#lacetrimdanger

[consumare]

DANNY JOHNSON: BLOOD. RECEIVER CLEANS BLOOD OFF OF SENDER. it is a sight to see, that much hannibal lecter could not deny. the amount of blood on his hands, his neck, his clothes. curious, that danny has shown up on his doorstep - hannibal had never given him his address, never hosted him before, which meant he may have been following hannibal, or at least doing his own research about the doctor. in any case, hannibal isn't concerned with how danny ended up here, or why he had chosen doctor lecter to come to ( after their sessions together, hannibal most certainly understands the latter ). he brings the younger man into his home with a calm demeanor, glancing out from his doorstep - assuring that danny hadn't been followed - before closing the door and taking danny to the washroom on the lower level. 'what have you done?' it isn't accusatory. rather, it's intrigued, a gleam settled in his eye as he runs the hot water and begins washing the younger's hands for him. red runs through the stream, turning it pink in the basin below it. 'the truth, please. i will be able to tell if you are lying,' @lacetrimdanger.

[crisispider]

"be honest... do you hate me?" it was one thing to be fine with an open relationship in theory, but now that clint has someone else's claw marks down his back, he had to check how it was working in practice. even if he was TERRIFIED of the response.

Honesty Meme - Accepting - @lacetrimdanger

"No, of course not." his words were only slightly muffled by the bite of pizza he had been attempting to inhale. Peter was honestly a little confused by the question and it took him a second to figure out why Clint would even want to ask that in the first place, but then it clicked. He had vaguely remember seeing the claw marks that weren't his on Clint's back, but he honestly had thought nothing of them outside of vague curiosity.

"Do you want the last slice?"

[ncmither]

i am VERY new here but what's hooked me so far, readin up on ur blog, is how much obvious passion, care, and thought you've put into david. you've clearly made him your own while also being considerate for, and expanding on, canon. i'll be sticking around 'cuz your david seems FUN and witty while also realistic and heavy in the ways i think he should be, personally. and ofc bc i need more dbd rp in my life c:

What drew you to my blog initially, and what, so far, has made you stay?

This made me smile! I'm notorious for wanting to write characters who are so vastly different from me personally. I'm so happy to know that my passion and love for the character can clearly be seen. While I call him canon divergent, I only mean that I want to add onto the very small amount that we do have on him. So, yes. Very happy it comes out how much I love the character! And yes. All the DBD RP is need. The Entity, she must consume! :D

[consumare]

there was a known list of processions that psychopaths tended to gravitate towards. number five was surgeon, which hannibal had been for some time before becoming a therapist ( which was number three on the list of careers that psychopaths tended to avoid ). number 6 was journalist. vlado taneski killed 4 people and wrote about his own crimes in freelance articles. upon their initial meeting, jed had been forthcoming with his basic information, including the career he had been pursuing. it seemed he had quite the passion for his journalism, and hannibal had expressed that it was good to have a healthy love for your job. jed didn't seem to have a healthy love for anything, he seemed to put everything into the things he enjoyed, and this wasn't any different.

an obsession had surfaced, in hannibal's opinion, jed following these ghostface murders rather closely. close enough to make doctor lecter question how close he actually was to them. 'you snuck into a crime scene,' it's not a question, but a confirmation. he doesn't know if jed was waiting for him to be impressed, but that isn't the emotion that's portrayed on his features. instead, calmness still resides there, a nonchalance as jed continues to ramble about what he had seen. if he had gotten in there that easily, hannibal was sure freddie lounds wouldn't be far behind, which meant there would be crime scene photos on tattlecrime . com before the night was over.

'and what will you do with this information, now that you have it?' hannibal questions with genuine curiosity. 'from what you've said, you'd like to share these details with the public, through your writing. however, once the authorities know that you've somehow come to procure these details, they may tighten their ranks, so to speak. they will make sure that no one is able to see the next crime scene,' because there will be a next crime scene. head tilts a bit to emphasize his curiosity. 'i do not mean to derail your enthusiasm, jed. i only mean to push you to consider your next steps,'

"oh, uh—!! sorry. this goes back to what we talked about too, controlling the impulses, i do remember, i'm sorry." his apologies are genuine, even if there's a trace of confusion in his voice, a pang of hurt from having his enthusiasm scolded. "it's just— there was another killing, so... i was on the scene. and i was thinking about how i can get people to really understand it, right?" stepping back into stride with his excitement now, he's animated, his cadence and the pacing of his words erratic. in contrast to his articles, which are written precisely and with purpose, this is jarring.

