#many mistakes or not haha

[shrimpchipsss]

layout of the bamboo house from the scum villain donghua

[monstrousproductions]

Can I get a pat on the head and a "Well done, Hero" please? Because I spent today transferring domains and setting up redirects and then updating the Monstrous Agonies show-notes (all 131 of them!) so they link to the Monstrous Productions website and the new transcripts that are all hosted over there and I'm very very proud of myself 🥰

[turtleblogatlast]

I’ve gone on and on about how Leo wants to be who Splinter finds is the ideal person (which just so happens to be Splinter’s ideal version of himself) but I have yet to really touch upon how Donnie is the one who most directly parallels Splinter himself to an honestly shocking degree, Raph’s taking from Splinter’s teachings and parenting has resulted in an unhealthy mixup in the different dynamics of a family versus a team, and Mikey is the one who is simultaneously the most focused on family and the most intrinsically himself which both leads to his better grasp of mystics and honestly what just might be the healthiest dynamic with Splinter.

[kiose]

The bat and the fish go for a romantic joyride! Drawing this I was SO sure I would end up hating the car... but no, I now love the Ghoul Mobile even more, I wish I had it Also, thanks everyone for the warm reception for my other MH drawing, ILY Dracgoona nation :')

[dyktvideogamesfx]

i hope all the rain world submissions have made you want to play rain world

I'm also already a huge Rain World fan with over 100+ hours in the game! :D

[unipacas]

@ all the hobie enjoyers blowing up my inbox this is 4 u!!!! <3

[thedistortionshallways]

We as a fandom talk a lot about loving or hating twink bill but I feel there's a bit of a lack of love towards uncanny valley bill, he could be twinky or a bear or just an old man I don't care I just wanna see a guy where you go "that's a human... Wait no the fuck it's not?????????" I want to see your bill cipher x The Stranger from the Magnus archives crossovers, I mean he already removes his skin COME ON GUYS HE'D BE PERFECT FOR IT

[ccasey0]

Congratulations. the following people have made it into my school doobles.

@allyheart707

@sharkfinn

@littlemissartemisia

@intotheelliwoods

@tapakah0

@somerandomdudelmao

I was bored. this is what u get.

[punkforkos]

Hullo!!! Can I please ask about Dante?? :D what's their story?? :D

Hi!! Yes ofc you can!! <3

Here's a really brief overview that I wrote in another post (which also includes their tattoo lore and some fun facts, if you were interested in reading that!)

Dante Inferno (they/he) is my drow fathomless warlock, pirate captain, and awful babygirl who wants the world to burn. Dante took on their warlock pact to gain power and bring suffering to those who wronged them and hopefully find the daughter that was stolen from them many years ago. However, this pact comes at a price... it's actually Dante's misery that their patron is most interested in. 🥀 Unfortunately, they may be in too deep to figure this out!! For years, they've been self-destructing and falling deeper into corruption... and are quickly hurtling towards a future where they may be left with nothing of who they once were.

But I'll also include a longer version below the cut that goes into some of the details of their story!! (Also- I wrote a section at the bottom explaining why I think Dante would get along with Bad End Husk :D )

-- HERE'S THE LONG(ER) VERSION -- (This is still a shortened version of events, go down below this if you want like. the FULL version. I threw in their toyhouse link there!)

Dante comes from a rough part of the Underdark where they grew up impoverished and neglected, but the only thing that really kept them going was a dream to one day get out of that shithole. And in a way, they got their dream,,,! However, they only clawed their way out of the Underdark when they realized they were pregnant and needed to save their kid from the upbringing he was subjected to. Dante wanted far better for his daughter. She became their entire world, their incentive, something good to look forward to. She gave their life meaning,,, For three years, they were able to live on the surface in a local kingdom populated by other drow who also escaped from the Underdark. Those were the happiest years of Dante's life, but they weren't to last. Unfortunately, it was discovered that Dante didn't come into the surface kingdom through the proper channels, so they decided to send them back. However, they would keep Dante's daughter because she never became baptized under Spider Queen society... They dragged Dante away from their daughter kicking and screaming. However, he managed to cut an X into his daughter's cheek as a desperate last resort, promising that they would find her again someday. And then they were brought back to the Underdark and sent reeling into a deep depressive spiral. The only thing that motivated them was the thought of returning back to their daughter..... and making everyone who hurt them pay. This anger, grief, and desperation eventually made them seek out a patron who would help give them all the power they needed to leave the Underdark again and achieve all of their goals. They stumbled across Znn'lusca, a demon who feeds on despair... and she only asked that Dante cause as much misery as possible in exchange for her powers. He agreed, immediately having a plan in mind to kill two birds with one stone-- They ended up making another pact with the Spider Queen herself, promising to send all of the escaped drow back into the Underdark (because if they didn't let Dante escape, he wouldn't show them any mercy either). In exchange, the Spider Queen wouldn't pursue Dante and try to force them back either, so long as they brought her "lost children" back. With these new pacts formed, Dante makes it back to the surface and they are told to focus on gaining power before going after their kid. Zinn played into their fear of being forced back into the Underdark again, planting seeds of doubt in their mind that kept them from attempting to seek out their daughter. Every time Dante would bring up going after her, Zinn would talk them out of it and reroute their thoughts. Because... little did Dante know but their despair was the tastiest of all, and the longer they went without their daughter, the richer it became. 15 years pass. Dante is now an established cutthroat pirate captain who uses a submarine as a ship... trafficking escaped drow back to the Underdark on the side, forgetting their original goals and who they were before the hurt with each day that passes. And then they get thrown into jail and the campaign starts from there,,!! TLDR: Dante is in SO much trouble AFSGH they're stuck in a web they can't get out from,,, being in a pact with not one but two demons who do not wish anything good for him. And he's still missing his daughter so bad,, and he is miserable and angry and hates everyone.

