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#⋆ ✩ ⋆ ━━ LULU. canon.

kurara-black-blog · 25 days

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Just saw a post saying we shouldn't ship Radioapple because it'd be toxic and Alastor rather would kill Lucifer then have a romance with him and, like– my sibling in Christ, we know. We're shipping the literal Devil and a cannibalistic killer. We're going in fully aware that by all means, their relationship would not be healthy canonically, in fact, many of us lean into it cheerfully! Thanks for the reminder, but we're good.

#radioapple #“this or that character are evil!” is not a hot take when canon happens in LITERAL HELL #this is like that time people hated on the pilot because there was a homophobic character #where the fuck you think the homophobes are going?????#if you say “heaven” then I'd rather go have a chat with LuLu #appleradio #duckiedeer

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trashogram · 3 days

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You cannot tell me that Lucifer doesn’t have constant nightmares about losing his family. It’s his greatest fear.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #Canon Lucifer or HCY Lucifer #any LuLu #My baby boo is pressed

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lulu2992 · 8 months

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Speaking of BioShock Infinite, have I ever told you about that time I made a timeline of the BioShock series?

Tumblr made the image smaller so I’ve uploaded the original here :)

It’s far from being exhaustive because the reason I drew this in the first place was to make sure I really understood Infinite (the ending, especially) and Burial at Sea, so only the most significant and/or pivotal events are featured here. I later added some stuff from the other two games and the Minerva’s Den DLC after playing them. However, the novel BioShock: Rapture isn’t included because I haven’t read it (and it seems it’s generally not considered canon anyway).

I made this 8 years ago (with Paint, haha) but very recently translated it and made some adjustments so I could post it! I didn’t check everything I wrote because it’s been a while since I’ve really thought about the lore of BioShock, so I decided to trust my 2015 self and assume she knew what she was doing :’)

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bluehairperson · 1 year

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I thought only now about the possibility of Lucio having commissioned some coins with his face on them. Imagine being traumatized by this tyrant and all the things he did, never wanting to see him again after his death but constantly being haunted by his memory not only because of the various monuments around the city, but also because his face is literally engraved on the local currency.

Asra grimacing every time he gets paid by a client at the shop or has to use the same coin to buy bread. The man who took everything from him and made him grow up in absolute poverty is now part of what allows him to afford food and shelter every day.

Julian spending everything he has at the tavern every night because the mere thought of having those coins in his pockets makes him feel heavy with dread. He doesn't even look when he tosses them on the table.

It doesn't matter how far away they both try to escape during their travels, some of those coins always manage to catch up to them no matter where they go. It's like he never left.

#and he never did he's still there 💖#good evening can I offer you some angst #pretty obvious assumption if it was never mentioned in canon but yeah #cool worldbuilding/character development implications #mc who keeps asking asra who's the guy on all the coins and on the huge statues scattered around the town #and asra doesn't really know what to say because he just wants to move on to another topic #and then someone mentions this in front of nadia and valerius and they just seem kinda surprised #because they never had to handle money personally during their lives so they completely forgot about lucio doing this currency thing #aristocrats (derogatory)#muriel just said not my fucking problem and completely removed himself from the city good for him #not art #the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #give all the lulu coins to me no problemo #lucio morgasson

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sergeantsporks · 2 years

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Idk, I just think that if there ends up being enough time for a whole extra romance arc there should also be enough time to state in the show that Lilith is aro and/or ace since that would take maybe 3 seconds/an offhand comment/a singular worn pride pin as opposed to the amount of time it takes to try to set up a relationship, idk, maybe that’s just me.

#don't get me wrong i LOVE lulu's letter i LOVE having her a canon aspec #and i know her arc is mostly kinda complete compared to certain other characters so it makes less sense #but UGH i just wish it were IN THE SHOW instead of being regulated to side conten #*content #toh #the owl house

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rosenecklaces · 4 months

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i don't think Azriel haters even get his "behavior" clearly, they love to throw words at him like abuser (cofaintlulufriendswithone?cof) stalker obsessive freak y'all are doing too much and for what? the dude didn't even strangled eris when he had the change or killed graysen and it would be deserved considering what type of series this is!

