#honestly got what he deserved

[fizzigigsimmer]

Hannibal Harringrove Au Part 2

The night they met. The Halloween Party but make it murder boyfriendy.

The house is on the lake, Michigan side, owned by a colleague who lived for the kind of parties that ended with doing lines of coke off of a rent girl’s ass. As an associate at one of the nation's top law firms Billy was surrounded by such men and he was no stranger to such parties. The statistics don’t lie about his profession. How it attracts a certain type of personality. Psychopaths, according to Billy’s boyfriend. 

Which would count for a rarely astute observation, if Conner weren’t just saying it to poke a reaction out of Billy. He had no doubt that if Conner had any inkling of what Billy has planned for their eventual breakup that Conner would have packed a bag and run for the hills. If he had any brain at all he wouldn’t wait to pack the bag.

But Billy didn’t actually go to the party that night dreaming of his partner’s demise. Conner was a well chosen article of cover and had years of usefulness in him yet. Billy did not kill because it was compulsory. After the first one he could have chosen never to kill again, but Billy had chosen to accept what at the time had seemed a simple truth – he enjoyed it too much not to do it again. He hasn’t found a reason in the world compelling enough to deny himself, and so long as he doesn’t get caught he won’t. He’s not compelled, or deluded, and he doesn’t think himself a god. On the contrary, he could make a compelling case for his firm belief that hell is empty and all the devils are here.

He just enjoys being the worst one. The feeling of overpowering someone and making them see things as they really are is an addictive sensation – no rush like it in the world – because yes, asshole, it is going to end like this, and no your prayers aren’t going to be answered.  

One minute they’re alive, and the next they’re dead because that’s what he decided. And what is anyone going to do about it? Not a god damned thing. That’s life. Those who get it learn how to shoot.

Billy didn’t always get it. Used to pray to the saints and turn his eyes towards heaven until his head got too heavy crawling out of the shit pit that was his childhood. Used to cry and beg and bleed until he became something untouchable. Elevated. He’s not the bogyman and he’s not God. He’s better because he’s real. Except he’s fucking bored. None of it means anything to him. Not the money, the sex, the fast cars. Even the thrill of the kill is only a momentary blip in a monotonous stream of living. He’s alive because his teeth are sharpest, and one day he won’t be. That’s life and it’s so. Fucking. Long.  

He’s not compelled to kill and doesn’t want to die himself, but he is starting to get twitchy. He can admit that. Which is how killers get caught (he knows that) but he can’t seem to help it. He wants more. A challenge. Someone to really talk to. Play with and not just toy. He’s never had a real companion. Can’t for the obvious reason. Some days he looks at Connor in his skinny jeans and trendy glasses rambling on about whatever and just thinks, ‘fuck someone should bite that tongue off and feed it to you’. But Billy hasn’t made it this far just to get caught snapping on a twink who can’t keep his mouth shut. Every couple has their rough patches. Maybe he should buy a yacht.  

The party is in full swing. Some rich asshole friend of Connors is trying to convince Billy to invest in crypto, when Billy sees the stranger across the room for the first time. The moment he sees him all thoughts of Connor go out the window. The man is standing in a corner talking to a short woman with bottle blond hair in one of those clingy body con dresses women love so much. She glitters like a disco ball and he’s put a lot of futile effort into looking like someone you’ll forget as soon as your eyes leave him.  

Dark pants, wrinkled shirt, a white jacket to complement his date, hair on the overgrown side of in-between haircuts, no tie and no socks. He looks like an academic, a sleepy-eyed professor crashing the party of some friend of a friend, but there’s an easy, breezy, beautiful, confidence to his slouch that you only get when you grow up pretty and privileged. If this were L.A. the paps would be all over him. He’d be a cover boy by morning, the mystery lover of every starlet and socialite in the room whether he talked to them or not.  

They’ll say Harrington was a handsome man and talk about how Billy likes pretty things in the books they write about him, but that isn’t what made Billy look and keep looking that night.  

Attraction is not the thing that ultimately convinces him Steve is the body he’d like to take apart (in every way) but it’s a start.  

That night the stranger is giving his date all of his attention, his body angled towards her and leaning in, giving all the right signals, but then Billy notices the pen in the man’s hand. How he’s twirling it around his fingers without so much as a glance. The man is bored, and while the spinning of that pen could just be a thoughtless action sure, something in Billy’s gut recognizes the way he holds himself even then. Nothing this man does is truly thoughtless. He’s sending a message however subliminal ‘I don’t give a fuck’ even as he showers blonde with the kind of smile sure to get her panties wet.  She’s eating it up, eating him up with her eyes, and the man leans even closer to whisper something unintelligible that makes her giggle.