✨📌 If you wanted even MORE details that I left out here (a lot of the in-between stuff and more about Dante's actual campaign, party members, etc), you can read all about it here on their Toyhouse!! <<3

(Thanks for reading all of this if you got this far btw!!)

-------------------------------------------------

WHY DANTE WOULD LIKE BAD END HUSK:

Also, to elaborate on why I think Dante would enjoy bad end Husk-- Husk is exactly the type of patron Dante would have gravitated towards, being the lord of "secrecy and cunning revenge" and plotting the downfall of their enemies. That's the kind of thing Dante wants oh so badly rn!! It's the reason why they ended up making a pact with their actual patron. The desire for power, the ambition, but most of all-- feeling so wronged and wanting everyone who ever hurt them and their daughter to suffer.

Dante is a conniving backstabber, the ultimate betrayer... a liar by nature. The word 'treachery' has been carved into their back in Abyssal/Deep Speech. They have only learned how to survive and sometimes that means using everyone around you as a stepping stool. In the end, the only people who matter are themself and their daughter. (But truly deep down, they're just a REALLY hurt person who is lashing out in the wrong ways. They're just scared, angry, and sad. And they easily fall into corruption and pacts with big bad entities SGHDJK)

-------------------------------------------------

My tags if you wanted to go see more of them!! >> #oc dante | #dante meta <<

Aaand their Toyhouse again!

[justalittletoocorrupted]

Here’s some kidnapped Hero for my friend, @thelazywitchphotographer !! I hope you like it (:

Foolish

TW: kidnapping , drugging

——————————

God. How had Hero been so foolish?

How did they manage to miss every sign?

How did they—

The Hero blinked, their brain starting to get fuzzy like tv static when it couldn’t find a channel. Their body began to sway, gradually beginning to forget how to walk and hold themselves up.

“A little tired there, Hero?” Supervillain purred, slowly stalking their way closer to the already dazed Hero. “Why, I’m shocked that you couldn’t even notice that I used a drug. Usually you’re able to tell when someone’s trying to kidnap you… Did you forget the protocol, dear?”

The Hero’s face distorted into a mix of disgust and confusion. The longer Supervillain spoke to them, the more their voice began to muffle and their ears began to ring. The closer they got to the crime stopper, the closer they felt to the ground. Were they falling? What’s going on?!

The Hero stumbled, managing to somewhat catch themselves before they fully collapsed onto the hard concrete. That earned a laugh from the super a few feet away from them.

“Wow. Not even a simple remark? Just a glare? And here I thought I’d get to see you all scared knowing what’s about to happen.” Supervillain tutted, “A shame, really. But, ah, maybe it’s the drugs taking initiative” they pondered out loud.

Supervillain began to move closer to the Hero who in response tried to back away. However backing up isn’t a smart idea when your legs are struggling to simply stand in place. The Hero fell flat on their back before they were even able to process they were falling.

Everything was fading. The Hero’s eye lids began to droop as their movements slowed. Making it harder to open their eyes with every delayed blink.

Hero slowly blinked opened their eyes to find Supervillain standing above them. Panic was coursing through the Hero’s mind, but their body showed none of it. Their eyes tracing the blobby figure that was the Supervillain.

Despite their eyes remaining open and locked somewhere onto the evil-doer, black blotches began to fill the Hero’s vision until they couldn’t see a thing.

They didn’t know what was worse! The fact that they can’t see Supervillain, or the fact that they can’t hear the Supervillain over the loudest sound of nothing they had ever heard in their ears.

They couldn’t do anything but blink, or they thought they were blinking, in an attempt to regain their vision. Which worked! ……. Sort of.

