae'Zel was most likely threatening a blacksmith and making him reconsider his career choice as he no longer sees the point.

Vėlė got dragged away by her old friend for a little while, to cause some unknown trouble with a few other drow they recognized in the city. It was never a good sign.

As for Astarion? Astarion was hiding in the shadows, counting the sweat beads on the merchant not too far away who has had to deal with the vampire's malice filled glare for the past hour. The malice wasn't aimed at the merchant, just at his own situation.

Romance didn't come easy to him. It all was quite new. He was worried that he'd overdo it, that he was very frightening. Worried that he didn't do enough. Worried that he couldn't do enough. Hells. After Cazador's defeat, the pit in his brain which used to house thoughts of vengeance had to be filled with something.

In turn, he subconsciously tried nothing. The problem at hand was that he actually wanted to try. Try something that involved more than him sitting with her and talking about how he has no idea what to do. He knew the basics of romance of course. Flowers. Dinners. Trips to faraway lands. A star in the sky to look at. A song in her heart. But none of those seemed right.

So, often he turned to what he knew best: being an asshole. And so he spent the time he was thinking about his problems getting on the salesman's nerves. He was an asshole, and he was the most comfortable being one. He could do that. Assholing was his comfort zone, an asshole was who he always was.

But was it who he wanted to be?

Maybe a little bit of an asshole, a little less than who he always was, but would that be enough? He knew Vėlė loved him, but how far would she put up with his nonsense before she snapped? He almost hit that limit the night before they killed Cazador.

His thoughts were heading into a very uncomfortable direction and he put a swift stop to it. He has gotten better at doing that.

Point was, he felt like he had to try, if this was going to work. After everything. Because no one knew when the world would end.

Astarion thought about her tattoos. Small birds and flowers were the most prominent subject. Surely something she allowed to become a permanent fixture on her skin was something she really liked. On the other hand, Karlach was inked with Zariel's name all over her body. Not to mention the markings on his own back. Vėlė has only talked fondly about her tattoos, how she got them to have control over herself, so there was that.

The gods wouldn't bless him with it being simple, and stopping at that. Every damned flower and every bird had a meaning, and there was the possibility of buying her a flower that represents a reminder of something awful the spider queen did to her. Or getting her a wooden bird symbolizing a creature which eats the heads off people happily in love.

Damn. He was stuck in the stupidest impasse.

He knew what she liked and didn't like, he knew what was on her body and what wasn't. What she would like and what she wouldn't for the most part. But the damn idea of a gift made him very awkward.

Before anyone could blink, he had pilfered a book from the flower merchant and went back to the bench to read it. A book about flowers and their meanings. Huh. Looks like the merchant was a bigger sham than he was.

He skimmed over it. Anything that resembled a sussur flower was a no-go. Most of the things in the book did sound like the author wanted to maximize their profits by making things up.

Oh, how cute would it be to just simply say 'I saw this, and thought of you'. Finding a rose in a blighted place and telling her what a rare and beautiful thing she was to find amongst darkness. He had to become a bloody scholar. Averting his eyes from the endless names of flowers in the book, Astarion saw the merchant panicking as he checked every pocket of his, frantically mumbling something about a book and missing coin. He grew increasingly more and more erratic for every second that passed, with it culminating in telling a customer to hold on a minute as he went out to find a Fist.

Astarion put the book behind his back with an inconspicuous whistle. Nothing to see here.

Although, he did find some relief and camaraderie in that the merchant was a fraud. None of this helped with his problem, however. He could steal something for her, maybe? No. A stolen chain with a pretty rock felt inadequate, and by the gods they had quite enough of that already. A custom piece of jewelry wouldn't get made before the city starts burning.

Astarion pulled out the dagger she made for him, using some magic that - truthfully - he wanted to know very little about. He knows what happens to pretty men who stick their noses in Drow magic.

Nevertheless, that dagger was the catalyst for this particular catastrophe going on. Flowers just wouldn't cut it compared to this. Compared to everything she has done, really. The glowing heart on the dagger left a lovely trail in the air when the threw up the dagger to catch it again with flawless technique, then letting it dance between his fingers.

Gods, please take pity on the fool who fell in love.

