#special agent will graham

[quanioz]

LADS, ITS OFFICIAL, I PUT THE MURDER HUSBANDS IN PONYTOWN.

the black antlers are because of wills visions/episodes. like the one in the facility where they grow out if his back and his head and rip through the cage. they're also on hannibal because that's how will sees him. also do you guys like the detail that wills cutie mark is the 'smile' that hannibal left him in mizumono.

#hannibal #will graham #hannigram #hugh dancy #hannibal series #nbc hannibal #mads mikkelsen #gay #hannibal nbc #pony town #murder husbands #dr hannibal lecter #special agent will graham #hannibal shitpost

[adamshallperish]

you know that that tumblr post that's like sometimes it's not just the story you're telling that determines how it ends, it's also the roles of the characters in the story that create their own tragedies in a way others could not in their place?

anyway, i was thinking about twin peaks and hannibal both being fbi shows and like. will graham is Like That, which is why nbc hannibal is Like That, but if dale cooper from twin peaks was in will graham's place, he would solve the chesapeake ripper case in .00000002 seconds because his vibes are so bewildering it would completely throw hannibal psychosexual cannibal lecter completely off his rhythm

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #will graham #hannibal lecter #twin peaks #dale cooper #special agent dale cooper #david lynch #mark frost

[gaypoetsblog]

When he's a sad bi fbi special agent>>>

#will graham #spencer reid #Malcolm bright #malcolm whitly #nbc hannibal #criminal minds #prodigal son #special agent

[stevethehairington]

it makes me laugh how often will is referred to as a special agent despite NOT being one at all. like. that would NEVER fly irl lmfao

#yes ik this is tv yes ik this is fiction #but it still makes me laugh #like jack impressing upon him how hes a /special agent/ and therefore represents the fbi but like hes not he doesnt cjskskss #also that would literally NEVER make it past legal lol like. #the legal team would never allow someone who hadnt been properly vetted and credentialed to do work on the fbi's behalf #makes me giiiiiiggle #will graham the specialist boy #will graham #hannibal

[collidingxworlds]

Endless muses edits || Then & Now: Will Graham

#nbc hannibal #will graham #Special Agent ; Profiler ; Killer? ::visage ; Will:: #(( scotty's edits ))

[truthbehindthemysteries]

Imagine being the youngest member of the BAU along with Spencer Reid. You two are pretty much the same age, entered and were accepted at the same time. You two are only similar however in your dorkinesss, eidetic memory and word count of over 200,000 that quick. Your job position is not only an SSA but a Criminal Profiler that specializes in forensics and the human behavior. You can get inside their head like Will Graham from Hannibal. You are considered one of the best, and the team love you.

You dont understand fully how much i need criminal minds imagines like i need air { i love this }

#criminal minds #spencer reid #hannibal lector mention #will graham mention #fbi: behavioral analysis unit #supervisory special agent #criminal profiler #fluffy hours #fluffy anon #truthbehindthemysteries

[morallyinept]

Remember this?

The previously unaired pilot to The Sixth Gun TV Series from 2013, has been put up on Youtube.

You can watch it in full here.

Below is just Pedro's opening scene. He plays Special Agent Ortega. There are more scenes with him in the pilot episode, but rather than post them all here and spoil it for you, I urge you to go and watch it for yourself on Youtube.

There are also some screen caps below from the episode that I took, and I've included previously seen images that were released back in 2013 to promote it.

The show was never picked up by NBC for a full series and thus was cancelled. The pilot was never aired - until now where it's been posted on Youtube by a channel called Media Garage.

Pedro also posted a pic of himself in the role as Special Agent Ortega back on 9th May 2013 on his IG profile, stating in the caption "well since no one will see it now."

Alongside Pedro, The Sixth Gun starred Graham McTavish, Michiel Huisman, Aldis Hodge, Laura Ramsey, James Le Gros, Elena Satine & W. Earl Brown, to name a few.

Plot described on IMDB: Failed pilot adaptation of an eponymous comic book set in the old west about six cursed guns that give dark powers and are tied to its owners until their deaths. A heroine and an antihero are after the sixth gun that grants visions.

*Promo Images found on Pintrest.

🖤

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #special agent ortega #the sixth gun #pedro pascal tv show #pedro pascal roles #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

[denimbex1986]

'Doctor Who star David Tennant has managed to inadvertently raise thousands of pounds for LGBTQ+ charity the Albert Kennedy Trust (AKT) by wearing a TARDIS pin in the colours of the trans Pride flag.

Tennant appeared on sketch show The Last Leg on Friday (17 November) and The One Show last night (20 November), to discuss his return as the Doctor for the upcoming Doctor Who 60th anniversary specials.

On both programmes, he donned a small pin badge shaped like the Doctor’s spacecraft, the TARDIS, in blue, white and pink – the trans Pride flag colours.

The creator of the badge, Dr Jamie Gallagher, has since shared on social media that all profits raised from purchases of it will be donated to charity AKT, which supports homeless LGBTQ+ people in the UK.

Hours before Tennant’s appearance on The One Show, Gallagher updated their followers to announce that more than £18,000 had been raised for the charity.

“Thank you beautiful humans. That will make a huge difference to LGBTQ+ people living with homelessness this winter,” Gallagher shared, adding that their website was “blowing up” with people trying to order the TARDIS Pride pins.

Tennant’s wife, actress Georgia Tennant, has also promoted the badges on her social media.

In recent months, the Tennants have become staunch trans allies, as one of their children is reportedly non-binary.

David Tennant has been spotted on TV numerous time wearing a range of trans and non-binary pin badges, including one which read: “You are safe with me”.

In July, he was spotted wearing a “leave trans kids alone” t-shirt while promoting his Prime Video series, Good Omens.

The t-shirt drew fierce backlash from anti-trans campaigners, most notably from The IT Crowd creator Graham Lineham – who suggested that Tennant was an “abusive groomer” for his support of trans children. Lineham was later reportedly dropped by his TV agent, who also represented Tennant, over his comments.

To mark Pride month in June, Tennant appeared on the Reasons To Be Cheerful podcast, urging that while the community can’t “expect that we will always travel in the right direction towards acceptance,” everyone should be “fighting that fight every day”.

David Tennant will make his much-anticipated Doctor Who return this Saturday, 25 November, as part of the queerest series yet, with LGBTQ+ icons Ncuti Gatwa, Yasmin Finney, Miriam Margoyles and Neil Patrick Harris also starring.'

#David Tennant #Doctor Who #60th Anniversary #The One Show #The Last Leg #Georgia Tennant #Reasons to be Cheerful #Good Omens #Albert Kennedy Trust #Dr. Jamie Gallagher #Ncuti Gatwa #Neil Patrick Harris #Yasmin Finney #Miriam Margolyes

[taurder]

Dom male reader x will graham with breeding and exhibitionism kink. 😻😻

Also can i be "🐗" anon??

top!dom!reader x bottom!will graham (hannibal nbc)

contains: breeding kink, exhibitionism kink, lots of swearing, anal (character receiving), implied fbi teacher reader and will.

note: my first request ever, thank you! and i hope i write something you'll enjoy. feel free to ask for more, cause now you're my first anon and I'm a fan of the emoji you picked.

he had been asked to help in another outgoing case, you could tell by the amout of his classes that you had to fill in for. another good indicator of this was his mood. he'll become snappier if approached, grumpy when a conversation with another colleague would become too casual for his liking. but mostly he'd get horny. down bad looking for you in between breaks and shoving you in any room available to climb you like a tree and get you inside him horny.

maybe it was his way of letting go of all this feelings and thoughts inside his head when he was at a murder scene. when your dick was deep inside of him you could tell his mind was empty, his presence entirely here, enjoying every physical pleasure that you could provide him with.

"could you maybe get in any time today?" always desperate, like he was in a rush. you ignored his mean tone, enjoying instead of the view that came from undoing every button of his shirt. his jeans were already out of the way on the floor, poor needy thing had pushed you into one small classroom designed for fewer agents, already biting and provoking, demanding for your touch as you closed the door.

the lock didn't worked on this one, and you voiced this concern knowing well how much he liked the idea of being caught. it was obvious from other encounters and his choice of places that a part of him was thrilled every time you mentioned the sound of someone coming near the door, of another class in the next auditorium and today was no different. even as you touched and gripped at his now exposed torso his eyes wandered to the door, pupils blown and you could picture the view you two made.

clothing in the floor, teacher and special agent will graham up in the desk with you between his legs. you jerked his cock a couple times, making him whimper and frown. "just fuck me already" another demand that you intended to ignore as well but then he reached with a hand to his ass, moaning with eyes closed as he pulled a small butt plug from his hole. the sound was wet and lewd and you unconsciously pressed your thumb there, confirming what the sound made you think. "i– i already prepared everything. shit, i'm so wet you could probably shove it just like that. c'mon"

he had filled himself with as much lube as he could, putting the plug to keep himself from dripping in the corridors, at the places he probably visited to investigate the newest serial killer pattern. all while being stuffed and ready to be fucked. you guess even if he's a demanding piece of shit you have to give credit to his pretty face and initiative, and so you push your whole thumb without a warning first.

"FUCK. no, no, want you– mghh.. your cock" he really craved it, he was almost at the point you loved the most, when he starts sounding really needy. you fuck him with your finger a little more, adoring his squirming frame and already sweaty face. "your cock, your cock" he won't say please, he has already told you this before, so the whiney almost crying like tone you get from him is close enough and you pull your thumb out, watching him already hooking his feet at your back while you guide your dick right in.