It had worked enough for the Hero to witness one last thing, before their brain went entirely into an autopilot like sleep.

It was enough to see a new blob, or figure, quickly approaching the super over them.

It was not enough, for them to find out who.

……

…..

….

…

..

!

When the Hero finally came to, their first instinct was to launch themselves up from their laying down position. However that only worked a few moments and they collapsed back down onto—

A person?!

Their head twitched in a new attempt to see who they were on top of, but a gentle hand brushing through their hair stopped them. That movement had also prevented Hero from opening their eyes as well, and simply allowing themselves to press into the.. chest? Of the stranger.

Their brain was still foggy from the gas and drug, in fact, they were pretty sure it was still in effect!

Or..

Maybe the Hero is just exhausted.

Hm…

Maybe both.

But the crime-stopper had to get up. Whatever was happening was definitely dangerous. What if this was Supervillain?—

WAS THIS SUPERVILLAIN?!?

The Hero lifted their head again, only for the hand to push them back down. So the Hero began to panic and they tried to fight back. They tried to open their eyes to see who was their captor, but when they finally opened the bright lights from the ceiling blinded them. Their eyes nowhere near adjusted to the sudden light.

But they continued to try to fight anyways. Hero pushed themselves up only for a second hand to grab them by their waist and pull them back down.

“[Hero], stop!” A muffled voice finally could be heard through the Hero’s screaming ears. “Fighting will only exhaust yourself more.” The stranger scolded.

But they didn’t sound like a stranger.

And they certainly didn’t sound like Supervillain.

In fact, they sounded like—-

“See? Am I hurting you? No, because you’re safe, [Hero]”

Villain!

The Hero slowly opened their eyes again, turning their head towards the voice. “[V]…. [Villain]..?” They managed.

“[Hero]….?” Villain parroted the confused hero in response, “You snap out of that daze, yet?”

Hero blinked multiple times, the Villain’s face becoming more and more clear, “What did…. What.. what happened?” They asked, now taking a chance to glance at the room around them.

The crime-starter shrugged, “[Supervillain] is what happened. Now go back to sleep, yeah?” They brought a hand to Hero’s hair again, “You aren’t the nicest when you’re all drugged up and out of it, so I’d like to speak with the nice and calm [Hero] later. When you awake.”

….

huh?

Before the Hero could speak again, Villain pushed their enemy’s head against their chest and pressed a soft kiss into their hair.

That was all the Hero remembered before everything went black again.

[gifti3]

hii im posting this old fic for asmo, it was for his bday but i put it off cause i wanted to keep editing it and before you know it its been over year of it just sitting untouched 〒▽〒 so i decided to just post it without a reading over it again its pretty light hearted and silly, its an AU where Asmo is literally a queen and reader is one of those passing merchants (probably) reader is gn here and yep thats it!

----

----

Queen Asmodeus's Birthday

This was the first time you'd actually be present during Asmodeus's birthday. You heard about previous ones in passing during your travels, but now you'd get to experience all the hoopla in person.

You observe yourself in the mirror and smooth the front of your outfit down. It wasn't something you would usually wear on a day to day basis, but today….what the Queen says goes. Like any other day really, but now wasn’t the time to be contrarian. If any day needed to go smoothly, today was that day. So after one more look, you exit your room.

Making your way down the hallway you dodge several servants handling last minute preparations. You head downstairs and weave your way through mingling guests.

When you enter the grand banquet hall--not to be mistaken with the regular one--you whistle to yourself. It always looked nice but today it was at exorbitant levels of presentation. The long tables, the walls and even the ceiling seemed to be covered in the Queen's favorite shades and flowers. Everything was so flowery and pink.

Your eyes fall on the “Esteemed Guests” table and you make your way towards it.

"Hey guys." You greet the group of brothers. You nod at a few faces you weren’t quite familiar with, but they must be important to the Queen if they were at this table.

Before the brothers can say anything you interject. "No need to comment on the outfit. I know," you smile.

Several of them shut their mouths.

You take a seat at the head of the table, Asmodeus's spot. His chair was quite literally the center of attention. In the middle of the room it sat, the most immaculate and eye-catching. It was almost gaudy to be honest. And from here, you'd be able to see him from anywhere in the room.

“So…when does this start?” you ask.

“Hopefully he comes out within the hour,” Satan answers.

You’d think he was exaggerating if he wasn’t currently reading. In all this noise, you weren't sure how.

Lucifer sat back with his eyes closed, probably thinking of work, while Mammon and Levi talked (or maybe they were bickering) about something. Beelzebub frowned while rubbing at his stomach and Belphegor’s head was laid on the table.

Even though they seemed indifferent about being here, you knew they wanted to keep their brother happy. And anyways if they missed today they wouldn’t hear the end of it until his next birthday.

