#but like that is likely by design he is SO mean to gideon and she filters pretty much everything we see of him except the tiny bit

[theriverbeyond]

in another universe TLT is a coming of age fantasy YA tragedy about Silas having to leave home with his nephew/guardian at the age of 16 to seek glory for his house and then not only LOSING that guardian in a terrible mistake, but also losing faith in his culture/religion as a whole as he rejects everything he has been taught to stand for and want. And as he stands up for himself in his final moments and realizes his terrible miscalculation he is KILLED by the shambling, posessed body of his guardian only for his soul to be then swept away and thrust into a confusing dreamscape where nothing is real and once again he must reject his world in order to chase after something new. the universe does not forgive but maybe he can force its hand

[absolutedestinyapocalypsse]

i love how as you read more into tlt, the ninth house seems more and more normal. Like if i'm at an immoral evil government competition, and i use human fat as soap and animate skeletons to do menial labor, i'm gonna LOSE if my competition is the third house, represented by ianthe "who HASN'T eaten human flesh and fucked a corpse" tridentarius. My weird skeleton thing seems normal, suddenly. Well-adjusted, even. It's recycling. They're using resources in a sustainable way. Normal and regular and productive for a post-climate change apocalypse universe.

People go on and on about how Muir drops you into gtn hearing from the person who knows the least about whats happening, and does not hand hold the reader through the crazy shit that occurs, and that's all true. It truly is a crazy writing decision to make your first pov character come from the universe's equivalent of amish fundamentalists. But the reader is actually done a huge favor being dropped into the ninth house first, because we already understand that space is cold and what catholic nuns are, and what goths look like, and what lesbians are. Very little time is wasted in the first chunk of gtn ripping hair out of your head wondering what the fuck is going on, because for all of its strangeness, the ninth house is already the most familiar thing we're gonna get.

Because THEN we learn that this whole universe's medieval chivalry system is designed to groom people from CHILDREN to not only be exploited and used as human batteries for necromancers, but to LIKE it. to wax poetic about it. to confuse it for love, to write fucking academic papers about it! Then we learn about planet flipping, an act so horrific and violent it turns the planet's soul into a massive vengeful monster capable of killing GOD. Like what do you MEAN the animals "change"? Is this why noodle has six legs? I would MUCH prefer to wear skeleton makeup and repent forever if the alternative was to witness my family dog grow TWO EXTRA LIMBS because the planet he lived on fucking died. Suddenly, living in the asscrack of a planet where no light gets in seems like a sweet deal when the whole solar system is lit by a sun that MAKES YOU GO CRAZY. The ninth house's WORST sin, killing 200 babies to make Harrow, a waste of resources and an act so terrible it haunts Harrow for the entire span of her life, is like a BLIP compared to the death count Jod's empire. God even hears about it and he's like, no big deal! The cohort probably kills that amount of people in a DAY.

And its ALSO tragic because you realize that all of this trauma and abuse that Gideon goes through is not really because of the ninth house at all. It's really just an individual skill issue that she wasn't treated with compassion. Nobody hated her because she's jesus or a bomb, nobody even KNOWS she's a bomb. It's just Priamhark and Pelleamena being deeply guilty and scared people that motivates her treatment, and absolutely nothing else.

They did something bad, and they know it, and Gideon survived it, and they can't kill her to cover it up, and that's IT. They killed themselves for pride, because they were afraid of the consequences of their actions (both the baby killing and Harrow opening the tomb) coming back to bite them. You can argue this is the catholicism of it all, and I wouldn't say you're wrong, but compared to the cavalier system, where exploitation is in the very lining of the house's institutions, the ninth house is really removed from the space empire's blood factory. This is compared to the fourth house where they have tons of children to be CANNON FODDER to join the cohort at fucking 14, compared to the eight house uncle nephew fuckery, even the fifth house which actually does seems nice to live on but also seems to have the fourth house in some sort of fucked up political bear hug??? (maybe the fourth house has so many kids in order to fight the fifth's battles? which is EXACTLY what jod's whole empire is about; politely stirring your tea and acting nice while you destroy everything) compared to ALL OF THAT, the cruelty that Gideon faces is really more a bug of the ninth's system than a feature.

There's nothing baked into the culture and everyday life of the ninth house that necessitated that cruelty; in fact, for such a pragmatic and resource-scarce place, it's WEIRD that a strong able-bodied young person was treated like a waste of space and resources. It could just have easily not happened, if Harrow's parents had been different people. Maybe they were products of their environment, but so was Harrow, and she values Gideon's life SO MUCH that she'd literally rather carve out parts of her own brain than exploit her. Gideon grows up knowing really NOTHING about cavaliers, so remote from the horrors of the empire that she develops an idea of what the cohort is from porn magazines. And in a lot of ways, that upbringing was desolate and terrible, and in a lot of other ways it literally DID NOT HAVE TO BE.

Gideon's MAIN THING is that she wants to be useful, to be needed, to be loved and it SUCKS that she couldn't even get it in the one place where she was actually an invaluable resource, where the death empire had the weakest reach. Gideon can't even blame her lack of love on the fucked up chivalry system like everyone else can because it JUST WASNT REALLY RELEVENT!?!?! This is like if i rolled up to the trauma competition and everyone else was raised in a nuclear warzone by wolves or something and i grew up in like, the suburbs and was raised by teachers and i somehow STILL WON. truly what the fuck guys.

[ibuks]

❕ hi so i made grown-up/older designs of some. ig lesser talked about gravity falls characters LOL

oh yeah the two new cool rockers in the falls… toby has finally become who he was always destined to be: BODACIOUS T.! and gideon.. hes having fun. hes kinda growing out of the dyeing his hair white phase but he still cant fully let go

i think it was obvious mermando would turn out to be the buff merman rapunzel, meanwhile lazy susan rediscovered her love for cats!! the earrings are from the flashback of her and the pearl necklace from the stan date scene… also mabel gave her cute socks

i felt like these two were def important to show as well. although i also just really love fidds and wanted to draw him LOL<3 he often gets visits from friends and family in his new big mansion. hell yeah robot arm. and tate is having fun spreading his sea and ocean knowledge

the unspoken ship that nobody mentions but we all can see… your honour i love them and muscular tyler goes kinda hard. btw mind his shorts

i know theres sometimes discourse about whether their relationship is really healthy bc mabel highkey forced them yada yada but i think bc theyre so made for each other that they probably ended up actually falling in love. I mean tambry valentino sounds so cool hello??

i had to include them!!! 😭😭 theres not much i could think of because i think theyd just continue their lives like normal over the years and have lots of fun. they are already perfect

dude i made soos so cute. melody fully moved to gravity falls and abuelita lives with them of course. she has lots of fun with the two twins when the couple is at work. oh soos youre such a great……family guy

🍂 i really love all of GF’s characters and felt the need to give some of them their own little future designs because theres so many gorgeous ones of mabel and dipper etc and so little of the others!! (no shade there i just love these characters 🫰（╹◡╹）)

[strawberryshortcake1495]

Dipper and Mabel’s designs in Wild Pines AU :3 (+fun facts)

1: The first thing you’re probably wondering is what the hell happens to Bill??? Well the whole portal situation happens but somehow through strategic planning and the power of brotherhood Ford agreed to open the portal but he and Stan captured Bill in a small prism once he went through. As soon as he was captured, Stan wanted to kill the little bastard but Ford decided a better fate. The boys decided to use the triangle as a power source for the Stan O’ War, creating a complex set of machinery that would continuously drain Bill’s power to use for the ship until returning it to him at night in bursts of strength that quickly go away and the cycle starts all over again. So in short, little Billy isn’t having a good time. The grunkles keep Bill’s existence a secret from the twins + Soos and Wendy. Surely that won’t have any lasting consequences, right?

2: And what happened to Fiddleford? Well, this timeline is built off the Monster Hunter Pines AU by @/doctorsiren as a means of a backstory and there, Fidds used to work with the Pines brothers alongside his wife Emma-May who was a badass mom who loved her family. But the portal test still happens and everyone was wearing their APS (acronym for the power suits) and when Fidds went through the portal, the electricity in the suit intertwined with the interdimensional energy and the poor hillbilly got electrocuted and fucking died. After the incident, Emma-May left the monster hunter force with little Tate, forever hating Ford because he killed her husband. Now Fiddleford haunts the Stan O’ War as a ghost and is still mad that Stan and Ford didn’t immediately kill Bill as soon as he was captured.

3: Speaking of Emma-May, she takes the role of Paisley in this AU. Tate’s the butcher guy (I forgot his name), The Northwest family is Donita Donata, and I was originally planning for Bill to be Zach but I decided Gideon fitted the role better. He still has a crush on Mabel but she hates him for mistreating her anomaly friends. Emma-May and Tate both despise Gideon, Preston, and Priscilla but they hate Ford more so they’re willing to team up with them to achieve their goals. They don’t actually wanna hurt the anomalies but they still don’t really like them because it reminds them of Fiddleford. They also think quite fondly of the twins, it’s just Stan and Ford they don’t like (Ford because he obviously killed Fiddleford and Stan because he supposedly “defended” him which isn’t true at all).

4: Stan and Ford’s designs are basically them on the canon Stan O’ War (y’know with the beanie and all that) but Stan still has his mullet from 30 years ago (embarassiiiiiiing).

5: All the other kids are their Monster Falls forms in this AU. This includes Candy, Grenda, Robbie, and all the other teenagers. The Pines + Wendy, Soos, and Pacifica are the only normal people here.

6: Dipper doesn’t wear his hat in this AU because it kept falling off during missions and Stan got tired of having to buy new hats for him all the time.

7: The Stan O’ War is always traveling around the world looking for anomalies, but it always returns to Gravity Falls at the end of the day. The ship hovers over the forest, ready to fly away when Ford detects a new anomaly somewhere in the world. The only time the Stan O’ War has landed was when Dipper and Mabel first walked into it for the first time. They don’t have to worry about gas bc…well, y’know why.

8: Also Stan is a werewolf in this AU because he’s one in the Monster Hunter Pines AU and I wanna stay timeline-accurate. He only transforms at night and he’s already got used to his family’s faces so he’s totally docile but the first night the twins were living in the Stan O’ War…oh boy.

[lakesparkles]

hii!!! would you be willing to do a little doodle of your nega ramona and gideon interacting? understandable if you don't take requests I'm just in LOVE with your design of her and your au in general!!! feel free to also use this ask to elaborate about the au more instead because id love to hear that too :D

Hi!! :D

Honestly, I wasn't going to draw this request today (I'm afraid I'm drawing Gideon too much lately lmao sorry, he just can't leave my mind). But I got some pretty weird comments on this AU of mine that made me kinda sad... so I kept rereading this ask to cheer me up and I'm very thankful you like her and this AU!! It really means a lot in this moment!

Now, the important part, yes, I take requests and I love this one:

Just a few things make Gideon feel uneasy. She's one of them. Not because he thinks she might be a ghost, but because she looks too similar to Ramona.

And more about the AU:

I would like to say I finally started writing a fanfiction about it and I'm close to finish the first chapter ^^

It'll be seven chapters long and it'll be hard to write ngl, I never wrote something like this before, usually my fics are cute ship things.