Calling defeat, he sought her out. The city will actually start burning prematurely without the two being there to guide the rest of the companions. Astarion found her in the Elfsong enjoying a meal, with the other patrons as far away from her as possible and a notable smell of blood in the air which explained some things. Even with Astarion out of the Elfsong's rotation, it wasn't free of creeps. Alan couldn't complain as she paid extra for the trouble.

"Hello, my love." Astarion watched her face light up at the words as he took a seat across from her. He tossed the stolen book on the table with exhausted abandon, unfortunately catching her attention with the thud.

"What's this?" Vėlė swallowed her food and wiped her hands on a cloth before inspecting it.

"Oh, just rotten fruit of a hard day's work." He complained. "I had to humble an absolute fraud. This city needs to have standards when it comes to swindlers, honestly."

With a disappointed sigh in himself, Astarion returned to playing with the dagger. He wondered if he threw it hard enough it could hit the ceiling. Just as he was getting ready for it, he got distracted by her voice

"Lily of The Valley. Apparently it means returning to happiness." Vėlė had the book right next to her arm, comparing the the illustrations of the flower in the book to the one on her arm. "So it doesn't mean 'Corellon has pissed in a garden', after all."

Astarion huffed: "I suspect that in Lolth-ian every flower has a name that loosely translates to 'the devil known as Coronal of Arvandor is pissing somewhere'."

He thought about it some more for a moment, as her laugh echoed through the tavern. A lovely sound he couldn't get enough of. He continued. "Don't you tell me that I am that far off the mark. I think I've heard some family of tulips translated as 'Defecating on The Seldarine's feet'."

"Hey, now. It's not all about Corellon." Vėlė giggled. "I also heard the Menzoberranzan commoners call roses 'The Goddess who is singing at the moon, and is also a whore'. Lolth's words, not mine."

Vėlė continued flipping through the book, always stopping to comment when she found a flower that was also tattooed on her, her smile growing with every new discovery, and sometimes sighing in contempt when the symbolism was inaccurate.

And all the rogue could do was smile back like a love sick fool.

[liliallowed]

thinking about putting canon-ish papyrus through dusttale.

because my man would softlock you and sit. and play doom eternal on a console with you because he thinks you'd like that just to spend time with you and be your friend.

like he wouldn't say: YOU'RE BETTER THAN THIS no he'd think: oh this person is probably insecure about their combat prowess or wants to act out to a world that's hurt them. I should be their friend and show them healthy ways to deal with that!

like puzzles.

let dust belief papyrus be a nerd. where is his whimsy. like look. he can silk all day and be depressed but I feel like papyrus coping mechanisms different from sans.

he's the type to try and understand. to solve. to maybe connect?

at first it was definitely about him being the hero but now he understands that he too deluded himself in a fantasy to protect his pride. uch like how player is doing this.

he's not the great papyrus. he never was. but he can be great regardless. by choice. no persona or facades required. he wants to help you.

because he understands why you're doing this. kinda.

you want to be the villain right? you want infamy instead of popularity you want everyone to know you and fear you.

he understands the lonely aspect of it. which is exactly WHY he wants to help you. it's personal. as if he's looking into an evil mirror and saying: let's just drop the heroic and villainous pretenses this isn't a story book anymore. I want to change I want to help you.

like HE'S NOT GONNA go through an edgy murder phase. a lonely world that he tried to fit in but never felt popular enough. nobody cared enough. to be erased.

forgotten with each run.

he kinda gets it.

maybe you can be edgy and lonely together? you don't have to do this. there's so many more ways to fight to spar. to test your limits. to reward your growth not by a number but by an abstract feeling.

papyrus isn't stupid.

he's definitely naive but that can also be his strength. specially when he's exposed to the anomalies cruelty.

despite everything it's still you.