By the time his Majesty is formally introduced to the hall, an hour must have passed and Beel looks visibly famished. He gently nudges Belphie awake though. 

“Ah, the star finally appears,” Solomon says. You had met the sorcerer for the first time today but he seemed decent from the conversation you had. Mostly everyone at the table seemed a bit perturbed by his presence though.

Anyone standing around moves quickly to sit down so as not to be chewed out by other guests for blocking the view.

All attention turns to decorative stairs at the front of the room as the Queen appears. Slowly rose petals magically start falling from the ceiling. Everyone watches as Queen Asmodeus gracefully makes his way down, his (very expensive) skirts following down behind him. 

Mammon sits back crossing his arms and says under his breath. “He does this every year…” 

You wonder if anyone outside his brothers would ever grow tired of it though. You swear you could see tears glistening in some of these guests' eyes.

You manage to catch Asmo’s eye and he winks at you.

The whispers amongst the guests go silent once Asmodeus begins talking to his closest family, friends and allies.

"Thank you for gathering here to celebrate this special day--my birthday. Seeing everyone's lovely faces smiling for me makes me so happy!"

You hear a couple of dreamlike sighs among the crowd.

"I’m excited for the fun to start so please everyone enjoy the food. The festivities will start right after.”

There’s cheers and Beel’s face brightens as servants file in with various dishes.

Asmo makes his way towards his seat waving and talking to people along the way.

"How'd you like my entrance MC? Wasn’t it perfectly befitting for someone like me," Asmo asks by the time he finally makes it to the table.

Most of his brothers look exasperated but you grin. “It was very Asmodeus-like. You look really amazing by the way. Your dress is very beautiful.”

He smiles at the compliment. “Not as beautiful as me though, right?”

“Heh, of course.”

Satisfied with your answer, Asmo rests a hand on your shoulder.

"Thank you all for coming. I hope you all brought presents ❤️"

Lucifer smiles, already prepared with his gift, "Happy Birthday Asmodeus."

“I didn’t skimp out this year so you better be grateful,” Mammon says.

All the brothers take their turns passing their presents for Asmo to open and gush over. And these were no simple gifts. These were items the average person could only dream of having but apparently this was nothing too hard for these brothers to acquire.

You watch Asmo brandish the beautiful sword Santa had given to him. You had never seen anything like it before. Where did he even find that? Maybe you should inquire with him about it later.

During the rest of the dinner, you see a shift in Asmo’s demeanor from fairly pleased to absolutely bored. Finally, he stands and clinks his glass with a fork to get the room's attention.

He takes a drink and raises his glass high. "Let's get this party started!"

-------

It had been 3 hours so far. The beginning of what would definitely be a way too long party.

You hadn't seen the Queen since dinner as he was mingling with the endless party guests.

How many people could one person remember off the top of their head?

Escaping the noise would be impossible even if you wanted to. You could hear Queen Asmo's subjects singing, dancing and lighting fireworks through your room window when you made a quick stop for the restroom.

You take a bite of your kebab, waving at someone you don’t remember the name of. Galavanting from room to room to keep yourself entertained in this overstimulation fest.

Maybe you'd go back to the 'bathing room'. It was always interesting there.

Suddenly, you find yourself wrapped in a warm embrace and surrounded by the scent of fruit and alcohol. 

“Darling I haven’t seen you in so long.” Asmo says dragging out the end of the statement.

“It’s only been a few hours though.”

“Might as well been years.” 

You roll your eyes but pat his arm soothingly. “But you’re enjoying yourself right?”

He hums. “Everyone is here for me, adorning me with gifts and praise. I’d say it’s within the top 3 best birthdays!”

“...Isn’t a good chunk of your usual days filled with that though?”

He rests his head on you. “It’s different though.”

Before you can ask more, several people approach you two to talk to the Queen. Asmodeus hooks his arms with yours before you can walk off though.

----

“Asmo, please let me go. Keeping up appearances for this long is killing me.”

“But I don't want you to disappear again!” He nuzzles into your arm and you let out a sigh.

“Can we at least take a break?”

“Are you trying to get special private time with the Queen?” Asmo gives you that stupid innocent smile that was rarely innocent.

“Er, I mean it would be nice…” You hadn’t been able to spend much time with him these last couple days since he was so busy.

“Okay since you’re one of my favorite guests I’ll give you special attention. But you owe me!”

And with that Asmo drags you away to his room.

As soon as you’re behind closed doors you flop on his soft bed. Even with the sounds of a party as background noise, you’d be able to rest your eyes.

“Wait, did you invite me here just to sleep?” You feel the bed dip beside you.

You mumble incoherently before turning your head to look at Asmo’s pouting face. You couldn’t help smiling at his expression though. 