I can share the first scene:

Ramona and Gideon - I . . . She decides to leave one last time Or

Ramona remembers the seven reasons that made her fall in love with Gideon

She had that same fantasy every day. As she walked down the halls, running her fingers along the wall, she imagined herself entering her own room. It was satisfying, somehow. She could perfectly see herself opening her wardrobe, taking out the few things that really interested her, putting everything in her bag and simply walking away. In that fantasy, of course, she always smiled. She even laughed. That kind of hysterical and cathartic laughter only present in films. She wanted to imagine how Gideon would react: how long would it be before he realized she wasn't there anymore? Two weeks? And when would he realize that this wasn't just another one of her "famous tantrums"? Two months? Two years? Part of her was almost excited at the prospect of making him furious with such an accomplishment. It would be his turn to take endless turns through the halls, finally using his brain to try to understand what had gone so wrong between them. Maybe he would find out years later. Or perhaps that doubt would eat away at him for decades to come, the bitterness of her image never leaving his mind. And part of her… thought that wasn't realistic. She knew Gideon well enough to know that he would never even consider any mistake on his part, with a mixture of confusion that never ended well when it came to him. Or worst. He wouldn't even care about her lack of presence in that house. Therefore, Ramona released her fingers from the wall, slowly slowing down her steps until she stopped altogether. Then the fantasy ended. Every single time.

[with-my-murder-flute]

Pyrrha thought

I've been thinking a lot about how much Pyrrha violates the cultural norms that define cavalier/necromancer relationships, which in Jod's empire define people much more than modern gender does, and although it does have a biological component, it's definitely not a natural and inviolable one. In addition to this, Pyrrha after Gideon Prime's death is also literally what some transgender people call themselves: a female soul in a male body.

And then I was thinking about the theories that Samael was Anastasia's son, which would make the cavalier and necromancer lineages in the Ninth House, the blood that must never mingle, literally the same damn thing.

So that thing where Pyrrha talks about her pre-Lyctorhood self as though she was a necromancer. She devised the wards with Cass and Mercy. She helped design the trial at Canaan House. She experimented on Cris and Gideon's brains, and it's relevant when discussing a non-necromancer doing necromancy through soul manipulation. The trial linked to her and Gideon's lab is about a necromancer seeing through their cavalier's eyes and giving them the ability to see necromantic theorems.

She says to Gideon Jr:

We compartmentalized from the Eightfold Word, just like you and your girl—though I’m an accident, and he took more from me than got taken from you.

So... I think the thing that Gideon took from her, the thing they achieved together, was turning him into a necromancer. It was very specifically her aptitude that he took and never gave back.

Part of my thinking is informed by Jod, by how he dismisses and belittles Pyrrha, his "pet cop", and also betrays the shit out of her on the day he creates the bone dome. (Sidenote: Has anybody been calling it that? Because that trips off the tongue but is endlessly mispronouncable. I love it. From now on, it will always be "the bone dome" for me.)

Gideon was, apparently, the second person ever resurrected. What if Jod didn't know yet how to make someone a necromancer when he resurrected them, or if it was just something that was out of his control? Because... basically, I think that he would think that Gideon is the more important person in that partnership. Gideon is more loyal, less likely to question him. Pyrrha is only useful when she's enabling Jod, and annoying when she's not.

So I think that to Jod, Pyrrha being in the more important category of this brand-new dichotomy might be a problem. A problem that could be solved if he could somehow pull the necromancy out of her, and put it into Gideon instead.

Palamedes says, "She was made to be immune to the blue light." That could just mean that a process had the side effect of making her immune, but it might also mean that her end state was designed, from the beginning, to make her into a useful tool to kill Resurrection Beasts with.

It just... feels like something that would fit, at least given my "John is a crap person" starting premise.

[paradoxcase]

Gideon the Ninth audiobook, through to the end of Chapter 31

Cytherea is described as having "biscuit-colored curls" which I kind passed over the first time I was reading. She's described elsewhere as having light brown hair; American biscuits aren't any kind of brown, if they're made right, but Muir isn't American, either. In Britain, it's my understanding that "biscuit" refers to any hard flat cookie with a stamped design, but those come in all sorts of colors. Does "biscuit" mean a secret third thing in New Zealand?

Gideon says "it's stupid for a cavalier to watch their necromancer die" which I think sort of foreshadows Gideon rejecting Harrow's instruction to survive her

Gideon asks Cytherea why she came to Canaan House in the first place, and I feel like Cytherea's answer is about when she came the first time, nearly 10,000 years ago? She talks about how the Seventh wanted her to die beautifully and she though the Emperor had her best interests more at heart than they did

She says: "If they could figure out how to stop you when you're mostly cancer and just a little bit woman, they would" about the Seventh, but that's exactly what John did to her, isn't it?

And then: "I'll probably live forever, worse luck, whatever happened to One Flesh, One End?"

Palamedes pronounces "golem" exactly like "Gollum" and that amuses me

Harrow thought the secret to Lyctorhood was a secret power source in Canaan House they were supposed to discover - I guess to the extent that the consumed cavalier's soul is a power source, she wasn't exactly wrong

Camilla: "The last thing the Warden needs is an introduction to Lady Septimus" - pretty funny in retrospect

Palamedes after Harrow removes the plug Cytherea put on the Seventh lab's keyhole: "Did you hide the last key, too?" He was right about that

Colum is described as having a "perpetually scratchy voice" which I missed the first time, but it does match up with his voice here

Mayonnaise Uncle thinks Gideon's red hair might have come from the Third, which is I guess some extra information about the distribution of phenotypes in the Empire, but the only other redheaded House character we know of is G1deon (I almost wrote "Pyrrha") (who, ironically, is not biologically related to Gideon Nav unless he was like John's cousin or something). Mercy had "pink" hair, but I don't know if that means like, strawberry blond, or like, literally dyed pink. I guess it's been 10,000 years, so things might be a bit different now

Colum: "The next time we meet, I think it's likely one of us will die." Well, it wasn't the next time they met, since they both showed up to hear Cytherea tell a very fake story about why Protesilaus was already dead just after this, but I think it's the next time they are both in the same room together than Colum dies, so, yeah

Teacher says something about a "poor child" and Gideon doesn't know who he's referring to and I don't either even on the second readthrough. I guess it's possible that he's just talking nonsense, because he's a weird construct, but he's been saying things that consistently make sense in the current context throughout the whole book, so I don't really buy that

The scene where Corona is practicing with a sword and challenging Gideon to a duel feels kind of like she's anticipating being left behind by Ianthe and is trying to lean into the idea of becoming a cavalier after this, since she can't pretend to be a necromancer without Ianthe. We know from the Fourth teens that Ianthe has been sneaking into all the locked doors and reading the theorems at this point

When Naberius comes to collect her, he says "I won't tell her". I guess he means Ianthe?

Is that really how "beatified" is pronounced? I don't think I've ever heard it spoken before. Wiktionary seems to agree that it is

If I had listened to the audiobook first, I definitely would have misheard Gideon talking about "narking" on Harrow as "knocking" and been confused

Palamedes: "All I ask is that you put some pen and flimsy in my cell so I can start my memoirs." Yeah, that's not what you wrote when you were actually confined to the River bubble for months, haha

Narration: Suddenly [Cytherea] seemed impossibly old.

Cytherea claims that John was against soul siphoning. So, the thalergy siphoning that was a fundamental part of Mercy's challenge, and which the Second House uses regularly on enemies, is totally fine and cool, but Mayonnaise Uncle send Colum's soul away temporarily to generate power is wrong. You know, Mayonnaise Uncle is actually a lot more sympathetic on the second readthrough

Mayonnaise Uncle also really had Cytherea's number in this scene and no one listened to him, he was the only one saying that Cytherea was suspicious and everyone else was disgusted by this, including Judith. No wonder he was so sour in Harrow's River bubble

Harrow wants to use Protesilaus' head for necromancy and everyone else is unhappy about this. But this isn't strange for the Nine Houses - the Canaan House skeletons were made from the dead just like the Ninth skeletons were, and just like the Sixth skeletons were in Dr. Sex, not to mention Ianthe's use of Babs' body. Like, if we are going to start complaining about the desecration of dead bodies now, I think that starts to call into question the entire way that the Nine Houses uses necromancy and has been using it for the past 10,000 years. I'm not sure any of the other necromancers really have that high ground

Palamedes says Cytherea only has days left to live, she definitely giggles at that

In the pool scene, Harrow says that the calculations for the deaths of the 200 children were very precise, and that the babies contributed the most thanergy. Now I'm wondering if Gideon failing to die might have messed up those careful calculations in some way? Obviously Harrow was still born a powerful necromancer, and it still worked overall, but now I'm curious

Harrow about John's blood ward: "I knew it had to open for me" because she was the descendant of Anastasia. She never questioned that there might have been some other reason it opened

[eldritchtouched]

A thought about the situation with Miquella, and Daenerys, and plot twist structure.

It almost feels like a writer attempting to do the Daenerys twist with Miquella, but I'd argue it couldn't work for Miquella. Daenerys's stuff had the structure for that twist set up properly, but Miquella's didn't, even if execution is the most important part.

Ultimately, the reason the Daenerys twist is structurally sound and why I defend it despite the show botching the execution for other reasons and the books not being finished yet was because all the horrific shit she was doing up until she gets to Westeros. Though this is masked from a lot of the audience, at least if we're talking books, while still being there.

She is the lone POV for most of her story threads in the books, and she does a lot of truly awful stuff. Including burning people alive, a thing that's used as a marker in the story the rest of the time to mean "this character has hit the moral point of no return." The other POVs that later join her story are all Westerosi natives who didn't see any of her truly grim actions and either just hear rumors of her actions with a positive spin (Tyrion hearing that she's basically Aegon the Conqueror reborn, with the cultural mythologizing of Westeros that entails) or see her while she's trying to rule after a conquest instead of during the conquest itself (Sir Barisstan).

On top of that, she's among a nonwhite, cultural Other in Essos, and I think that was intentional, even if Martin fucked up the situation with the Dothraki because he's pretty sloppy with some of his worldbuilding. Most of the audience will naturally then dismiss the peoples of Essos. They don't get the same attention as Westeros and we don't get their perspectives or how their culture actually works. Instead, it's Daenerys's point of view, and she's biased.

However, this works as a twist for Daenerys because GRRM was taking a conqueror and transplanting her from a setting where the majority of the audience accepts her actions as wholly justified to one where they won't. She remains the same way- burning people alive and taking things through blood and fire. But, unlike the people of Essos who are essentially a nameless, faceless Other, we've been around a lot of the the other characters of Westeros. We're invested in Westeros. We know that they're complicated and we know their names and faces prior to her coming.

Note that I'm talking about the books and the knowledge that the show's trajectory based on Martin's comments is that she is still going in that direction in the books. Because it is foreshadowed in the books. The show's foreshadowing is a lot murkier in some places or else can't exist because of format issues (internal monologue in a book versus how a show isn't like that).

But we get the reverse for Miquella, and this thus falls apart because the structure simply isn't there. This kind of "oh no they're actually the villain!" twist works if they go from a context where their actions are considered acceptable to one where their actions are considered unacceptable by the audience.

