#me: writes a scene about a character getting stabbed after washing dishes

[greatprotector-if]

holding myself back from spoiling everything i possibly could to anyone who will listen every time i write anything

[darling-i-read-it]

Jealousy

Will Graham x reader, slight Hannibal Lecter x reader

Word Count: 2.2k 

Warnings: talks of murder, corpses, crime scenes 

Author’s Note: besties you need to stop giving me freedom to chose the endings because i am SO biased. I hope you all enjoy regardless and didn’t mind that I bunched these two requests together because they’re so similar! 

Requested: by anon, Hey i don’t know if you’re still taking Hannibal requests but if you are can you do something where both Will and Hannibal have a crush on the reader? The reader would be the only one who doesn’t know about the two men having a crush on her and one day the reader hangs out alone with one of them (could be Will or Hannibal) and the other gets jealous? It could end in the reader choosing one of them. (your choice)

Requested: by anon, AHHH i’m so nervous to write a request even tho this a anon😅 I never done a request but if you could do something where both Hannibal and Will take an interest in the reader? It could just be a thing where both of them try to impress the reader who remains oblivious to their affections. And during the entire thing they get jealous of each other and try to one up each other in gifts. If you want you could end it with them being polyamorous or the reader choosing one of them, i don’t really care my main focus id just the jealousy lol😅

Summary: the requests! 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You nodded gently, putting your fingernail between your teeth. You circled the corpse, giving it a careful eye as Beverly spoke over your thoughts. 

“We believe it was murder, obviously,” she said. 

“It’s just been a bitch trying to figure out how she was murdered,” Zeller commented. He was sitting on one of the stools, his hands resting on his thighs. 

“Keep working on it,” Jack said, hand resting on the cold metal table. 

“I think we should try and talk to the mom again. I feel like she knows more than she’s letting on,” you muttered. Will and Hannibal watched you as you moved to the head of the body, looking directly down at it. 

“I want to go to the crime scene again,” Will said. You looked up and met his eyes, nodding a bit. You knew the toll that it took on him so you preferred him to offer up his abilities, rather than ask him. 

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Hannibal asked. Yours and Will’s eyes floated to Hannibal who was standing at the corner of the room. This wasn’t his crime, he wasn’t sure what Will would find. 

“I’m sure,” Will said sturtly and then turned around, walking out of the room. Hannibal watched as your gaze followed Will until he was out of sight and then you turned back to the corpse. 

“I’ll drive you to the mothers house,” Hannibal suggested. You nodded and took your hands off the metal, walking over to him.

“Thank you.” 

The two of you left quickly after that, leaving Bev, Zeller, Price and Jack in the room alone. Beverly pretended to check something on her clipboard before looking up at everyone.

“You all felt that tension too, right?” Overlapped responses came.

“Yeah.”

“Yes.” 

“When did that happen?” 

Beverly shrugged and learned against the wall. She tried to follow you and Hannibal as you left the morgue but you were already long gone.

“Who do you think she’s gonna pick?” Bev asked. 

“I say let the best man win!” Price commented. 

“We have a case here lady and gentlemen,” Jack said, pretending he too wasn’t invested. Everyone else shared one more look and then turned around, getting back to their duties. 

=====

Hannibal sat promptly in his chair, legs crossed and looking at Will who sat across from him. Will had an open stance as he looked around the room he had been in a couple of times before. 

“How was your week? Let’s start there,” Hannibal said gently, prompting Will to start talking. Will was usually filled to the brim with sarcastic comments but he never wanted to delve any deeper than that. Unless he was talking about other people's murders. 

“Um, it was fine,” he said, trying to figure out what to say. “Y/N came over last night and made dinner. It was nice to have someone over.” Hannibal was able to mask his feelings very well but Will caught a little bit of disdain. 

“That’s nice. Do you see her often?” 

“Sometimes. She’s nice and likes to see the dogs.” Hannibal saw you yesterday as well, when the two of you went to interview the mother again. Hannibal offered a nice face to the woman and it ended up getting you somewhere with her. 

“She is very kind,” Hannibal commented. 

“Do you see her often Dr. Lecter?” Will asked. 

“On occasion. She comes over for dinner. She used to be a patient but she’s been doing well.”