Billy seizes his chance to approach when the stranger wanders away from the woman over to the table laid out with food and drinks.

“I’d stay away from the salmon if I were you.” He says as an opening and the fellow grunts in acknowledgment, bypassing the salmon to load his small plate with some kind of mini liver sandwich instead. “Why? You have a bad experience with the caterer or something?”

It intrigues Billy the way he doesn’t look at him, not even a glance up to confirm details about the man who has approached him in a crowded room. It’s unusual.

“I know the host and he’s a cheap asshole.” Billy replied, a small smile curling on his lips as the stranger paused, his head turning slightly and his eyes coming up to rest somewhere between Billy’s brows. “Never knew a corner he didn’t try and cut.”

“I see.” There might be a small twitch of his lips, a there and gone again glimpse of amusement, but it’s hard to say because the man is moving away from him. Dismissing the conversation as soundly as he dismisses Billy, his attention instead wandering over the dishes that fill the table like an idle shopper. No great hurry, and still no time for the man who attempts to make conversation.

His body language says ‘I’m not interested’ and Billy believes it. Instantly decides to change it. He’s not used to being ignored.

“You wanna see more?” Billy turns his voice to velvet, doesn’t have to do much other than let it get heavy with promise. It promises to show him things that would make him shiver, shake, and moan. In ways he won’t forget. It’s the sort of tone that settles on the back of the neck like a cold hand and runs a finger down your spine. Most people get nervous when they hear that tone - suddenly remember some errand, or spot someone they know across the room – but not this man. That’s when he half turns toward Billy and really looks at him for the first time.  

His eyes do not match the guarded set to his features, the carefully crafted veneer of disdain cracks around wide brown eyes that make Billy remember hunting – his old man dragging the bleeding buck out from the brush, its frantic bleating as its penetrating eyes bored into Billy.

The stranger’s eyes reflect him the exact same way. The blood Billy scents, the hidden wound behind those eyes, pulls on his hunter instinct.

“If that’s supposed to be a come on your lines need work. I’m not interested.” he says, and Billy swallows the saliva that pools in his mouth. Thinks ‘you will be’ but taunts instead, “What’s the matter Pretty Boy, afraid you’ll get swept off your feet if you look me in the eye?”

“People like eye contact because it helps them find the things other people try and hide. I’m not hiding anything from you.” the man says, beginning to turn again as he loses interest. He stops when Billy asks, “And you’re not afraid of what I might be hiding?”

And then the man cuts him, verbally slashes him with the knife Billy didn’t see him holding because he was taken in by all the rest.

“William Hargrove. You go by Billy. You’re thirty-eight, a lawyer, and your partner,” Billy notes the gesture of his head toward the area he last saw Conner in but doesn’t dare take his eyes off of the stranger, not for a second – doesn’t mind giving you a little slack on the leash. So long as you don’t bring home anything unpleasant. That must be nice for you. But I don’t share.”

“You’re a cop.” Billy guesses. It’s not a hard thing to do. There are only two ways for someone to know so much about him. “That or a party planner, but if Simon had hired you to put this together you wouldn’t have needed me to warn you about the salmon.”

Billy’s able to catch it this time, the moment when the side of the handsome stranger’s mouth twitches and real amusement flashes in his eyes before he decides to roll with it, lets it curl into something resembling a smirk.

"Maybe I just like to live dangerously.”

Billy thinks, ‘of course you do pretty thing’ because he is a cop after all. He’s not dumb or deluded enough to think himself a hero, so something else must draw him to that thankless job. For some it’s the adrenaline and others it’s the power of the uniform. But those soft brown eyes hide things, despite what was said earlier. They’ve seen things. They’re seeing Billy now, and Billy doesn’t think he even realizes it, but he’s not turning away. No longer twitching with boredom. The stranger is still and poised like a hound waiting for the whistle at the start of a hunt.

It does occur to Billy that the hunt has already begun. The man is some type of law enforcement, he has been briefed on all of the party guests which means he’s working, and the plain clothes mean he is undercover. So likely FBI. And what are the chances really that an FBI agent is here in Billy’s stomping grounds, and just happens to fall right into his lap?

“Dangerously enough to let me take you home?” Billy asks, stepping toward him, scrunching his nose a little at the waft of cheap cologne that fills it. The kind of Wal-Mart shelf shit he imagines a colleague bought him as a Christmas gift. Maybe it’s the way they guy holds himself, or the long lean lines of his body, but Billy gets the feeling he likes finer things. This may be all that he can afford on a government salary but it’s clear that (wrinkles aside) he knows what to do with the little he has. Maybe Billy will give him more. Buy him shirts in mulberry silk and leave them at his door. No note. See if he’ll flirt with danger and wear the gifts given by a stranger or if that’s just reserved for the job.