Daenerys worked because she was essentially consistent the whole time. Miquella doesn't, because his actions feel conflicting and contradictory, and also have an investment issue.

Part of it includes how Mohg is the best protected demigod in the base game if going by the intended quest progression with Gideon and world design stuff pointing to how Miquella wasn't kidnapped. But now, because of the DLC and the nonsense ritual involving a lord and vessel, Miquella actively needs Mohg dead, despite protecting him so well, so the whole thing just kind of... trips over itself.

Or how there's no foreshadowing of Radahn in the base game. As others have quipped, there was literally nothing on AO3 until after the DLC, nor any theorycrafters coming up with it, nor any Rule 34 of Radahn/Miquella as some "I just think they're hot" pairing, meaning there was no foreshadowing anyone could possibly point to.

On top of that, this stuff doesn't work for that kind of twist. All the people in the DLC are new and the audience is thus not particularly invested in them compared to the people of the Lands Between. This also means that there's no particular investment in the Land of Shadow, which is structured very similar to Essos (culturally Other, coded nonwhite, don't get a whole lot in terms of characters, what little is highlighted of their culture is treated in an exoticizing and negative fashion, etc.). Mohg is a character most people either didn't care about or actively hated. Radahn had a concluded story already. So that twist structure can't work.

Likewise, because of how the base game's endings are what we're trying to keep intact (us as Lord), this also causes problems with fighting Miquella, as the story ending for that is deeply ambiguous given the current situation of the Lands Between. This causes a lot of issues because it isn't like Westeros, where everyone can band together to fight ice zombies. The Lands Between lack that larger unifying conflict and is purely the geopolitical machinations of Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire, and this means that a lot of people just go 'maybe Miquella's is the good ending?'

[defectivevillain]

this broken design ch9

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader

notes: this is embarrassing, but i forgot to post chapter 9 on Tumblr... so i had chapters eight and ten up, but not nine... sigh. pls forgive me, everyone 😭

Since you’re dreading the meeting with Alana, it comes up impossibly fast. You fall asleep quickly the night before—for the first time in a long time—and wake to dread’s company. Your anxiety only builds as you get closer to the institute. By the time you reach the parking lot, you can’t calm your racing heart. Thankfully, you spot Hannibal’s car moments later and the two of you walk into the building together. Hannibal must sense that you’re not in the mood for conversation, because he remains a quiet yet steady presence at your side. 

Alana spots you the moment you cross the threshold of her office. She holds the door open for you with a kind smile. “Hello, Alana,” you say, trying to sound as normal as possible. You can only hope your apprehension doesn’t show through in your voice. 

“Hello,” Alana responds with an easy smile. Her hand falls back to her side, but Hannibal reaches out and deftly catches the door before it can slip closed.  The look on Alana’s face twists ever so slightly as she sees that you aren’t alone. She regards your company with fleeting interest. “Hannibal.”

“Hello, Alana,” he murmurs, a polite half-smile on his face. “It’s wonderful to see you again.” The slight smile on his face looks strained. Maybe it really isn't wonderful to see her again. You shake your head to clear your thoughts; you need to stop reading into these types of things. 

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you,” Alana remarks good-naturedly. 

“Yeah, slight change of plans…” You remark with a grimace, not desiring to disclose the true reasons behind Hannibal’s presence. You can tell that Alana is curious, but you decide not to provide an explanation. Somehow, you feel a bit cowardly at the thought of needing Hannibal to be here with you. Speak of the devil, you think to yourself as you realize Hannibal is staring at you with a chastising expression on his face. It’s as if he can sense your pessimistic thoughts. You quickly avert your eyes, only to find that Alana is looking between the two of you with a suspicious expression. This is going to be a nightmare, you think wryly. 

“Jack informed us that you were Abel Gideon’s psychiatrist,” Hannibal starts, breaking through the tense silence. Each momentary lull in the conversation feels like a knife to the back. There’s a faint buzzing sound emanating from the fax machine in the corner of the office and the small analog clock on Alana’s desk carves a constant rhythm into the air.

“For a time, yes,” Alana responds vaguely. You swallow any comments about the ambiguity of her answer and instead focus on the next line of questioning. 

“What information do you have on him?” You press on adamantly. Unfortunately, if you halted your questioning every time you noticed tension rising in the air, this conversation would never end. You take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of your nose, before bringing a hand to rest on Alana’s desk. “I haven’t gotten the chance to speak with him yet.”

“Well,” Alana breaks off, inexplicably glancing at Dr. Lecter for a moment as if questioning his presence. You resist the urge to huff in amusement at the rather petty behavior she’s currently exhibiting. Although, you suppose her reaction is somewhat justified—Hannibal isn’t technically a federal agent, after all. However, Jack has pretty much ushered him onto the BAU—a feat not easily accomplished by any means. “Gideon is a sociopath and narcissist with psychotic episodes and homicidal tendencies.”

“But…?” You ask, noticing the way Alana seemed to momentarily falter after recounting the man’s diagnoses. The question seems to throw the psychiatrist off guard, because her eyes momentarily widen and you get a glimpse of her surprise. 

“Nothing slips by you,” Alana remarks with a smile. You’re somewhat uncomfortable with the fond tone of her voice. “For a person with the same diagnoses as him, identity is a rigid and unchanging mechanism. However, Gideon’s recent confusion and waverance about the Chesapeake Ripper speaks to severe borderline personality disorder.” Your eyebrows furrow. While you’re certainly not friends with Alana, you’ve known her for long enough to know that she doesn’t typically use such formal diction. What changed? Perhaps she feels pressured to speak in such a manner since Hannibal is in the room. You suppose that would make sense—he was Alana’s unofficial mentor. 

“That’s an interesting distinction to make, Alana,” Hannibal voices, bringing your attention back to the conversation. You feel the sudden need to avert your eyes from the two psychiatrists; instead of looking at either of them, you let your gaze wander about Alana’s office. You’ve been in here a few times, yet you’ve never taken the time to truly look around. Now that you’re looking, you can catch hints of Alana’s personality bleeding through the nondescript beige walls. She has framed pictures of various people—evidently, her friends— scattered across the four walls and her desk is almost impeccably clean. 

Your tongue feels glued to the roof of your mouth. You don’t want to speak anymore. The unspoken competition hanging in the air between Hannibal and Alana seems to distract them from your silence, as they continue to speak about Gideon. You allow Hannibal to ask the questions and, thankfully, you seem to share many of the same concerns. Alana continues to speak to Hannibal, but you can see her sneaking glances at you between her words. 

Suddenly, you hear your name and you’re thrown back into the uncomfortable present. Both psychiatrists are staring at you expectantly. You blink at them, waiting for someone to exclaim. Alana smiles at you. “I’d be happy to accompany you on your visit to the hospital.” She offers. 

You don’t know what to say or how to say it. How can you possibly begin to describe the tumultuous storm of negative emotions that rages through you whenever you catch even a glimpse of Alana’s face? How can you even begin to explain the days you’ve spent going through your memories of her, trying to pinpoint a moment where her feelings for you changed? Truthfully, you don’t think you’ll be even the slightest bit comfortable in her presence by yourself—especially not in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane of all places. You have to put active effort into fighting the urge to glance at Hannibal for assistance. You certainly don’t expect him to have an infallible solution to your problems (or even a solution at all); rather, you just need the reminder that you aren’t alone. 

Eventually, you’re forced to break the silence. “Thank you for the offer, Alana,” you start, trying not to take note of the way her smile starts to falter. You scramble to find a way to decline her offer diplomatically. “I spoke with Jack and he seemed to desire Hannibal’s opinion on things.” That may not be a word-for-word explanation of the conversation you had with him earlier, but it will do. Furthermore, Jack is a perfect excuse—since his word is practically law in the BAU. Alana won’t want to disobey his orders, so she should back off after the mention of your boss. Indeed, the psychiatrist frowns slightly but gives in. 

“Alright,” Alana surrenders, but not before giving you a strange look. You shrug helplessly, not wanting to admit that you would much prefer Hannibal’s company to Alana’s. She can take whatever meaning she desires from that gesture. Alana seems to do so, as she sends you a sympathetic look. You eventually work up the nerve to dismiss yourself and within a minute, you’re out in the hall and free from the overbearing psychiatrist and her far too small office. 

“Thank you for accompanying me,” you say to Hannibal as the two of you walk down the hall. You shove your hands in your pockets and continue to quickly pace down the hall, idly hoping that Hannibal will keep up. 

“Any time,” Hannibal responds from your side. There’s nothing but sincerity written in the lines of his face and the rather unexpected honesty of his remark catches you off guard. Hannibal makes it sound as if he would truly accompany you any time. Surely, that isn’t the case. Surely, you’re hearing things. You take a shuddering breath and lead Hannibal to your office to grab the paperwork you need. 

After grabbing the paperwork, the two of you head back through the institute and out to the parking lot. You offer to drive, since Hannibal has driven you several times and you feel the need to repay the gestures somehow. Admittedly, it’s a change of pace for you to be the driver; you feel a little self conscious, for some reason. You can’t shake the feeling that Hannibal is staring at you from the passenger seat. Whenever you glance to the side, however, the psychiatrist is staring out the window or straight ahead. You eventually forget the rather eerie feeling and focus on driving. The drive passes without event and, now, the two of you are walking along the path to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Your heart is racing in your chest as you come to terms with the fact that you’ll have to survive another conversation with Frederick Chilton. You aren’t so oblivious to the hungry look in his eyes or the subtle probing in each statement that leaves his lips. Speaking with the man is far from the first thing you want to do; however, you need to navigate a conversation with him if you want to speak with Abel Gideon. 

“Ah, back again, are we?” Chilton smirks as you enter his office. His gleaming eyes are practically dissecting you. The smugness radiating off of the man is suffocating. He anticipated that you would return. However, Chilton evidently performed some mental gymnastics to get to that particular conclusion—there’s no way in hell you’ll join him for a consultation. “Here to take me up on my offer?” You resist a laugh. 

“I’m afraid that isn’t the case,” Hannibal interjects for you, before Chilton can leer at you any longer. You’re once again grateful that you had the foresight to allow Hannibal to accompany you. He’ll serve as a buffer. Without him, you’re nearly certain that Chilton would make a meeting with Gideon rather difficult. “Dr. Lecter; a pleasure to finally meet you, Frederick.” You raise an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic greeting. Hannibal always introduces himself using his first name. Yet, he doesn’t give Frederick permission to refer to him in such a manner. 

“And you, Dr. Lecter,” Frederick responds, extending a hand. The resulting handshake looks to be uncomfortably tight, yet neither of the men comment on it. Then, Hannibal takes the proffered business card and places it in his pocket. You immediately realize that Chilton is going to be an addition to Hannibal’s rolodex of rude people. The thought brings you a little solace. 

“I’ve brought the necessary paperwork,” you remark, breaking up the impromptu staring contest that Hannibal and Chilton silently initiated. You place the aforementioned paperwork on the desk and Frederick stares down at it, before flipping through it with a scrutinizing gaze. You hold your breath and watch as he rifles through it. 

