#i. somebody you cherished / dyn.
import requests
requests = requests.get(“https://api.open-notify.org/WILL-GRAHAM-files”)
print(response.status_code)
ACCESSING... — welcome to avengers campus, isn’t it nice to be back, WILL GRAHAM ? it’s been so long since i’ve seen you being a typical FOURTY year old FORENSIC PSYCHOLOGY PROFESSOR, the image of HUGH DANCY against the retroreflective panels of headquarter buildings. feels like forever since i’ve seen you hanging around THE LIBRARY. i don’t blame you, though; it fits your vibes perfectly given everyone associates you with THE GOLDEN GLOW OF A PENDULUM IN SWING, WAVES CRASHING AGAINST A SHORELINE, & BLOOD LOOKING BLACK IN THE MOONLIGHT makes sense too: considering you’re known for being + INTUITIVE & + STEADFAST, even when you can be quite - BRUTAL & - VENGEFUL, too.
tws: genre-typical violence, gore / explicit depictions of body horror, murder, death
PROCEED ?
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uploading data … ⟳ 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙴 !
* ; ─ the mirrors surrounding you did as they were meant to, reflecting back a spitting image of HUGH DANCY - but it’s clear something is wrong from the moment that a vision of FALLING OFF THE CLIFF strikes you. perhaps it was a passing daydream in the frenzy of the funhouse. you reassure yourself - you’re WILLIAM “WILL” GRAHAM, a FOURTY YEAR OLD FORENSIC PSYCHOLOGY PROFESSOR whose virtue lies in your + INTELLIGENCE & + INTUITION, although you’ve been told that you tend to be quite - VENGEFUL & - RUTHLESS, and you’re associated with GOLDEN PENDULUMS, WAVES CRASHING, MOONLIT CRIMSON by those around you. suddenly, however, you’ve found YOUR RED FISHING LURE on your person - was that always there? from the moment you leave the funhouse, memories from your life in HANNIBAL have begun to return - leaving whoever you had been before in the mirror’s reflection behind you. you can almost hear BLOODSTREAM by STATELESS following in your wake. ( he/him & demi male )
tws: blood, abandonment, murder, death
ALUCARD ---- much of his childhood was the same, except no longer did he live in louisiana in his memories. he lived in alucard for his whole life as he recalls, even going onto take over his childhood home. he used to be a cop for the force but became a professor teaching forensic psychology after a case gone wrong. he continues to help them out though, working as a consultant on difficult to solve cases. he’s still fully aware of his empathy disorder and tries to remain distant, keeping a mental shield, in order to avoid seeing too much.
THINGS TO NOTE ----
will is demi male, his pronouns are he / him.
will is bisexual.
wanted connection ? click the source !
CANON ---- born in the poorest parts of louisiana, his father worked fixing boats, and his mother had left before she had curated any stable enough memories for him to grasp. he followed his father from place to place in louisiana before eventually moving to new orleans. in new orleans, he became a homicide detective for the police force, but he couldn’t pull the trigger. he left new orleans to attend george washington university in forensic science and became a professor at the fbi academy. will has an empathy disorder, allowing him to empathise with anyone. burdened with too many mirror neurons and an extreme imagination ; through an exploration of the evidence as well as his empathic nature, this allows him to mentally place himself in the positions of serial killers. he was brought in by special agent jack crawford to hunt down a serial killer and met a well - known consulting psychologist, hannibal lecter. will goes to therapy with hannibal to ensure he has someone to pull him back from the dark places he’s thrust into, but what starts as something akin to friendship turns into acts of betrayal, murder, sacrifice and protection as both of them begin to manipulate each other. down the rabbit hole they both go, them both changing each other with will finding righteousness, justice, in wrath ; in doing bad things to bad people. eventually, it all comes to head when will and hannibal kill serial killer, francis dolarhyde, together. not in horror of the act, but in horror of the enjoyment of the action – will pulls them both off a cliff.
TAG DIRECTORY ----
i. alone in that darkness / abt. about.
i. this is my design / beg. starters.
i. if you can’t beat god / vis. visuals.
i. like somebody else / ism. musings.
i. this is my becoming / int. interactions.
i. then i felt powerful / aes. aesthetics.
i. scales have fallen away / sol. solos.
i. use a good scream / ask. ask responses.
i. what’s important in my life / dyn. alucard family values.
i. somebody you cherished / dyn. will graham & schrodinger’s daughter, abigail hobbs.
i. you and i have begun to blur / dyn. the conscious loss of one’s self for another, will graham & hannibal lecter.
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uploading data … ⟳ 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙴 !
* ; — welcome , WILL GRAHAM . a long way from hannibal ( series ) , huh ? hm … a thirty - nine year old forensic psychology professor who looks like HUGH DANCY — could be worse . i heard you were at THE LIGHTHOUSE when we un - glitched , & you ( had a mental breakdown ] . still the intelligent & ruthless type , that’s why [ golden glow of a pendulum’s swing , waves crashing against a shoreline , & blood looking black in the moonlight ]’s totally your vibe . the memory of FALLING OFF THE CLIFF WITH HANNIBAL is hazy , but maybe the ( foldable pocket knife & red feathered lure ) waiting for you at the pawn shop’ll bring clarity . + human , demi male [ he/him ] , bisexual .
tws : blood , abandonment , murder , death
BEGINNING — born william “ will ” graham in louisiana , poor . his father worked fixing boats , and his mother had left before she had curated any stable enough memories for him to grasp . he followed his father from place to place in louisiana before eventually moving to new orleans . in new orleans , he became a homicide detective for the police force , but he couldn't pull the trigger . he left new orleans to attend george washington university in forensic science and became a professor at the fbi academy . will has an empathy disorder , allowing him to empathise with anyone . burdened with too many mirror neurons and an extreme imagination ; through an exploration of the evidence as well as his empathic nature , this allows him to mentally place himself in the positions of serial killers . he was brought in by special agent jack crawford to hunt down a serial killer and met a well - known consulting psychologist , hannibal lecter . will goes to therapy with hannibal to ensure he has someone to pull him back from the dark places he’s thrust into , but what starts as something akin to friendship turns into acts of betrayal , murder , sacrifice and protection as both of them begin to manipulate each other . down the rabbit hole they both go , them both changing each other with will finding righteousness , justice , in wrath ; in doing bad things to bad people . eventually , it all comes to head when will and hannibal kill serial killer , francis dolarhyde , together . not in horror of the act , but in horror of the enjoyment of the action -- will pulls them both off a cliff .
MIDDLE — still , born william “ will ” graham . much of his childhood was the same , except no longer did he live in louisiana in his memories . he lived in the cloud for his whole life as he recalls . he became a professor at whitmore college , teaching forensic psychology . he's still fully aware of his empathy disorder and tries to remain distant , keeping a mental shield , in order to avoid seeing too much .
END — will doesn’t have any explicit memories . frankly , he’s trying to go through his life as per normal . the mental breakdown resulted from an influx of horrific images ( memories ) at the time . he had gotten memories of totem poles made out of people ; of men becoming cellos ; of a girl sobbing , bleeding from a cut carotid , as he shot a man dead . he doesn’t have the rest of his memories drawn out for him . he does have dreams about a kitchen bathed in blood , though ; himself , coated crimson , pouring , spilling . the sounds of waves crashing , crashing louder , in his ears . copper on his tongue as blood floods floor boards , but nothing substantial enough -- as if someone ripped up the floor boards and replaced the tile . steady hands holding his , holding a knife to his gut , taking a gun from him , a hand cupping his face . a man in a pristine suit , betrayal lined in his features . a man he betrayed , a man he changed . a man whose heart he took in his hands and squeezed , whose heart he broke , thinks about hurting and hurting . a freefall , no parachute . things blurring together , a different man with a stern voice , a dark - haired woman and pitying looks . a girl he couldn't save , and the ache of a parent who lost a child . eye contact . tastelessness .
SCRIBBLED IN THE MARGIN —
DESPERATE TO CONNECT ,
child(ren) ; whether adopted or ‘ biological ’ , i would love to have will adopt someone(s) ! it'd be cool to have a pretty big family , but will could also have an only child ! i just really want will to have the opportunity to be paternal .
hookup ; ( m/f/nb ) , someone he's hooked up with , mayhaps ? can either be a new thing , a past thing , a casual thing , or maybe one is starting to get some feelings . whether or not there’ emotions in it or just physical , maybe a hookup .
exes ; ( m/f/nb ) , whether it was amicable or bad , a relationship that could have been dating or something stronger in ties ... a marriage ? whether they just couldn't connect or another painful reason . ( i won't accept a cheating plot for this though ! ]
friends ; you don't stop having friends even as an adult ! give this poor man some friends , maybe people he went to school with and kept in touch with ? someone he knew from his childhood ? a neighbour who became a friend ?
co - workers ; people who work at the college with him , it’d be nice to have someone he can get along with while he’s not grading papers . whether it be a co - worker he’s close to or otherwise just met , any co - workers would be cool .
TAG DIRECTORY ,
i. alone in that darkness / abt. about .
i. this is my design / beg. starters .
i. if you can’t beat god / vis. visuals .
i. like somebody else / ism. musings .
i. this is my becoming / int. interactions .
i. then i felt powerful / aes. aesthetics .
i. scales have fallen away / sol. solos .
i. use a good scream / ask. ask responses .
i. what’s important in my life / dyn. family values .
i. somebody you cherished / dyn. will graham & schrodinger’s daughter , abigail hobbs .
i. you and i have begun to blur / dyn. the conscious loss of one’s self for another , will graham & hannibal lecter .