And just like he said it's really not much resistance, but enough so to make him wail and moan, louder than he should given the place you're both in, but he's too far gone. as he adjusts to the fullness he goes down to properly lay in the desk, one hand taking his own member, the other grabbing an edge to keep his body from jumping away from you when you start thrusting. "fucking finally. yeah, yeah, like that, yesyes mgghh" a sudden rush of air from the top small windows is enough to make the door move slightly, sounding as if someone was gently pushing it.

will's body jerks at this, and you can clearly see how he squeezes his dick to keep himself from coming, but the movement makes his walls hug tigh your into your length, inviting you to improve your rhythm. you hold his hips, hearing the desk legs squeak against the floor from the movement that proceeds. you thrust into graham hard and fast, seeing his sweat accumulate in his forehead and even the skin in his torso glistening. his mouth is open, murmuring swears as his eyes cross out up his empty head.

this is why he needs you, to reach this state. and as your climax feels near you're reminded of the second thing he needs you for. you hit his prostate, and it's the signal he takes as to guess you're near. "inssss-ide" he whispers, slurring, as he always does at this point. he repeats the word, fearing you could ever forget what he needs to properly cum with you. even as his mind is gone his words come back suddenly, needy. "say it, 'mm-close, so close. keep it in, inside"

you're near too, and as you abuse his prostate with erratic thrusts the words he wants to hear pour out. "you want my cum inside, yes? want to get knocked out, don't you?" he keens, brows together and his right hand working again in his dick. "you think i'm reaching your womb now? i'll fill it up so much you'll be carrying more than one baby" more moans, his body tensing up and toes curling. "here it goes" is your only warning before you give a last deep shove, and even if you're enjoying to finally let go you can tell he's more thrilled.

his body seizes and he throws his head up as your hot seed fills up his insides. even if your thrusting has stopped he's tightening his ass, his dick left forgotten in his abdomen as white ropes paint his sweaty skin. "that's it, milk my cock. don't let any drop go to waste". he shudders, clearly not expecting to hear your voice again but he complies, riding his climax while getting filled. when it's too much for either of you, you pull out slowly, using your fingers to stop your seed from escaping his used hole. he hands you the butt plug and once again he's stuffed.

he doesn't say thank you, he has told you that in the past too, but he does bite into your shoulder when you help him sit down in the desk, his breathing still agitated. you don't see eye to eye as you both fix your clothing or clean the space, but there's a mutual understanding that this will keep happening, and you can't wait for the next session.

#taur's answered #male reader #top reader x character #sub will graham #will graham #will graham x reader #gn reader #hugh dancy #nbc hannibal #will graham x gn reader #top male reader #top reader #🐗 anon

[love-toxin]

Ellie what the fUCK ARE YOU DOING

Camboy Leon? Huh?? You’re gonna drop that and not elaborate? Didn’t realize you were such a PRUDE /j

I would pay so much money to see this guy’s onlyfans, it’s not even funny anymore

(It’s worth noting that I’ve been having an absolute existential crisis every time I think about dick. Leon’s dick would probably cure all of my chronic illness; both mental and physical)

stands over you menacingly :) camboy leon you shall have teehee <3 dare me to expand this into a full fic ehe

(cws: camboy!leon, masturbation, voyeurism, piercings, pining, work crushes)

Leon who works with you at the DSO and, for a special agent, seems pretty neutral. he's stoic but has that dry sense of humour you love, puffing out teasing comments here and there whenever he has the chance. he's admired by everyone but never has any girls on his arm, never dates, never does more than purse his lips in secrecy when the guys boast about their sexual exploits. but even so, his tight-lipped response to anything like that gives him more charm–up until people finally start letting it go in favour of bigger, juicier gossip. but you never do, because even though you're just an intern, you can only dream of what it would be like to have a man like Leon. scratch that, you really just want Leon, because he's the whole package in your eyes even though you can't imagine him ever even sparing you a glance.

but one day, months after the Graham rescue mission, your night gets a little….lonely. Leon's been the talk of the office for weeks since he got back, with everyone swapping stories about his exploits and feeding you so much delicious fodder for your wildest fantasies about your work crush–and one day, hoping to try and pry him off of your mind, you click around the web for a bit until you stumble across an explorer page for a new, adult website.

obviously the curiosity gets to you when you spot the directory of public users, each and every one offering "services" for interested viewers–and you scroll through it for quite a while, searching through the names and checking out a few clips until you come across one that really catches your eye.

blondie.scott → new video available!

his profile photo is cute–it's just a cropped photo of his fingers throwing up a peace sign, although it's positioned over his lap where you can clearly see a dark, thick outline in his light-coloured sweatpants. clicking over to his video list, you've got an impressive library to peek through of free videos he offers, with only a few at the top being locked behind a subscriber paywall. the first one you click on looks pretty tame, but even so it has you sweating as the video buffers and you nearly end up shutting it off completely.

but because you're just too curious, you wait for it to start. and when it does, you get an eyeful of this smooth-chested, rough-voiced, absolute adonis of a man touching himself while the camera records it all from the neck down. he grips his cock with tight, long strokes that feel so needy–and it's pretty too, thick and ruddy at the tip and always glistening as he rubs his precum up and down the shaft, occasionally swirling his thumb round the slit to draw a buck from his hips and a groan out of his throat. being shirtless as he does it with his boxers tucked up underneath his hips, your mouth goes dry at the sight of two shiny barbells of silver nestled by each of his plush nipples. piercings. whoever this guy is, he's bold. and he's just….to die for, c'mon. and you can't even get the image of him cumming out of your mind, the raspy whines as he cusses up a storm and the frantic twitches of his cock while it spurts rope after rope all over his hand…your sleep is restless that night, because every time you close your eyes you can only see that handsome stranger fucking his hand like you wish you could get fucked. it's been so long you feel like a virgin at this point.

after that first video, you're hooked. before you know it, you've made a habit of watching this blondie guy's videos and you look forward to cracking open your browser at the end of a long day, especially when things get extra hectic at the DSO. often you're stuck at your desk for long stretches of time then, and after awhile it becomes so routine you slip up a bit and watch some of his clips when you're left alone in the office, drowning in a sea of paperwork when it's late enough at night that nobody else would even consider coming by. it's pretty easy to cover up, but even still some of his videos just rile you up so much you end up leaving a wet, sticky spot in your chair that you're forced to scrub off before your coworkers come in the next morning.

that doesn't mean the site is erased from your computer, though. it doesn't mean it's not accessible just because you've got a passcode to unlock your desktop. and if a certain somebody–who knows your birthday and has a bit of a thing for you–were to take a peek and see what you've been busy watching…well, he'll be quite pleased that you've got such good taste. and maybe he'll make a video just for you, just to hint that he knows your little secret just like you know his.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re4make #resident evil 4 #resident evil #spicy writing #ellie writes #anons

[theredofoctober]

MANNA CHAPTER 2: SUPPER

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham fic, TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, mild Daddy kink (it'll all make sense).

This chapter is chronologically 2nd in the series.

Keep reading after the cut

Blood in your mouth; you've bitten your inner cheek in your sedative state, auto-cannibalism under the eye of vague attendants. Both are male, featureless, moth-men with closed wings.

You glance from one to the other, grasping foolishly at memory, not yet finding its edges.

"Dad?"

The figure on the left ejects an awkward laugh.

"Which one of us is that again?"

"A moment, Will," says the other man, and through the ether of sleep you see his face, the etching of an aesthete, that which you have seen before.

Hannibal. Dr. Lecter. An enemy in the seat of a saviour.

"Give her time to wake," he says, "and to acclimatise to her environment."

"What's going on?" you ask, rubbing your hands across your face in an effort to rouse yourself. "Where am I right now?"

"You don't remember what happened?" asks Hannibal, his absence of brows arched. "You are in my home, where you will be staying for the foreseeable future, under my care. My colleague, Will Graham, will be assisting me in looking after you. I hope that while you are unhappy with your situation, you will be cordial to him."

A tableau— Hannibal trapping you against the door, your knee bruising his male sensitivity, intimate as newlyweds in the clinch of your rash violence—slows your thoughts with its artistry.

You remain too sluggish, yet, to fear Dr. Lecter as you did in his office. Every feeling seems performed by some spirit in your place, a girl who died here before you, leaving a breath of her sorrows in the walls.

"Are you a doctor?" you ask the man named Will Graham.

He blinks at you as though perturbed by the question.

"No," he says, shortly. "I lecture in criminal profiling for the FBI. Occasionally, I step in as a special agent on crime scenes. I'm here to offer my insights on your case, I guess. Haven't decided quite what they are, yet."

You sit up, frowning.

"But I'm not a murderer."

Will smiles, the curl of his mouth quite unpleasant.

"I know. Doesn't mean I can't get inside your head, though."

He is unfriendly, and oddly furtive, his expression dancing between moral objection and a grudging interest in you. Segments of his conversation with Hannibal pluck at you delicately: he is present only under duress, any curiosity a provocation on Dr. Lecter's part.

You glimpse an avenue for escape through the younger man's sensitivity.

"So... you're a cop?" you ask, carefully.

Will coughs out a laugh.