“I see,” Frederick then says regretfully, folding his hands on his desk. It seems he couldn’t find fault with your paperwork. You’re happy about that—there’s no telling what Jack would have done if you came back empty-handed again. “Such a shame. Would’ve loved to get into that mind of yours.” The man sighs with a click of the tongue. 

“I’m sure,” you mutter darkly, a remark that goes unnoticed by Chilton. Hannibal certainly does notice the statement, however, and his lips quirk in amusement. You take a deep breath and manifest more patience. You can’t be too callous with Chilton, because he could easily withdraw your access to Gideon. However, you are tired of this conversation. “Dr. Chilton, can you show us to Gideon?”

“I suppose,” Frederick acquiesces with a burdened sigh, as if your refusal to be manipulated is an incredible inconvenience. You’re sure that, to him, it is actually an inconvenience; the man makes a living off of manipulating people. You’ve heard the rumors swirling about the man—how Chilton profits off of the suffering and pain of others. Safe to say, you don’t like him one bit. “Please, follow me.” Frederick proceeds to lead you through the halls. You take a few turns before stopping in a rather large and open space, with tiny windows near the ceiling serving as the only sources of light. There are impossibly small cages lined up in neat rows. Your stomach turns as you see the dried flakes of blood stuck to the metal bars. Chilton hums to himself as he walks a few paces and comes to a stop in front of a cage. The look on the man’s face morphs from immature amusement to dark glee. You swallow past the premonitions in your chest and allow your gaze to fall on the man sitting in the cage—indeed, it cannot be called anything more than a cage. There is barely enough room for the man to stretch his arms and he remains hunched over with his head down. Chilton crosses his arms over his chest. “Abel, you have visitors.”

Abel Gideon’s head remains titled down. It’s clear that he doesn’t desire to speak with the administrator. Frederick makes an annoyed groaning sound before slamming his hand on one of the bars a few times, evidently trying to get his attention. The killer doesn’t give any indication that he has even heard the other man. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Chilton says resignedly, sending you a look that is clearly supposed to be intimidating. Fortunately for you, you’re far too used to being stared down by far worse people—criminals, serial killers, murderers, and psychopaths… Frederick Chilton has nothing on any of them.

As Chilton retreats, Gideon begins to stir. By the time Frederick is gone, Abel Gideon’s head has risen and his searching gaze finds you, before settling on Hannibal at your side. There’s a slight slip in his expression—a small twitch of the eye—before it is smoothed over. You wonder if this was a bad idea. Perhaps you should’ve come here alone. Unfortunately, there’s no use in regretting the decisions that led you here. You’ll just have to do the best you can. That will have to be enough.  

“I was wondering when you’d show up, Dr. Lecter,” Gideon says, his voice raspy from evident disuse. His hands grip the bars that keep him caged. You have to wonder if the design of this interrogation space was intentional—if the prisoners were meant to feel like caged birds—wings bound and stripped of all freedom. You’ve always hated the carceral state. You don’t realize that your thoughts have gone on a tangent until your companion speaks. 

“Indeed,” Hannibal responds blandly, as if Abel Gideon is nothing more than a pebble beneath his shoe. You suppose that Gideon probably is that insignificant to Hannibal. Besides, Gideon was thought to be the Ripper for several months—maybe Dr. Lecter didn’t take too kindly to the idea of someone else taking credit for his work. Indeed, Hannibal cuts the conversation off before it can even begin. “I’ll just be over here, if you don’t mind.” You raise an eyebrow at him, but the gesture goes unnoticed since his back is turned. You turn your attention back to Abel Gideon, only to find that he is already staring at you. Unnerved, you briefly pause before eventually regaining your composure. 

“Hello, Abel,” you remark cautiously. 

“Hello,” he responds warily. You don’t blame him for being cautious—from what you know, medical professions have consistently manipulated him. Fortunately for him, you’re certainly not a medical professional. 

“I want this to be a private conversation,” Gideon emphasizes, glaring at Hannibal lurking in the corner before looking back at you. “Just the two of us.” Your heart stutters in your chest. 

“I’d rather remain here,” Hannibal interjects, to your surprise. You look over to him, only to find yourself met with a fiery gaze. There’s something unspoken in the tight pull to his shoulders; there’s something unspoken in the tightly-coiled ferocity of his posture. You’re swimming with sharks, here—and your blood’s in the water. 

“I insist,” Gideon says, turning to look at you expectantly. There’s a scrutinizing sense to his gaze, as if he’s dissecting your every move. You pinch the bridge of your nose and take a deep breath, before turning to Hannibal. You know he’ll be easier to persuade than Gideon. If you want to get any information from the killer, you’ll have to pretend to play his game. 

“Will you leave us?” You ask. Hannibal’s gaze is set on Gideon with frightening focus; the two lock eyes and you can’t help but feel as if you’re missing something. Eventually, Hannibal looks towards you. You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly.

“Of course,” Hannibal acquiesces politely, turning around and leaving the room. You can’t bring yourself to take your eyes off of Gideon for even a moment. 

“You have him on a leash, don’t you?” The man remarks with a laugh, resting his hands on the bars of his interrogation cell. You have to look away from his grip, as you’re assaulted with thoughts of how easy it would be for those strong hands to wrap around someone’s neck and squeeze. “A very long leash, but a leash nonetheless.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” you respond stiffly, despite your heart absolutely racing out of your chest. Each piece of this conversation feels far more significant than you can currently comprehend. Each statement Gideon makes seems to be hiding an underlying message. You’re immediately thankful for your somewhat dubious morality—the recording device in your pocket will prove to be extremely useful for future reference. After all, the morals and ethics you prioritize aren’t the agency’s or society’s, but your own. You are self-governed. Plus, you know that the FBI’s strict interrogation policies would prevent you from getting any truly useful information. “Anyway, I’m here to speak to you about the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“Hm,” Gideon says, suddenly looking entirely uninterested. It’s clear that the topic is well-exhausted already. You may have to approach this from a slightly different angle. You want to speak about the Ripper, but you will have to hide your questioning behind clever wording. You then realize that conveying trust may be most effective. Abel Gideon has spent years rotting away in this hospital, his words slipping into Chilton’s left ear and falling out his right. Perhaps the best angle for you to pursue… is trust. 

“I know you’re not the Chesapeake Ripper,” You assert. 

“No one else seems to think so,” the man says, in a tone that is more amused than spiteful. You can almost see the tension fade from Gideon’s body. Now, he looks less wary and more intrigued. His shoulders aren’t drawn as tight and his gaze looks slightly less murderous. Small steps, you suppose. 

“I believe you.” You assure him. Gideon doesn’t know your true reasons for believing him, of course. You don’t believe him out of some misguided sentimentalism or pity for his past experiences. Rather, you’ve stared down the real Chesapeake Ripper. Abel Gideon is a cold and calculated killer, but he will never measure up to the unimaginably dangerous, mirrored psyche that the Ripper weaponizes. The Chesapeake Ripper and Abel Gideon are two entirely different beasts. 

“Who are you then?” You tell him your name but he shakes his head. “What do you do?” He asks insistently. You decide to indulge him and explain that you’re a criminal profiler. You don’t give the man too much detail—as that could compromise your safety—but you manage to give him enough to be satiated. 

From there, you interrogate Gideon about several different things. Regretfully, Gideon isn’t as helpful as you initially expected him to be. Ultimately, he’s been in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane for years now. You can certainly use him as a basis for establishing and better understanding the mind of a killer; however, you fear that Abel Gideon gives you very little new information on the Ripper. 

“I can tell you wanted more, but I’m afraid I’m not up to date on what happens outside these walls,” Gideon remarks with a sympathetic grimace. It’s hard to believe that he’s able to scrounge up any genuine pity; you suspect the display is more for your benefit. Still, you somewhat appreciate the gesture. 

“That’s alright,” you sigh resignedly. “Thank you for the conversation.” 

You’re barely able to take another step before you hear him call your name. Despite the dread stewing in your chest, you turn around to face the killer once more. Gideon’s eyes are gleaming and his mouth is twisted in a wicked grin. You can’t quite control your instinctive reaction of taking a half-step backwards. Gideon notices and his grin sharpens impossibly. The man sitting across from you suddenly looks positively sinister. The shadows around his form seem to morph and grow around him. Your hand inches towards the pistol at your side. 

“A word of advice…” Abel murmurs casually, his eyes trained on yours despite the fact that you’re now gripping the gun on your belt. “Stay away from Lecter. I was the same, you know—enamored with my wife. It doesn’t last long, trust me.” You swallow hard as you remember that Gideon is here because he murdered his wife and her family. 

“Goodbye, Abel,” you manage to choke out, turning your back on him and walking away. Abel Gideon lets out a loud cackle as you move to leave. Even when you exit the interrogation space and close the door behind you, you can hear Gideon’s twisted laugh reverberating through your ears. 

You find Hannibal lingering in a nearby corridor. You can’t find the words to say, so instead you just motion for him to follow after you. Hannibal joins you and the two of you walk out of the hospital. There’s a suffocating tension that settles in the air, but you can’t bring yourself to break through it. Gideon’s words are running through your mind and you can’t seem to get rid of them. Stay away from Lecter. You walk with Hannibal to your car, but not before opening his door for him with a cheeky smile plastered on your face. It doesn’t last long. You pull out of the parking lot and drive back to the main road. Trust me. You find yourself stopping at a red light and your gaze is almost unwittingly pulled to your psychiatrist. 

“What did he say to you?” Hannibal asks, clearly sensing your gaze. 

“Nothing important,” you say with a shake of your head, fixing your eyes on the road in front of you. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you remember the killer’s whispers. Few know the mindset of a killer better than another killer. Perhaps you really aren’t safe in Hannibal’s presence. That realization should not feel new to you. In fact, it is more of a reminder. Indeed, how long have you spent in Hannibal’s company, pushing down the knowledge that he’s a practiced killer? How many appointments have you had since that night you sleepwalked onto the road? You’re stuck in a horrible cycle of realization and suppression, yet… you haven’t once tried to escape it. You’ve allowed yourself to remain pliant in a killer’s tight grasp. 

“Are you certain?” Hannibal asks persistently. You raise an eyebrow. He isn’t typically one to push things in such a manner. Is he really so concerned? You push the thought aside. You suspect Hannibal simply doesn’t like the notion of lacking information. He likes to be in the loop. The thought of your private conservation likely disquiets him. 

I’m not certain at all, you laugh internally. “Yes.” You respond through gritted teeth. Hannibal must sense that any further interrogation would be pointless, because he falls silent—albeit while continuing to stare at you. It’s hard to focus on driving when there’s a murderer sitting in your passenger seat. Although, does it truly matter if you drive safely? Hannibal could end your life in a moment’s notice. Perhaps you should just veer the car to the side and-

“Stop.” The command is so sudden that you nearly step on the brakes, only to realize that Hannibal isn’t talking about your driving. Indeed, the open road stretching in front of you doesn’t have another car in sight. A choked breath leaves your lips as your heart races from the unexpected remark. 

“What?” You ask panickedly, feeling as if you were just drenched with cold water. Ambiguity does not mix well with driving—especially in the case of loud exclamations or commands without subsequent explanation. 