eye contact is forgotten and he's pacing the office, mentally steeling himself. this has to be just right, the perfect amount of honesty and vulnerability. "w - well, if they're going to feel it, i have to feel it first. and how could i feel it PROPERLY? it's not with other people around, doctor lecter, with all their noise, their busyness. and the way they can barely LOOK at what's happened? no, i needed to be there alone."

he swallows thickly, stilling with anticipation. "i've been around these cops enough, y'know, i know their patterns. i was thinking about it, just running the hypotheticals of what would and wouldn't work, and it was getting away from me, i started to PLAN and i didn't even realize it, and then i was there. i'd gotten in somehow and i know i shouldn't have, but..."

eyes dart to hannibal's, a thrill running through him, flush with giddiness. THIS is what he wants to share with him. "i was there in the dead of night, moonlight through those shitty blinds. the air itself was practically shrieking with what it had seen. and i was looking at the blood— he painted the GHOSTFACE on the walls with her blood, doctor lecter... they don't tell you that you can taste the copper on the air when the kill's that fresh."

[consumare]

WILL GRAHAM: REST. ONE MUSE RESTS THEIR HEAD ON THE OTHER'S SHOULDER. hannibal liked to keep an eye on will. the diagnosis he knew nothing about got worse by the day, he believed himself to be going insane. hannibal liked to be there to see it but, more than that, he'd like will to believe he was there to support him. perhaps he was. the lines between them blurred very often, and even as put together and level headed as hannibal was, he'd never experienced a dynamic quite like theirs, before ; he's never met someone so much like him. he'd opted to cook will dinner at his house in wolf trap. will didn't seem as if he wanted to be away from his home and his dogs, and hannibal didn't want to argue it. he'd brought all the ingredients, and took over will's kitchen without asking. he'd barely noticed the other man round the island at all, not until he leaned over and leaned a forehead against hannibal's shoulder. glancing down, he can feel the sweat of will's fever through the fabric of his shoulder. hands slow against the meal prep. 'is your head bothering you, will?' he doesn't need to ask, but the seemingly concerned words leave him, anyway. hands stop altogether in favor of slowly turning. one hand lands on the back of will's neck, the other separating will from his shoulder and pressing against his clammy forehead. 'you have a fever. sit down - i'll fetch some water,' @lacetrimdanger.

[crisispider]

"clint, why are you in the koi pond?!" is he talking to himself? yes. yes, he is. - from breathetender (my blogs not done gettin set up yet c': )

New Girl Meme - ACCEPTING!!! - @lacetrimdanger

"Well baby boy, you decided you wanted to take on half the bar in a fight." He wasn't entirely sure what the fight had been about, he had barely managed to catch the tail end of it. "How you feeling? Think you can get up?"

Peter stepped up onto the ledge of the koi pond, bending down enough to offer out a hand to Clint, hoping to get him out of the water before he angers the poor fish too much. "What have I told you about having fun without me?"

[consumare]

it's good that will was beginning to trust hannibal. it made things much easier for the doctor, as well as his plans for the special agent. will, of course, had some reluctance toward hannibal when they first met, but he didn't understand that hannibal wanted to be his friend, then. god forbid we become friendly, he'd said, only the second time they'd seen each other, when hannibal brought will breakfast and watched him eat homemade sasuage with sparkling eyes. truth be told, hannibal had not experienced such feelings as he has for will. more than intrigue, more than a morbid curiosity - these things, hannibal has all the time, which is why most of his actions stem from him simply wanting to see what would happen. he supposed that's part of it, too, but this time, it's deeper. he had an understanding of what will was underneath, what he could be - will couldn't quite see it yet, but that's why hannibal decided he needed to help.