“Glad to hear you have some success stories.” 

That was the day that Will and Hannibal realized they were competing and they hadn’t known it. They weren’t even sure that you knew it but they understood that the other had feelings for you. 

Sure, ultimately it was up to you in the end but it was then they decided they would have to get to you first. Will was a little unhinged and confused. Hannibal was a little insane and unsettling. 

Just depended on who was going to be able to play the right cards. 

=====

You sat beside Hanniabl at his dinner table. You had a few of the case papers out in front of you, next to your plate of food. Hannibal was flipping through them as well. He was trying to help you out while also getting you to enjoy a nice meal. 

You ate the last bite of the food and showed Hannibal one of the pictures. 

“Do you think this looks like she’s been dead for a couple of months? I know water can wash away evidence and stuff but it definitely doesn’t look like she’s been dead for months,” you said. Hannibal took the picture from you and looked it over. 

“I can’t say I disagree with you.” You took the picture back.

“This is really good by the way. Thank you for letting me intrude on your dinner,” you said laughing a bit. He shook his head. 

“Of course. I’m glad you enjoy it, I know it can be an acquired taste.” 

“I really enjoy everything you make. How do you say it? It’s growing my pallet,” you said smiling. He nodded pleasantly. It was always nice to make sure people were listening. You looked like you were about to say something else when your phone dinged. At first you ignored it but then it dinged again. “I’m sorry,” you muttered and then picked up the phone. You read a couple of messages and laughter bubbled from your mouth. Hannibal immediately felt a stab of jealousy but it didn’t show on his face. “Sorry, Will just sent me something about the case. I actually have to go see him later tonight, I should probably get out of your hair.” 

Hannibal shook his head. 

“You’re always welcome here, I hope you know that.” You smiled and nodded but still put the papers together in a neat stack.

“Don’t say that, I’ll abuse my privileges.” You stood up and put the stack of papers in your arms. “Thank you again Hannibal. I’ll call you?” He nodded, standing up as well and taking your plate. 

“Of course. Have a nice night and say hello to Will for me.” You nodded and waved as you turned to leave. 

Hannibal turned to the kitchen and put the dishes in the sink. He started to wash them and after a moment he found he had been washing his hands dry. 

====

“You really didn’t have to drive me. I can drive myself,” Will said from the passenger seat of your car. You waved him off, shaking your head. 

“Please Will, I can drive you around all I want. Plus, I wanted to see Hannibal anyway. Don’t worry I won’t intrude on your session. I brought a book.” You held your book up in front of him and he nodded slightly. 

Why did you wanna see Hannibal? He decided not to ask. 

You got out of the car and followed Will inside to Hannibal’s office. Hannibal opened the door, as though he had been listening and waiting for your arrival. His smile grew at the sight of you. 

“I was hoping to run into you. I boxed some leftovers from last night because you enjoyed them so much,” Hannibal explained. 

“You went over to Hannibals’ last night?” Will asked. He didn’t mean for his voice to sound so accusatory but it did. You shrugged.

“I went for dinner and he helped me with some case notes.” You remained completely oblivious to the tension in the room. He handed you a box that he grabbed from his desk and you nodded happily. “Thank you so much! I will cherish this,” you joked. You turned to Will. “Have a nice session boys, I’ll be in the car.” 

  They both nodded and waved goodbye to you as you left the room. The tension did not leave with you. 

====

The morgue did not smell any better the next time you were in it. You were alone with just Bev this time as you compared notes on the cause of death. She and the guys were still in the process of figuring it out but it had been a busy couple of days.

“Yeah that’s kind of what Price was saying. I don’t know, I’ll look into it more and get back to you,” she said as you showed her some notes. You nodded and put your notepad back in your bag. 

“Alright, keep me posted.” You stood up from your chair and stretched a bit. You and Beverly were pretty good friends outside of work as well so she had been dying to ask you about Hannibal and Will.

“So...how’s it going with Hannibal and Will?” she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. You gave her a confused look.

“Huh?” She scoffed.

“You’re kidding right?” You gave her a look and she laughed dryly. “You seriously don’t know? Those guys are head over heels for you. Come on, you had to have noticed how jealous they get when you talk to them. It literally fills the room with tension,” she explained. You shook your head slowly. It took you a moment but the realization hit you. You had to sit back down. 