“Focus your attention elsewhere,” Hannibal demands. Surprised by the uncharacteristic commanding tone in his voice, you try to do as requested. You pull your attention back to the road in front of you. It takes you a few seconds to realize that Hannibal must’ve sensed your sudden spiral into suicidal thoughts. 

“How-” You try to ask. Hannibal looks pointedly at the steering wheel and you follow his gaze, only to find that your hands are gripping the wheel with an almost unnatural amount of force. When you loosen your grip, you feel bolts of pain slide up and down your fingers. You wince and try to regain some feeling in your hands. 

Safe to say, the drive after that is incredibly awkward. At least, you think it’s incredibly awkward. You have no idea if Hannibal feels the same, because he continues to stare out the window with a pensive expression on his face as if nothing occurred. Then again, he is your psychiatrist—you suppose he wouldn’t be surprised by dark thoughts. 

It isn’t until you’re pulling into Hannibal’s driveway that the tense silence between the two of you is broken. “Please, come in,” Hannibal remarks, not even reaching for your car door. His gaze is fixated on you with rapt attention. 

“I’m afraid I can’t stay for long,” you admit, already recognizing that you’ll have to step into his residence—even for only a few moments. You’ve learned the hard way that Hannibal is often needlessly stubborn when it comes to spending time with you outside of his office. You step out of your car and lock it behind you, before walking up the path with him to his front door. You’re incredibly thankful that you have your car today. It’s easy to feel stranded at Hannibal’s residence when you don’t have a car—or a means of escape, your traitorous brain supplies for you. 

You linger in the foyer awkwardly before Hannibal invites you into the kitchen. You’ve been in the kitchen many times now and you’re unsurprised to find that it looks completely spotless. Hannibal seems uncharacteristically focused on something, as he walks over to the corner of the counter and pulls the business card from his pocket. You huff in amusement as you realize your earlier prediction was correct: Hannibal is putting Frederick Chilton’s business card in his rolodex. 

“Building a collection?” You can’t help but ask, after the quiet begins to grow painful. The compulsion to voice the thought was itching at your skin. Hannibal finishes setting the card in place, before turning back to level you with a complex look. You try your best to manifest an expression of innocent curiosity. 

“Something of the sort,” Hannibal agrees, after an uncomfortably long halt in conversation. His attention falls away from the rolodex. You clasp your hands together and wait patiently, unable to shake the feeling that he has something to say. Indeed, Hannibal washes his hands before continuing to speak. “Frederick did seem rather interested in you.”

“As I said,” you say with a slight grimace. You feel remarkably out of place in Hannibal’s kitchen, as he busies himself with evidently planning for his dinner. Ordinarily, you’d be compelled to offer your assistance. However, you know damn well that you’re nowhere near as good of a cook as Hannibal is. You would only cause him further trouble, you tell yourself. “Chilton wants to get inside my head… see what makes me tick.”Incomprehensibly, that last remark pulls Hannibal’s gaze from the cutting board he’s handling. You lock eyes for a long moment. 

“I suspect he wants more than that,” Hannibal murmurs. You frown. It takes you a minute or two to process that statement, namely because you're shocked by the near mutter of his voice. Hannibal isn’t the type of person to speak his thoughts so quietly—he is a man of conviction. The thought nearly distracts you from the allusion he just made; when you mull over his words again, you begin to recognize the gravity of them. 

“Excuse me?” You ask incredulously. Hannibal’s attention is lasered in on the ingredients spread across his counter. It’s as if you imagined the remark—and you’re sorely tempted to believe that you did. The statement seemed rather out of character for Hannibal; although, the cryptic nature of it was very characteristic of the man. 

Unsurprisingly, it’s hard for you to proceed with normal conversation after that revelation. Your traitorous mind keeps trying to find significance in the earlier remark—in the unaffected mask Hannibal donned as he uttered those words. You need to get out of here—otherwise, your mind will continue to entertain foolish thoughts. “I should leave you to your dinner, Dr. Lecter,” you say, not giving him even a moment to argue. “Have a good night.” You nod at him before turning to walk away. Even as you drive into the dark night and away from his residence, Hannibal dominates your thoughts.

Hannibal watches you make your hasty retreat. He isn’t quite sure what spurred you to leave in such a hurry—although, he idly suspects that his allusion to Chilton’s… unprofessional interest in you was not welcome. You hadn’t given Chilton the time of day—all of his advances went entirely unnoticed by you. Hannibal must admit: it was rather amusing to watch Frederick stumble over himself to make a good impression, only for you to fail to even notice. 

Prying himself from his thoughts, Hannibal rolls up his sleeves and prepares for dinner. Franklyn Froideveaux’s lung remains motionless on his cutting board, a reminder of Hannibal’s escapade days ago. Truthfully, he intended on letting Franklyn live—if only to continue coercing and manipulating him. However, intention flew out the window the night of the opera. Now, Hannibal idly recognizes that your sudden departure actually works in his favor—he’s certain you would have grown suspicious if you had seen him treating the same organs that Franklyn’s corpse was missing. 

The saccharine melody of Apollo et. Hyacinthus 1 floats throughout the kitchen. The lights dim; when Hannibal turns around, he is standing before an audience. The crowd is listening to his every word with rapt attention. Each movement he makes is calculated with perfect precision. He moves with mechanical mastery. Admittedly, his thoughts are elsewhere today—Frederick Chilton’s business card continues to taunt him from his rolodex. As Hannibal prepares his dinner, he idly imagines sinking a blade into Chilton’s skin and harvesting his organs. Perhaps he’d sew his lips shut or cut off his tongue—the man is far too talkative for his tastes. 

His dinner that night is an enjoyable affair. Hannibal dines in the company of Franklyn Froideveaux, whose organs are settling rather pleasantly on his tongue. The meal is elegant in a way Franklyn never was; the irony of the sentiment is not lost on Hannibal. Inexplicably, your description of Franklyn on the night of the opera comes to Hannibal’s mind. 

“Franklyn is sort of… a shapeshifter, for lack of a better term. He’ll adjust and change himself to fit the situation best. When he’s in love, he’s dangerously obsessed. His unconventional actions are reassuring to him, though, because they give him a modicum of control—a control that he cannot possess over anything else.” 

That familiar analytical gleam in your eyes lives in Hannibal’s mind as he sinks his teeth into his prey. Despite your departure hours ago, Hannibal sees you sitting across from him at the table. Dining alone has never bothered him; yet, right now, he can’t help but desire your company—your scintillating conversation, your sharp wit, your clever smirk. Indeed, his table feels uncharacteristically empty. Hannibal stares at the chair across from him—the same chair he’s grown accustomed to seeing you sit at—and takes another bite. Flavor explodes on his tongue, yet you are what dominates his thoughts. 

Hannibal finishes his meal and muses on the events of the day for several moments. After the antique clock on the wall’s chiming of the hour brings him back to reality, he gets to his feet and stills. There’s a slight movement in his peripheral vision. Hannibal looks over at his kitchen, only to see his faithful rolodex with a card missing—slight scraps of paper left on the metal. He paces forward—prowls—until he finds the business card that fell to the floor. He squints down at it. 

Frederick Chilton  Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane  General Administration  chilton@bshci.gov | (410) -XXX-XXXX 

Hannibal’s lips twist upward in anticipation.

next chapter

hannibal taglist: @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kingkoku @kahuunknown

y'all... this is very embarrassing. I forgot to post chapter 9 on Tumblr 😭 so apologies for the sudden jump in the last two posts—this chapter was meant to be here to serve as a transition.

I've also gone ahead and made a master post, in which I will provide updated links for each chapter as they come out. hopefully, that will prevent me from missing any in the future.

[goosecastle41]

Anything For You, Doll

A little story inspired by @sims-fanatic-and-sprats-enjoyer for the coalecroux kid au, please enjoy

“Papa! What’s taking so long?!”

Gideon isn’t sure what’s worse here. The whines of a child, or what the child is asking him to do.

“Well-! I just-...! It’s not as easy as you think it is, Seren!” Gideon flounders, pulling his hands back from his daughters head. The needle Gideon had sterilized with his fire is pinched between his fingers, though to him it feels like a sword his daughter has asked him to run through her eat.

Seren, sweet little Seren, has gotten the idea of earrings into her head. She had seen many people before with dangly jewelry hanging from their ears in her eight years of life and had been fascinated each time. The way the gold or silver hangs from little holes in their ears, the way the gems or jewels would catch the suns light and make them sparkle, the beautiful or simple design of different peoples earrings. All of it just fascinated Seren.

For months, Seren has been green with envy at the sight of earrings. Seeing older women with beautiful and intricate gold wrapped around bright gems. Seeing men with silver rings going through their lobes or the cartilage. She’s even met some children with ear rings! And they’re all so pretty! Seren has been a fan of beautiful and shiny things her entire life, and the thought that she’s missing out on a facet of being shiny and pretty is devastating to her.

So, when Seren had dragged Gideon and Kremy over to a case of jewelry while in a shop a few days back, stars shining in her eyes as she points to a set of earrings, all Kremy could do was sigh and pull out his coin purse.

In the moment, Gideon had thought it was devastatingly adorable how excited Seren had gotten. She practically squealed as she tackle hugged Kremy’s legs while saying thank you a million times. Kremy’s gotten a lot better at letting Seren touch and hug him, seeing as he gives her a (still slightly awkward) hug back with a “Anything for you, doll.”

It was annoyingly cute how she took the earrings from the shop keep and held them like they were the most precious possessions Seren has ever owned. A set of silver earrings that dangle from small chains, a ruby wrapped in the center of the silver, shining brightly in the light. Seren held the box they came in out in her palms, staring at it almost the whole walk back to the inn.

But nothing about this situation is cute anymore, Gideon has decided.

The day before they decided to leave the town and head on to their next adventure- I.E. another con- Seren had come up to Gideon holding her new earrings and had asked the fated question.

“Would you pierce my ears and put these in for me?”

And so here they are, almost an hour after Seren had initially asked the question. She sits on a chair in their Inn room, her feet kicking impatiently as she almost glares up at Gideon. “It can’t be that hard!” She gripes, causing Gideon to scoff.

“Then why don’t you do it yourself if it ain’t that hard?” He asks, getting a loud groan from his daughter.

“‘Cause I can’t see in the mirror with my hands in the way! Uhg! This is taking forever!” She cries, kicking her feet harder before she falls limp in the chair, boneless. Gideon almost wants to throw a tantrum as well.

“Look, sweetheart, I’m sorry, alright?” He says instead, deciding to be the adult in this situation, “But.. Your ears are just.. They’re too small for me, alright? Maybe you just gotta grow some more.” Being the adult apparently means making up lame excuses because the thought of hurting his daughter makes him nauseous, Gideon thinks.

Gideon has never struggled with the idea of hurting something before. Sure, maybe he doesn’t want to hurt things sometimes, but he’s never felt physically sick because of it. His hands had never wavered before, never shaken before he delivered pain and agony to his target… But Gideons never had a daughter before. Gideons never had something that flipped his whole world upside down and then righted it again by calling him Papa. Gideons never tried to hurt something so precious to him before.