"Not exactly. Why, worried I'll arrest you?"

"No, but you should arrest Dr. Lecter."

Hannibal delivers you an amused look.

"I have no concerns with the legalities of your treatment. Will would not incriminate himself in any act that would be to your detriment."

You worry your lower lip with your teeth, wondering how much of the truth Will Graham knows.

"So... am I in trouble?"

"Why would you be?" Will enquires, but the question is directed at Hannibal, who coolly answers.

"She assaulted me in her efforts to leave my office."

You stiffen as Will's expression clouds with a new darkness.

"Are you hurt?"

"Fortunately not. I could have been, but I was prepared for resistance. A poor start to our relationship, nonetheless. I think an apology is in order."

Threat is inevitable in that statement; you look for windows, doors, any potential exit, knowing well that you cannot move fast enough to pass your jailers without intervention.

Will says your name, the suddenness throwing you like the recoil of a gun.

"Apologise to Dr. Lecter."

"She was frightened, Will," says Hannibal, generously. "Like a stray animal unused to human contact, she cannot help but bite in the terror that we mean her harm."

Yet he does mean you harm, means to play with you as an orca does a seal it kills, an inversion of his own metaphor.

Will shakes himself, turning from you in reluctance to meet your gaze.

"You said she has to learn," he says, through gritted teeth. "We need to reinforce boundaries with her. So either she apologises, or we have to punish her. That's the way this works, right?"

Fear opens your lethargy with a surgeon's precision.

"Punish?" you cry. "What are you talking about?"

Ignoring your interjection, Dr. Lecter says, "You are correct, Will. For certain plants, a framework is needed for them to grow. What trellis must we build to guide our clematis to its most majestic heights?"

Will regards his friend thoughtfully.

"What's your suggestion?"

"There are two options that occur to me," says Hannibal, watching as you claw yourself against the headboard with both hands. "The first is that we begin the initial step of her recovery with a hearty meal. I was informed by her family that she has not eaten since yesterday. It is not too late for me to prepare dinner. If she will not eat, then I have the means to encourage her to do so."

Dr. Lecter turns aside, allowing you to glimpse a feeding tube posed gracefully on a tabletop. You have long feared this tool, which even previous therapists have raised as a possibility for you, should you not end this starving strike. Never had you pictured a day this horror would find its becoming.

Terror licks at you as readily as a flame.

Starting forward, you grip Will by the wrist, unhinged in your desperation.

"Don't let him do that to me."

Will looks down at your hand with displeasure, yet he doesn't attempt to remove it, enduring your touch with grimacing obligation.

"And the other option, Dr Lecter?" he asks, thinly. "It's been a long day, and I don't know if I have the energy to step in as orderly to a violent patient without preparation."

"I am sure that you would handle her proficiently," says Dr. Lecter. "But perhaps there is another method we can consider, first."

He takes Will aside and murmurs to him; the fragments you discern sound as ambiguous as the language used aloud.

The younger man takes on a cornered look.

"I... can't do that," he protests, his posture sharp with discomfort. "That could open up a whole host of new problems for her."

"Or it could impress upon her the necessity to listen to her guardians," says Hannibal. "I will join you, if it will persuade you."

"Doesn't that go against the confines of your role?"

Dr. Lecter smirks, his fine-jawed features made truly handsome.

"I will enact discipline, also. But it will not be the first tool that I apply."

The two men approach the bed together, one on either side of you, apparently united in their purpose.

"What are you doing?" you cry, although by now you've a sense of it. "Stay away from me!"

"These are the conquences of resistance, little one," says Hannibal, closing the space between you. "From now on, I suggest that you comply."

You scramble backwards only to come up against Will Graham, his arms a cuff around you.

"Don't struggle," he snaps. "I don't want to hurt you any more than I have to."

"No! No!"

Child-like, you find yourself reduced to simple denial, fear snatching the very language from you. You are all trembling fragility beneath Will as he shoves you, face down, on the bed; you turn your head back to look at him, glimpsing a flash of clenched teeth, eyes with a bear's indifferent hunger, something sickly, and soulful underneath.

You think, this man is not well, then bark out a startled scream as he forces your head frontwise, a fisherman's rough hand on your scalp, oppressing you in its unthinking violence.

"Face him," Will barks, pushing you for emphasis. "He's the one you injured."

You comply, feeling on the very cusp of death.

The man on your back manoeuvres you on all fours to his liking, the stave of his hard want crushed against his jeans. His comrade holds your arms down, though you could not move them at the devil's request; stillness is your ally, submission where a fight would cut your throat.

Hannibal looks at you with the cruel serenity of an angel, in all his justice. He touches your tear-scaled cheek with solace stolen from husbands and fathers; when he tips your face to his, you know what he will take from you, have felt the omen of that kiss.

It is intimate, gentle, kinder than any touch you've known in years. You blink, dismayed by the lust that roots itself from gut to cunt in its tangling wisteria.

"What— why?" you stutter, the feel of his lips on yours a reverberation that long remains.

"A treatment from bygone times," says Hannibal, patiently. "Although widely frowned upon, sex was once implemented to allieve many ailments. I find value in it, still."

"No," you say, aware of Will's arousal at your entrance. "I mean, why did you kiss me? Why would you do that?"

"You ache to be cherished, and so you will be. Alas, it may be many months before you see me as the friend you crave."

"You'll never be my friend," you sneer, and regret the barb as Will thrusts against you, having unbuckled his jeans to free himself to your imprisonment.

There is an arc of sore horror as his cock bolts within, making butchery of you in his taking. Will's arms are either side of you, the bars that cage such a sow; he smells of sweat, and Old Spice, and dog hair, and now of sex. You sob drily as he ruts your vulnerability against the mattress, as he sucks the skin of your neck in his teeth and bites until a ring tattoos your throat.

That mark is a staple of sexual assault, you'd read that somewhere, a sigil of the taker's power.

Limp, you let him use you, fucking you in so harsh and primal rhythm that you can think of nothing but its pattern.

What ill of yours earned this brash causality? Why, of all patients, has Hannibal taken you up as his toy?

"Stay there," Will grumbles, as you arch your back in a spasm of gilded agony. "Don't move."

"I have her," says Hannibal, and he guides you up onto your knees, his chest flat to yours as Will ruins the atrium of his desire. "Teach her what she will endure, if she will not accept our aid."

You cannot stand to be torn apart like this, a beast between your legs, and another touching your breasts and waist as though your partner in a waltz, all courtly chivalry.

"Please, Will," you moan, but he has thrown aside his reason, swept up in this gourmand's pleasure.

"Hurt me the way you hurt Dr. Lecter and you'll really wish you hadn't," he says, and you shake your head in a frantic falsehood.

"I won't. I swear I won't."

Will is fire, and you are ash: he is pain and delight, a conundrum. He puts a hand to your neck, holding your head upright as he fucks you, and growls against your ear sharp threats that sell you to silence.

Hannibal stares at you in fascination. You feel it pour over you like tar, glazing you with the shame of your illness having made you his object.

Dr. Lecter is of an evil Will is not, setting you both before him to observe your every response.

Later, he will write notes about this; the hands that glide your body now will itch for the pen, to lay out all you are on paper, and memorialise your suffering.

Does he truly think that this will help you? You don't believe it.

This night is his experiment, that which he might take apart like a pig's heart to show its working to students of science. Will is Dr. Lecter's pupil, and he is moulding the man to be as he is, and though it is Graham that fucks you, it is Hannibal you hate the most, the God that set this all into motion.

Will's breath flutters at your ear, and he stills, only the part of him within you left flinching to a vicious end. Hannibal steps back from the bedframe, smoothing down his suit of creases with elegant hands. As Will struggles up to join him, you crumple forward, sodden and stammering, a headache starting to beat at your temple, the hangover of Dr. Lecter's drug.

Yet when the younger man places a hand to your jerking back, you accept the touch, wanting even so poor a substitute for love.

"Daddy," you whisper. "I want to go home."

Will jerks away from you, staring at his own hand with abject revulsion.

"What have I done?" he asks, and there is an undercurrent of awe to the words that you do not quite understand.

"You did what you had to," says Dr. Lecter, smoothly. "What was needed."

His colleague shakes his head, his gaze dropping floorwise.

"No. She's seriously ill. She should be in a hospital ward, and I— we—"

"Will."

You cannot stand the fondness with which Hannibal addresses the other man, grooming him to such extremities of evil. He lays a hand on Will's shoulder, and he relaxes into the touch, an unconscious softening of his inate angles.

They stand together as if alone in the room, Dr. Lecter's face almost in the crook of Will Graham's neck.

"She is quelled," he says, quietly. "Tomorrow, she will eat the breakfast I make for her with the memory of this correction, and in time, she will learn to thank you for it. Even to love."

Still, Will lingers in the doorway, watching you wind yourself into the coverlet to nurse the wound of his making.

"Is she going to be alright?" he asks, nervously.

Through sodden lashes, you see Dr. Lecter guide his colleague into the hallway, as a strict father might the mother that coddles an infant that screams to be held.

"Let her sleep," he murmurs. "Her dreams will be woven with our teaching. Soon we shall see what tapestry will be made."

They leave you there, descending into opiate darkness. You slumber, but you do not dream, only lie with your hand over the heat these heathens have struck in what was before a lampless under-earth.

Your hunger follows you down into the castles of sleep, loyal to its creator.