I find papyrus being different but at his core still a lovable dork and goofball a much more compelling story than him simply caving into nihilism like sans.

and it can blow up on his face the player can still choose to stab him in the back.

but he'll never stop trying.

because to him he no longer sees the anomaly as a demon. he understands small parts from his own experience. he's not scared of you he's not resentful.

because he knows you're emotionally cut off. "you can't afford to care" he knows someone like that too.

so he'll probably try connecting to you on a different way.

not whatever sans did. he's not that petty. he doesn't care about winning your game when he himself doesn't even agree on how you're playing it in the first place.

like papyrus could actually kick your ass you know that right.

he won't kill you. probably leave you at 1hp but he'd be more stern.

like... brute force isn't his thing. he doesn't like seeing you in pain either. he wants to find a solution for you AND his world. because you're also his friend too.

right? at least... you cared enough to remember him? he's going to try. if you don't listen then... he won't push it but he owes you NOTHING. he doesn't owe you some grand anti hero bullshit.

[linejartist]

PROLOGUE

"The world was about to end. To end with a war between Heaven and Hell that would cost the lives of the entire human race. I am writing this treatise to preserve the truth of what happened.

My brother died and was revived. To this day, we don't know what forces were behind it. Heaven probably wanted the vessel for Michael. Not Dean's life. Perhaps that's why he was left with memories of Hell. I myself died and then was brought back after I sacrificed myself to get Lucifer back into the Cage.

But I'm getting ahead of events.

The important thing that happened and what saved the world was the moment when the organization BMoL - British Man of Letters - intervened.

It was they who brought new, modern ways to fight against both demons and angels, and even after the angels descended en masse from Heaven and chose human vessels. With the help of the Hunters, the situation is now under control.

One might say that the BMoL are using the US Hunters as blunt instruments of sorts. And he would be right, but the Hunters don't protest.

The idea that the world belongs exclusively to the human species is one that I personally don't quite identify with, but at the same time I recognize that thanks to BMoL, humanity has not become a casualty of a war of supernatural beings.

I myself can now use the knowledge honed over centuries while doing my own research. This way I keep not only the civilians, but also my brother and other Hunters safer.

In the war with the monsters, we are winning.

Although I have had the opportunity to learn that the worst monsters are quite often people.

So I try to act as a voice of reason and often compassion, because there are werewolves who live on animal hearts, vampires who only drink animal blood... Good monsters are not an oxymoron.

And unfortunately, neither are the evil angels.

Lately I've been working on summoning lists of individual celestial beings.

Although I don't like the idea of angels being captured, stripped of their powers, and ending up somewhere in a facility so secret that even with my level of clearance I haven't gotten into it yet, I recognize the need to protect Earth for humanity in this way.

At the time I write these lines, I have prepared a ritual to invoke a specific angel.

Apparently I needed to organize things and write them down for those who come after us and most importantly somehow explain why I do what I do.

God has abandoned us. And we're doing the best we can."

Sam Winchester, January 5, 2013.

He read over what he had written once more and pursed his lips in displeasure. But he knew that he wouldn't get any better out of himself in such a hurry.

He'd been neglecting sleep these past few days because he was working, plus he and Dean had a case to solve—and even though it was a fairly routine matter, the ghost of a murdered laundress—it still meant traveling. Poor sleep. Not much better food.

Now before them lay the work for the BMoL. As Sam tried to convey in his letter to potential successors, he wasn't quite sure if the thing was morally right.

On the other hand, angels really used to be dicks, not really like the beings of goodness and light portrayed by believers and esoterics. In short, they were the warriors of Heaven, willing to break the whole world into pieces at the command of their superiors.

Sam sighed.

Thanks to his position brought to him by working with the BMoL, he and Dean acquired their inheritance, the MoL bunker, which they now considered home. And of course, access to information and weapons, with Dean mostly appreciating the latter.

Dean and his toys.

He sighed a second time. He ran a hand through his hair, which was too long for his brother's taste, and rose from the table; and since the person being talked about isn't far away, he almost bumped into Dean.

***

"Let's catch some goddamn angel!"

Dean Winchester, January 5, 2013.

Unlike Sam, he wasn't too concerned with any questions of morality. The BMoL were a big pain in the ass for him, but he acknowledged them for what they did.

Thanks to them, or so it seemed, Sam wasn't stuck in a Cage with two pissed off archangels, and that was something he couldn't just wave off.

In addition, his approach to monsters, among which he included angels, was more in the style of "dead monster - good monster".

So when they were sort of tasked with catching and delivering a certain angel, he just nodded. Although he didn't quite like the idea of BMoL keeping angels and demons somewhere and doing who knows what with them.