“Oh my God, I’ve been so head first in this case I didn’t even notice,” you said, laughing a bit.

“Well! Who’s gonna take the cake? Come on, we’re running bets here in the morgue.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Who did you bet on?” She gave you a look. “Come on!” 

“Will,” she fessed up. You stood up. 

“Go get your money Katz.” A prideful look went over her face and she nodded. 

“Alright then. You better go get your man.” 

======

You knocked on Will’s door that night. You teetered back and forth on the porch, wondering if Beverly had been wrong. She could have read the signs wrong. Heck, you read the signs wrong at first. You were about to walk off the porch when Will opened the door, rubbing his eyes. 

“Hi,” he said, blinking quickly.

“Oh my gosh did I wake you? I’m sorry, I am running on case time,” you said, suddenly feeling very apologetic. He shook his head. 

“No, don’t worry about it. Do you need something?” You doubted yourself again but figured that if you were going to do it you had to do it now. 

“I just...Beverly said something and I...do you wanna go to dinner? Like together? Like as a couple?” You were trying to get the words out so they didn’t sound awkward. Will rubbed his eyes some more and then his hand dropped. He smirked a bit. 

“Yeah. I would really like that.” 

“Okay! Okay. Good, good. I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow once you get some rest,” you said. He nodded happily. 

“I look forward to it.” 

“Me too.” 

You turned around and he shut the door and a wall away from each other. You were both smiling wildly. Will almost called Hannibal and bragged but he went to sleep. He would find out eventually. 

[professionallyprocrastinating]

The Murder Mystery

From this prompt, heartily encouraged by @aelphaba1​

Ramona really, really hated her family’s insistence on setting her up on blind dates. She found relationships so much easier when she was writing them, and could actually make sense of both party’s actions and motivations. Also,  with her characters, she didn’t have to deal with complaints that she made no sense and was a ‘creepy wierdo’.

This time, Ramona’s sister had bribed her with the promised loan of her kitchen next time Ramona needed to cook in bulk, and the assurance that this dating site found matches based on search history and common interests. That, at least, made her morbidly curious about the person she would be meeting. At worst, they could at least talk about interesting topics until Ramona’s dating obligations were fulfilled.

Ramona was a writer; specifically a crime and thriller writer. ‘Interesting’ was the nicest possible way to describe her search history. ‘Creepy’ and ‘potentially criminal’ were far more common terms. That the dating site had actually found someone to match her up with was kind of impressive.

Josh felt kind of guilty going on a blind date, with a person who might turn out to be genuinely nice. He hadn’t had much luck with blind dates in the past, since most of them found him off-putting or boring, and they never seemed to have anything in common.

He never killed them, since they never treated him badly enough to deserve it, but it got depressing after a while. He hoped that a dating site that matched people based on search history and common interests might turn up someone who would at least be able to carry on an interesting conversation.

Josh was a serial killer, targeting people who deserved it; Mafia Bosses, CEOs who exploited their workers and used questionable business practices, politicians who allowed themselves to be bought by vested interests... People the world was honestly better off without. He was doing a public service, really, albeit one that would probably get him arrested if anyone found out. Then again, sit-ins in a segregated bar used to be grounds for arrest and imprisonment, too, so clearly there was a sliding scale for illegality.

Well, perhaps the date would go well, and perhaps it wouldn’t. Perhaps he would even find out about the shitty ex- who treated them horribly enough to warrant being Josh’s next victim.

The dating site also set up a convenient meeting place for the date, in this case a quiet coffee house in the BoHo part of town. Ramona got there early, found the table booked in their name - apparently her date was a guy called Josh - and pulled out her notebook. She had fifteen minutes, possibly even more if her date shared the previous one’s tardiness, so she might as well get some writing done.

Besides, sometimes it scored her a free drink, if the owner believed in supporting independent artists.

Lost in her work, she jumped a little, pen skittering across the page, when a voice like hot chocolate came from beside her, “Sorry to interrupt, are you Ramona?”