'if you are concerned with me contracting what you may have, there is no need to be,' not only did hannibal know what was afflicting will ( knew that it couldn't be passed on ), he also had an excellent immune system ; of course the man rarely got sick. he had trained his body well, over the years, in many ways. doctor lecter retrieves a cool glass of water and a few tablets of ibuprofen, despite knowing it would not help with the inflamation in will's brain. faux concern washes over his features, placing the medication and drink on the counter before taking will's chin in his eyes. he excamines the other man's features closely, their faces inches apart. 'not to discard your self diagnosis, will, but i highly doubt that you will feel any better in a moment than you do now,' fingers linger for a moment before he hands will the ibuprofen, holding up the water to his lips. 'perhaps i should help you to bed. i can bring you your dinner there,'

when the floor begins to move under him and the world twists on its axis, it's easy to let his head rest against hannibal. it briefly occurs to him an apology might be appropriate but in the next instant, he's decided even considering it is too much effort. he can trust hannibal won't hold this against him— the display of vulnerability and the sweat spot on his shoulder. for a moment, will is content to stay there with his friend's cool hands serving as a balm to his discomfort. he thinks, arguably, he's SAFER there, where hannibal can help him lest anything happens rather than sat and left to the mercy of his own body and mind. its taken long enough to let himself feel that safety. he'd like to relax into it more.

for a split second, he does, allowing the weight of himself to rest into hannibal's hands. but then he drags over a stool from the island, his gaze flicking around his once-familiar home with disorientation as he does. "ibuprofen isn't cutting it any more," his voice is quiet. seeming much smaller than usual, he sits, steadying himself with a hand on the counter. lashes flutter in an attempt to bring the world into focus. "i guess we'll see if whatever i've got," the hallucinations, the deep sense of dread, and whatever kind of COLD he's got now, to top it all off, "is eager to spread..." the last thing he needs is to feel responsible for the doctor falling ill too. "i'll be fine in a minute." it's unclear whether he's trying to convince himself or hannibal. shaky free hand is run over his face as his eyes squeeze shut stubbornly.

[consumare]

hannibal searched and scoured and found no one by the name of jed olsen living in batlimore, maryland. no records of anyone the same age as his patient, no one that looked like him, either. doctor lecter could have told you from their first meeting that jed was hiding something. unsure of what ( he was not a mindreader ; simply just an expert at reading people ), but he'd begun trying to dig into the other man's past and present to figure out who, exactly, he was. the doctor didn't particularly enjoy being lied to, but his disdain on the matter was kept private. jed would open up to him, eventually. and if he didn't, than hannibal would rip him open and see what was inside of jed for himself.

barging into his office was very rude. clients have done it before, and hannibal has turned them back out to stand in the waiting room for being ill mannered, like a child being sent to the corner. glancing up from what he had been working on, lightly taken aback by the younger man's entrance, he inspects jed's demeanor - catches the light and the darkness and the exuberance, as if he needed to get something off of his chest, right here, right now - and hannibal stands to greet him.

'i believe last session we agreed on the importance of knocking,' it sounds like a stern jest, hannibal allowing jed to enter and take whichever seat he'd like. or if he'd prefer to stand, in his exhilarated state. hannibal walks to the door jed had burst through, closing it by much gentler and more polite means, before straightening his vest and turning back to his client. the tides are about to turn. hannibal can feel it. perhaps the truth would finally escape jed ; or truths. there was certainly more than one. he returns, leaning against his desk, watching the other closely. 'thank you for coming today. what is it that you wish to share with me, jed?'

it's BRAZEN of him, to be here, sat in this waiting room. his father would hardly approve, but then, maybe that's part of why danny put him in the ground. there was no sense of community from that man, no sense of AWE for what they did, too full of duty and hard edges for a longing like the one danny holds now.

but after being trained by his father to see beyond the veil, danny hungered to find others who could see too. no, wait, that's not quite right— not just see, but LOOK, unflinchingly. it's one thing to know that this world is capable of indiscriminate, senseless violence. it's another to weaponize that knowledge, to feel the weight of it as a hilt in the palm of your hand. danny believes this man knows that feeling.

so he arrives to his appointment as "jed olsen", but the mask of jed is not nearly as secure as it normally is. there's an eagerness in his dark eyes, as it's been for their past sessions as well, that is uncharacteristic of jed's usual plain, forgettable demeanor. after all, doctor lecter has a reputation for understanding some of the most DEMENTED minds, and danny has been enjoying the dance they're in. he's waiting with baited breath for the good doctor to acknowledge they move to the same tune.

the door swings open.

"doctor lecter," he smiles, barely reminding himself to be polite and not excited, "it's good to see you again." (it is absolutely KILLING his wallet to see him again.)

"i have so much to tell you, i've been very busy." // @consumare