"he have so many complexes ohhh ughh"

No shit. Everyone could get it when you fucking suffered from child abuse, get locked, mutilated and basically be trained as a killing machine of course the guy is traumatized and will have certain behaviors! Doesn't mean he's going to go around saving women to receive sex or whatever are you insane? Have you seen him?

#azriel shadowsinger #pro azriel #talking about any character mental state in acotar is always a tussle but mostly when is az #like damn i would love to discuss az feeling of unworthiness and how his family trauma affects him but bitches prefer to focus on made up #shit instead as if canon az hasn't been respectful to every woman he got to meet even when his crush rejected him #he's LITERALLY evading spying lulu as we speak for ELAINS sake are you guys really this dumb

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luluwquidprocrow · 7 months

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like a row of captured ghosts

kit snicket

teen

2,568 words

Kit Snicket visits a house in the city.

for @asouefanworkevent's woevember day 2, the baudelaire mansion! featuring my enduring headcanon that the baudelaire mansion was previously the snicket mansion, and b+b get it when they marry lemony. i am 100% willing to admit it is Unlikely, however let us not forget kit saying “our families have always been close”, so, yknow

title from welcome home by radical face

Kit could get in if she wanted. She’d been given lockpicks expressly for the purpose, because the locks on the house were special, but she didn’t need them. She knew the statue in the back of the garden had a hairline crack in one of the hands – she didn’t remember which one, but it wasn’t as if there were many options – that, when pressure was applied, opened a brick in the patio. Under the brick was a lever. If one were to pull the lever, the little window in the hidden attic opened, roof shingles shifting out of the way, and one could wiggle themselves in, with enough effort. Her grandfather had put a number of clever little secrets in the house, and Kit had gone looking for them when she was very, very young, so she knew a decent amount of them. Few others did.

(The lockpicks confirmed that. If they thought that was the only way someone could get into the house, Kit was not going to correct them. And there were worse things, weren’t there, than simple theft, things for which no real defense existed.)

Night air bit at her ankles, her fingers, her neck. She wasn’t dressed nearly warm enough for November, having grabbed her blue spring jacket in her hurry, but the cold was of little concern to her. The mansion stood across the street, set back from the road, with that winding brick path up to the front doors, the maple trees scattering their leaves around the yard. It was in the heart of the city but in a place one would never know unless explicitly looked for – a turn off an erroneously marked dead end, then another, to an old avenue along a river with more trees than houses. Her grandparents had picked it on purpose. Presumably safe, but close enough.

They had added to the windows. Neat, decorative ironwork, curled into hearts and vines.

Kit put her hands in her pockets and crossed the street, her footsteps the only noise.

The fence out front had been replaced as well. Kit’s grandmother had done most of the architecture, and Bernadette Snicket had favored a simplistic, practical style in her work, but the new fence matched the intricacy of the window grates. That just-too-big space in the bars a person could slide themselves through if they desired, that Kit had, years ago, when she’d – that was gone. Kit walked the length of the fence twice, considering. She couldn’t linger long. There was a light on in a downstairs window, glowing soft behind the drawn curtains. Kit could not put it past them to eventually see her. She walked down the sidewalk one more time, picking up her pace. There was no way around the fence. Climbing over it didn’t seem like an option. The points at the top of each iron bar looked sharp, glinting in a stray hit of light from the streetlamp over near Kit’s car.

(Kit wondered how much was a choice – how much was a needed decision – how much was meant to erase. She couldn’t judge Beatrice and Bertrand for that. Not without damning herself, which Kit was not, overall, in the habit of doing.)

Of course there was a sewer grate nearby, and of course Kit pushed it up soundlessly and slipped down inside.