She looked up, and then up some more. The man who interrupted her was tall, with lean but defined arm muscles, mostly revealed by the short-sleeved button-down he wore. His jeans weren’t so tight to be able to tell if his legs matched, but Ramona was willing to make an educated guess. Well, he would make a nice character description for her next male lead, even if he turned out to be an internet troll living in his mother’s basement. “Yes, hi. You’re Josh?”

His smile was as nice to look at as the rest of him. “Yes, hi. Sorry, I didn’t think I was running late.”

Ramona shook her head, “Oh, no, I was early. There turned out to be less traffic than I thought, so I had time to kill.”

Josh sat down across from her, and earned instant points by not trying to play footsie. “What are you working on, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Well, at least they could get the awkward out of the was early. “I’m a crime fiction writer. This will hopefully become the outline for my next book.”

There was a gleam of interest in his eye, which earned him even more points, upgrading Josh to ‘text and thank for a nice date’ status. “What’s it about.”

Josh wasn’t sure what falling in love was supposed to feel like, but he was pretty sure that it felt like this.

Ramona’s detailed descriptions of the detective who kept barely missing the killer, the race against time, the anticipation of the victims who knew that they were going to be next... he took back evey bad thing he had ever said about dating sites. This one had matched him up with the most perfect woman on the face of the planet. A first date was probably too soon to start planning a life together, wasn’t it? Maybe an exception could be made?

Ramona paused for breath, and he took the opportunity to contribute, so she would know that he was actually listening, rather than faking it. He didn’t want to mess this up. “What’s the villain’s motivation? Like, subconcious trauma, skewed morality but wants to make the world better, or just in it for the adreniline rush.”

The way her face lit up took Josh’s breath away, and she gestured to her notebook. “I don’t mean to be rude, but do you mind if I write this down?”

She could ask him to sit in an abandoned car for hours, and he would probably agree at this point. “Oh, go ahead.”

Josh waited a few minutes, before he dared to interrupt. “Out of curiosity, how would you kill someone and make it look accidental?”

Ramona barely looked up, her distracted tone comparable to the most beautiful music he had ever heard. “Air shot between the toes. Makes it look like a heart attack.”

Josh swallowed hard, pushing down a surge of arousal. Oh, yes, he was in love.

Ramona was plesantly surprised by how well the date was going.

Josh hadn’t once mocked her, and seemed genuinely interested in everything she had to say. He hadn’t even complained or become offended when she pulled out her notebook to start scribbling, but casually pulled a book out of his backpack, sipping coffee while he waited for her to finish. Looking at the title, Ramona recognised the book as one with an author who actually did their research. “Hey, do you know how long it would take someone to die from a stab to the gut?”

Immediatly, she winced, hoping that she hadn’t just committed some weird and unintentional faux pas. He didn’t get up and run out of the cafe, which was something, but his eyes did darken slightly. Ramona didn’t think it was with anger, though, and he tilted his head to the side, thinking. “Two minutes to half an hour, it depends on a variety of factors.”

Was a first date too early to start thinking abut wedding rings? Ramona thought that the answer was probably ‘yes - way too fast’.

A pity, that; a gold and platinum ring, with an inlaid ruby or two, would look amazing on him.

Josh worked as a Butcher’s assistant, but he always made sure to shower and change before he came home.

They had both received some very askance looks from family members after moving in together after only a few months, but they didn’t care. Ramona didn’t freak out when ther was the occasional bloodstain to be washed out of his clothing, and he thought it was adorable when she bought her notebook to the table, writing between bites.

This one was new, Ramona having just finished filling up her old one. She looked up from her writing as Josh finished his coffee. “Babe, I’m not sure if this murder scene I’m writing is realistic enough. Can you look it over and tell me?”

Josh could do one better than that; he could actually test it out. “Mind if I take it to work with me and read it over? I’ll tell you when I get home tonight.”

Ramona smiled happily at him. “Sure. I should probably get my old notebook transcribed onto my computer, anyway.”

Josh kissed her on the cheek on his way out the door. “I might be a bit late coming home, one of the other staff wasn’t feeling well yesterday, and I might need to cover. I’ll be home in time for dinner, promise.”

Ramona nodded and waved goodbye, already searching for her charger. She’d probably be spending the day at her favourite cafe, staffed with people who didn’t care how long she took up a table, so long as she kept buying drinks and gave the employees something do during the lull period. Josh had already decided that he would probably never need to visit any of them.

