#To be quite frank

[phoenixkaptain]

There’s one part in Red Dragon that I can’t stop thinking about.

Right at the start of chapter 8, right after the chapter where Will speaks to Lecter.

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter lay on his cot with the cell lights down after Graham left him. Several hours passed.

For a while he had textures; the weave of the pillowcase against his hands clasped behind his head, the smooth membrane that lined his cheek.

Then he had odors and let his mind play over them. Some were real, some were not. They had put Clorox in the drains; semen. They were serving chili down the hall; sweat-stiffened khaki. Graham would not give him his home telephone number; the bitter green smell of cut cocklebur and teaweed.”

It’s like this:

First and foremost, it’s been several hours since Will left. Will wasn’t there very long in the first place, maybe two hours if we push it, and for one of those hours he left Lecter alone.

Second, the first thing Lecter says to Will is this: “That’s the same atrocious aftershave you wore in court.”

Third, “Some were real, some were not.” The first part of the sentences following are real, the second parts are not. That’s the implication. Lecter is described only a chapter before as neat. He sorted the real and fake into two columns. What does that leave us with?

What’s real: Clorox in the drains, chili down the hall, Will Graham would not give him his home telephone number. We know these are the real scents because Will didn’t give him his home telephone number, a true statement, and it matches the columns.

(I’ve long wondered what Will not giving his home telephone number smells like.)

What’s not real: semen, sweat-stiffened khaki, cut cocklebur and teaweed.

What’s my point? Why do I bring attention to these details?

I believe the scents Lecter imagines are in reference to Will.

“Sweat-stiffened khaki.” We don’t know what Will is wearing (it would have been incredibly strange for Harris to describe what Will’s wearing, he almost never describes what anyone wears unless it’s important), but we can assume Will was sweating. From chapter 7, “He had to go to the rest room twice. He was numb.” Will is nervous throughout the encounter. Will is also, I have to tell you, the type of man to wear khaki.

“Cut cocklebur and teaweed.” I believe this is the scent of Will’s aftershave. Why do I think that? Lecter describes it as “the bitter green smell,” implying distaste. Further implying this, after he thinks of this particular scent, he sits up. He doesn’t like it. It bothers him enough to comment on it.

Also, I just can’t imagine why else he would smell cocklebur and teaweed, it’s really out of place if it doesn’t have to do with Will’s aftershave. I suppose it could just be a scent that he doesn’t like, but he pairs it directly with his main source of irritation, ie: Will would not give him his home telephone number. This implies a direct connection between the two, because both irritate him. The bitter smell and Will’s refusal.

Now, my main focus. “Semen.” When I originally read this passage, my assumption was that Lecter is making an educated guess as to why they would put Clorox in the drains. I’m not sure that’s the case. Lecter is the type of man who could smell semen underneath the Clorox, but the smell of semen is firmly in the “not real” category.

I’m just going to cut to the chase. I think Lecter is thinking about the scent of Will’s semen.

Why do I think this? Well, a few reasons. I don’t know if I believe Will actually smelled like semen upon visiting Lecter in prison. That would be a little bit… out of place? He hasn’t had sex in a while and he hasn’t masturbated. We know this. Don’t ask why, but we know this. It wouldn’t really make sense for Will to smell like semen. I mean, I could worm out an explanation for a possibility of how he could smell like semen, draft one of this text, but I won’t.

The semen smell doesn’t actually have to have been present. Just as Will’s aftershave and sweat are no longer present while Lecter is imagining them, the semen could be fabricated entirely.

I suppose my point is this. Why does Lecter imagine the smell of Will’s semen? Does it bother him? Perhaps all of these scents, real and fake, are bothersome to him, Clorox and chili included. It could irritate him. And he’s upset at Will in the first place, so it could very well be another straw on the camel’s proverbial back.

I don’t know if Will’s sweat bothers Lecter. Making Will nervous makes Lecter experience joy. He knows Will doesn’t like him, and he still sent Will a Christmas card. He likes luring people into a false sense of security and then ripping the rug out from under them. I don’t know if the scent of Will’s nerves would bother Lecter.