Maybe they were researching new ways to fight them, and that was more or less fine with him.

He starts picking up and tossing the items they would need for the summoning into his bag, targeting the angel in question was Sam's responsibility. Dean searched for him to find him writing something at a desk in the library.

And he managed to walk right up to him just as Sam was getting up so he almost bumped into him.

"We have everything?" the younger Winchester asked, surveying his brother's bag.

"We have if you have the… well, targeting," Dean hummed.

Sam just nodded seriously, threw on his jacket, and then they headed out to the Impala.

Summoning directly in the bunker was not so easy, because of all the protections that were set up here. It could be done somehow, Dean supposed Sam wouldn't even break a sweat figuring out a way to do it.

But here the thought of screwing up his own nest crossed his mind.

They would just alert the angels and demons to where they lived, and that was the equivalent of handing over keys with an address to burglars.

[junoeau]

೨౿ ⠀ ׅ ⠀ ̇ ⠀⠀ hey sarge, remember me? .

ʚ warnings: agad spoilers, probably not canon ravi, blood n murder talk (its agggtm what did you expect??) ANGST

ʚ paring: ravi singh x f!reader

ʚ summary: ravi and reader broke up a year ago. well, okay, it wasn't a proper breakup and reader knows that, she just left ravi standing there and went off to cambridge, going no contact. how she managed to do that? no god damn idea, but she could surely count on ravi to reach out to her the minute max hastings was in jail.

₍ a/n: i got depressed by this book so you all get traumatized by this fic... ₎

3 minutes after the verdict was read in the crown vs. max hastings:

RAVI: hey sarge, remember me?

i wasn't even sure if i wanted to read that message. it lit up the top of my screen, yeah, and i also knew that max hastings had just lost his case, of course i kept up with that. yet, i wasn't sure if i was ready to crack open this new door just yet.

i wanted to savor the moment, savor the text just sitting there. the text i'd been undeniably waiting for for the past year, eight months, sixteen days and three minutes.

and now it was here, ravi was here. well, not physically, but he'd reached out, reached out only when he knew it was safe to do so and when he knew that di hawkins wouldn't try to come after me. he remembered clearly, and so did i.

YOU: ravi?

a lie.

there's no doubt that this was ravi, his number was still saved in my contacts. i knew this was ravi.

RAVI: yeah, its me.

i'd adjusted to university life pretty well. that's what ravi said when he came to visit the week after we'd started talking again. that day was hard on the both of us, though he excitedly told me about max's conviction, i could tell that the weight of last years events was still weighing him down. but the worst part was that it was still affecting me too.

''i appreciate you for remembering, you know that, right?'' was what i had asked him first thing when he'd arrived here, my arms slung around his shoulders and clinging onto him like a lifeline.

my ravi was back.

''yes, sarge, i know. and i appreciate you too, more than you'll ever know.'' i practically heard his heart break inside his chest. i wanted to tell him how much i still loved him, tell him how much i missed him, but ravi beat me to it.

''i love you. i love you. i love you. you know, sarge, there wasn't never a day i didn't think about you. you were always on my mind, always lurking.''

my sweet ravi.

i practically crushed him with my grip, tears welling up in my eyes as he spoke. ''i love you too, ravi.'' that was something i didn't say often enough last year.

last year.

my memories were slightly more cloudy than before, but the memory, the one of me hitting jason bell in the head with a hammer, the one of ravi and i turning his body around in the car to delay his rigor mortis and livor mortis to make it seem like he'd died much later than he actually had, those memories were still crystal clear in my mind.

me nearly dying, drugging max hastings and almost fucking up my alibi. yet, ravi was still here, or rather here again. here. with me. even after i dragged him into covering up a murder with me. he was still here. i guess that's why i love him so much.

''sarge, i was asking you something. hello?'' right, i zoned out. ''lots of people have been asking about you. little kilton is pretty quiet these days without our little sarge, you know?''

of course it was. criminals in jail or, well, dead. basically all of andie bells family... also in jail or dead. the towns biggest mystery solved, max hastings convicted and no more sarge to uncover other possible crimes. of course it was quiet.