Instead of escalating her tantrum, Seren slumps further in her seat with defeat. Frustrated tears well in her eyes, bringing her hands up to wipe at them before they could begin to fall. “Okay…” She says, voice tight and devastated.

“Oh for gods sake!”

Gideon looks over to where Kremy had been sat and counting his coin at the table in the room. He watches as Kremy rises from his own chair, coin forgotten as he rubs a hand over his face and approaches Gideon and Seren.

“Gimmie that! You big god damn baby…” Kremy snaps as he snatches the needle from Gideons fingers. “Lemme show you how it’s done.”

At that, the complete devastation on Seren’s face wipes away immediately. She breaks into a smile, looking up at Kremy with unabashed excitement as she sits up in the chair again.

Gideon thinks he had been hiding his nerves well while he was the one holding the needle, but the moment it’s in Kremy’s hand, Gideons composure fully breaks.

“Hey, be careful, man.” He says quickly, fighting off the urge to grab the needle back and call off the whole thing. His face gives way to his nerves almost immediately, his eyebrows knitting together and a grimace working its way to his lips.

It’s not as if Gideon doesn’t trust Kremy. That’s not the case at all. Gideon would trust Kremy with his entire being and soul after how long they’ve been traveling and practically raising a kid together. He trusts Kremy more than he trusts himself. But just the thought of Seren being hurt-

“Hush.” Kremy says as he points a clawed finger at Gideon, cutting off his train of thought. All Gideon can do then is nod, lips pursing together. He trusts Kremy.. He trusts Kremy more than himself.

“Now. You know this is gonna hurt, right?” Kremy asks as he turns back to Seren, kneeling in front of her.

Seren, who had been warned by Gideon time and time and time again about how it will hurt, rolls her eyes at Kremy, some of her excitement washing away and quickly replaced by an annoyed worry that Kremy will be just as bad as Gideon. “Duh.” She says hotly, giving more of an attitude than she had meant in her annoyed state.

Kremy’s eyes squint as he points that same clawed finger at her, “Do. Not.” He says, his tone stern and no nonsense, “I’m sick of it. I’m sick of the whining and the attitude. I’m helpin’ ya out. Act like I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for ya.” Kremy admonishes her, his annoyance finally reaching its peak.

Seren immediately drops again, her eyes downcast and her shoulders slumped. “Sorry, Kremy.. Thank you for helping me out…” She says, her hands moving into her lap and fiddling with her fingers. Kremy sighs, finally falling to the other side of that peak.

“Gid, gimmie the earrings.” Kremy says, softening up his tone then.

Gideon can’t even really be annoyed at Kremy as he pulls the box out of his pocket. Gideon understands how overstimulated Kremy can get sometimes. Seren is a loud and excitable child and Gideon can be just as excitable if he isn’t careful. Kremy can’t always exactly help it when he snaps, just like Seren can’t help that she’s a child who hasn’t exactly learned to control her volume yet.

Gideon thinks about how far Kremy has come in little over a year with Seren. Kremy used to be unable to go ten minutes with Seren’s boisterous chatter when she was overly excited, and now Kremy went a whole hour of their annoying antics before he snapped. Gideon can’t be annoyed with Kremy after he’s made such strides in his progress.

Gideon places the earring box on the table and watches how Kremy turns back to Seren once more.

“Ser..” Kremy says, his tone softening up a even more, “Ser, look at me sweetie.”

Seren looks up again, hope in her eyes. Kremy reaches forward with his free hand and takes her earlobe in his fingers. The other hand with the needle comes into her view and her eyes snap towards it, now going wide. Her shoulders tense, her mouth parting slightly in worry-

“Look at me, doll, not the needle.” Kremy says, getting Seren’s eyes back on his face. “Say… I don’t really remember what those earrings looked like.” He says after a moment.

Seren’s eyebrows knit together. “How could you forget, Kremy? They’s the prettiest earrings ever. They’re silver and got- OW!” She yelps, almost jerking her head back, but Kremy’s steady and gentle hands keep her in place.

Gideon nearly leaps through the fucking ceiling. Her pained cry wrenches his heart and makes his skin crawl. Gideon is more than sure if it wasn’t Kremy doing this, he’d have killed the person making his daughter cry like that in an instant. Instead, his hands clench at his sides, jaw tightening as he watches the scene in front of him.

“Take a deep breath doll.” He says quickly, “They’re silver? What else do they look like?” Kremy goes on as he distracts her, moving quickly as he pulls said earring from the box before slipping it through the needle hole.

Tears pool in Seren’s eyes, her lip quivering, “Sil-Silver with-with red g-gems…” She goes on, fighting back her tears and trying to stay strong. Her eyes flick to the needle again as it goes for her second ear, but without prompting she quickly fixes her eyes back onto Kremy’s face. “They-They’re pre-pretty and, and dangly and- ow! Ow!” She again cries out, but softer this time, knowing to expect the pain and what it feels like. She again tries to get away from Kremy but his hands keep her steady once more.

“There. Just about done babydoll. You’re almost finished, okay? You’re doin’ great.” Kremy’s voice is sweet and kind, hands gentle as he slips the second earring into its hole. “And done! All done!”

Kremy rests a hand on the side of Seren’s face gently, his scales smooth and almost cold on her skin as she leans into the touch. He turns her head to the side a bit before turning it the other way, a smile breaking onto his face. “Now look at you! Now ya got real sparkles on ya, princess.”

Kremy takes his hand back and stuffs it into his suit jacket pocket before pulling out his compact mirror. He flips it open before turning it to Seren.

Seren’s eyes sparkle with unshed tears and wonderment as she looks at herself in the little mirror. She reaches out slightly shaky hands and takes it for a better look. She turns her head side to side, eyeing the way the earrings swish back and forth, enjoying the slight tickle on her face where they brush up against her when she moves. A few tears roll down her cheeks as she grins brighter than the sun.

“I look so pretty.” She says, kicking her feet lightly. “They tickle!” She goes on, turning her head side to side quickly, the earrings flopping haphazardly. Kremy can’t help but to laugh a bit, reaching forward and grabbing the top of her head to stop her.

“Don’t do that. They’ll fly out and you’ll lose em.” He warns her, making her eyes blow wide and reach up to touch the earrings to make sure they’re secure. Kremy drops his hand from the top of her head, wiping the tears from his face before he stands up.

“Welp. Was it worth it, kid?” Kremy asks, watching as she hops up out of her chair. She claps the compact mirror closed and holds it up to Kremy,

“Yeah! Really worth it! Thank you so much Kremy!” She says, wrapping herself around Kremy in a tight hug after he’d taken the mirror back.

Gideon watches as Kremy barely hesitates to hug her back this time. It’s almost immediately the way Kremy’s arm goes to wrap around her, even pulling her in closer as he does so. Seren fully leans into Kremy, a giant smile overtaking her expression.

A moment later however, Seren pulls back from Kremy before she runs off to the attached bathroom to their inn room to look at herself in the big mirror, another quick, “Thanks Krem!” before she disappears inside.

Kremy watches her go, a look of fondness overtaking him.

“Thanks, pal…” Gideon says, placing a hand on Kremy’s shoulder. From the side, he can see the way Kremy’s expression softens up just a bit more before his own hand moves to rest over Gideons.

“Don’t mention it, Gid.”

————————————

I say little story like this shit isn’t over 2000 words 😭

Also I didn’t beta read this or even put it in Grammarly so I apologize if it’s not written very well. I’m very tired and finished this 30 minutes before I gotta leave the house 😂😭

[hoffmanushka]

Pov: where Gideon was born after all, and all of Kramer's assistants are close friends.

Jill Kramer gave birth to a beautiful boy, just as John had imagined, for whom everything was always planned out on the shelves.

The baby was developing as expected for his age, and when John finally allowed him to come to them, Amanda and Hoffman were there almost immediately, but Gordon came only in the evening, because he was detained in the hospital, work was everything to him.

Mark:

Mark was always cruel to everyone, but the younger Kramer was different, he could even ride him in his arms, allowing him more than anyone else. In the baby, he saw his younger sister Angelina, whom he could not save, but he would do everything so that baby Gideon was alive and happy.

➖➖

Angelina was killed by her own boyfriend and as soon as Hoffman found out about it, he immediately rushed to the crime scene. The girl was dying in his arms, and while Mark was screaming in despair, he swore that he would avenge his sister and protect baby Gideon by all means, even if he had to give his life for the baby.

➖➖

While the baby was riding in Hoffman's arms, Amanda came and brought him toys created according to John's own designs.

Amanda:

The baby crawled up to the girl and climbed into her arms, contentedly clapping his hands and hugging Miss Young, carefully lifting his hands to the girl's face, kissing her with his little lips, after which the girl's face immediately turned red and the baby laughed again.

➖➖

The girl loved to hurt herself, and when she once again raised a knife to herself, baby Gideon crawled into the room.

-ow!)

The baby, who was crawling towards his beloved aunt, said contentedly. Seeing the baby, she immediately removed the blade and took the little one in her arms.

He stretched his paws to the girl's injured hand and immediately burst into tears when he saw the wounds on the girl, he was very scared for her.

She immediately hugged the boy to herself, and a pleasant heat passed through her body, because no one had ever worried about her like this little bundle of joy, born in a happy and strong marriage.

After that day, she, like Hoffman, swore that she would never let anyone hurt the younger Kramer.

➖➖

In the evening, Gordon and Jill arrived, John brought them both, because their hospitals were nearby.

Lawrence conducted another examination of John and, fortunately for the Kramer family, the man turned out to be operable and his operation will take place in the coming days, it will be performed by Gordon himself and Lynn Denlon.

A couple of weeks later, the operation was performed and Kramer was sent home, where everyone met him and had a nice family evening, surrounded by his closest friends.

All the difficulties are behind us and now we can enjoy a quiet and peaceful LIFE.

A cute sketch about my loved ones, but they are finally doing well.