#ao3 writer #dark fic #manna fic #hannibal lecter x reader #dark hannibal lecter #yandere hannibal lecter #yandere will graham #will graham #will graham x reader #tw noncon #cw noncon #dark!fic #hannibal fic #tw eating issues #dead dove do not eat

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #8 – The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham James

This has been on my tbr for long enough that I entirely forget what originally put it there – the only thing I actually knew going in was that the author was ‘the My Heart is a Chainsaw guy’ (I have not read My Heart is a Chainsaw yet either). Given the genre, that was honestly probably ideal. As was the fact that a blizzard hit a couple days after I started it and I’ve been reading it looking out on a frozen snowscape – it’s very much a winter sort of story.

The story’s told in five parts of wildly varying lengths, each with it’s own endearingly cheesy b-horror movie title and each following a different protagonist. The first four each follow one of a friend group who, as a bunch of fuckup teenagers, trespassed on hunting grounds that were really supposed to be reserved for elders and shot a bunch of elk they had no right to – including a pregnant young cow who was for one reason or another special. Ten years later, the Elk-Headed Woman drags herself back into the world, and begins getting her vengeance for the death of her and her child on each of them (and everyone they care about) in turn.

I have a longstanding opinion that a full-length novel is just too long to sustain a real horror story – by 300 pages things have fairly reliably collapse into urban fantasy or action or farce. The breakup into different parts solves this very well – they’re all very much connected and interwoven, but each feels like its own distinct narrative unit with its own tension and rising action.

And this is very much a horror story in the classic, just barely short of shlocky sense. A trespass against vague but understood sacred laws that leads to horrific and bloody retribution against everyone involved is as close to archtypal horror as you can possibly get, after all. The last section is even focused on a Final Girl! Specifically, it’s a subgenre that I can’t really name but feels very familiar to me – and one I’ve always been a huge fan of, anyway. It’s somewhere downstream of The Count of Monte Cristo, a story where the agent of supernatural doom spends the majority of the story consciously working in the background, manipulating events and exacerbating the protagonist/victim’s flaws to lead them to a contrived but tragic end? Think the netflix Fall of the House of Usher, but like about the exact opposite end of the socioeconomic spectrum.

Class is very much something the book cares about. All four protagonists grew up poor on a reservation with little in the way of wealth or opportunity, and by the time they’d turned eighteen all four of them were the kind of young asshole who made life just a little bit worse for everyone around them dealing with the same shit. Ten years latter the three of them who’ve survived that long have gotten over themselves and matured in their own way (and to their own degree), but none of them are exactly flush with cash or living lives of bourgeois respectability (though Lewis comes close). The precarity and only tenuous connections to the society around them just make them better prey for what’s hunting them, of course – in every case, death comes after the (either metaphorical or very viscerally literal) destruction of the few close ties they have, and the only one to survive is also the only one who could really expect people to come rushing to their rescue.

Speaking of close ties the protagonists have – the book’s conception of gender is fascinatingly weird, or at least fascinating in the sense that I’m not at all sure how intentional it is. Of the four main victims, one dies alone at eighteen, and the other three who survive the next ten years are all pretty much explicitly saved (or at least improved and uplifted) by a relationship with a woman who, if not flawless, is basically strictly his moral and practical better. Even the most consistent fuckup of the group has a redeeming feature of being willing to do just about anything for his daughter (despite having lost the chance to really be a big part of her life several times over). With one exception, these women all then die, messily, entirely and explicitly to fuck with and ruin the lives of their men. It’s like someone read Women in Refrigerators and went ‘well there’s an idea...’. It’s blatant enough that I feel like it’s got to be making a deliberate point, but (unless it’s just genre emulation) what the point is does escape me slightly.

Also on the note of stuff I’m quite sure is going over my head at least a bit – basketball! It’s a pretty vital thread running through the entire book, to the point that one of the big set pieces of the final act is literally a basketball game with the monster. Which, like, I watched enough bad anime as a small child to find contrived game-playing under unclear mythic rules with things that really want to kill you instinctively endearing, but I can’t really do anything with this except just point at it.

So as the title might imply, this is a novel that’s concerned with race – all but I believe exactly one character is either is either Blackfeet or Crow, more than half the book takes place on a reservation, and a chunk of the rest is spent having to deal with racist assholes of varying severity. Now, I admit that I have at this point a probably overly cynical view of books that end up on breathless ‘socially conscious horror’ or ‘s/ff from diverse creators you NEED to read’ lists online, but I was still rather pleasantly by how matter-of-factly this was handled? I suppose the best way to put it is that culture, upbringing and racialization deeply inform everyone’s characters, but it never feels like the book is preoccupied with providing some assumed naive and impressionable audience any Important Lessons or provide Good Representation to valourize or emulate? Which is probably just a sign I need to raise and re calibrate my expectations, but.

The monster doesn’t exactly work as, like, a coherent character in terms of her skills and abilities, but as a monster the Elk-Headed Woman is great. But then I love contrived fucked up tragedies and am a longstanding partisan of Spooky Deer Horror, so I suppose I would say that.

So yeah, fun read!

#book review #sff #horror #the only good indians #stephen graham jones

[hayleythecannibal]

Twisted Minds Chapter One: Apéritif

TW: death, crime scenes, Cannibalism.

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 @ HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the Taglist. ❤️

F.B.I. ACADEMY, QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

I walk into a Lecture hall and stand in the shadows next to my new boss Agent Jack Crawford, head of the FBI's Behavioral Science Analysis Unit or the BAU.  I listen as the teacher describes the crime scene he witnessed. "Everyone has thought about killing someone one way or another. Be it your own hands or the hand of God. Now think about killing Mrs. Marlow." The man says in a tone i can describe as knowledgeable. A series of pictures of the Marlow home crime scene photos are projected on the screen behind the stoic man. He surveys the lecture hall for social appearances. He never meets an eye, at most he glimpses brows, lids, the occasional lash -- but never eye contact. "Why did she deserve this? Tell me your design. Tell me who you are." he asks Jack and I enter as the trainees file out of the classroom. There are scattered smitten glances tossed in the Teachers direction, who is naturally oblivious because he is actively avoiding eye-contact with everyone, even as he warns his exiting students: "The sad, dull truth of these crimes is they can usually be reduced to a male penetrative control issue. I am expecting a higher level of scrutiny." he says in a wise tone, the last of the trainees leave and the teacher notices he's alone in his lecture hall with the weathered, austere man and put together, classy young woman. "Mr. Graham." Agent Crawford says as the man i have now put together is Mr. Will Graham quickly puts on a pair of glasses as Jack and I approach. The top rim of Wills glasses are strategically positioned to block Me and Jacks eyes and prevent direct eye-contact. "I'm Special Agent Jack Crawford. I lead the Behavioral Science Unit. I want you to meet Dr. Y/n L/n, shes a psychiatrist and my new criminal profiler." jack introduces himself and me to the man. I smile kindly at the man as i hold my hand for him to shake, i don't look him in the eyes as i don't like eye contact; eyes tell to much and make it hard for me to focus. "its nice to meet you Mr. Graham, I've heard great things." i say in a kind and polite tone

"its a pleasure to meet you Dr. L/n" Will says shaking my hand and giving me a bittersweet and slightly uncomfortable smile. " You've hitched your horse to a teaching post. I understand it's not easy for you to be sociable." Jack says as he looks at me and will analyzing each other "I'm just talking at them. I'm not listening to them. It's not social." he says still looking at me doing the same as i am Analyzing. Jack gently pushes Will's glasses up the bridge of his nose so he's forced to make fleeting eye contact. "Where do you fall on the spectrum?" Jack asks Will picks up the rhythm and syntax of Jack's voice: so do I "My horse is hitched to a post closer to Aspergers and Autistics than narcissists and sociopaths." will says looking down avoiding eye contact with Jack. "But you can empathize with narcissists and sociopaths. Like Dr. L/n can correct?" Jack asks in a curious tone, "I can empathize with anybody. Less to do with personality disorders than an active imagination." I say and Will nods to agree with me Jack smiles at that "Its the same for me, i can empathize with anybody but like Dr. L/n said its less to do with personality disorders and more to do with an active imagination." Will says as he packs up his bag. "Well, Can I borrow your imagination?" he asks will Agent Crawford leads Me and Will Graham across a field of Trainees on a Firing Range as another group of trainees in matching sweats jogs by. "Eight girls from eight different Minnesota campuses abducted in the last eight months." jack says briefing me and Will on the case, "I thought there were seven." i say slightly confused, i look over at will and it seems like hes in the same boat "There were." jack says looking over at me "When did you tag the eighth?" Will asks Jack in a similar tone that i used. "About three minutes before Me and Dr. L/n walked into your lecture hall." jack says, he didn't mention this to me "You're calling them "abductions" because you have no bodies?" Will says curious "We have nothing. No bodies. No parts of bodies. Nothing that comes out of a body. We have lonely swabs in used evidence kits." jack says in a tone twinged in desperateness " Then those girls weren't taken from where you think they were taken." i say in a sarcastic tone "Where were they taken from?" jack asks look over at me then at will "I don't know. Someplace else." will says smiling sarcastically, i chuckle at that.