''well, what'd you tell them?'' them. them referring to my family too, i hadn't visited over christmas or for josh's birthday. i knew that was fucked up, but in no universe was i going back to little kilton. not after what had happened, not after what i did.

''i said you were alright. nothing incriminating. but your parents, sarge... they're worried. really worried,'' he sighed, ''they're sad that you don't reach out or visit. sarge, they really miss you.''

they miss me. mom, dad and josh. my friends too, i assumed. but i can't go back, cant reconnect with my past.

''well, then tell them that im sorry. tell them that im sorry but im so caught up in my studies and school stuff that i cant make time to visit...'' that wasnt true, i was doing well in all of my classes and barely did any extra credit work or anything in my free time. i think ravi knew that, yet he still agreed to tell everybody that.

ravi stayed for the weekend. the monday he had to leave again, i cried. we both cried.

suddenly, everything felt like that last night in kilton again, and i hated it. hated it because, again, it brought up so many bad memories that were buried deep in my body.

i had agreed to at least call my family and friends once a month, just to tell them how life was going. it had taken a lot of convincing from ravi, but with enough pleading and puppy eyes he managed to make me agree to it.

the first time i called my mom, that thursday evening, she burst into tears. i couldn't tell if they were tears of happiness or sadness, but the moment dad and josh joined the call, i had to cry too.

after the call, my face still tearstained, i called ravi, my ravi.

RAVI: how did the call go?

YOU: really good. thank you, ravi, really.

and from then on, those calls, those monthly calls, became part of my routine. though i still couldn't visit anyone, they made me feel included, didn't forget me.

and i was so grateful for that.

JUNOEAU © 2025

[lunarle-old]

Shuichi death loop fic??? Could I perhaps hear more??

Why of COURSE

While I was writing Impermanent Attachment, I had a lot more deaths planned for Shuichi and a class trial but thats not important. I enjoy when characters die in time loops because not only is it really jarring and hard to readjust right away, but also because it gives that character a new kind of relationship with death. Dying becomes a lot less scary if you know you're going to come back each time, doesnt it? Of course at some point that goes from being just. another thing that happens. back to being terrifying, because it becomes downright torturous to come back over and over and over again. Death is often seen as escape, so what happens when even thats taken away? O_o

Just like a time loop, I think a death loop can be defined in a lot of different ways. The type of death loop I have in mind is a sort of "no matter what you do, you will die" kind of loop. Instead of Shuichi stopping Kokichi from dying, he has to try to save himself.

Lets say the timeline diverges; someone kills Shuichi. Trigger the death loop! Shuichi's back, and he knows someone is going to kill him. So now he has to try to prevent that. In this fic he'd probably have that "falling piano" type of luck, since the point of a death loop is to yknow... die. Slip on a banana peel and hit your head just right. Fall down the stairs. Get hit by lightning. What do you mean we're indoors? That hasnt stopped it before. Buut but, at some point, he decides to just... kill his killer out of self defense. Problem solved, right? He may be a murderer but at least hes not going to di-

god damn it

You can see where im going with this right ?? It just turns into a huge downward spiral of Shuichi's morality and sanity. Let that boy be insane! Of course, since it's a LunarLeonardo fic, it'd have a... hopeful ending, at the very least. Hugs, anger, tears, yknow. The usual :∆

This is just a base idea tho :p I don't know if I'll actually write it. I have a LOT of ideas that I could write, but I won't write a fic if I can't think of an ending or if I know I'll lose interest. this stupid detective is in my mind always . help me

[incomingalbatross]

Could the City Between and the Dresden Files conceivably share a universe? How would Harry Dresden fare in the City Between?

oh HMMMM

They might be able to! The main conceit of City Between, worldbuilding-wise, is basically that the Fantasy Dimension is occupying the same space as the Human Dimension as a default thing - Fantasy Dimension is Behind - and Between is the soft space in the middle that things and people can go through. This does not exactly exist in Dresden Files, but I feel like it could validly coexist with its worldbuilding.

On the other side of things, the fae and other Behindkind seem to live in a more limited world than the Dresden Files? They're very firm that humans don't have magic (though whether they're right is another question), there seems to only be one kind of werewolf, etc. However, this could easily mean that the Behindkind just don't interact enough with the human world to be aware of all the forces in it.