Her grandfather had three boxes – one Kit had already taken some years ago and given to Bertrand, for reasons better left unsaid. One had been given to Lemony. The third was still in the house and held a very specific map of the city. Headquarters wanted it, among other things. And if Kit came across one of those other things, she was at her liberty to take them.

(She and Beatrice had argued, Kit remembered. The sewer was dark and icy, and Kit shivered hard, grinding her teeth together. They’d argued about those other things, and Kit had not been able to give Beatrice, or herself, a satisfactory answer. It was one of the last conversations they had, if not the last. Most likely the last, if Kit was honest. Beatrice had made it clear where she and Bertrand stood, and where Kit stood, and that it was no longer in the same place. And it never would be.

Kit told herself over and over that she would never do it. There would always be another option, as long as Beatrice and Bertrand were alive to emphatically refuse. Right now, there was this option – Kit was going into the house. She was taking the box back. Nothing else. And the box wasn’t even going to headquarters. There were other plans for that box.)

The box would be in the downstairs office, under a floorboard. Probably Bertrand’s office. The windows were one of the ones her grandmother had put the stained glass in, and shards of blue fell over the green floor when the sun sat just right in the sky. It was a good room for thinking, and Bertrand likely did a great deal of it there. Kit swallowed and hurried further through the sewers, past the names that didn’t matter, and started scanning the curved ceiling. If one knew where to look, there was a sloped hatch up there that led up into the passage between the house and 667 Dark Avenue. Kit would open the hatch, get inside, go into the house, and then leave the same way. And there it was. Tucked in a shadow, just waiting for her. Kit reached up for the wheel, ready to heave the door open. It was going to stick with so little use.

The wheel turned easy under her hands.

Kit jerked back, her whole body seizing up. Someone had been here. Someone who was not her. Someone who wasn’t just checking. Kit spun the wheel frantically and the hatch fell open.

(She’d brought Olaf here. Her grandparents hadn’t cared who knew the location of their house, but their generation had been different, and Kit’s parents had stressed, when they could, the importance of keeping this secret. Her associates thought it was a safehouse, one they could never quite find the location of, and wrote off as another ruse. She’d driven Olaf, pointing out landmarks the whole way, because she’d thought –

Kit was not foolish enough to think she’d get married. But Olaf was important to her, and she was foolish enough to think he’d stay important, and that when Lemony inevitably married Beatrice and they took the house, Olaf would be there too.

They crept in through the fence. Olaf chased her around the maple trees. Kit took him into the house through the font doors and showed him what her grandparents built. And he understood what the Snicket mansion meant, in the way he had to understand what the Count’s mansion meant. Some time later, Kit realized he had not.

Olaf’s memory was shit, except where it mattered. Except in the things she wanted him to forget. He’d remember where this house was and it was only a matter of time before he – before anyone – got their hands on the Baudelaires.)

Kit hoisted herself up into the passageway. She tugged the hatch closed behind her, then felt around in the black for the dip in the center. Her fingers kept slipping, shaking, pushing into metal that wasn’t right, nicking her nails, her heart thudding faster and faster in her chest and rising to a crash in her ears – where was it? There. She found the button and jammed her thumb into it. The metal hissed as it sealed from the inside. It wasn’t enough, Kit knew. Nothing would ever be enough now. But it would have to do.

She ran along the passageway, keeping one hand on the wall. It came to an abrupt end, and Kit had her hand ready to pull open the trap door into the office when her mouth went dry. She swallowed, and then did it again. Once more. She let the trap door fall open and climbed into the Baudelaire mansion.

The office was dark, as expected. Bertrand kept his desk by the windows, because of course he would. Not because Kit’s grandfather had, but because Bertrand would obviously like the view. The bookcases still lined the walls, but the books must surely be different. Kit wondered what he kept there, but there was no time to get into it. She could see the strip of light hovering under the door. It was poetry, probably. He probably kept poetry. Fairy tales he read to his children. The chair at his desk was different than the one her grandfather had there, perfect for sitting in and telling stories. She turned and faced the wall.