On the other hand, there was a customer who had taken to making one of the trainee’s life difficult; complaining about everything and threatening to call the immigration police  or local law enforcement. Josh seriously doubed that anyone would actually miss him.

He didn’t manage to completely wash away the smell of blood before he got home - he didn’t want to be late, not after promising Ramona that he would be on time for dinner. She didn’t seem to mind as he handed back her new notebook. “It works perfectly, babe, you’re doing an amazing job.”

Ramona beamed, putting the finishing touches on the pasta dish she was making. He knew for a fact that she threw it together in half an hour, but that wasn’t important.  “Oh, a co-worker read it over my shoulder and asked if you were re-writing Sweeny Todd or something. I think that’s the only near-horror thing he’s ever looked at, honestly.”

Ramona huffed. “Not hardly, Sweeny was an idiot, and Mrs Lovett’s pies shouldn’t have sold half so well. Adult meat is mostly muscle; cooking it in a pie would make it far too tough and gamey. They would have done better to go for foundling babies. Fatty meats are far more tender.”

Josh wrapped his arms around her. “Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?”

[ecotone99]

[MS] [AA] Prison Stabbing

After years upon years of being harassed by rapists, pedophiles, and murders. These police officers and their family members, stalked me to Lethbridge, Alberta. A bowl full of uniformed and plain clothes turd members of law enforcement showed up to my work. They told me they will stop pursuing me with all of the lies they accuse me of, if I take the job of kitchen manager at Lethbridge Correctional Centre. I told them to take their evidence and press charges, or get the fuck out of my face. As they left I made toilet bowl flushing noises. After about three to six months the turds returned, repeated their offer of allegedly not going to spread evidenceless lies about me. I then repeated my response, press charges or go fuck your self.

After about a year or so, I found myself in need of a job. So I searched Indeed and found a job posting for kitchen cook at Lethbridge Correctional Centre. I was interviewed by the current kitchen manager who hired me later that day. I began working for Compass the next day at Lethbridge Correctional Centre. Law enforcement had nothing to do with my hire and did not know I had taken the job till I was already working there.

Once on the job, the RCMP, prison management, and prison guards began the harassment. Accusing me of crimes including but not limited to, rapes, murders, viewing child porn, and some of my personal favourites, stealing bottles and diesel. I would defend my self verbally against groups of four to over ten at a time. I would refuse to do and spying or anything that would jeopardize my safety. I was paid to cook and supervise the inmates not to deal out punishment, and that is all I would do. There were eleven inmates at a time and just two kitchen staff. No guard presence in the kitchen unless something happened and the were called or doing their counts.

On two separate occasions an RCMP officer admitted to breaking into my home and planting pills inside my glucosamine chondroitin in and attempt to murder me. This was done in front of a group of law enforcement who refused to press charges, so I placed him under a citizens arrest myself. Telling the officer “you are under a citizens arrest for attempted murder, you have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law”. Both times the group then walked away like nothing had transpired.

On two more occasions, two police bothers confessed to the rape and murder of nurse Sonia Varaschin. I requested charges being pressed against them, but was denied by the group of RCMP and prison guards. So I place them both under a citizens arrest, telling them “you are under a citizens arrested for the rape and murder of nurse Sonia Varaschin, you have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law“. Again, every single member of the law enforcement walked away, including the rapist murders.

On another occasion one of the D.D.O.’s of Lethbridge Correctional Centre defamed my character, accusing me of being a pedophile, threatened to have me chemically castrated, then gave the inmates my full name and home address. This was done while we were lined up about to plate lunch in full view of several cameras. I request charges but like before police to not police, police.

The management of the prison was committing fraud by using non minimum security offenders in the kitchen. We were told upon hire that it would only be minimum offenders, but the kitchen crews were filled with gang members, murders, and sex offenders.

After about several months the powers that be decided they no longer wanted me at the prison, so they decided to bring in an incredibly dangerous human being to deal with me. The guy the were bringing had spent a huge portion of his life behind bars as a maximum security offender. Now this guy had made the news recently at that time. While locked up on remand one night, he cling filmed another inmate to a toilet, cut off his ear, then sucked his dick for hours, until the guards showed up in the mourning. Before his arrival, other inmates were warning me that he is coming for me.