Politically it's a little trickier - the ruling class of Behindkind are fae, which ought to have some relationship with the Winter or Summer Courts of Dresdenverse. However, they have their own ruler, the King Behind, who is a sort of Fisher King-figure to the whole world/dimension of Behind. (I don't think his authority practically extends over everyone in his territory, but certainly there are no other sovereign powers in opposition to him.)

I think if you explained Behind as its own particular dimension of what Harry would call the Nevernever, and glossed over some details on both sides, you could make it work. The main points are A) putting it outside of Mab and Titania's jurisdiction, B) explaining why these fae don't have apparent history with the White Council, and C) minor details like "do these lycanthropes/vampires/etc. match any of the Dresdenverse ones" and "why do the Behindkind have Seelie and Unseelie lords that aren't in the Dresdenverse Courts."

(I do default to explaining other canons within the framework of the Dresden canon, simply because there's so much of the Dresden canon and it seems designed to keep fitting new elements.)

As for how Harry would do there?

Well. First point to make is that the titular City Between is Hobart, Australia. I do not think Harry would enjoy being in Australia. :P

Strengthwise, it depends where he is in his own series, but I think Harry would be a match for most of the CB players in combat. Taking fae and such by surprise is kind of his thing, and they're culturally arrogant enough that I don't think they would be prepared for either a human spellslinger or a gun. They're good at carnage! But he's very good at magical-mundane scrapping.

Magically, Between would probably annoy him because it's a lot more fluid than the dimensions and systems he's used to, but he'd also be fascinated watching people work it. He is a magic nerd, after all.

Morally and intellectually he would not vibe with fae culture, nor with Pet's three "psychos" in their earlier appearances. They have an explicit disregard for human deaths that would make him MAD. They're also pursuing a long-term serial murder investigation (focusing on fae murders, though humans have also incidentally died), which he would obviously get into the middle of somehow as an upstanding wizard PI. He would probably solve it significantly sooner, too, I have to say!

Man, that would be messy.

So yeah, watching these fae and vampire tramping through human society and brushing aside the collateral damage their society is causing, all while (inefficiently, as far as he can see) investigating an apparent immortal serial killer? Harry would be feuding with them very early in his own investigation. Hopefully not tipping over into outright war, but the relationship would not be smooth.

Oh! And there's a teenage human girl in their household who keeps trying to get everyone to play nice together. Tripping all his protective chivalry instincts.

He WOULD like Pet. He would be so so stressed about her but he'd respect her moral compass and determination, and try very hard to make sure she could count on him as a human ally. And Pet would appreciate that! She'd need him not to try and get between her and her psychos, because she gets attached to them quickly, but having the option of a human wizard protector who understands all her moral issues would be kinda great.

In conclusion... I think if Harry showed up during City Between canon, he could turn it into a Dresden Files book. I think his resolution to their issues might well be just as good as the way things go in their canon... but differently good. I wouldn't trade that universe for canon but I think it would be fascinating to see.

[shiikiyun]

Let me yap a little abt my headcanons around a normal au futa that is friends with the other prisoners (namely the ones in his age range + mu and haruka perhaps. This is placing haruka as a 17 y/o bc the timeline in canon is still confusing and we dont have anything solid but him and mu are not relevant to this ramble rn just wanted to clarify that) cause mico's music got me thinking a lot about what i pressume is a habit of futa's: selfsabotage

A lot of his conflict in canon pre murder is that he does most things for validation from those he idolizes, right? And he has a feeling of inadequancy in social groups. He yearns for closeness, but is too afraid to approach and be pushed right out. Unfortunately, thats exactly what it happens with this group. So, in an au where the death doesnt happen but his friends scapegoat him anyway and he has to rebuild his trust on people, i always thought the milgram gang would potentially be a good group for him to fit in— Because, in a way, all of them are odd. Think Yuno in trial 1, how she found the whole situation entertaining and enjoyed watching and partaking in interactions with her fellow prisoners because aren't they fascinating? That feeling would persist, i think, had they met outside this prison (like, college or work. In my au shes just starting college).