Seven blue squares dot the Minnesota map corresponding with seven graduation or casual pictures of the seven missing girls. "All abducted on a Friday so they're not reported missing until Monday. However he's covering his, tracks he needs the weekend to do it." Jack says as he Guides me and Will over and hands me a picture of what i assume is the eighth victim. "Number eight?" will asks looking at the picture over my shoulder and no longer wearing his glasses "Elise Nichols. St. Cloud State on the Mississippi. Disappeared Friday. Supposed to house sit for her parents over the weekend. Feed their cat. Never made it home." jack says i roll my eyes "One through seven are dead, don't you think?" i ask sarcastically humoring will "He's not keeping them around. Got himself a new one." will agrees by taking the words out of my mouth "We're focusing on Elise Nichols" Jack says agreeing with Me and Will. Will and I take in the smiling hopeful faces next to the corresponding blue squares . "They're all very uh Mall of America. That's a lot of wind-chaffed skin." Will says as he gazes at the girls faces "Same hair color. Same eye color. Roughly same age, height, weight. What is it about all these girls?" jack asks looking at Me and Will "It's not about all of these girls. It's about one of them." i say as I pin Elise Nichols' photo next to the eighth blue square.

"He's like Willy Wonka. Every girl he takes is a candy bar. Hidden amongst all those candy bars is the one, true intended victim, which if we follow through on the metaphor, would be your Golden Ticket." Will says following my train of thought "So is he warming up for his Golden Ticket or reliving whatever he did to her." jack asks as he steps to stand right next to us "Golden Ticket wouldn't be the first taken and she wouldn't be the last. He would hide how special she is. I mean, I would. Wouldn't you?" i ask looking up from the girls faces to jack "I'd like you and Dr. L/n to get closer to this." jack says looking at us, will starts to shake his head "You have Heimlich at Harvard, Bloom at Georgetown and now Dr. L/n. They do the same thing I do." will says as he turns around and starts grabbing his stuff. "That's not really true, is it? You and Dr. L/n have a specific way of thinking. and from what i see so far you and Dr. L/n work very well together." jack says as i turn around to face will crossing my arms and leaning against the table "Has there been a lot of discussion about the specific way Me and Mr. Graham think?" i ask pointedly "Both of you make jumps you don't explain." jack says looking at me then will dead in the eyes.

"The evidence explains." Will says seeing that jack is upsetting me "Then help me find some evidence."jack says Will studies the beautiful milquetoast faces on the map. "That may require me to be sociable." Will says sarcastically   DULUTH,MINNESOTA      ~ THE NICHOLS' HOME~

Elise's parents are from what i can deduce, sick with worry. Mr. Nichols is rationalizing while Mrs. Nichols seems almost resigned. "She could have gone off by herself. She was a very interior young woman. She didn't like living in a dorm. I could see how the pressure of school might have gotten to her. She likes trains. Maybe she just got on a train and..." Me, Will Graham, and Jack Crawford sit opposite Mr. and Mrs. Nichols as he trails off. Hard to convince even himself. Will continues to avoid eye contact with the Nichols. "She looks like the other girls." Mrs. Nichols says anxiously  Jack nods as Me and Will stand up to look around at the home " Yes, She fits the profile." jack says calmly "Could Elise still be alive?" Mr. Nichols asks cautiously, I feel bad for the couple knowing the odds of their daughter being alive is very slim. "We simply have no way of knowing." jack says solemnly, A previously silent Will Graham offers an odd question: "How's the cat?" will asks turning around looking at the Nichols "What?" Mrs. Nichols asks confused i continue Wills line of questioning "How's your cat? Elise was supposed to feed it. Was the cat weird when you came home? It didn't eat all weekend. Must have been hungry." i ask looking over at Will and the Nichols.

The Nichols are initially unsure how to respond to my question, then: "I didn't notice." Mr. Nichols says absently, I look over at Will and Jack. Will looks at me and seems to know what im thinking and nods, my suspicions were correct he took her from here. "would you give us a moment" Jack ask and he pulls Me and Will aside "He took her from here." Will says softly so that the parents don't hear, Jack gives Will a look that says 'go on'  "She got on a train. She came home. She fed the cat. And he took her." I continue for Will, i look at Jack dead serious Jack nods understanding.  Jack doesn't hesitate to pull out his phone and dial. "The Nichols house is a crime scene. I need ERT immediately. Zeller, Katz, Jimmy Price, and a photographer." Jack says into the phone. The Nichols are trying to wrap their minds around the quick flurry of action and what it means to their little girl. Me and Will turn to the parents "Can we see your daughter's room?" Will asks the Nichols "the Police were up there this morning." Mrs. Nichols says softly

Mr. Nichols leads Will and I, who are pulling on gloves as we approach. Will warily eyes the cat pawing at the door eager to go inside. I stop  Mr. Nichols from reaching the door knob. "I'll get that. Mr. Nichols, would you put your hands in your pockets and avoid touching anything please?" i ask sincerly, not wanting to be rude but also not wanting the man to disrupt the evidence "We been in and out of here all day." Mr. Nichols responds "You can hold the cat if it's easier." Will says continuing my notion, Mr. Nichols picks up the cat as instructed. I wrap a gloved hand around the knob and open the door. The light from the hallway streaks across the floor and up the wall as Will and I enter. We stand  just inside the door, immediately noticing the open window. Will flicks on the light switch, illuminating the room. I stare at the sight in front of me. Elise Nichols. She lays coffin-style in her bed, dressed in pajamas as if she had just gone to sleep. The gray pallor of her skin, the clean puncture wounds visible under her pajamas, and her un- breathing bosom are immediately evident to Will and I. Sadly, Mr. Nichols fails to notice. Blinded by hope, he steps forward. "Elise?" Mr. Nichols asks Hopefully, my heart aches for the father. Will raises a gloved hand, stopping Mr. Nichols. as i take a step forward to assess the situation without touching the body. "I need you to leave the room." Will says to Mr. Nichols still holding him back. Realizing the worst, Mr. Nichols abruptly drops the cat.

~20 MINUTES LATER~

"You're all wired. You talk it out to us when you feel like it, don't say anything when you don't feel like it. Take as long as you want. We will come in when you tell us." Jack tells Me and Will, Will nods but i just continue looking at the body. Jack stands and exits the room. reflected light flashes across my face, lighting up my cobalt blue eyes. All sound is dulled as if my ears were blocked, the ambient noise of my circulatory system provides an organic hum. The crime scene photographers takes pictures.  Jack  herds Price, Katz and Zeller out the door. Will scoops up water in his hands from the faucet in the sink to wash down the last two Aspirin from his now empty bottle. He splashes water on his face, dries it with his shirttail. I have climbed out the window onto the porch roof. I sit on the gritty shingles. I hug My knees, my damp shirt pressed cold across my back. I snort the night air to cleanse the smell of Elise Nichols death from my nose as Will climbs out and joins me. From Our vantage point, we  can see police officers, police cars and other crime scene specialists assembled on the lawn.

Mr. and Mrs. Nichols are treated in the back of an Ambulance. I take a breath, exhales, then close My eyes. A PENDULUM  It swings in the darkness of My mind, keeping rhythm with my heart beat. FWUM. FWUM. FWUM.  I open my eyes and  i am standing outside Elise Nichols' Bedroom Window. The neighborhood is quiet and empty. No Police. No Police Cars. No Ambulance. I look through the window glass to Elise Nichols sleeping soundly in her bed. I quietly open the window.  I stand over Elise Nichols, very much alive. I watch her for a quiet moment. Tears well in My eyes, then... I bear down on Elise's chest with my knee, cracking ribs as I simultaneously squeezes her throat shut with my hands. It's sudden and horrible and violent. Elise is immediately startled out of a deep sleep into terror, I feel her fear and confusion. Elise struggles, her face swelling with pressure, capillaries in her skin and the whites of her eye wrinkle and burst. Tears stream down her cheeks as she tries to scream but cannot. The bed board finally SNAPS and with it, Elise dies.  i feel the killers, who my mind is potraying me as emotions hes or i've in this case killed her with love and care and mercy but also rage.

"You're Will Graham. and your Dr.Y/n L/n." i snap my eyes open now standing in the room next to Will as hes also been startled, doing the same thing i was. i look at the person who interrupted my design. but before i can say anything to the woman. "You're not supposed to be in here." Will says annoyed and breathing heavily. "You wrote the standard monograph on time of death by insect activity." The woman says while looking at will with curiosity then gives me the same look. She indicates her tweezers and what's between them. "Found velvet in two of the wounds." she says non-chalantly she then looks back at Will "You're not real F.B.I.?" she asks smirking, i look at her annoyed and with a pointed look.

"I'm a special investigator." Will says looking at the body still "Never been an F.B.I. Agent?" she asks in a tone of disbelief. "Strict screening procedures." I say for Will, "Detects instability. He unstable?" she asks me, Jack Crawford hurries in, as annoyed with The woman as Will and I are. " you Know You're not supposed to be in here." Jack says as he looks towards the woman, her badge says Beverly Katz, "Found antler velvet in two of the wounds. Like she was gored. Was looking for velvet in the other wounds but I was interrupted." Beverly says now looking towards Me and Will. Brian Zeller is now standing next to Will. "Deer and elk pin their prey, put all their weight on the antlers and try to suffocate them. That's how they would kill a fox or a coyote." Zeller says in a know-it-all tone. Me and Will very subtilely retreats from the conversation. "Elise Nichols was strangled and suffocated. Ribs were broken." Jack says stating the facts everyone in the room already knows.