Now my schedule was three days on three days off. Me and my cook assistant would do our three days, then we would switch out with the other cook and cook assistant. The cooks would be given two units to choose eleven inmates from each. One unit you would get for breakfast and lunch and the other you would get for dinner. As the paid staff would switch every three days, so would the inmates from breakfast lunch to dinner and vice versa. You would write you inmate list for the next day, so my day one would be written my the other cooks day three. My day one I would write my day two, my day two I would write my day three. And if the other cook would fuck me, on my day three I could get my revenge for his day one. I’m not sure who brought this guy down originally, but he worked good. He knew how to make trays, pour juice, make bricks, wash dishes. It was clear this wasn’t his first kitchen crew, also with his presence the other inmates had something to worry about instead of being fixed on fucking with me.

Now from what I heard, he was given a time limit to get ride of me. If he is successful, he gets to stay at the all inclusive resort of LCC, if not he goes back to federal prison where he is locked up twenty three hours a day. Now I am not someone who is going to be run off anything I want. This job pays garbage, but it is a nice three on three off. After resisting the pressure this guy is applying his time is getting close to up.

Now I will describe a bit the actual play by play of how a prison kitchen works. We would make three meals per day, weekdays, two on weekends. Now these meals are not hungry man meals thrown in a microwave. They involve prep work, and that work involves knives. The knives would be kept secure in the office. They would have a hole drilled through them with a steel loop. There were kitchen tables that would have a string of steel with loop on it. You connect the loops and put a lock on it, now that knife would be secure to the table. But, I would still have to get the knives from the office to the table. Now when doing this I would like to walk around first, and see what everyone is doing.

I come out of the office one day to do a walk around before I bring the knife out. I look right, and the inmates are making trays. I walk straight ahead and to my left the inmates are making bricks. I keep walking forward and to my right some are in the dish pit washing dishes. Continuing on to my left some of them are making juice, and now I arrive at the table. Now it is a clean shinny stainless steel table with one classic plastic knife out of place. It is going to be the kind of knife you would find in any cafeteria you would use to spread margarine. Now sometimes I will have people tossing flags at this knife thinking it is nothing to be worried about. You put that knife through someone’s eye, and they are fucking done. I look to the right and hiding behind this post is Williams. I’m not sure how many fights you have been in, in your life, if any. But there is a tension in the air that you can feel. Now to see where these guys heads at I engaged him in conversation. I said something like, “hey”, he replied something in a voice you could hear was filled with tension, coming from a mind that was clearly thinking about what was coming next, as he slowly crept toward the knife.

Now a little background about me, I played high school basketball and I was good. Now a major component of basketball is judging distance, you need to know what people are capable of to decided where you are going to be. So as he is creeping toward the knife, so am I. We are just making small chat, as we both inch closer and closer. We both pause, pretty much toe to toe. Now I’m one hundred percent convinced there is going to be a stabbing. Like I said I played high school basketball, I’m competitive. If there is going to be a stabbing, I’m going to want to win that stabbing. We both look at each other, look at the knife, look back at each other, and its like this Hollywood scene where we both just jump for the knife at the same time. I have the longer arms and judged the distance correctly, I came up with the knife.

I grab the knife with my right hand and pull it across my body. He is desperately trying to get the knife with both hands. As I get the knife to my right side, I scoop under and raise his arms with my left arm. Now his entire rib cage is exposed. I waste no time at all, and immediately start warming up his ribs. He has on the inmate coveralls designed to take hits from a plastic knife. So no bloody damage is done. After about eight to twelve strikes of justice he breaks off and walks away.

Now he is heading away from me towards the freezer wall. Makes a left and heads towards and past fridge two. Keeps going till he gets to fridge one, where he pauses. It’s almost like he got that little cartoon thought bubble that said “fuck this guy”. He turns around and start coming back. Now the first round of stabbing was just raw animal instinct like a lion taking down a gazelle. I have a few moments to think this time around. I remember this one Brock Lesnar fight where instead of two guys just sizing each other up in the middle of the ring, he just ran the guy over. So I decide that is going be my move. I have a spot on the floor I have decided is where I will strike. I’m going to push him upwards and back to get his weight off his feet. Hopefully he will go flying back into the freezer wall and before he has his balance I will be back in his ribs.