Some of them are good at pretending to fit in— like Yuno or Mikoto— and others have their quirks but may not struggle as much as him if needed— Like Mahiru and Kotoko— but theyre all in a way rejects. Yuno and Mikoto are exhausted out of their minds from the acts they put up and Mahiru and Kotoko end up also failing at deeper connections (where one cares too much about it the other tries really hard not to). A group of misfits that only found a place to belong in eachother is always a nice trope, right? Yay! My little freak got friends that are as odd as him. Conflict was solved!

Except, it wasnt. And we could go for agessss about all the complications the dynamics in a group like this could spawn, but I'm focusing on Futa here. And the thing is i believe his trust issues would get the better of him sooner or later, and he'd end up convinced these new friendships arent gonna last. From there, it's a spiral.

Out of the 4 i mentioned, the one most likely to stick by him if he shows his "ugly" traits is probably Mahiru. Because shes simply too loving. But the other 3— even Mikoto, but specifically with Futa— have a backbone. And he knows this! It'd only feed into his paranoia that they'll eventually get fed up with his shit and leave. I mean, it happened so many times, no? And there's something fundamentally wrong with him, he is incapable of upkeeping any sort of close bonds with people and he's just not a pleasant to have around. No matter what they do, Futa knows in the depths of his heart that he will push them away somehow and he doesn't have it in him to wait around for that to happen.

Maybe his tone is becoming a little too harsh, too loud, his jokes aren't landing, his awkwardness when he has to be there for his friends renders him a little too useless making the opposite situation feel like a chore to them (or so he thinks, at least). Then everyone else's tone is sounding a little too harsh, so he snaps. And they get tired of it, so they start avoiding him... but what then? What does Futa want now, that he finally found a place he could feel he belonged to, and he did everything to break it?

Here's where I'm a little torn. I cant decide whether he'd close himself off to the world until someone finally cracked him (like mahiru, in her helpless attempt of holding this precious place for her together with tape) or if he himself would become a little desperate seeing himself losing everything again. I dont think Futa knows what he'd do, either. He could never fathom the idea of such a place existing to begin with, how could he ever predict his reaction to losing it?

At such a point he'd be experiencing so many strong emotions he could hardly bear. The guilt of hurting the people that genuinely cared about him and pushing them away for good mixed with the paranoia of it being destined to be that way, because everyone leaves— yet the burning need to beg for them to give him one more chance (haha get it) because he truly cannot tolerate the idea of being lonely again after finally getting a taste of what care and love truly feels like.

Ultimately, Mahiru is always a key to everything. Even with her own attachment issues (that, well, even if they wouldnt push her boyfriend to suicide in this au— they would still be unhealthy and maybe that relationship here was the wake up call she needed to work on them) she'd be the one to refuse to let go of these bonds. Again, she's just so loving! She loves her friends, individually, and as a group, and it weights on her big heart to see them fight. Maybe she'd attempt to not be overbearing, but she'd try her best to let Futa know she is there for him. And, wouldn't you know it, the one Futa was likely the most annoyed by when they met is the one to make his whole (skewed) perception of reality fall apart— Because his narrative of "being destined to be abandoned" doesn't hold up when someone, even just one person, stays.

And that's just the tip of it. I think Yuno, Mikoto and Kotoko all would have such a huge impact on Futa in a positive way, and I think he could have his own impact on them too. This isn't biased towards the Mahiru-Futa dynamic, but, in this specific scenario where Futa's own insecurities clash with the rest's, Mappi is the one to save the day. Also lowkey I wanted to talk about her because I've already talked about the impact in the Mikoto/Futa and Mu/Futa dynamics before so like I needed to change it up

This is all over the place because i just wanted to talk about futa for a while, but if u madd it this far thanks for reading this mess lmao i hope it made sense and isnt too selfindulgent! Grant me some grace it IS a "normal" au

Also if anyone wants to chim in and share their thoughts on how the other 3 characters i didnt elaborate on would behave in such a context id love to read it!!! I have my own thoughts but its always fun to see what other people think. If anyone cares I think Yuno wouldnt particularly cut Futa off if he became messy but she would keep her distance, and Mikoto and Kotoko would just busy themselves. Mikoto isnt confrontational and Kotoko would just leave Futa to figure it out himself, but this all would misread to Futa as abandonment, whether they're aware of it or not. But yea omg let me stop talking how many words is this