The floorboard was in the far left corner, at the front of the room. Kit moved slowly, quietly, barely breathing. Bertrand had covered the whole floor with a thick, heavy carpet, so at least that was in her favor. She bent down, tugging the corner of the carpet up, and lifted the single loose floorboard.

(She always wound up doing this, she thought, in a voice that sounded stunningly like Lemony’s, wry as he ever was. Sneaking into someplace to steal something important. At least now she had experience.)

There it was. Just as it had always been, another secret waiting for its time. The small, jeweled box with the complicated lock with the code her grandfather had taught all three of them. Kit tucked it inside her jacket and replaced the floorboard.

It hit her like a shot, her breath catching in her throat. The sewer hatch locked only from the inside. She couldn’t go back that way. She whirled around, clutching the lump in her jacket to her chest. The best way to leave – the closest way out – that was through the library, two rooms down, through the passageway in the wall and up to the hidden attic. But that meant leaving the room. Standing in the hallway. Walking to the library, unseen.

(She did not have experience. That voice sounded like Jacques, if Jacques had ever been so straightforward in his disappointment. She had to get out of this house before she kept thinking.)

Kit waited. Listened. She couldn’t hear anything from here in the office. She went through the map of the ground floor in her head, the foyer at the front, into the parlor, the living room to the left, the kitchen to the back, the dining room to the right – the hallway behind the kitchen, with the office, the billiard room, the library. The left wall in the library, where the hidden door was. Conceivably, it was easy. Wasn’t it?

She turned the door handle and left the office.

The hallway was half-lit from the living room at the end of the hall. Now she could hear the phonograph, playing a jazz record she didn’t recognize. Beatrice and Bertrand had to be in there, and it was right across from the library. Unless they were in the library. Unless they were – Kit gave herself a shake. She wouldn’t know anything until she moved. She just had to move. She just had to move. Kit just had to move.

She couldn’t see the green floors. Beatrice and Bertrand had rugs everywhere, in elegant red and ivory. Kit tiptoed over it, hesitating. Paintings hung in groups down the hallway, flowers and little portraits and framed children’s drawings, scribbles of the garden hung with the same care as the art. They must be Violet’s. The jazz record kept going. Kit’s grandmother had liked oil paintings of flowers. She’d had a few in the hallway herself in her time.

(Katherine, Bernadette Snicket had said.

No, Kit insisted. How old was she then? Four? Just Kit. And her grandmother had looked pleased, like Kit had passed a test. Everything was a test and always had been, tests she’d completed perfectly, and why did it hurt? How far had Kit gone down the hall? The box sat against her ribs like another heart, heavy. Everything ached, especially her jaw, clenched shut like her life depended on it. And it did. This life around her she wasn’t a part of anymore, this family, this safety, Kit’s life existing outside of this place, everything depended on Kit, on her walking out of here alone, back to her apartment. The whole series of events spooled out in front of her as a nightmare unraveling. Was she crying? Why was she crying?)

Kit took another step, then another. The library was one foot away on the right, a mile away, mere inches, an eternity. The passthrough to the living room on her left gaped open.

Bertrand hummed a bar of the jazz record. And then –

“What’ve you got there?”

Kit froze.

“I knew I left it somewhere in here – ha! That book I was looking for, for Violet and Klaus.”

“You really want to do the cob, don’t you?” The smile was clear in his voice, and Kit pictured Bertrand leaning forward in his chair, his hand on his chin, gazing at Beatrice and bursting with delight.

“I absolutely do! I get to do a fake death scene and everything. How many kids books are going to give me that kind of opportunity, Bertrand?”