How did he do it? You probably looked very disheveled right now but there sat your Queen completely perfect as always even though he’d been all over the castle today.

“Hmm, has my beauty stunned you~?” Asmo’s lithe fingers trace a pattern on your cheek.

“Maybe…” you sigh and get up from the bed. “That reminds me. You said I owed you and I haven’t given you your birthday present yet.”

You beacon him towards his dressing table and retrieve the small box. You planned to give it to him this morning but he wasn’t here. So you left in his room hoping he would find it on his vanity before the day ended but inwardly scolded yourself for the choice when he eyed you at the dinner being the only one closest to him who hadn’t given him anything.

“Happy Birthday!” You hold out the gift to him with a small smile.

Asmo’s eyes widened a bit. Was he actually surprised? His expression turns pleased as he takes and carefully opens it.

“It’s beautiful…” He carefully pulls out the silver necklace and holds it up. It was adorned with several small jewels but the main star was a deep red painite that sat in the middle.

“And it’s very unique.” The merchant in you was screaming for giving away something this rare for free. But making sure Asmo was pleased with his present was much more worth it. 

You help him put it on and watch as he admires himself in the mirror.

“So you like it right?”

“Of course I love it!” Asmo stands, grabs your hand and leans in to press a kiss to your lips. “I might have to show you how much I love it. You always know what to get me…” 

You lean in hoping for another kiss but Asmo places a finger on your chin to stop you.

“After the party. I want to take my time with you….” He gives you a quick squeeze and leads you out of the room before you can complain.

----

The next day when you wake up in Asmo’s arms to the sound of people being unusually loud through his window. That couldn’t be what you think it was.

You stare blearily at the ceiling. "When does everyone stop partying exactly?”

Asmo yawns and cuddles into you. “Hmm, usually in several days.”

“...How are you sleeping through this?”

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

The Last Tale of the Flower Bride

gothic fantasy

a man who studies myths and fairytales marries a mysterious rich woman - who marries him on the condition he never pries into her past

when her estranged aunt is dying, they go back to her childhood home - a mysterious mansion on an island - and he discovers hints of her childhood best friend who disappeared

back and forth between the bridegroom and the girls’ childhood

atmospheric, explores various fairytales, toxic female friendships

[moonlit-minuet]

Voltron posting in the year of our lord 2024? It's more likely than you think

[jinxedruby]

Inktober Day Twenty: Uncharted

The companion piece for Whumptober day nineteen (previous part link will take you there)

First part | <- Previous part | Next part->

[sysig]

Party (group) party (celebratory)! (Patreon)

[a-pigeons-soliloquy]

oouugghhh hannigram either 7 or 45. maybe even combine the two.

ok so it has been. a while. this one got, uh, more than a little out of control lmao (almost 3500 words holy fuck). but it's finally finished! i'm not sure if it exactly fits the prompts anymore but i tried to combine them both :) i hope you like it! (even if it did just end up as yet another mizumono fic lol oops)

***

"You were supposed to leave," Will hisses, and his voice is a devastated, furious thing.

There is blood soaking into his shoes and the scent of iron hangs heavy in the air, and the worst part is that Will doesn't even know whose blood it is anymore, but the question is lost to the back of his mind. Because in front of him stands a dishevelled man whose shirt is a mess of shiny red stains, a knife dripping in his hand.

A man who isn’t supposed to be there at all.

"I didn't want to leave without seeing you one last time," Hannibal says. The words one last time should be ringing alarm bells in Will's head, but he can’t hear them over the overwhelming chorus of thousands of other alarms, because everything is going wrong. There is blood on the floor and on the walls and Alana and Jack lie dying among shards of glass, and there is a SWAT team likely only minutes away, and yet Hannibal is still here.

They both are.

And now Will doesn’t know what to do, hasn’t known what to do for the last 3 months and hadn’t known what he’d do next when he’d made that phone call, telling the Chesapeake Ripper that they know. All he’d known was that he didn’t want Hannibal to die, didn’t want him locked up in a cage by his own hands. But here he is, faced with the consequences of his own actions, and once again Will doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to feel, or even what he is feeling beyond the adrenaline and desperation and horror and relief and confusion. He doesn’t want to feel the overwhelming guilt and sense of responsibility that has been steadily building behind his ribs since this whole scheme began. Yet that guilt now tears at the lining of his chest and crushes his lungs and holds his throat in a chokehold, and it’s just all too much and all he can think is none of this was supposed to happen and this is all my fault and what if?

Seeing Hannibal alive, he’d been struck by a sudden wave of relief that had almost caused his knees to give out beneath him. But now, as Hannibal’s eyes meet his, the awful look that greets him makes a pit suddenly form in his stomach, and the relief gives way to guilt again. And Will can’t take it.