"It's not rutting season. Male deer aren't competing for female deer this time of year." Zeller says thinking, "Antler velvet is rich in nutrients. It actually promotes healing. He may have put it there on purpose." Will says turning towards the group, "You think he wanted to heal her?" Jack asks Will and I, "He was trying to undo as much as he could, given he already killed her." i say following Wills train of thought yet again. "He put her back where he found her." Jack says looking at us, "Whatever he did to the others, he couldn't do it to her." Will says softly and staring off, "Is this his Golden Ticket?" Jack asks looking at Elise's cold dead body, i shake my head and turn to the group "No. This is an apology." i say softly and sad The "apology" catches in My throat and hangs in the air. Will runs his hand over his forehead and takes a deep breath. "Does anyone have any Aspirin?" Will asks, disassociating.

F.B.I HEADQUARTERS, QUANTICO, VIRGINIA  ~NEXT DAY~

Will stands over a sink, splashing water on his face, rattled. Will pats his face dry with paper towels as Jack enters, impatient, having been looking for Will for some time. "What are you doing in here?" jack asks obviously upset "I enjoy the smell of urinal cake." Will says not looking at Jack, and leaning on the sink. "Me, too. Lets talk." Jack says as he points to the door and walks to his office with  Me already being in there. Will eyes Jack as he enters Jack closes the door, realizing he's not getting by without conversation. "Do you respect my judgement, Will?" Jack asks Will, Will looks down  "Yes." he says looking up at me, he has dark circles under his eyes he obviously didnt have the best night. "We have a better chance of catching this guy if you Two are in the saddle." Jack says pointedly at us "I'm in the saddle. Just confused which direction I'm pointing." Will says, i cant help but agree with his statement.  "I don't know this kind of psychopath. Never read about him. I don't even know if he's a psychopath. He's not insensitive. He's not shallow." i say as i start pacing, thinking. Just because i am a psychiatrist doesn't mean i don't need one myself.

"You could tell something about him or you wouldn't've said this was an apology. What's he apologizing for?" Jack says towards Me, Will joins me in my pacing " He Couldn't honor her. He feels bad." Will says flustered and a little upset. " Well Feeling bad defeats the purpose of being a psychopath, doesn't it?" Jack says angrily "Yes. It does." Will growls back "Then what kind of crazy is he Y/n?" Jack yells at Me, I take a shaky deep breath "He couldn't show her he loved her so he put her corpse back where he killed it. Whatever crazy that is." I say looking at Jack, as I and subsequently Will stop pacing. "You think he loves these girls?" Jack says confused "He loves one of them, and I think by association, he has some form of love for the others." Will says quickly and with a emotion i couldn't say. "There was no semen or saliva. Elise Nichols died a virgin and she stayed that way." Jack says He probably think we Mean love in a sexual or romantic way. but no thats what sets me off "That's not how he's loving them. He wouldn't disrespect them that way. He doesn't want these girls to suffer. He kills them quickly and, to his thinking, with mercy." I say angrily and with anxiety. "A sensitive psychopath. He risked getting caught to tuck Elise Nichols back into bed." Jack says putting together what Me and Will are saying. "He has to take the next girl soon. He knows he's going to get caught. One way or the other." Will says looking at me. I leave Jacks office Will trailing behind me, he grabs my arm and turns me to look at him. Will looks at me, his eyes tired and dull but still beautiful in a haunting way. His mind is a complicated, sometimes impossible puzzle. But that's what made him so good at what he does. Will can see things, make connections that other people can't. He's not afraid to look into the ugly parts of himself or others. And he's not afraid of the darkness of life. He knows that he has to go there sometimes. And he is brave enough, and humble enough, to admit when he needs help. I look Will in the eyes and for the first time in a long time i feel Ok looking into someones eyes. "I'm sorry for my outburst in there" i say in a calm and kind tone giving him a sweet and genuine smile. "It's fine. Don't worry about it." Will said with a warm smile, he was very forgiving. "Jack doesn't fully understand How we think  but we have to work with him." he said, he would always find some way to make a situation better.

i chuckle as i start walking towards the Examination room and lab My heels clicking behind me as i walk. "that we do. You know its kinda nice having someone understand the way my mind works" i say smiling  Will follows behind Me, His footsteps echoing Mine. "It makes things easier." Will says with a  genuine smile. "We can help each other, and work together like this. I like being able to be myself with you." He continues, I look at him with a smile and a curious look "And how do you act with others Will" i ask still smiling happily. "Different." His smile fades away for a second, he looks away from me before continuing his sentence. "Most people i work with don't want to see me completely unmasked. Especially because they don't understand. But you. You do understand. And i like that." he says with a soft smile, He likes how he could talk openly with me.  "I feel the same. You know its always difficult trying to explain to people. but with you its easier i guess" i smile sweetly and continue walking, "Being understood is the most valuable thing." Will says looking at me, "i mean it really is. when people can understand you without you having to explain, its beautiful. and its very difficult, very rare. but with you Y/n I have that." He continues, smiling as we reached our destination. I smile, as my stomach fills with butterflies as we walk into the room.

F.B.I. HEADQUARTERS - EXAMINATION ROOM - DAY

Beverly Katz and Brian Zeller hover over the examination table as Jimmy Price continues to UNZIP the BODY BAG, all wearing gloves, aprons and splash visors. "Tried her skin for prints. Of course, nothing. We did get a hand spread off her neck." Jimmy says looking at the body "Report say anything about nails?" Beverly asks Price, raising her eyebrow. "Her fingernails were smudged when we took scrapings. The scrapings were where she cut her palms with them. She never scratched him." Zeller says looking at the report "Curly piece of metal is all we got." Beverly says as she looks over and see's Me and Will enter the room smiling, she starts smirking. "We should be looking at plumbers, steamfitters, tool-workers." Will says absently his breathing is amplified in his ears as it fogs his vision. He takes a breath and forces himself to look in the bag. There is no body, only darkness. And the sound of Will's breath bouncing off the splash visor. Elise Nichols She stands naked in that darkness, a deathly pallor. ANTLERS SPROUT LIKE BRANCHES from her WOUNDS. Tiny CRIMSON STREAMS defy gravity, climbing antlers and floating upward in beads. Will snaps back to reality: As before. Zeller, Katz, Price continue their examination.

"Other injuries were probably but not conclusively postmortem. So not gored." Zeller says that last part pointed towards Beverly. "She has lots of piercings that look like they were caused by deer antlers. I didn't say the deer was responsible for putting them there." Beverly says, I look up at Will and he nods once again saying that he knows what I'm thinking "She was mounted on them. Like hooks. She may have been bled." i say looking at the body Beverly and Jimmy glance at Will and I. Brian Zeller is too distracted by his investigation of the abdominal wound. "Her liver was removed. He took it out and put it back in. See."  Zeller says pointing to the liver of Elise Nichols, it has sutures in it.  Price looks confused "Why cut out her liver if he was just going to sew it back in again?" Jimmy asks confused, All muscle tone in Will's face goes slack. i look at him, realizing what he just did. "Something was wrong with the meat." Will states swallowing hard, Zeller looks up from the liver -- with a look that says 'how did Graham know?' "She has liver cancer." Zeller states in disbelief The facts briefly ricochet around in my mind and probably Will's too, then: "He's um- He's eating them." i say, then cover my mouth with my hand, then placing it right below my neck on my collarbone. F.B.I. - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - DAY

Will and I sit with  Dr. Hannibal Lecter and Jack Crawford. "Tell me then, how many confessions?" Dr. Lecter asks Jack, "Twelve dozen last time I checked. None of them knew details. Until this morning. Then everyone knew details. Some genius in Duluth PD took a picture of Elise Nichols' body with their phone and shared it with a few close friends. Freddy Lounds ran it on Tattlecrime.com." Jack says annoyed, Me and Will both roll our eyes at the so called journalists name. "Tasteless." Will says, i couldn't agree more. "Do you have trouble with taste?" Dr. Lecter asks Me and Will, "Our thoughts are often not tasty." I say, that's an understatement. "Nor mine. No effective barriers." Dr. Lecter smiles at Me and Will "I Build forts." will says raising his eyebrows and tilting his head and taking a sip of his coffee. "Associations come quickly." Dr. Lecter says nonchalantly passing me a cup of coffee. I nod my head as a thank you "So do forts." I say before taking a sip of the coffee, Dr. Lecter notices Will  and I avoiding looking anyone but each other in the eye.

"Not fond of eye contact, are you?" Dr. Lecter asks us, Me and Will sigh as we unapologetically continue to avoid eye contact. "Eyes are distracting. You see too much. You don't see enough." Will says as he rolls his eyes " That and it's hard to focus when you're thinking those whites are really white or they must have hepatitis, or is that a burst vein?" I say looking into Dr. Lecter's eyes for a second, Dr. Lecter isn't deflected from making our observations. "I imagine what you two see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love." Dr. Lecter has just described Will and I to a letter, but We are not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. I realize something and i guess Will does too. "Whose profile are you working on?" Will asks Dr. Lecter pointedly, "Whose profile is he working on?" I ask Jack angrily. "I'm sorry, Dr. Y/n, Will. Observing is what we do. I can't shut mine off anymore than you can shut yours off." Dr. Lecter says sincerely, I cant believe this Jack is having Me and Will psycho-analyzed, Will doesn't appreciate the intrusion into his psyche and neither do I.