“Back up.” It’s not a suggestion. The hand that sets on Billy’s chest and pushes is firm and hot. Billy feels it burning against his skin, even through his clothes, and the way the man’s fingers curl just so, digging in before the pressure is gone. “I told you I don’t share well. Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

He nods to something over Billy’s shoulder but Billy doesn’t need to look, recognizes he cologne Conner’s latest side piece bought for him, that he wears hoping it will rile Billy up and bring out his more possessive instincts. There was a time when it would have, but that time is gone. Shot dead by a pair of brown eyes that mock him as Conner plasters himself to Billy’s side, whiny and drunk, but not buried. Not yet.

“There you are baaaby,” Conner simpers, dragging out the sound until it grates across Billy’s nerves like a poorly played note.

“You kids have fun.” The man snickers, sliding a cracker topped with some sort of pate and green things into his mouth whole. Billy imagines sliding his fingers between those lips as the man turns to walk away. Billy ignores the startled sound that Conner makes as he shakes him loose, the way the slighter man stumbles and falls to the floor, and grabs the man’s shoulder. His grip isn’t tight enough to cause pain, but it’s not any of the things it should be either. There’s no apology in it, no please. He stops because Billy forces him to stop. Turns his head to look, but not his whole body. Billy can feel the tension in him anyway, the readiness for the fight.

“Tell me your name.” And then he softens the command, just a little. “It’s only fair since you know mine.”  

He watches the man’s face enraptured, clocks the irritation and the indecision as he mulls over how to respond. He’s fascinatingly easy to read, those eyes of his broadcasting his every feeling. Billy remembers what he said about eye contact and having nothing to hide, and yet he’s already pulled the rug out from under Billy once already. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s being played.

“Harrington,” the man finally says, reaching up to grip the hand Billy has on his shoulder and pry it loose. Billy lets him because once again, this man has taken him by surprise. He could ask, ‘Steve Harrington’ but that’s probably just what Jim Hopper is hoping he will do. It would prove at the very least that Billy has been keeping as close an eye on the head of the BAU as Hopper has been keeping on him. He’s been in Jim’s sights since his first kill. Popped his cherry with true passion when he was a teen. And like a horny kid with a prom date, he’d left evidence everywhere. Would have spent the rest of his life behind bars if his step sister hadn’t backed up his self-defense claim.  

Big Jim never did buy the sob story about how Billy’s father lost his mind. How he’d murdered his wife and planned to get Billy and Max too before he took himself out with a selfish suicide; but the jurors had loved Max in all her fragile white girlhood, and in the end, they’d rewarded the boy who had saved her. Even if he’d stabbed a man eleven times and tried to bury his pieces in the woods.

Sloppy. But nobody’s first time is perfect. 

**Now with Part 3**

[chloesimaginationthings]

You think William has heard Ballora’s FNAF song?..

[rickybaby]

Angry Daniel Ricciardo lashes out after bad strategy call

[lilithofpenandbook]

Seriously how can M*r*uders stans like random Slytherins (who tf are Evan Rosier, Pandora (is that Luna's mum and why tf is she Evan Rosier's twin in half of these), and I don't even want to discuss Regulus) and make them Actually Misunderstood Good People Who Were Forced Down That Path when at least one of them *coughreguluscough* was obsessed with Voldemort

And then turn around and make Snape an awful person?

[starboysbrainrot]

the sound of myself - disasterpeace.

[cupiidzbow]

everyone on donkey kong island: hello lgbt community

[mobius-m-mobius]

Julia Ormond and Tim Roth in Captives (1994)

[youmakethelight]

I need scenes where Daryl explicitly shows that he loves Carol for all of who she is as a human. I know we know it, even though that feeling has been fading since the spin-off and even in parts of season 11. But I reallyyy need at least one scene where Daryl catches Carol doing something distinctly Carol and looks at her for a *prolonged* time with unambiguous love all over his face. And then he actively shows and tells her. Like the scenes where Aaron and Rosita see Carol putting herself through pain to kill the horse to feed Alexandria. I need to know that Daryl sees that in her. And I need to see him radiate intense love in her direction because she fucking needs it.