None of this was supposed to happen.

This is all my fault.

What if?

And then it hits him: none of this was supposed to happen. And it hadn’t needed to. This awful mess of glass and blood and ruin could have all been avoided if Hannibal had just listened. If he’d trusted Will when he’d picked up the phone with shaky fingers and told him to run. But he hadn't. And this realisation comes with a sick sense of understanding, because for the whole time Will had known him, Hannibal had always had to have something hidden up his sleeve, always had to keep secrets from Will. Always had to know better. Feel superior. At last the final veil falls from Will's eyes, and all at once he can see how foolish he'd been to ever believe that they could be equals. How pathetic it was that, for those few long weeks they'd spent together, he'd actually believed that they were.

(Will fiercely forces back the voice in his head that whispers that he hadn’t exactly given Hannibal a reason to trust him.)

Heart hammering against his ribs, all of that guilt and fear melts together and stretches and twists and is reborn as deep, righteous anger.

Because no, all he’d wanted was for Hannibal to be safe and free and far from here, even if it meant Hannibal hated him, even if it meant they could never be together, even if it meant that one day Hannibal would come back and rip his still-beating heart from his chest without remorse. But instead here they are, highly armed police likely mere minutes out. And all because Hannibal hadn’t listened. Bitterly, Will thinks to himself that maybe he couldn’t change Hannibal in this way after all.

As if hearing the war cry of bitterness and anger, the resentment he’d kept locked away over the last year begins to bay and claw at its cage too, and, with no reason left to hold it back, Will finally opens the latch and lets it loose.

His next words come out as a growl. “Well now neither of us might get to leave at all”.

Hannibal looks at him, and before he can hide any emotion behind his mask Will can see surprise and deep betrayal warring behind his eyes. It should make him stop and consider, that surprise - that indication that he is behaving in a way that Hannibal did not quite anticipate. But the look of betrayal is like a knife to his chest, and so Will grips his resentment tightly and fumes.

What had Hannibal expected? For Will to be small, desperate? Cowering? Begging for forgiveness? His lip curls in derision. As if he would give him the satisfaction. No, mongooses have teeth and claws, and may whatever god he believes in help Hannibal if he thinks Will won’t use them.

Hannibal manages to force the emotion all behind a mask of icy indifference, and now when he looks at Will his gaze is blank. Though it is not his usual blankness which Will has become familiar with. It is an empty, unsettling kind of blank, the sort of blank he’s only ever seen in the eye of a shark. When Hannibal speaks his voice is cold, colder than Will has ever heard it.

"Forgive me for having doubts about the sincerity of your warning when you've been lying to me for the last month. Forgive me for wanting to see the truth of where your loyalties lie."

The acknowledgement is agony. All the guilt Will had been trying to force down suddenly rears its monstrous head again, and he finds his voice suddenly drying up. His throat feels tight.

He whispers. "My loyalties lie with you'

Hannibal only scoffs. It is ugly. Will has never seen Hannibal ugly before.

"A last minute change of heart is hardly loyalty, Will," he says. “What does Uncle Jack think of your loyalty, lying bleeding out in my pantry? Alana, shattered on the street? How can I be sure you do not still intend for me to join them?”

Hannibal takes a step towards him, adjusting his grip on the knife. Will’s heart pounds. He forces himself not to take a step back.

“Because I chose you, Hannibal, I was always going to choose you, I just needed time to accept that.”

But Hannibal just looks away. “If that is what you truly believe, then you haven't just been lying to me, you've also been lying to yourself.”

It’s so wrong, yet Hannibal had said it with such certainty and disdain that all Will sees is the arrogance with which Hannibal always assumes himself to be right. He dares to presume to know what Will is thinking better than Will knows himself? It turns out Hannibal Lecter really is just like every other psychiatrist Will has ever met, and a sense of grief rises up within him at the loss of something he’d never thought he could have until meeting Hannibal.

He hates himself for mourning what he shouldn’t want.

Will smothers the voice in his head whispering that Hannibal may in fact be correct, that he really does know Will's mind better than Will does his own. Instead he lets anger take over again, and this time it burns.

“You know nothing,” he hisses. His hands shake. Deep waves of indignant resentment roll over him, the roaring of the waves matching the blood in his ears.

He doesn’t know what he expects Hannibal to do next, but it isn’t for Hannibal to hum to himself, then huff a mirthless laugh and concede in a tone both melancholy and angry, “Perhaps you’re right.”

Once again Hannibal meets his eyes. “You know, I've never fully been able to predict you, Will, but this time I had hoped. It is a mistake I will not make again.”