"Please don't psychoanalyze Us. You won't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture on psychoanalyzing. Lets go Y/n." He scoots out of his chair and grabs my hand and we exit the room, leaving Dr. Lecter and Jack Crawford alone in the office.

MINNESOTA FIELD - THE NEXT MORNING

Will, Jack and I step over the police tape and look at the crime scene in front of us "The head was reported stolen last night about a mile from here."Jack says briefing us Will tilts his head in confusion "Just the head?" he asks Brian Zeller, Beverly Katz, and Jimmy Price are combing the immediate area for forensic evidence. Jack, Will and I stare as Beverly and Brian Zeller attempt to shoo the crows away."Minneapolis homicide has already made a statement. "They're calling him the 'Minnesota Shrike.'" Jack says raising his eyebrows "Like the bird?" I ask confused  "Shrike's a perching bird. Impales mice and lizards on thorny branches and barbed wire. Rips their organs right out of their bodies. Puts them in a little birdie pantry and eats them later. At its leisure." Zeller says morbidly, i furrow my brows and purse my lips. This Wasn't Our Killers Work.  "Sounds about right." Beverly exclaims, Jack shakes his head "Can't tell if it's sloppy or shrewd." He says tensing his Jaw, "He wanted her to be found this way. It's the homicidal equivalent of fecal smearing. It's petulant. I almost feel like he's mocking her. Or he's mocking us." Will says, i nod my head agreeing.

"Where'd all his love go?" Jack asks as Me and Will crouch beside the body. "Whoever tucked Elise Nichols into bed didn't paint this picture." I say solemnly, i almost lose my balance but Will puts his hand on the small on my back to keep me steady. I look up at him and smile. Brian Zeller looks up from Cassie's mounted corpse. "He took her lungs. I think she was still alive when he cut them out" Zeller says, i frown looking away from Will and back at the bodies Jack Crawford and Brian Zeller stand over the table that is CASSIE'S BODY. Beverly Katz and Jimmy Price work nearby. "Our cannibal loves women. He doesn't want to destroy them. He wants to consume them. Keep some part of them inside. This girl's killer thought she was a pig." I say shaking my head, "You think this is a copy cat?" jack ask Me and Will, Will and I take in the open field, considering the stage. "I don't know. Cannibal who killed Elise Nichols had a place to do it and no interest in field Kabuki. He has a house or two, or a cabin. Something with an antler room." Will says in annoyed tone but has determination on his face. "We're already looking at Minnesota steamfitters and plumbers and people with hunting licenses." Jack says, I realize something

"He has a daughter. Same age as the other girls. Same hair color, same eye color, same height, same weight. She's an only child. She's leaving home. He can't stand the thought of losing her. She's his Golden Ticket." I say walking off with Will heading to the rental car "What about the Copy Cat?" Jack asks "An intelligent psychopath, particularly a sadist, is hard to catch. There's no traceable motive. There'll be no patterns. He may never kill like this again." Will says annoyed with Jack. Will  turns and crosses under the POLICE TAPE, tossing back: "Have Dr. Lecter work up a psychological profile. You seem to be impressed with his opinion." I snort at Wills remark

MINNEAPOLIS MOTEL ROOM -  NEXT MORNING

Will wraps a robe around himself as he shuffles to the door of his and my shared Motel room. wiping the fresh sleep out of his eyes. He opens the door revealing Hannibal Lecter standing outside holding Three cups,a thermos and a small thermal food storage bag. I sit up in my bed rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and go to the door where will is standing. "Good morning, Will. Good morning, Y/n. May I come in?" Hannibal says as Me and just Will stare at him. "Where's Crawford?" Will asks Hannibal "Deposed in court. The adventure will be yours, mine, and Y/n's today. May I come in?" Hannibal asks once again, me and will step out of his way as he heads towards the small table in the room. A beautifully presented breakfast for three served on tupperware containers on top of place settings. Freshly brewed coffee is poured into the three cups Hannibal carried.  Hannibal peels lids off the tupperware dishes. "I'm very careful about what I put into my body. Which means I end up preparing most meals myself. A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs, some sausage." Hannibal says passing Me and Will our food. Hannibal watches Will and I take a bite of our breakfast scramble. "It's delicious. Thank you" I say, it truly is delicious.

"My pleasure." Hannibal smiles, He is genuinely amused and successfully hides it. "I would apologize for my analytical ambush but I know I will soon be apologizing again and you'll tire of that eventually so I have to consider using apologies sparingly." Hannibal say in a tone i just cant put a finger on. "Just keep it professional." Will says, I look at him with confusion as he looks at Hannibal with pointed eyes. "Or we could socialize like adults,god forbid we become friendly." Hannibal smirks at will, i chuckle. "I don't find you that interesting." Will states nonchalantly, "You will. Agent Crawford tells me you two have a knack for the monsters." Hannibal says, I smirk as i take another bite of my breakfast. "I don't think the Shrike killed that girl in the field." I say after swallowing that bite of food, "The devil is in the details. What didn't your Copy Cat do to the girl in the field? What gave it away?" Hannibal asks i shake my head "Everything. It's like he had to show us a negative so we could see the positive. That crime scene was practically gift-wrapped." I say wiping my eyes and taking a sip of coffee, "The mathematics of human behavior. All those ugly variables. Some bad math with this shrike fellow. Are you reconstructing his fantasies? What kind of problems does he have?" Hannibal asks curiously, "He has a few." Will says almost with a wink:

"Ever have any problems, Will?" Hannibal asks looking over at Will "No." he responds softly and annoyed, "Of course you don't. You Two and I are just alike. Problem free. Nothing about us to feel horrible about. I think Uncle Jack sees you as a pair of fragile little tea-cups, the finest china used for only special guests." Hannibal states, Me and Will  laugh and lean back and look at him with curiosity "How do you see me?" Will asks curious as to what the answer is, "The mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by." Hannibal responds "and Me?" i ask "You Y/n are the beautiful butterfly that needs to stay protected, otherwise when in danger the butterfly will die. Finish your breakfast." Hannibal says gazing at me

RENTAL CAR - DAY - Will throws the car into park and begins to unbuckle his seat belt when he notices Hannibal smiling."what are you smiling about?" Will asks Hannibal raising one of his eyebrows, "Peeking behind the curtain. Curious how the FBI goes about its business when it isn't kicking in doors." Hannibal replies smiling, i let out a relieved sigh as i unbuckle my seat belt "We're lucky we're not doing house to house interviews. We found a little piece of metal in the clothes Elise Nichols had on. A shred from a pipe threader." I say, shrugging "Must be hundreds of construction sites all over Minnesota." Hannibal points out, Will shakes his head "Certain kinda metal. Certain kinda pipe. Certain kinda pipe coating.So we're looking at construction sites that use that kinda pipe." Will sighs, "And what are we looking for?" Hannibal asks curious "At this stage, anything really. But mostly anything peculiar." I say getting out of the car and head towards the trailer office. Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter step out of the rental car and cross towards the trailer office  following behind me.

CAMPER TRAILER OFFICE - DAY -

flustered, mildly suspicious secretary named DIXIE stares at Will, Hannibal, and I leafing through pages as she talks on she phone in an ineffective hushed tone. "Two fellas  and a chick from the F.B.I. They're going through drawers now. Putting papers in file boxes. Yes. They're taking things. No. They didn't say whe -- Yes, they can. what did you say your names were?" The secretary asks wearily Just then, Will finds a resignation letter of note. "Garret Jacob Hobbs." Will asks in a questioning tone "One of our pipe threaders. Those are all the resignation letters. Plumbers union requires them whenever members finish a job. I'll call you back." The secretary Dixie says as  she   hangs up the phone and scoots out from around her desk. "Did Mr. Hobbs have a daughter?" I ask placing my hands on my hips looking at the woman "Might have." the woman says suspiciously, I eye her analyzing her every move and noise. "Eighteen or nineteen, wind-chaffed? Plain but pretty? She would have auburn hair. About this tall." Will continues questioning her "Maybe. I don't know. I don't keep company with these people." she rolls her eyes and sits back down at her desk.

"What is it about Garret Jacob Hobbs you find so peculiar?" Hannibal asks Will as he looks over at us, "Left a phone number. No address." Will responds, i look over his shoulder at the file "Therefore he has something to hide?" Hannibal asks, Will shrugs not putting too much weight on the matter. "Everyone else left an address. You have an address for Mr. Hobbs?" I ask the secretary, Will, Hannibal and I haul file boxes from the make-shift office building to the trunk of their rental car. Hannibal allows himself to knock a box out of the trunk, scattering papers. Will and I stoop to pick them up. "I got it." Will says squatting down with me to start picking up papers. As Will and I pick up the pages, Hannibal returns to the make shift office Hannibal waits as the door hinges closed and latches with a CLICK, watching Y/n and Will clean up the mess he made. Satisfied, Hannibal picks up the phone with a Tissue. "You don't know me and I suspect we'll never meet. This is a courtesy call. Listen very carefully. Are you listening? They Know." Hannibal says

HOBBS HOUSE - CAR - DAY -

Will pops an Aspirin behind the wheel of the rental car. Lector and I unbuckle our seatbelts. Will thinks a moment before getting out. Hannibal smiles, a hint of excitement. Will and I walk purposefully to the front door,  Will is trying his best not to look uncomfortable. Hannibal purposefully lags behind. Will and I are halfway to the door when it suddenly opens: LOUISE HOBBS Bleeding and wheezing, she is shoved down the porch steps in a heap, the door slamming shut behind her. Me and Will rush to DYING LOUISE HOBBS. Her alabaster skin in sharp contrast to the crimson pouring out of it. Multiple wounds puncture her torso and arms. She grasps haltingly for Us, streaking Me and Him with her blood. Her cold hand clutches My wrist as her body spasms. She's already gone and Will knows this and I know this. He pries her slick, red fingers from My wrist, trying not to see the last flickers of pain and fear exiting her face.