Okay, does he like the smell of semen then? Also debatable. I mean, he could, I suppose. Lecter is a man who eats human flesh. He’s not exactly the prime example of a person with “normal” taste. He could very well enjoy the scent, I would have no way of knowing either way.

Maybe it’s neutral. This three example case could be like this: neutral, like, dislike. Neutral to Clorox and semen. He likes sweat and chili. He dislikes Will not giving him his home telephone number and Will’s aftershave. That could be it. We know he enjoys food, even at this point, so he could very well enjoy the scent of chili. Somehow, I doubt prison chili smells as good as maybe other types, but I digress.

Why am I bringing any of this up? Good question.

I suppose, I’m just curious. Was the intention for Lecter’s obsession to be sexual? Or maybe not sexual, but romantic wouldn’t be quite the right word either. This book came out in 1981. A lot of early media depicting gay people did so exclusively by hinting at their sexuality with stereotyping. I’ve never seen someone (aside from Bryan Fuller I guess) who talked about this possible aspect of Lecter.

Lecter is described as small, lithe. He’s vain and prideful. You could say our first real introduction to Lecter is through Chilton, who states outright that Lecter knows a lot about Will. His first comment is on Will’s smell. He speaks with his head always tilted. (That one’s not stereotypically gay, I just think it’s kind of funny because whenever I write for him, I tilt my head without thinking about it) His final letter to Will ends with: “I think of you often.” He is, and I cannot stress this enough, highly invested in Will’s looks.

I just feel like, when you take into context that this was a period of time when being gay was highly frowned upon, queerness is mentioned several times throughout the book, Lecter calls him “my dear Will,” and while a cannibalistic serial killer being obsessed with you is a scary thought, wouldn’t, in the 80s, a gay cannibalistic serial killer being obsessed with you be scarier?

I know that Lecter’s characterization does change later on, in Silence of the Lambs and so forth. I’m not talking about those. Red Dragon was his first appearance. Mind you, he still rambles. But still.

I just wonder is all. A lot of people focus so much on his appearance in Silence of the Lambs, especially the movie version, but I ponder the early days, you know?

[fruitbasketball]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSLq67Qe3/

I think anon may have been talking about this one - azzi’s so done 😭

i am so so sick of paige madison bueckers like she literally just got cleared and she's showing off her new little finger injury bro i will FLY TO STORRS do NOT test me

[rememberhow]

#CAPY #FUCKING #SOUP #GSHDIFJFYUWUWCWGQIAISJDHDKWKWWIYEUWUWUWUWHWHUWIWIDKFNFJCKVKGOGKDNSNSBSHHSJ276272)25272&2&2'wjeHSOELEOJWJEIEEODJRHFBJCCJDIEHHE]%{|€}%}~*627 #WWYWYWYAYAHUIDKDHDHDJDKDLLEOSNSJEJEHEHRJFJFKFFK via @femmepathy

[jachtjager]

Cogito, ergo quack quack

[writing-for-life]

Morpheus—Frank Quitely

[jkparkin]

Absolute Batman #6 (DC, March 2025) variant cover by Frank Quitely

[vertigoartgore]

Judge Dredd in bed by Frank Quitely.

[bayetea]

love thinking about the underworld siblings just being absolute fucking creatures. they stare at you too long after a conversation has ended and quickly look away if you notice and look back. they sit catatonic on the floor of a pitch black room and get mildly annoyed when someone turns the lights on. they get each other in a distinct way that no one else ever really could and hold hands creepily like the twins in the shining. nico notices the tiny little things of another person's life and when they ask him How he knows he says "the ghosts in your walls told me" (it's a joke and no one laughs). hazel has a fun night on the town with friends when suddenly she lays her fingertips to the earth and says "oh... someone was murdered here in 1998" and the mood is killed instantly. they have a shared macabre that looms over others like the presence of an urn in the corner of a room. percy/frank/will/jason/reyna are used to it but even they get caught off guard by their behavior sometimes. they need to be Weird in a way that makes other people uncomfortable

[99bowl]

cowgirl dorothy AGAIN!