He prowls closer still, and this time Will steps forward to meet him. Fight has won over flight and as the rising fury makes it hard to find words Will’s body seems to have decided to speak for him. The ticking clock of the impending arrival of the FBI ignored in favour of the burning, all-consuming rage within him.

But the fear of their time running out is still there, forced down as it is, and between that and the anger it’s only getting harder to think, and Hannibal is only making it worse. Every word that leaves his mouth brings fresh waves of intense emotion and it’s rapidly reducing Will to a state where there is nothing in his brain except pure animalistic rage-fear.

He just needs Hannibal to stop talking for one moment so he can think.

With what little coherent thought remains in his brain, Will decides to tell Hannibal in the only way he can manage anymore.

“For once in your life can you please just shut the fuck up”.

Hannibal's eyes flash dangerously. His lips curl up into a snarl, and the part of Will that still understands anything knows that he’s made a mistake - he’s only succeeded in confirming for Hannibal exactly how his words are affecting him, and getting him to stop now won’t be achieved without consequences.

Hannibal is quick to recover, a cruel grin taking over his face. His head tilts condescendingly. “Terribly rude, Will,’ he taunts.

The fire inside Will soars higher. He can feel it scorching his insides.

“Fuck you, Hannibal.” He spits.

Hannibal begins to loom over him, moving closer still in a manner that can only be called predatory, until all that separates them is an arm’s length. The knife still glistens in his hand.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself, Will? Childish comebacks? I’ve come to expect better from you. I'm disappointed.” There is a gleam of self-satisfied malice in his eyes and the shape of his lips. He looks dangerous. He looks beautiful.

Will hates him.

Will loves him.

Fuckyoufuckyoufuck-

And suddenly Will can’t take it any longer.

Before he knows what he is doing, he’s grabbing Hannibal by the bloody shirt and crashing his lips into his.

Time seems to stop, the world narrowing into a millisecond of time in which Hannibal’s hair brushes against Will’s forehead, breath warm against his mouth, their noses pressed almost painfully against each other. A moment where the cooling blood on Hannibal’s shirt soaks into Will’s palms and stains his fingers red. A moment where Hannibal stands deadly still, as if frozen, and Will feels as if he’s been frozen too.

There is a distant pressure in the corner of Will’s abdomen, then the vague sound of something clattering to the ground. But Will’s lips are on Hannibal’s and it is as if everything everywhere is inconsequential other than the feeling of Hannibal’s teeth against his, just as he’d imagined on so many a lonely night.

The moment seems to last an eternity before Hannibal’s hand finally comes up to grasp the back of his shirt tightly, and Will feels the sharp pull of the fabric against his skin, the pressure of Hannibal’s knuckles firm against his flank. A breathy gasp escapes his burning lips, and he can’t help the animal noise that subsequently tears its way from his throat. Luckily it seems that is what it takes for Hannibal to finally move his mouth and kiss back with equal force, teeth scraping sharply against Will’s. They gravitate closer and closer until Will’s arm is wrapped around Hannibal’s neck and their hips are pressed tightly together.

Eventually, Hannibal lets out a deep growl before he at last pulls away, dragging Will backwards until there is an arm’s distance between them. Will’s eyes flutter open and he gazes up at Hannibal. The adrenaline is still coursing through his veins and setting him alight, but this time it is not with anger but something wholly new.

As they lock eyes, Will realises that Hannibal is finally allowing Will to see, without barriers or veils, the full breadth of emotion in his eyes. There is still frustration and betrayal, yes (indeed, Will hadn’t let go of his either) but there is also - and Will’s heart skips a beat when he recognises it - pure and all-encompassing adoration. A wonderful warmth blossoms within his core, rendering him both weak and solid and light as a feather, and it is unlike anything Will can ever remember feeling.

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

Then those wonderful, expressive maroon eyes flicker downwards, and Hannibal’s brow furrows, lines around his eyes deepening. Confused, Will follows his gaze, and is surprised to see a growing deep red stain on his shirt, though any reaction he distantly thinks he perhaps should be having is dulled and seems to float just out of reach. It’s strange; there isn’t any pain, just the memory of an odd pressure that he’d ignored at the time and a peculiar sense of unreality.

For a moment he just stands, uncomprehending, but as the adrenaline finally starts to wear off he becomes increasingly aware of a dull ache at the site of the wound, and it isn’t long before that dull ache blossoms into a terrible burning pain. Hand instinctively falling from Hannibal’s shoulder to hover protectively over the wound, Will looks back up at Hannibal, a mix of confusion, surprise, pain and betrayal written across his face. An involuntary whine slips from his suddenly dry throat.

The vocalisation appears to spur Hannibal into action. He takes Will gently but firmly by the arms and quickly guides him to a nearby sofa, helping him lay down across its seats before sinking to his knees beside him and pulling up his shirt to inspect the injury. A moment passes, then a near-imperceptible line of tension seems to drop slightly from Hannibal’s shoulders and he pulls Will’s shirt back down.