They were alone. Their voices were far enough into the room that they shouldn’t see her at the doorway. They joked like she remembered, exactly like she remembered. Did they joke like that with their children? Would they have joked like that with Lemony, here, like they used to? With her? Would Olaf have – would her grandparents – wasn’t Kit supposed to be here too, not because it was hers, that wasn’t what mattered, what mattered was –

Kit held her breath and didn’t let it out until she’d slipped into the library, until she’d rushed to the wall, until she’d nearly slammed her hand into the door hidden in the dark wallpaper, until she was safe in the narrow passageway. She wanted to run, to keep running. But they’d hear her in the wall. She took it step by step with her chest burning, traveling up two floors to the hidden attic. There was the little window in the roof, waiting for Kit to wiggle her way out. She did. The climb over the roof and down the trellis was harder, with her whole body trembling, but she made it.

She stumbled through the garden, racing over the brick path back to the road, to the fence – she shoved her heels into the ironwork, scrambling over it, the tip of a bar slicing into her calf and her palms. She slipped on the way down the other side and her hip met the sidewalk, pain skittering through her leg and up her side. Get up. Get up, Kit. And Kit did, back to her car across the street, into the driver’s side.

Kit took long and deep breaths. In and out, until her head was back on straight, with the plan set right in her thoughts, as it was supposed to be. Everything was as it should be. She set the box down gently on the passenger seat. She did not look at the Baudelaire mansion. She would patch herself up later, when she had time. She took another breath and put the key in the ignition.

She had to go back home.

#asoue #woevember #no you do NOT see my unformated dashes shhhhhhhh i am so tired okay :) i'm not fixing them i'm going to bed :)#uh. this fic is a Time. in many ways. like.................#kit snicket and the terrible horrible no good very bad evening of Situations. by lulu vandelay #where is this in canon????? uhhh. tentatively violet and klaus are like toddlers i think. yeah?#i struggled with the title. frantically scrambled for a new one bc my original one. look i thought it was tonally too creepy. i think that #was what was freaking me out about it.#AT. 1:56 IN THE GODDAMN MORNING #the next day 2:23 pm update -- changed some words/smoothed some things/left a lot of the passive voice bc i think it's needed here

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lavenoon · 1 year

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Sunset, Canon Drabble, ~1.9K Words

After the reveal, Y/N slowly gets used to their new normal - and Sun (and Moon) gladly help them along the way. Things don't always turn out the way we want them to, though.

Nacreous Cloud, Canon Drabble, ~4.6K words

Continuation of Sunset. Dawn escapes, but not before running into the rescue party. Relief at the reunion is enough to carry them through the consequences - but then it's time to rest.

Nacreous clouds are rare and very high clouds, known mainly for the colored light they reflect after sunset and before dawn.

Warnings for description of violence and injuries.

And everyone say "Thank you, @daye-dream" for the code name for the agency's big boss! <3

#post let luce #fnaf sb #fnaf sb au #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #accidentally undercover #my fic #pspsps yall we have a fresh batch of canon content!#this is a big one! you'll get it when you read <3 #everyone say thank you lulu for suggesting canon Dawn when I asked her which one to write for based on nothing except the title #started with “heehee shimmery rare clouds that shine before *dawn*” ended with major plot point for canon au #fun times <3 #but uh yeah first. first the hurt parts. then comfort #which is why I insisted on getting these out at the same time #enjoy <3

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crushedsweets · 5 months

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Jack and Lazari?? A lil duo maybe?? Bonding over cult trauma?? Bonding over being demonic and unable to control themselves??

this is genius actually... i think it would be fun to give jack an arc where he has to take care of a little kid again. someone who reminds him of his little sisters, but also reminds him of himself. i think if he saw himself in lazari, someone who is 'pure' but still like him, it could help kickstart a path of self forgiveness... hmmmmmmmmmhmhmhm..... and lazari of course needs some guidance in her life after everything she's been through, and is currently going through