Enjoy reading💕

[angeldcgs]

i wanna get some new things started so like this for a realistic smut starter from one of the muses below the cut!! and by "realistic smut" i mean stuff like finishing too soon, not being able to finish at all, getting the giggles mid-stroke, accidentally elbowing your partner in the ribs, etc.

griffyn aimes (j.acob e.lordi fc)- he/him, 26, pansexual, switch, baker

bobbie childs (c.ailee s.paeny fc)- she/her, 23, bisexual, submissive, diner waitress

fern caruso (k.rysten r.itter fc)- she/her, 40, queer, dominant, therapist/dominatrix (verse dependent)

rory gifford (d.ominic s.essa fc)- he/him, 21, bisexual, submissive, hacker

marnie babbitt (t.aylor r.ussell fc)- she/they, 27, queer, submissive, nomad/doppelganger

esme cortez (a.lexa d.emie fc)- she/her, 28, bisexual, switch, exotic dancer/nail tech

buffy bloom (m.ia g.oth fc)- she/her, 26, bisexual, switch (dominant preference), exotic dancer/adult film star

leon ebert (b.ill s.karsgard fc)- he/him, 31, heterosexual, switch, jazz pianist

charlie gomez (r.uby c.ruz fc)- they/them, 24, lesbian, submissive, movie theater concessions clerk/projectionist

ari olsson (a.lexander s.karsgard fc)- he/him, 44, heterosexual, submissive, ceo

fiona rousseau (j.az s.inclair fc)- she/her, 27, queer, switch, vampire hunter/bounty hunter (verse dependent)

gwen michalchuk (m.addie p.hillips fc)- she/her, 28, pansexual, switch, witch/super human mutant (clairvoyance, telepathy, compulsion, power absorption, conjuring/spell-casting abilities)

romy chung (l.ondon t.hor fc)- they/she, 28, lesbian, dominant, personal assistant

keanu zhao (d.erek l.uh fc)- he/him, 28, bisexual, dominant, trust fund brat

gael campbell (a.sa g.ermann fc)- he/him, 24, bisexual, submissive, amusement park employee/super human mutant (strength, necromancy, advanced healing)

dominic "nickie" hagen (b.ill s.karsgard fc)- he/him, 27, bisexual, submissive, thief

winifred "winnie" perkins (m.ia g.oth fc)- she/her, 26, bisexual (closeted), submissive, farmer's daughter

priscilla mosyakov (k.aia g.erber fc)- she/her, 22, bisexual, switch, fashion blogger/nepo baby

josefine "jo" obasi (a.yo e.debiri fc)- she/her, 26, bisexual, switch, television writer

frenchie horowitz (r.achel s.ennott fc)- she/her, 25, pansexual, switch, escort/podcast host

lemon doyle (n.iamh m.ccormack fc)- she/her, 22, bisexual, switch, fashion magazine intern

bronte ferguson (m.argaret q.ualley fc)- she/her, 27, queer, switch, cult leader

jonah darke (b.ill s.karsgard fc)- he/him, 25, heterosexual, dominant, guitarist/lead singer/grafitti artist

august "gus" mueller (j.eremy a.llen white fc)- he/him, 31, heterosexual, dominant, landscaper/painter

julian "jules" hicks (t.imothee c.halamet fc)- he/him, 25, bisexual, switch, bassist/record shop employee

juliette feng (h.avana r.ose l.iu fc)- she/her, 26, pansexual, submissive, costume designer

envy adams (m.ia g.oth fc, m.addie p.hillips alt)- she/her, 27, bisexual, switch, lead singer of the clash at demonhead

gideon graves (b.ill s.karsgard fc)- he/him, 33, heterosexual, dominant, ceo/inventor/music executive

scott pilgrim (j.oe k.eery fc)- he/him, 27, bisexual, submissive, bassist for sex bob-omb

roxie richter (r.uby c.ruz fc)- she/her, 25, lesbian, switch, artist

[mikegraves]

The Mighty Fall / Part 1

Mikegraves fic from Gideon's perspective exploring Mike's alcoholism and the Glow, inspired by The Mighty Fall by Fall Out Boy

CWs: toxic relationship on both sides, alcoholism, the Glow

it's getting clear, you're never coming clean so i'll lock you up inside and swallow, swallow the key...

“You think you’re sooooo cool, don’t you?” 

It’s times like this that you hate him. Giggling and snorting and spitting his annoying cruelty all over himself like the lowlife he is. 

“You think you’re all– c’mere baby and, and…” He trails off and snickers. “You’re so totally the lamest guy I’ve ever been with. And the richest!” He dissolves into dry, drunken giggles. You hate him.

Michael Loveless, a man with a name that’s all too fitting, is draped over your shoulders, getting his drool on your designer suit jacket. You’d move, but you know he’d make a huge bitchy deal about it, so you remain cramped on the couch, making sure he doesn’t choke on his own tongue.

(Even if it would serve him right.)

“You got anything in the fridge?” He asks, elbowing you. “I want Mike’s.” He stops and giggles. “Hehe. Mike wants Mike’s”

“You’ve had enough to drink.” You say.

“Fuck you, you’re not my dad.” He grumbles, trying to shove your face and missing. “Mike’s ain’t even a drink, ‘s just fruit water or whatever the fuck, jerk…”

“I don’t even have that.” You grab his hand and move it back down to his side. “It’s for broke college kids who can’t handle their alcohol.” You pause. “Like you.” Except for the college part, because you couldn’t even finish your degree, idiot. 

“Go fuck yourself, Gideon, for real.” He punches your shoulder. It doesn’t hurt, since he’s weak and drunk, but his bony little knuckles stay pressed into your flesh. “You suck. I should just go, like…” He trails off, and you can practically see his brain waves buffering.

“God, sit up.” You push him so he’s sitting next to you, albeit slumped and unhappy. “You’ve really got to learn your limits, Mike…” 

“Omigod, just die or something.” He groans. “Go date Ramona if you hate me so much…”

You thought you’d like him drunk, you really did. Drunk Mike in your head was ditzy, the type to embarrass himself, but in a cute way, a way that gave you the upper hand. 

Drunk Mike is not cute. Drunk Mike is mean and cruel and calls you names, but unlike Sober Mike, he’s serious. Drunk Mike is a handful and a half, a self-centered mess that says every stupid insult and threat that pops into his mind. Drunk Mike is everything wrong with your boyfriend dialed up to a hundred, and the worst part is that Drunk Mike only ever wants more.

If you were the type to worry, you’d be terrified for him. As it is, you’re furious.

You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t sign up to be the caretaker-slash-punching bag for an alcoholic manchild with anger issues. 

(And yes, maybe you’re a little mad that you can’t control him in this state. Maybe you hate being the object of anger rather than its director. At least you’re self-aware.)

“Don’t talk about Ramona,” You say, trying to keep your tone even. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Oh, yes I do.” He snickers, devoid of humor. “Ramooooona. You’re never gonna get over her, are you? Never gonna accept that she fuckin’ hates you!” He laughs again. “Stupid…”

You grit your teeth. He’s not sane right now. You’ll deal with him in the morning.

“Y’know, I bet she talks about you, too. I bet when she’s sleeping with her new boyfriends and girlfriends, she’s all– oh, you’re soooo much better than my ex, he was such a weirdo control freak!” Another mean snort. “And you totally deserve it, too. I bet you treated her way better than you treat me. Right? Cause you don’t even like me, right?”

He pokes and jabs at your shoulder. You feel your palm itch.

“You totally don’t give a fuck about me!” He laughs. “You think I’ll sleep with you just ‘cause you’re rich and you buy me drinks, and you’re right! You ass…”

It would be so easy. Just a little tap and he’d be infected with it. He’d be fixed. (But what if he turns out like Ramona?)

You don’t think he’s smart enough to harness the Glow, but he’s certainly got enough self-loathing for it. 

“I’m not even blackout, you cheapskate… next time you’re gonna buy me more!”

As much as you hate him, you don’t want to risk him getting away, too. You don’t want The Glow to push him away.

“God… no wonder Ramona left you.”

Time seems to stand still. Your hand is glowing before you even realize it.

“The fuck is…”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his question, because you press your hand against his forehead, sending Glow coursing through his body. His eyes flutter closed, and the energy dissipates, except for the pulsing halo of light around his head. 

Perfect.

The quiet hangs heavy in the air, Mike’s body still and peaceful. You run a hand through your hair. There’s no going back now.

If you were a little more illusioned, you might say that it’s for his own good, but it really isn’t. It’s for your own good. 

Now that you’ve got a path into his head, you could hypothetically fix him. You could erase his alcoholism completely. But you won’t.

You don’t want to fix him, you want to trap him in his problems. You want him to implode, you want him to beg you to pick up the pieces.

You pick him up and set him next to you in bed, clothes still on, the scent of sweet vermouth hanging in the air.

You lie there, wide awake, as his head slowly dims into darkness.

Emotional warfare.

[strawberryshortcake1495]

Some Little Dipper AU headcanons 🩷

(design is by @dontmixpaintinyourcoffee)

1: In the Inconveniencing, Mabel ends up getting genuinely pissed off when the teenagers make fun of Dipper for being a “baby”. Like, she knows he’s a sweet baby boy but the way they say it is way too condescending. She realizes she’s had enough. She goes off on everyone (except Wendy) before grabbing Dipper’s arm and telling him they’re leaving. Dipper refuses to leave and snaps, telling her she’s always doing this to him and that he’s not her baby brother anymore. He rips his arm away from her and lays down, summoning the ghosts. He ends up saving her in the end though, but he never apologizes. 

2: Pacifica is still 12 in this AU but she sees Mabel as her rival because of her beauty. Mabel just sees the kid as a sweet admirer and is always super friendly with her as if she were a celebrity and Pacifica was her #1 fan. Pacifica thinks her kindness is sarcastic and hates it. She learns to reciprocate it after NWMM, though. Mabel and Pacifica have kind of a big sister/little sister relationship. 

3: Instead of Mabel being obsessed with boys, boys are obsessed with her because she’s nice and pretty. Dipper has to deal with boys coming to the shack to flirt with his sister, and Stan eventually gets them out with The Broom. Gideon is one of these boys, but he’s still 10 here so all his romance attempts are just laughable. Mabel doesn’t take him seriously and that leads him to do drastic things to earn her love.

4: Dreamscapers is about Dipper, Soos, and Stan going into Mabel’s mind. That is where Dipper learns about Mabel’s childhood. From the day he was born all the way to now. He feels pretty guilty for praising her childhood “maturity”, now knowing she never asked to raise a baby at 3 years old. Stan also shows that he genuinely cares for Dipper in this episode by giving him a pep talk after he and Dipper see a not-so fun memory. When they’re back in the real world, Dipper begins to slowly slip back into his childhood habits, learning that if he wants to be mature, he should learn how to be himself first. That means accepting all the things that make him Dipper Pines, even the embarrassing ones. 