[clownsuu]

i never leave asks but i NEED to say that ur interpretation of wally is the best i’ve seen in the fandom and my absolute favorite hdkgnskgs like hell yea go completely unhinged u tiny fucking freak /affectionate

in love with ur art in general <3

WHEEZE lmao thanks my guy! I try my best to appropriately display wally to the best of my ability

cw obsessive/possessive behavior

He’s just a lil silly, maybe even a lil goofy (and dare I say, even a lil quirky-?)

[ungoliantschilde]

Batman, by Frank Quitely.

[mylittleredgirl]

when i hear "found family" in relation to an ensemble of fictional characters in media there's two different things that could be happening here.

often it's what i think of as forced family, which is like "i found myself in a situation with these people" but a key part of the trope is that, like most families of origin, they're stuck with each other and can't leave without taking extreme action. voyager's "found family" is a forced family. i'm watching m*a*s*h now and it seems that way too. in both cases there's an outside constraint where you literally cannot escape these people and so grow to love them as a result, often in a codependent or unhealthy way but you are closer to them than you will ever be to anyone who did not share this experience. you would sell some of them to satan for one corn chip but god help any outsider who tries to break you up or even understand the situation. sometimes you get lucky and there's a person or two in there that you would choose to spend every day with regardless of circumstance (but would you really? can you even tell for sure??). but also it's "i will never ever speak to you again as long as i live but i'm really bored so can you give me a ride to the 7-11 first."

meanwhile chosen family is more like star trek the next generation where they are placed in this group at random but there's no hostage element to it. any one of them could request a transfer at any time, but they never will because this community and group of people have become an inseparable part of their identity. in both cases they'd saddle up and risk their lives to save each other forever at any personal cost ("not to me, not if it's you") but forced family also contains the element of "i'll fucking do it but christ alive." not every ensemble fits into one or the other but i think it's fun to distinguish as a concept.

[batmancurated]

batman gargoyle of gotham #3 cover by frank quitely

[5ummit]

Frank Grillo as Brock Rumlow (x)

[suusoh]

(pwp or something idk. just got horny in the tags of my last post about eddie not looking anywhere else but at his wife and only his wife while doing his husbandly duties.)

cw: female reader, sex, eddie's orbs, overuse of the word staring because I want you to start feeling annoyed and maim this man, slight yandere (maybe if you squint?) cheesy and unfunny frank valli reference at the end.

———

he's staring at you again.

Eyes fogged with a love sick haze in them at the absolute sight of you, his wife, all warm, soft, and pliant under him. You try to close your eyes from time to time, but even when you open them again— it just comes back to the first thing you see which is this man on top of you, mouth switching between grinning and gasping, and eyes wide open.

"...Eddie?"

He hums tenderly. "What is it, dear?"

"I-I.. can you just-"

It's so hard to talk when his hips don't stop moving despite his concern. The weight and absolute mass of him on top of you and grounding you into the bed with each thrust makes it all the more harder to think straight.

Thoughts on how to sound out your request begin to blur and buzz out with him fucking into you like this. In and out, in and out, inside of you. over and over again as he buries himself deep within your cunt. your pubic bone practically connecting with his, and sending sparks of heat inside your belly with each time he ruts himself into you.

"Just what? What does my darling wife want?" He starts searching your face for any indication or answer to complete it for you what you want him to do now. Still looking at you intensely.

Looking. He keeps looking. Which is, sort of the thing you wanted to point out in the first place.

"You're... o-oh- oh-"

"I...?" he acts as if he's not quite catching on. Pondering for a second with the sounds of your moans and wanton sighs, and the creaking of the worn out bed acting as background noise to aid his thinking.

"Oh! I'm doing a swell job is that it? Is that what you're trying to say, dearest?" he lets out a content loving sigh, and your breathe stutters as he picks up his pace. "You and your words never fail to make me blush, my love."