Will smashes into the door with everything he's got. It's hard to say whether the sickening crack was from his shoulder or the its wood frame. He gives it a well-placed kick, and another, splintering it little-by-little until he and I can stumble INSIDE.  Hannibal strolls casually up the walk, barely glancing at the lifeless body of Louise Hobbs stepping deliberately over it. He pauses in the broken doorway, listening closely. The wild-eyed contrast to Dr. Lector, Will and I work our way from room to room, guns first. Adrenaline allows Us to ignore the splatters of blood defacing the walls and floors. "Garret Jacob Hobbs? F.B.I." I yell pointing my gun Me and Will stop cold at the sight before us as we move  into the kitchen Garrett Jacob Hobbs behind his DAUGHTER, ABIGAIL, slashing at her throat. The wide-eyed girl has her weight against him, chin tucked down, gasping for air. TIME SLOWS TO A CRAWL as the SOUND YIELDS to the AMBIENT NOISE of My circulatory system. Will raises his pistol. BLAM. BLAM. BLAM. He fires into Hobbs's exposed upper chest, one after another. Hobbs doesn't go down. I drop to my knees and go to help Abigail, putting pressure on the wound. Will keeps shooting. BLAM. BLAM. With one last deep cut, Hobbs finally falls. Hannibal steps into the kitchen, his inscrutable expression suddenly registering genuine pity and regret as he sees ABIGAIL HOBBS Her struggle to breath underscored by the WHEEZE of air through her slashed wind-pipe. I apply pressure to the wounds, scooping Abigail onto My lap. Will now beside me trying to help me with abigail looks up to see: GARRET JACOB HOBBS He hisses at Will Graham through dying, jagged breath. "See? See?" he whispers, Will's eyes are glazed. He's shutting down. Behind him: Hannibal moves swiftly to Abigail, addressing her wounds as she stares at her dying father even as her own life ebbs. I gently raise her glassy eyes to My own as Hannibal works. Will doesn't look away. And neither do I.

HOSPITAL - PATIENT ROOM - NEXT MORNING -

Will enters to find Abigail Hobbs integrated into an elaborate weave of life-saving technology. sleeping in a chair next to her bed is HANNIBAL LECTER. and in another Y/n. us both holding one of her hands, offering a tiny comfort. Will Graham quietly sits in the empty chair next to Y/n watching their unconscious care for the girl they all saved.

#hannibal nbc #will graham x reader #hannibal x reader #fem!reader #Hannigram #hannigram x reader

[grickle14]

Hey! I was just informed that I completely missed National Pug Day (it was last Oct.15th). Here's a few special pugs I made for the Plenty of Pugs Sticker sheet! Celebrate the Pug! No matter what day it is!

#pugs #grickledoodle #dogs #funny #cartoon #stickers #humor #art

[power-chords]

Also I'm not trying to overrule the popular/contemporary fanon interpretation that Will Graham is autistic, but I don't want to lose any of the classic Harris gender mischief in the process, and I don't see enough acknowledgement of the reading that in 197?-1981 when Harris was creating the character, Will's specific traits would have been considered feminizing and hysterical. He was never made a special agent because he failed his psych eval. He couldn't cut it for longer than a few years as a field investigator because his susceptibility to empathic contagion — literally, his ability to catch the emotions of people around him, eroding at the boundaries of self and identity — was too destructive to his sanity, too much of a liability. It gave him a nervous breakdown that landed him in a psych ward. For a month. Will Graham may be neurodivergent but he is definitely also the 2013 Tumblrina running a meticulously curated aesthetic/depression blog and posting infographics about being an empath with BPD.

#all right I think I've exceeded my Takes Quota for the night #hannibal #hannibal nbc #will graham #thomas harris #manhunter #manhunter (1986) #red dragon

[lockdaisy]

How Resident Evil 4 Remake Makes it More Explicit that Leon’s Life SUCKS

While Resident Evil 4 Remake's new introduction insinuates it, supplemental material makes it explicitly clear that the ONLY reason Leon joined the government as a special agent after the events of RE2 was because they threatened to MURDER Sherry, a little girl, if he refused to work for them. In other words, Leon gave up his freedom for Sherry's safety. Actually, to put it even more bluntly, it means that the US government essentially enslaved Leon, who was already severely traumatized by the events of Raccoon City, and forced him to continuously re-traumatize himself over and over again by forcing him to undergo brutal training and throw himself into life-threatening missions where he endlessly has to fight against bioterrorist monstrosities

(I’ll add the rest under a read more to avoid cluttering the tag)

This fact adds a lot of tragic irony to the story and a lot of tragic elements to Leon's character as a whole. First, Leon, who the government enslaved into working for them by threatening a girl he viewed as his daughter figure, was assigned to rescue Ashley, the daughter of the president of the US government, and I can barely believe that the government had the temerity to give Leon that mission in light of his circumstances

Second, it makes the scene where Ashley, inspired by Leon, excitedly talks about her desire to become an agent "just like Leon" and go on missions "protecting the US from any and all threats" take a far more tragically ironic, painful turn since, unbeknownst to her, Leon very much did not willingly join the government, and she's talking about protecting the very government that enslaved her savior

Third, it really highlights Leon's inherent kindness. Although you could argue that Leon had no choice but to save Ashley, there was nothing that forced him to be kind to her. Even though Leon has all the reason in the world to hate her, since she's the daughter of one of the men who enslaved him, he nevertheless was nothing but kind, patient, and selfless to her, which emphasizes the intrinsic goodness of Leon's character

Fourth, it really makes RE4's ending a lot more bittersweet and Leon's character a lot more tragic. Considering the fact that Leon singlehandedly rescued the President's daughter, you'd think that that would've been enough for the government to grant Leon and Sherry their freedom, right? You'd think that President Graham, who must have known about Leon's circumstances and who is completely beholden to him for saving his daughter's life and preventing a huge bioterrorist catastrophe in the United States, would set Leon and Sherry free, right? Wrong. From what we saw in the other games and movies, Leon is still enslaved. In fact, in RE6, it was even made clear that they not only refused to grant Leon and Sherry their freedom, but that they didn't even allow Leon to watch Sherry, the girl he sacrificed his freedom for, grow up, and they put him and Sherry under the control of the legitimately monstrous Derek Simmons. So even though Leon sacrificed his freedom for Sherry, just because Simmons hated him due to the fact that he thought that he was “stealing” Ada from him, he was basically NEVER allowed to visit Sherry. And since RE6 made it clear that Leon became highly suicidal and that the only reason that he forced himself to stay alive was to protect Sherry, it really just makes Leon's life all the more tragic. He saved the President's daughter, he saved the world, again and again, but nobody will ever save him, and he will forever remain enslaved by the U.S. government

And... overall while I love the fact that they did imply it, since they never even did that much in the original RE4, I do wish that the game made it more explicitly clear that Leon was forced to work for the government against his will because 1) it adds a really fascinating element to Leon's character since he is the only member of the cast who was essentially enslaved in the fight against bioterrorism, 2) it would have really strengthened the parallels between Leon and Krauser since it would make it more clear that the US government screwed them both over in their own ways, and 3) it really explains Leon's grumpier, more cynical attitude in the game

I also think it's strange that Capcom goes back and forth between acknowledging and ignoring this part of Leon's character and lore, and I think it's kind of sad since it distorts the perception of Leon's character as a whole in the fandom. For example, in Infinite Darkness, it can basically be argued that the reason why Leon did what he did at the end was because he CAN’T go against the government's wishes without endangering Sherry's life. (And I’m not blaming Claire for being mad at him, either, since there’s a good chance that he kept the fact that they’re holding Sherry’s life over his head a secret from her in order to protect her from being targeted by the government). Instead, because Capcom doesn't really focus on his circumstances, it just makes it look like he's a government shill

It’s just... so tragic. Unlike Jill, Chris, and Claire, Leon literally had no choice in his career against bioterrorism. He didn’t become a special agent of his own volition; he was enslaved. And the only reason Claire didn’t end up in the exact same circumstances was because Leon, knowing that she still needed to find her brother Chris, encouraged her to go look for him, promising that it would be ok for her to do so since he would look after Sherry. And because of that, Claire left before she could get captured by the government like Leon and Sherry did, and so she got to have her freedom. And the only reason why Leon is still enslaved to this very day is because he cares about Sherry’s safety so much that he was willing to sacrifice his freedom for her. In other words, Leon ended up suffering because of his kindness. He was punished for being kind

And despite all that, even though his kindness directly contributes to his suffering, Leon still chooses to be kind and selfless anyway, and that’s just so... 

I love him

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #re4r #re4 remake #resident evil #re #re4 #not op #lockdaisy speaks #leon scott kennedy