[askaniritual]

I don't know anything about the locked tomb, but if you feel up to giving enough context I would love to hear about how palamedes is Sollux.

tumblr should implement some kind of feature that cuts off my access to the app after ive had 2 drinks but! its the next morning and i still want to talk about this so let's go:

tamsyn muir, author of the locked tomb series, was what the kids call a BNF (or big name fan) in the homestuck fandom in the early 2010s, publishing fic under the ao3 username "urbanAnchorite (t_ZM)"

people with more historical knowledge of the fandom than myself have written extensively about the many similarities between the world presented in the locked tomb and muir's fic, particularly her novel length story The Serendipity Gospels, the plot and premise of which clearly inspired the second novel in the locked tomb series, Harrow the Ninth*

some other (noncomprehensive) similarities between the world of the locked tomb and homestuck include

the two main characters each have six letters in their first names, much like the trolls in homestuck

one of the main characters is a part of a cult that constantly wears black and white face paint (in the books it's a skull design instead of clown paint)

the all-powerful godking of the universe is named John

much of the plot of the second novel revolves around the existence of mysterious lovecraftian monsters with the power to destroy the universe

so. we have established that a) tamsyn muir was active in the homestuck fandom and that b) she brought elements of her homestuck fic into the locked tomb series. now, i understand that simply being inspired by lore does not mean that every character in the locked tomb series has a 1:1 homestuck character equivalent and that is true! ianthe for example bears some similarities to the way that gamzee is characterized in the serendipity gospels, but i wouldn't say that ianthe is supposed to be a gamzee equivalent.

however, now we will introduce paraTactician. paraTactician was another BNF in the homestuck fandom. we know that ms muir and paraTactician wrote fic together, and that paraTactician was especially focused on Sollux as a character. In the author's notes of The Last Hearing of Gamzee Makara, ms. muir says: "Due gratefulness to paraTactician, who is like Cheat Mode for what Sollux is thinking or doing at any given time". ms. muir also credits paraTactician in the dedication of gideon the ninth, the first book in the series.

palamedes sextus in the locked tomb is introduced as a nerdy, bookish guy who is an extremely smart, powerful necromancer who wears glasses and is said to have striking eyes. also, he's in love with a princess**. based on all this, i posit that his character in the locked tomb is based on the character of sollux captor.

the easiest argument to make against this is that palamedes' characterization in the locked tomb is fairly different from what i would call the popular sollux characterization in homestuck fic from that era. palamedes is kinder, less crude, less emotional overall, and more of an academic than a gamer. so this is the part where maybe i will start losing people because it definitely relies on a subjective reading of the text and trying to provide "evidence" for this would require doing a close reading of palamedes' characterization in the books as well as sollux's characterization in muir and paraTactician's total body of work.

however, i maintain that if you read their fic, you notice a characterization of sollux that trends in exactly that direction: more focus on intelligence, on absolute dedication to intellectual pursuits over physical being, on a kind of razor-edged wit that creates a sharp distinction between people who are smart enough to speak to him and people who aren't, and a kind of iron-clad belief in doing what's right. if this post wasn't already way way way too long i would talk about the pale solrezi of it all but we don't have time to get into all that.

so to conclude, palamedes is sollux in that he was inspired by the character of sollux captor from homestuck, however palamedes is also not sollux because he doesn't actually bear that many similarities to the character from the comic itself, but is instead heavily inspired by the version of sollux that ms muir and paraTactician wrote in the homestuck fanfiction they were publishing at the time.

also. read the vienna game it's very good.

-----

*this is not a criticism or a critique of either the book or the fic, its just like. an obvious fact and also im not implying that the locked tomb is Literally homestuck fanfiction, there is a significant amount of original worldbuilding in the serendipity gospels that in no way makes HtN a derivative work

**i guess princess-coded would be a more accurate description? she’s important within her house but not exactly royalty i guess

[silver138]

Perfectly Flawed - Chapter 23

word count - 1.9k warnings - one curse word Summary: Lina, Penelope, and Spencer uncover some things…

As Gideon and Elle head towards Hotch to fill him in on what we've learned, I rush back to the room Penny and I are in, eager to see what other information can be uncovered. I'm walking in and about to start searching for answers to the latest questions we have when I nearly run into Spencer, who says, "Lina! You're back! Hey, Garcia, she's right here!"

Entering the room, with Spencer right behind me, Penny spins in her chair to face me and says, "Ah! There's my right-hand woman. Lina, what did you find out while you were out?"

"Uh, h-hang on, Pen...Spence, did you want to read this real quick? I think I took some decent notes..." I say, handing him my notepad as I quickly start looking up any info I can find on these five people, starting with Roxanne Waters.

"Y-yeah...wow, these are pretty thorough..." I hear him mumble as I start pulling up what Ms. Waters has been up to since high school.

As Spencer brings Penny up to speed, I find that Roxanne's been bouncing from one thing to another, first with different majors in different colleges, never finishing more than a semester in any one program, to different jobs within the same company.

"How has she been able to stay with the same company, yet gone through so many different jobs?" I muse to myself, nodding when I see her father owns the company. "Hmm, makes sense..." I say, sighing.

"Uh, here's your notepad, Lina," Spencer says, setting it on my desk and pulling up a chair as Penny wheels over to see what I've come up with.

"Ah, checking out the resident Mean Girl, Class of '96?" Penny says, looking over at my screen.

I nod and hum in acknowledgment. "Mmm-hmm. Seems like she was kinda...flitting from one thing to another, never committing, until...I don't know, maybe her parents got fed up and just gave her a job? See? That's her dad's modeling company," pointing at her workplace files. "But she's still going from one thing to another, an assistant to everyone from the CEO to the various managers..."

I bite my lip, and Penny asks, "What were the jobs of the first two victims?"

As I pull it up on my screen, Spencer quickly reads, "Ashley Naldi is a journalist, and Jennifer Wilcox is a fashion designer."

"Looks like Ms. Naldi works at Vogue, and Ms. Wilcox just had some of her work featured in the October issue," I say, scrolling through the information, stopping when I see something that could be damning.

"Says here the models were from the Waters' agency, it's possible Ms. Waters was there during that shoot..." I say, cross-referencing between different windows, trying to see if any of the dates line up.

"Found something! October 11th through 15th, some receipts indicating Ms. Waters stayed at a hotel in the same city where the photo shoot was taking place!" Penny says, turning from her computer to look at us.

I hum and say, "Yeah, but the shoot was for 2 weeks, she left after one? Did different models come in?" I continue scrolling through receipts and plane tickets, following the trail. "No, it's looking like she was the only one to leave, and someone else from the company came in to finish the shoot in her place..." I reveal.

"Do you think something happened to make her leave or need to be replaced?" Spencer asks, looking over from my screen to Penelope's.

"Not sure, but that's something else to add to the list of questions..." Penny says, tapping on her keyboard. 

"Do we know what hotel Ms. Waters is in while she's here?" Spencer asks, and I quickly pull it up.

"Yup, seems she's staying at the same place the reunion's being held, the Ritz-Carlton," I tell him, starting to check on where Sabrina Sadler and Lucas Davies are lodging as well.

"You checking the areas for the profile there, Reid?" Penny asks, turning in her chair to look at him.

He hums and starts, "Mmm-hmm. Hey, Lina, where are Sabrina Sadler and Lucas-"

  "-Davies staying? Already got it. Ms. Sadler is at The Georgetown House, and Mr. Davies is at the Sonder Georgetown C&O." I cut in, getting a smile from him when I turn to face him. I blush and shrug, saying, "I...kinda figured it'd be prudent to look up where they were staying too, just in case."

He continues grinning at me for a moment, then goes back to the map he has spread out on a spare table, marking all the relevant spots. His mouth bunches up to one side, deep in thought.

"What are you thinkin', Doc?" I ask him, turning around in my chair to face him.

"The crime scenes aren't that far from each other, so the unsub is probably somewhere in the 1 to 5-mile radius. It's more likely they're closer rather than farther away..." he says, tracing over the map with his fingertips and frowning slightly.

"That's good, right? Less area to cover to find the unsub?" I ask.

"In theory, yes. But this part of the city is so densely packed with people, it'll be near-impossible to keep people away to properly comb the area to find him..." he says.

"But, they're still gonna send people to patrol it, right?" I ask, standing up to look over at the map.

"Well, probably for at least a little while, if only as a precaution so there aren't any more attacks," Spencer says, sighing and sitting down in a nearby chair.

Penny looks over at us and says, "Hey, why don't you two go get some coffee, maybe grab something from the vending machine, and I'll tell Hotch and the others what we've found,"

I look over at Spencer, then back at Penny, and ask, "Um, are you sure? Shou-shouldn't we stay here, try to find anything else?"

She gives me a smile that's more of a grimace and says, "Well, for the time being, we're kind of...on pause. Until something happens, or someone decides to offer any more information, we're kind of on standby."

Spencer looks over at me and shrugs, then turns to Penny and says, "Alright. We'll be back. Thanks, Garcia."

Smile growing wider and more playful, she says, "Well, if you really want to thank me, you can grab me a pack of Skittles from the vending machine," and hands him some change for the machine.

I grin and grab some money as well, and say, "Yeah, that's doable. Be back in a bit, Pen."

  Following Spencer out of the room, we make a stop to grab some coffee, then head to the vending machine. Spencer gets Penny her Skittles, and I spot a pack of Twix and swiftly punch in the code for it. After I retrieve and open it, I ask, "Hey Doc, want one?" holding the package out in offering.

He gives me a small smile as he deftly snags one of the bars, giving me a quiet, "Thank you," as we head back.

  I grin and say, "No problem, Doc." taking a bite from my bar.

After we head back to Penny, Spencer hands her the Skittles, which she gleefully takes, ripping the bag open. "Have I ever told you that you're my favorite doctor, Reid?" I give Penny an amused look, raising my eyebrows. She gasps and says, "Ohmigosh, that's right! There are two of you now! Sorry, Lina!"

"It's ok, Penny. Just means I gotta work harder," I say with a small laugh.

"Well, far be it from me to try to deter you from that..." Penny says, grinning.

Hotch then comes in, giving a quick, hard rap on the door, and says, "Reid, Garcia," He takes a small pause, then adds, "Aschebrooke. You all can head home, but safe to say we'll be coming back in tomorrow. Rest up, we're going to need to bring our A-game to find this unsub before he does more damage."

"Will do, Sir," Penny says, as she starts putting the computers on standby for the night.

Grabbing my purse again, I help Penny with the computers, as Spencer leaves the room with Hotch. After everything is set for the night, Penny and I make our way to the elevators, and on the way there, I see Hotch talking to Spencer, a hand on his shoulder. Spencer nods and gives him a tight smile, then walks towards the elevators, satchel slung across his body.

We take the elevator down and, waving to Penny as we leave, Spencer and I start walking to the station. As we walk I ask him, "You ok, Doc?"

"What do you mean?" he responds, hands in his pockets. 

"Dunno, guess I'm just...checking in? I don't know about you, but I'm going to try my best to get those crime scenes out of my head so I can sleep tonight." I say quietly.

His demeanor softens, and he takes his hands out of his pockets and runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, it's...quite a lot at first. Sorry to say it, but you tend to get used to it after a while."

"Well, I know I'm new to this, but, if you need to talk about anything, or just...need to get your mind on lighter topics, you can text or call me," I tell him, smiling gently at him.

A small smile emerges on his face, and he says, "Thank you but, shouldn't I be saying that to you?"

I shrug and say, "I suppose, but that's...just...kind of what I do," 

"On a different note, you're going to be able to sleep in your own bed tonight instead of in a hotel, so that's gotta be a nice change, right, Doc?" I say, which causes Spencer to give a small chuckle.

"Yeah, that is going to be nice, I've got to admit!" he says, grinning.

Reaching the station, we go to sit on the bench to wait, but the Metro pulls up, and instead, we board and sit down. Letting out a small breath, I gently rub at my temples and stretch my neck to loosen my muscles, then turn to look at Spencer.

"So, your usual tomorrow?" he asks me. I nod and go to tell him he doesn't have to, but he stops me and says, "I've gone a week without a coffee buddy, I'll gladly get yours, too. And some decent coffee, at that."

I flash him a smile and say, "Thanks, Doc. No one else would drink coffee with you?"

He sighs, shaking his head and saying, "Not really. Not after the first cup, at least."

I snort and say, "Ah, well, there is that..."

Riding in silence, I see my stop coming up, and, signaling for the Metro to halt, I give Spencer a small wave and tell him, "I'll see you tomorrow, Doc."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Lina," he says, returning the wave with a small smile as I head off the vehicle and start on my way home.

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