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“ it's not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living . ”
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“ it's not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living. ”
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A Friend
part four
pairing: the Mandalorian (Dyn Jarren) x reader
notes: ty again for the love you guys give this fic! <3
part one | part two | part three
The smooth surface of his helmet reflects the stars in the sky, casting him in an almost ethereal like glow that makes him look oh so heavenly. She had found the Mandalorian out in the small patch of grass that had somehow managed to stay alive despite the harsh conditions that the planet braved. And she joined him, silently lying beside him and fixing her gaze upon the night before her.
The rest of his beskar armor was hidden away inside, polished and cleaned and ready for when it was time to move on. And selfishly enough, she hoped he’d never have to wear it again.
The night air was cool, the wind calm, and the skies quiet. It was peaceful, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever done something like this. She was peaceful, eyes shut and chest rising and falling with each breath she took. Beautiful and kind and warm. But he couldn’t have her, he refused to indulge in his feelings. A woman like her deserved a man better than him, a man with clean hands and a clean slate. A man who could settle down and provide, who could hold her and kiss her and give her everything she ever wanted. This was something the Mando could not do. And so he settled with watching her from afar, enjoying her presence and her company.
“Can I know your name?” She murmurs, one eye peeking open at him.
“Do you really want to know?” He asks sincerely. He knew all about her code, about her law of detachment. Perhaps being on first name basis with him wasn’t such a good idea.
“Yes,” is y/n’s quiet reply.
“Dyn,” the man utters, not once casting his gaze towards her as he speaks, “Dyn Jarren.”
“Dyn,” y/n replies, testing it out for herself. His own name is foreign to him on her tongue yet so intimate all at once. He’d bestowed upon her a privilege not given to just anybody, and if he didn’t know before he knew now that she wasn’t just anybody. She was somebody. His person.
“You’re leaving tomorrow,” y/n states. “I saw the bags.”
“Yes.”
“For good this time?”
“I can’t stay here for too long. They’ll find the kid... they’ll find you.”
“Am I in danger?”
“Only when you’re with me.”
It’s quiet then. Pondering, calculating, thoughtful. She pictures a life with the man behind the mask; a fuzzy image of him in her mind as it scrambles to create a face for her Dyn. A life of serenity, of peace, of home cooked meals and warm beds and more children scurrying around the house. They’re happy together, and she loves him so much it hurts. It will always hurt.
And he sees her in his own mind; belly round and ring on her left finger glinting underneath the suns of a peaceful planet. He sees her holding him, sees her caring hands bandaging his wounds, hears her soft voice singing to the children that sit around her and their newest sibling in the rocking chair. He sees fire and destruction, old ghosts with a vengeance. She dances with the flames, and with a cloud of smoke she’s gone forever.
“This is the way,” he utters, fists balled tightly at his sides. The helmet feels heavier now and it’s hard to breathe. Dyn rises quickly from his spot on the ground, startling the poor woman beside him. Before she can even ask he’s marching quickly inside, running away from his emotions.
~~~
Her generator had died on her a few weeks ago, and the last candle in the house was currently being utilized by the youngling peacefully sleeping in his room. Y/N refused to have him in the dark, for she knew first hand just how terrifying it could truly be. Thus there she went, bumbling into the pitch black kitchen and grasping for anything that felt like the bottle of blue milk she’d made earlier.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Dyn says, startling her so bad she trips over one of the baby’s toys. He’s fast acting, hands gripping at her waist and steadying y/n on her feet. He can’t see her face in the dark, but he can hear her heavy breathing, can feel the way her fingers dig into his biceps as she clutches onto him for dear life.
She’s so dizzy having him so close, hardly able to breathe at the feeling of his bare fingers gripping at her hips. His arms are strong, warm underneath her fingertips. Oh, and what she wouldn’t give to melt into his embrace and have him hold her in the dark of her kitchen. Safe, close, real, human. To love the man underneath the armor, to have and to hold and to cherish for eternity.
Carefully, gingerly her trembling hands reach up to feel for his face, and her palms are met with the warm, soft skin of his cheeks. She can’t see him, but she can feel him. So close and personal. Dyn holds his breath, stiff and careful and thankful to the maker for her lack of candles. No one had touched him so intimately in years, been so close, so gente, so loving. His eyes slip shut and his own hands gently clasp around her wrists, keeping her near and secure.
“I love you,” she breathes, the softest of whispers to ever grace his ears. And Dyn smiles for the first time in ages, corners of his eyes crinkling.
And y/n means it, truly. Even though the amount of time they’ve spent together barely equates to a measly week. She’s never felt such strong emotions for anyone before, and oh how tragic it is to be in love with a Mandalorian.
Dyn is selfish for once in his life, and with gentle hands he cups her face and guides her lips towards his own until they’re met in a kiss. It isn’t passion filled or lustful, but instead soft and full of longing, full of want and need and love.
She loves him, and he’s starting to realize that he loves her too.
tags: @go-commander-kim @personofsinterest @otherthingsinhead @sweetgoodangel @world-dominating-kitty @yagirlmexic @bluegreyme @loveharrington @maryan028 @eldritch-eggplant
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