He is at fridge two, at the freezer, then makes the right. Right when he is on my spot with the reflexes of a cat and the speed of a mongoose I pounce. Everything goes flawless, he flies back and I am like a fat kid on round two at a Chinese buffet. Another four to eight strokes of justice and he breaks off shouting “I’m done”

As the event begins to cure in my mind. I am just standing there holding this plastic knife like a champion, listening to one of the black inmates chirping him, “ya done, ya done”

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[ecotone99]

prison stabbing {MS} {AA}

After years upon years of being harassed by rapists, pedophiles, and murders. These police officers and their family members, stalked me to Lethbridge, Alberta. A bowl full of uniformed and plain clothes turd members of law enforcement showed up to my work. They told me they will stop pursuing me with all of the lies they accuse me of, if I take the job of kitchen manager at Lethbridge Correctional Centre. I told them to take their evidence and press charges, or get the fuck out of my face. As they left I made toilet bowl flushing noises. After about three to six months the turds returned, repeated their offer of allegedly not going to spread evidenceless lies about me. I then repeated my response, press charges or go fuck your self.

After about a year or so, I found myself in need of a job. So I searched Indeed and found a job posting for kitchen cook at Lethbridge Correctional Centre. I was interviewed by the current kitchen manager who hired me later that day. I began working for Compass the next day at Lethbridge Correctional Centre. Law enforcement had nothing to do with my hire and did not know I had taken the job till I was already working there.

Once on the job, the RCMP, prison management, and prison guards began the harassment. Accusing me of crimes including but not limited to, rapes, murders, viewing child porn, and some of my personal favourites, stealing bottles and diesel. I would defend my self verbally against groups of four to over ten at a time. I would refuse to do and spying or anything that would jeopardize my safety. I was paid to cook and supervise the inmates not to deal out punishment, and that is all I would do. There were eleven inmates at a time and just two kitchen staff. No guard presence in the kitchen unless something happened and the were called or doing their counts.

On two separate occasions an RCMP officer admitted to breaking into my home and planting pills inside my glucosamine chondroitin in and attempt to murder me. This was done in front of a group of law enforcement who refused to press charges, so I placed him under a citizens arrest myself. Telling the officer “you are under a citizens arrest for attempted murder, you have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law”. Both times the group then walked away like nothing had transpired.

On two more occasions, two police bothers confessed to the rape and murder of nurse Sonia Varaschin. I requested charges being pressed against them, but was denied by the group of RCMP and prison guards. So I place them both under a citizens arrest, telling them “you are under a citizens arrested for the rape and murder of nurse Sonia Varaschin, you have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law“. Again, every single member of the law enforcement walked away, including the rapist murders.

On another occasion one of the D.D.O.’s of Lethbridge Correctional Centre defamed my character, accusing me of being a pedophile, threatened to have me chemically castrated, then gave the inmates my full name and home address. This was done while we were lined up about to plate lunch in full view of several cameras. I request charges but like before police to not police, police.

The management of the prison was committing fraud by using non minimum security offenders in the kitchen. We were told upon hire that it would only be minimum offenders, but the kitchen crews were filled with gang members, murders, and sex offenders.

After about several months the powers that be decided they no longer wanted me at the prison, so they decided to bring in an incredibly dangerous human being to deal with me. The guy the were bringing had spent a huge portion of his life behind bars as a maximum security offender. Now this guy had made the news recently at that time. While locked up on remand one night, he cling filmed another inmate to a toilet, cut off his ear, then sucked his dick for hours, until the guards showed up in the mourning. Before his arrival, other inmates were warning me that he is coming for me.

Now my schedule was three days on three days off. Me and my cook assistant would do our three days, then we would switch out with the other cook and cook assistant. The cooks would be given two units to choose eleven inmates from each. One unit you would get for breakfast and lunch and the other you would get for dinner. As the paid staff would switch every three days, so would the inmates from breakfast lunch to dinner and vice versa. You would write you inmate list for the next day, so my day one would be written my the other cooks day three. My day one I would write my day two, my day two I would write my day three. And if the other cook would fuck me, on my day three I could get my revenge for his day one. I’m not sure who brought this guy down originally, but he worked good. He knew how to make trays, pour juice, make bricks, wash dishes. It was clear this wasn’t his first kitchen crew, also with his presence the other inmates had something to worry about instead of being fixed on fucking with me.