[dirtychainsawconfessions]

Jackson's whole world view would've changed if he had just gotten the slightest bit of pussy

or dick we don't discriminate here

[lord-squiggletits]

The thing about forged medic hands is that in my personal headcanon, I feel like all forged medic hands baseline should act like Pharma's Luna-1 hands; not the ability to transform into (basically) anything, but because from what I can recall, Pharma is the only instance of a TF medic who isn't just holding tools in his hands and operating that way, but he literally has panels in his arms opening up while his hands are transformed into another tool so he's operating like 3 or 4 tools at once and I think that's so fucking cool.

Especially since they're alien robots whose most prominent feature is transforming so it really feels like having hands/arms that can split or transform into a bunch of tools like a hyper-advanced Swiss army knife should just be like, baseline. It seems like a much better way to take advantage of worldbuilding based on alien robots instead of having forged medic hands just be like, normal shaped hands but extra speedy/flexible/graceful or something.

Just look at the way that real life robotic surgery systems have multiple arms with different tools-- because the fact that they're machines means they're not limited to human physiology's limitations of movement and using hands to perform.

Makes way more sense that forged medic hands should be able to transform their fingers into different tools or have extra limbs stored in their forearms to hold even more tools. Plus it would lead credence to Ratchet's claims that forged hands have certain abilities that constructed hands can't replicate. (After all it makes sense that building medic hands, as opposed to just finding someone who was forged with them naturally, would be really complicated and resource intensive, so in Functionist Cybertron no one would bother building cold constructed hands to the same standards as forged medic hands bc they're not seen as having the same value.)

Granted if all forged medics had similar capabilities to Pharma's Luna-1 hands, it'd be hard to make Pharma's Luna-1 hands stand out as distinct. Then again the fact that "they can transform into anything" seems like it would be extremely special considering that you can only pack so many transformations into a single pair of hands. Plus, in Lost Light, Pharma-Adaptus is shown being able to transform his hand into a freaking blaster which means due to Luna-1/Adaptus' blessings or whatever, his hands don't just hold sets of doctors' tools but can turn into things completely unrelated to the function of medicine at all, including apparently multiple kinds of weapons. Quite literally infinite transformation.

[dontfindmeimscared]

I've been drawing this moron for 8 months straight... dang

[north-wilkesboro-moonshine-cave]

congratulations to Mme. Pascale Leclerc, who has surely just experienced both the funniest and most unhinged weekend a mother could ever have. Dear fucking christ, I hope your middlest son brought you a bottle of champagne for yourself, ma'am.

[rauzagel]

I want to rant a bit about how the sexual aspect of Act 3 Raphael is handled, so be warned, you know what this is about. Just me whining for a bit.

First of all, it was very clear to me that the game would give us some sexy Raph scenes the moment they let us engage with Mizora because it had been pretty equal up until that point. If the game lets you do the lady devil, they'll undoubtedly let us have some fun with the handsome male one, right? They even gave us some Squid boy action after all. So the moment I got that Mizora scene my main motivation in the game shifted to finish Raphaels quest line as soon as possible to get to that point.

Then we get to the House of Hope and it's just... some random shapeshifting fiend and he's just grinding on my gals stomach, riding air. So from an anatomical standpoint the animation itself only works for male player models to begin with and uh... it was just really awkward, not enjoyable at all and the actual Raphael is just reduced to a joke and then that's it.

To me, a Raphael simp, this was the equivalent of dating Astarion/Shadowheart for three Acts and just when you're about to finalize the romance with some sexy scenes, Dribbles the (shapeshifter) Clown swoops in and takes that romantic interests place instead.

What's the purpose of replacing the actual Raphael with a guy whos sole alure lies within the fact that he copies the voice and looks of Raphael? It's literally him but without any of the charme. It would've been fine if that's all it was, but why ruin the characters sexual appeal on top of it? There were so many other things in the house of hope that could've been used to make fun of him, why not at least leave us the fantasy? I don't accept the "Oh, he's a villain and all villains are secretly pathetic" angle because as others have already mentioned, that is not how Mizora is handled, who is Raphaels female equivalent for those who're attracted to women. I'm not the only one who feels this way considering how many fans interpret the available information so that we can still get something out of it. Which I mean works just fine, but in the end it's all speculation. It's also the only way he'll still keep his appeal for many, myself included.