Another particularly good thrust has you arching your back, of which he's making sure his eyes connect with yours once more while you writhe and wiggle underneath. But your wriggling quickly eases from bodily pleasure, to slowly morphing into a sense of discomfort now.

Because he's staring at you.

Again.

Which should be good isn't it? Eye contact during sex is a sign after all of a good partner paying attention to your needs. And with someone like Eddie, him paying attention to your needs is the tiniest sliver of hope you cling onto to make sure his reason for keeping you alive is a bit more... cemented, substantial even. Gives you a little bit more reason (or delusion) to believe he'd be inclined to make this relationship, make you, last longer.

(Compared to the alternative route of him using your body for his own sick dispositions, and casually stringing you all up when he's done.)

Though you're sure that this is not the type of bedroom eye contact many normally wish for.

"Y-you... you're.." you try to murmur out again.

Not that you should talk about having anything normal with this man. You might as well find the solution to world hunger long before you find anything even remotely "normal" in this place.

It's not that you're expecting him to do things normally, but can't he... can't he just... do something else maybe?

Look anywhere but you for just a split second, maybe bury himself into your neck, or close his own eyes to focus on the feeling of his cock getting squeezed, or look at any other part of your body that could possibly entrance him; mouth, chest, stomach... hell, you could even hope that he tries to glance down at your clit? Maybe marvel at the sight of where the two of you connect, since that's all his fucked up baby fever mind thinks about anyways?

You'll take anything really, just one small thing to act as a reminder that you guys are indeed having... sex— and not engaging in some sort of impromptu staring contest out of nowhere.

Because his eyes are doing absolutely nothing but looking into your own and as they continue staring at you.

and staring at you...

and staring...

and staring...

and staring...

Jesus fucking christ you don't think he's even blinked in the past few seconds anymore.

You let out a mix of a whine and a groan, opting to shut your eyelids close and try to shield your face away from his unmoving eyeballs by trying to wiggle your hands free out of his grasp (him and his damn insistence to hold hands while making love as he calls it.).

"What is it my love? Must I pay you a penny for your thoughts perhaps?"

"You keep staring... "

You try to wiggle free again, inadvertently adding onto the delightful friction between your parts and his— to which he gets a small shiver of his own at the roll of your hips. A light laugh escapes him at your captivating and somewhat fruitless display. He finally gives reprieve to your brain's rising fear of being uncannily perceived at, and blinks.

"Ohhh, my darling."

He lets go of one of your hands so that he can cradle your face, tilting it so he can capture your mouth into a kiss. humming into your mouth, but the humming isn't just the usual sighs of pleasure, as you can pick up the movement of him saying some words.

He pulls apart from his half kissing-half speaking into your mouth, as he slowly begins to playfully laugh again.

"You can't blame a man for looking at his wife when she's like this; all breathless and beautiful, now can you? I sure can't!"

Said wife that he just knows for certain was sent down by god all-mighty himself into the 7th circle of hell named "mount massive asylums".

When Eddie sees you, he can't help but imagine your rotting carcass somewhere else. An alternate place where those filthy bastards could have gotten their hands on you, torn you limb from limb (if they didn't have the patience to pull your teeth and your eyes out first), then have their way with using your dead body as a urinal afterwards.

You must have been scared to not have your dear husband around to protect you from all the nasty violence around the asylum, weren't you darling?

No, no. No meed to fret now and get your panties in a twist! None of that here. Not when your dear ol' Eddie is here now.

You are very much alive and perfect, preserved by your own sheer dumb luck or maybe by fate itself to be kept alive long enough for him. Just him.

And under his care, your body is experiencing the furthest thing from excruciating physical pain right now, isn't it darling? Feels good, yes? To have your husband make love to you like the passionate man he is. Lest he's supposed to take in the sight of you rolling your eyes back and your legs hooking around his waist, pulling him in for more as something otherwise?

Oh goodness him... It's almost too good to be true.

And he really can't take his eyes off of you.

[goodomenshq]

New goals unlocked! New targets announced! £750,000 and we'll add more pages to the graphic novel. Beyond that? We have some things up our sleeve.

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