“It is as I thought: due to the angle and the quick loosening of my grip on the handle, only the tip of my knife entered your body. The wound is not so deep as to require immediate attention, but it will certainly require stitches.”

He guides Will’s hand back to his injury and helps him to apply the right amount of pressure. It hurts, and when Will winces and lets out small pained noise, Hannibal brings a hand to his hair and cards it through the damp curls. It feels nice, it feels so very nice and right, and Will’s eyes slip closed for a moment, enjoying the feeling. When he opens them, Hannibal is looking down at him, face once again carefully blank.

“There is likely very little time left before the FBI arrives,” he begins, “and I will soon be leaving for Florence. I will offer you this once and only once, and you will have until I return with our passports and a select few other items to make your decision.”

He fixes Will with a heavy look. “One last chance, Will. You can come with me to Florence, and I will show you the city where I became a man. We will leave immediately, take up new identities, and likely never return.

“Or, I can leave you here. You can wait for the cops to arrive and take you to a hospital. Your reputation will remain intact, and you can go back to your job and your house in the woods, your life as you know it, and you will never see me again.”

An almost undetectable pause, and then, “This is your final decision, Will. I suggest you make it wisely.”

With this he climbs to his feet and leaves the room

For a while Will sits thinking, but deep down he knows his mind is already made up. The myriad of complicated feelings he harbours towards Hannibal still plague him, and a part of him still wants to lock the man up and throw away the key, but he’s finally willing to admit that it’s all inconsequential. He knows now he can't live without Hannibal, for better or for worse, whether he loves him or hates him, or a twisted mix of both. He’ll miss his life terribly for the isolated comfort it brought, but he’d miss Hannibal far, far more.

There is only one choice to make.

The moment Hannibal reappears in the doorway Will is speaking.

“I want to come with you.”

Hannibal’s face remains carefully blank. “You understand there is no going back from this. I will not change my lifestyle and you can never return to the false life you have led. You will be shedding your sheepskin for good this time, and the world will be on our tail for as long as we-”

Will cuts him off.

“I want to come with you,” he repeats firmly.

A long pause, and then a small but genuine smile graces Hannibal's lips. With a dip of his head, he seems to accept the decision. “Very well,” he says, though Will can hear the unspoken relief that lies beneath it. He lets himself smile back, tired but overjoyed and honest. It feels right.

Hannibal comes back to where he lies on the couch, and helps him get up, his touch firm yet gentle as he holds Will against his side.

“Do you think you can walk?” he asks.

Will’s breath catches as the shift to being upright pulls sharply on his wound. While it could have been far deeper - and Will doesn’t want to imagine what Hannibal’s initial plan for him was - it is still painful, and increasingly so as the last of the adrenaline wears off. Plus, he’s losing a fair amount of blood, and the change in angle temporarily darkens his vision and sends stars dancing across his eyes. Grimacing, he closes his eyes and waits for the pounding in his head to stop. Hannibal lets him lean against him, steadfastly taking his weight, and says nothing.

When the stars fade and he feels steadier on his feet, Will considers Hannibal’s question, and after a moment of assessment nods - he’s been shot in the shoulder before, he can handle this - and lets Hannibal lead him out of the house and down the street to an unfamiliar car.

Alana is unconscious now, and Will catches Hannibal’s eyes lingering on his jacket where it lies over her body. He looks at her, the person he’d once imagined sharing a life with, and thinks of how important she had always been to him, even after everything. A pang of bittersweet nostalgia hits him, accompanied by a longing for a simpler time when maybe it could have been possible. But ultimately he allows Hannibal to help him into the passenger seat of the car. This is the life he’s chosen, the person he’s chosen, cannibalism and all. There is no going back now, and nothing to be gained from contemplating what ifs.

Then the car door closes, and Alana is hidden from sight.

There is another noise as Hannibal gets in the car from the other side, and after fiddling with some dials and buttons, he starts the engine.

“I will drive us to the airport where our flight awaits. When we are a safe distance from the house we will stop and I will clean and suture your wound. But for now I suggest you sleep - you will need the rest if you are to recover well.”

He must notice the lines of discomfort on Will’s face, as he adds, softening slightly, “There are some painkillers in the door.”

After taking the pills as directed, Will lays his head back against the headrest and allows his eyes to close. The last of the adrenaline has left his system, leaving behind a sudden bone tiredness that makes his lids heavy and breathing slow.

With the sound of the vehicle lulling him and the comfort of Hannibal’s presence beside him - alive, together - sleep comes quickly, and the last thing Will knows before the darkness claims him is the feeling of a warm hand gently coming to rest upon his own.