Now from what I heard, he was given a time limit to get ride of me. If he is successful, he gets to stay at the all inclusive resort of LCC, if not he goes back to federal prison where he is locked up twenty three hours a day. Now I am not someone who is going to be run off anything I want. This job pays garbage, but it is a nice three on three off. After resisting the pressure this guy is applying his time is getting close to up.

Now I will describe a bit the actual play by play of how a prison kitchen works. We would make three meals per day, weekdays, two on weekends. Now these meals are not hungry man meals thrown in a microwave. They involve prep work, and that work involves knives. The knives would be kept secure in the office. They would have a hole drilled through them with a steel loop. There were kitchen tables that would have a string of steel with loop on it. You connect the loops and put a lock on it, now that knife would be secure to the table. But, I would still have to get the knives from the office to the table. Now when doing this I would like to walk around first, and see what everyone is doing.

I come out of the office one day to do a walk around before I bring the knife out. I look right, and the inmates are making trays. I walk straight ahead and to my left the inmates are making bricks. I keep walking forward and to my right some are in the dish pit washing dishes. Continuing on to my left some of them are making juice, and now I arrive at the table. Now it is a clean shinny stainless steel table with one classic plastic knife out of place. It is going to be the kind of knife you would find in any cafeteria you would use to spread margarine. Now sometimes I will have people tossing flags at this knife thinking it is nothing to be worried about. You put that knife through someone’s eye, and they are fucking done. I look to the right and hiding behind this post is Williams. I’m not sure how many fights you have been in, in your life, if any. But there is a tension in the air that you can feel. Now to see where these guys heads at I engaged him in conversation. I said something like, “hey”, he replied something in a voice you could hear was filled with tension, coming from a mind that was clearly thinking about what was coming next, as he slowly crept toward the knife.

Now a little background about me, I played high school basketball and I was good. Now a major component of basketball is judging distance, you need to know what people are capable of to decided where you are going to be. So as he is creeping toward the knife, so am I. We are just making small chat, as we both inch closer and closer. We both pause, pretty much toe to toe. Now I’m one hundred percent convinced there is going to be a stabbing. Like I said I played high school basketball, I’m competitive. If there is going to be a stabbing, I’m going to want to win that stabbing. We both look at each other, look at the knife, look back at each other, and its like this Hollywood scene where we both just jump for the knife at the same time. I have the longer arms and judged the distance correctly, I came up with the knife.

I grab the knife with my right hand and pull it across my body. He is desperately trying to get the knife with both hands. As I get the knife to my right side, I scoop under and raise his arms with my left arm. Now his entire rib cage is exposed. I waste no time at all, and immediately start warming up his ribs. He has on the inmate coveralls designed to take hits from a plastic knife. So no bloody damage is done. After about eight to twelve strikes of justice he breaks off and walks away.

Now he is heading away from me towards the freezer wall. Makes a left and heads towards and past fridge two. Keeps going till he gets to fridge one, where he pauses. It’s almost like he got that little cartoon thought bubble that said “fuck this guy”. He turns around and start coming back. Now the first round of stabbing was just raw animal instinct like a lion taking down a gazelle. I have a few moments to think this time around. I remember this one Brock Lesnar fight where instead of two guys just sizing each other up in the middle of the ring, he just ran the guy over. So I decide that is going be my move. I have a spot on the floor I have decided is where I will strike. I’m going to push him upwards and back to get his weight off his feet. Hopefully he will go flying back into the freezer wall and before he has his balance I will be back in his ribs.

He is at fridge two, at the freezer, then makes the right. Right when he is on my spot with the reflexes of a cat and the speed of a mongoose I pounce. Everything goes flawless, he flies back and I am like a fat kid on round two at a Chinese buffet. Another four to eight strokes of justice and he breaks off shouting “I’m done”

As the event begins to cure in my mind. I am just standing there holding this plastic knife like a champion, listening to one of the black inmates chirping him, “ya done, ya done”

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