With the way he conducted himself, controlling and dominant, I don't find it unreasonable to expect any romantic scenes involving him to play out a certain way, it's very much the implication of writing him this way and it's exactly those qualities that people would be drawn to for the first 2 and a half acts in the first place. Raphael had such an intimate and prominent role by directly interacting with the player throughout the game, especially if you sign the contract and was, with his flirting, pretty much perfectly set up for some romance content. Even the locations we meet him at, such as the brothel are teasing the player and pointing towards it. The writers are aware that it was anticipated by many too, you can literally tell Haarlep sleeping with Raphael is what you wanted all along, but then that line is just treated as a joke once again. Raph is the only alternative to the emperor, in the end it's literally him or squid and even the squid gets a scene for those who are into him. Raphaels appeal isn't just the visual, but his charme and personality, the entire package, so to say. A shapeshifter that copies his visuals is just that, a hollow copy with none of those qualities, none of the charme and in the end none of the appeal. I'm still pretty disappointed by it. As it stands I would have preferred no intimate scenes involving him or his clones and keep the fantasy over what we got.

Needed to scream this into the void.

[wikitpowers]

LOOK AT HIM!!!!!!!!!!!

he deserves his own series

[soullessjack]

so im on s5 of miraculous and i keep thinking about cat noirs whole “kept at a distance” arc bc it’s genuinely really interesting but gets so wasted by always winding up with him basically validating ladybugs nonsensical decisions and treatment—the same treatment that we were already shown upset him enough to destroy public properly about it. the most consistent reason LB ever gives cat about why he can’t be fully trusted or relied on is that he’s too much of a liability for their partnership to work—either because he’s too reckless, too in love with her, or his cataclysm would be too dangerous to use.

whatever it is, the baseline is that she thinks he’s a liability, and obviously that’s like salt in the wound for cat since he genuinely loves her and enjoys being partners with her, but it’s also just sad to see him continue to respect her decision and act like it isn’t a problem for him when he’s literally upset enough to physically lash out and use his powers to do so. and I know a lot of it can probably be explained by ladybug’s experience in the cat blanc timeline, but 1) she starts holding him at a distance way before that even happens, 2) she’s actively making it worse by not telling cat noir about cat blanc and why she thinks she has to exclude him for his own safety, and 3) SHE SHOULD HAVE TOLD HIM ABOUT CAT BLANC TO BEGIN WITH BECAUSE IT’S LITERALLY A WORLD ENDING SITUATION INVOLVING HIM DIRECTLY‼️‼️‼️‼️

instead she just allows him think he’s unwanted and unnecessary, calls the shots on how he should feel about “having more free time” and ironically makes him even more susceptible to being Akumatized because of it. ladybug might not be aware that cat is adrien and has a terrible home life he actively uses his miraculous to escape from, but she’s playing right into all the key aspects that adrien resents from his father; she decides what he wants without considering or asking him, she trusts him conditionally and still distances herself enough for him to just not know certain things. it’s done with good intentions, but it still clearly affects adrien very poorly, and it’s just such a frustrating glass-chewing miscommunication that only needlessly complicates the situation

don’t even get me started on Kuro Neko where ladybug falls head over heels for the changed version of her partner and narrowly avoiding her having to actually screw up and learn a lesson about accepting cat for who he actually is because catwalker is just “too perfect” for her to function—instead of being an obedient idealized version of her best friend who lets her be in control of everything (WHEN ADRIEN LITERALLY USES HIS DOUBLE LIFE TO HAVE THE CONTROL HE DOESN’T GET AT HOME).

theres so much potential for the base concept of the miraculous of destruction and its Kwami/holder being distrusted outliers among the rest of the Kwami/holders, but the magic system sucks and it kind of loses any chance when the other Kwamis are established to be catastrophic if they use their powers without a holder. and it gets even more confusing if you consider that Fu specifically chose adrien to hold that miraculous, but then encourages Marinette to keep her distance from him and barely acknowledges him as a hero in general. Like why did you even bother testing adrien for his worthiness or whatever if you obviously don’t think he’s worthy of knowing anything about you or the rest of the miraculous OR his best friend’s identity??? but you’re totally okay with her just giving them out to anyone in Paris who’s conveniently around and having her know their identity???? master fu when I catch you master fu

auugghhhfgg I don’t know the magic system thing could be its own separate post but likeeeeee I just think the miraculous of destruction whos constantly mistrusted for no reason and goes Kamehameha Krazy in another timeline is very special and could be treated so much better if the writers were good at their job and didn’t make every character’s sole purpose be validating ladybug/marinette even when she’s in the wrong

[insurged]

i finally read the last chapter of jjk and am genuinely confused about people saying that gojo was forgotten? or that it was the worst ending ever?

literally the time he spent with his kiddos and what he taught them is exactly how he'll be remembered. and i think he wouldn't want it any other way rather than them moping about his death at his grave. he wanted them to actually move on, live life and that's what they have now. they get to be to others what gojo was to them: a teacher, a mentor, a friend... even family. :')