#might give jack a roomie .#now what to do with dina... i dont wanna just throw her in the hospital cuz dina and ann have beef...#although when do i follow canon. LMFAO #dina ann and lulu would be a cool trio

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whoslaurapalmer · 24 days

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asoue but one of the lemonberry ice (your choice) dies before the fire

Kam Why Would You Break My Heart Like This!!!!!

it's not that i intended to pick lemony but lemony was the one i immediately had a thought for and i don't know if i have the thoughts to re-puzzle canon together with the absence of bea or bertrand before the fire, SO

well, right off the bat, the books aren't written. barely anyone knows he's really truly dead because they think he's already been dead for some time. lemony is not alive to set the story straight, he's not alive to mourn and remember his friends, he's not alive to help clear his name, he's not alive to reveal secrets about vfd. he's not alive to help babybea reunite with the baudelaires post-canon.

i think canon is different. i have an idea of how it goes but i am concerned it is, assuming too much about certain points. but. i think, if lemony dies for real before the fire, the kids are taken by vfd.

-we know the kids have been photographed (the end pg 107-108, carnivorous carnival pg 141). we know vfd photographs children before they are taken (unauto). we don't know the intended recipient of the photograph, but we know a 'quick-thinking waitress' shenanigans the photograph from being served in the restaurant and into the alley, where lemony is waiting. i think we can say the kids are being watched by vfd (by some form, some faction, of vfd) and that lemony intercepts this particular photograph taken of them. -what we don't know is why the kids weren't taken anytime before the start of the series. -we all also have different ideas of how involved b+b were in vfd after their marriage, but that passage from the end also reveals that beatrice is still involved in vfd work in some way, so let's say b+b were, at the least, Minorly Involved In Fragmentary Plot Machinations, But Definitely At A Distance From The Rest Of VFD. -maybe b+b are the buffer between vfd and their children. -or maybe it was lemony. -maybe vfd has still been watching the kids this whole entire time, just waiting. -maybe lemony has been, when he can, protecting the children from vfd and intercepting a majority of vfd's surveillance of them. -in canon, dewey suggests that the children were taken, just by olaf instead of vfd (penultimate peril pg 178-184). -and if lemony isn't there to intercept vfd's surveillance, maybe here they are taken by vfd instead of olaf.

-do the baudelaires still go to the guardians? hmmmm. -you can make a case that they could still meet monty, re: the debate about if peru was vfd-related, if monty's herpetological society involvement itself connects to vfd -but while we know josephine is in vfd, i have a harder time making a case that she's still involved in vfd at this point in canon. ike's death has shattered her in a way that i think she's hiding not just from the world but from vfd. -but the idea that vfd is shuffling them between the guardians like chaperones...........i DO like that (-mr poe, in the background, constantly trying to find these kids and just narrowly missing them every single time as vfd moves them around: my goodness, this is a problem.) -i don't think this means the kids are immediately like pro-vfd either though, like i think especially going into it when they're older, with sunny, keeps their 'is this a good organization?' moral wondering, even if they might have access to a little more information. -but i also like the idea of kit being their chaperone. -and they would definitely meet jacques as well -- he wouldn't be searching for them. -olaf, though, is definitely still after the kids, and it might even be easier for him to get closer to them, bc he knows how vfd works and the kids are in vfd. maybe even more deaths, bc olaf has Had It with vfd's involvement -oh, some disguise shenanigans, though. they're all using THE SAME DAMN DISGUISE KIT.

-how does it end..................... -i think penultimate peril is even more of a climax. even more, uh, peril. i'm not sure how though.

#I DIDN'T MEAN TO HAVE SOURCES IN HERE I WAS JUST DIGGING IN THE QUOTE DOCUMENT FOR THE END QUOTE #AND. CONTINUED #lulu talks about the sad lemon man #oh this reminds me once upon a time i had notes for canon but the three of them were together and raising the kids #but NONE OF THEM were home the day of the fire. desperate shenanigans ensue.

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