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clairelsonao3 · 1 year

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OC Name Meanings Tag

Thanks to @starlit-hopes-and-dreams (post here) and @mysticstarlightduck (post here) for this one that I've been looking forward to for weeks! I'm a total name nerd and am obsessed with name meanings as well as new, trendy, odd, and/or obscure names (too bad many of these started out as generic placeholders!)

For obvious reasons, though, I can't help but wish you'd waited a bit longer to tag me in this. 🤣 But, here goes.

Some very minor spoilers here for Ch. 16 onward.

Louisa is German for "famous warrior," a surprisingly strong name, but, then again, this is a girl who has a way of surprising people with her strength. It's also one of the many, many girls' names I've had a crush on for years, and one of the many I probably won't ever use for my own (eventual) child. So I gave it to my fictional child instead. 🥹🥹

I established in an earlier tag game that she was named after both her maternal and paternal grandfathers (Louis and Daniel). So for the rest of her name, we have Danielle (Hebrew: "God is my judge," and Phillips (Greek: "horse-lover") (and literally the first surname that popped into my head as a placeholder, and I'm very annoyed because it's so common. Oh, well.)

Maeve is interesting. She should have a Luxembourgish name, but she's not one for convention. So the name is actually Irish, for "she who rules" and Maeve, a lover of fantasy stories, chose it herself after the mythological warrior queen. It's also a variant of Mab, Shakespeare's Queen of the Fairies, made famous in Mercutio's soliloquy from Romeo and Juliet. Conveniently, we haven't gotten around to learning her surname yet.

Erica is Norse for "eternal ruler," and Muller is German for "miller." Another name that started as basically a placeholder, but I've come around to it.

Milagros (Spanish: "miracles") who, in a plot point of sorts, named herself, has the full name of María de los Milagros de Ulloa y de la Torre-Giralt-Muller, chosen to honor an obscure Spanish astronomer who discovered Ulloa's ring aka the fog bow: Antonio de Ulloa (and hyphenated with Muller, obviously, for her wife). Interestingly, María de los Milagros is one of many Marian titles, meaning it's a Catholic name commonly used in Latin America referring to the Virgin Mary aka "Our Lady of the Miracles," though knowing Milagros, that's definitely not why she chose it.

Keith (Scottish: "wood") and Corey (Irish: "from the hollow") have the dubious honor of being the two most bland, generic, white-bread male names I could think of at the moment I created the characters. 🤣 Killeen is Irish and a variant of O Cillin, referring to St. Killian, the patron saint of rheumatism. But actually, it was just stolen from a friend of a friend; it seemed rare enough that no one would be offended when I used it for the worst character in the story. 🤣

And in case anyone remembers or cares that Lou's mom's name is Zoe, it's Greek for "life."

Jacob is of course a variant of James (Hebrew: "supplanter"), and I lazily stole Wallach from old-timey Western actor Eli Wallach, who was best known for playing the bad guy in The Magnificent Seven. But I mostly chose the surname, again, because I'd never heard it anywhere else, so, less chance of offending anyone. And before I knew he was going to be German. Luckily the name IS German, from valche, meaning "foreigner from a Romance country, usually Italy." Yeah, I'm confused too.

Resi/Tresa are German variations of Theresa (Greek: "late summer.") Hahn is also German, meaning "conceited, flamboyant, or sexually active." Really.

Felix (Latin: "happy") and Arlo (multiple origins, all relating to "hill") were chosen because they're two currently trendy baby names that I hate, hate, hate. (No offense to anyone who named their kid that, lol). And their surnames, which were only mentioned once and I'm not bothering to look up the meaning of, were chosen because they're two prominent family names on the island where I live, as kind of an in-joke.

Lemaya: As far as I can tell, it's made up (but not by me!) Maya has a ton of different meanings in various languages, the most common being Sanskrit, "illusion or magic."

Obadiah: (Hebrew: "servant of God"). I'll leave that there.

And that's pretty much everybody -- oh, wait. I'm missing someone? Imagine that. 😅

Okay. I'll tell you what. Because this is a post about names and I'm feeling cute, I'll leave you with a couple of hints: his first name is of Hebrew origin and was chosen for both sound and meaning.

I'll try gently tagging the following:

@romanceandshenanigans @janec23 @lucylyricism Would love to find out where your OCs' names came from!

#oc names #tag game #gsnbtr #my writing #writeblr

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volivolition · 5 months

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dude the TOP song you posted (truce) fucking kills me and the way you described the animatic is??? so good???? I'd bawl actually /pos

I need to know if there's any other TOP songs you relate to the furies/any DE character really, or any slower songs even if they aren't by TOP

OH AGREED ABSOLUTELY!! TRUCE MY BELOVED... and THANK YOU!! we are imagining animatics and crying together! /pos :'] <3

ooh!! well, i havent listened to a lot of TOP in a while, so i don't have many recommendations there unfortunately :'] but for other slow, soft songs, let's see... i'll put them under a cut with all my explanations, but ☀️ "See The Day" by The Altogether (Volition song!), 🍃 "Rounds" by The Oh Hellos (Shivers song!), 🦋 "Would You Be So Kind" by dodie (general skills song, Suggestion primarily!) are the best contenders!

Pretty sure you've seen it already, but from a different ask, i recommend "Almost (Sweet Music)" by Hozier! (and "Like Real People Do" if you want to cry and yearn with me, though my DE ideas for it are very loose hkjhg) these are slow ones i like hkjhg <3

"Goodbye" by The Altogether is a Harry and Dora song :0

"Soldier, Poet, King" by The Oh Hellos is one i specifically relate to Volition (my beloved protector/motivator/crownhead blorbo! [picks him up and wiggles him!!!]), but i would make one of those animation memes for it with every skill slotted into a "soldier" "poet" or "king" position.

☀️ "See the Day" is both another The Altogether song and another Volition song! a real "the worst is over. we made it through. we're going to survive this. it might not get easier yet, but we'll come out the other side and we'll be alive" song. it makes me cry hkjgh

🍃 "Rounds" by The Oh Hellos is a soft Shivers song, though the lyrics don't start until halfway in. ough my god listening to it makes my heart ache (/pos) <3 La Revacholiere singing to Harry in the wind. "Will you start when I end? Yeah, I'm long in the wind..."

"Northern Star" by Dom Fera, a song Harry would sing for karaoke and dedicate to Kim, and then they'd waltz a little clumsily on the dim, starlit sidewalk on their way home for the evening... <3

🦋 "Would You Be So Kind?" by dodie BUT SPECIFICALLY THIS VERSION, because i love everyone's crowded but earnest vibes. this one is led by Suggestion ("oooh you wanna fall in love with us so bad right? right???") and makes me grin, you GOTTA imagine all of the skills squished together in the front of Harry's brain all trying different tactics to get Kim to fall in love with them, (rhetoric: "I HAVE A QUESTION..." ency: "let's write a story! be in my book!") at 2:35, after all the skills singing together loudly, it's just Harry himself singing to Kim, with all the skills slowly backing him up. the ending is all of them fucking ECSTATIC celebrating when harry finally kisses kim hkjhg jesus this'd be so cute hold on i have to go plan this out i have so many thoughts hkjdh

"Seven" by Sleeping at Last would be a sweet Reaction Speed song (ironic that im adding react speed to a list of soft, slow songs though hkjgh) "I'm ready for whatever comes next!" <3 Reaction Speed is a fast, restless little fella who can't sit still for long, always loves moving, acting, doing. he's like the personification of a verb hkjhg <3 i would also accept an interpretation for echem <3

"Cosmos" by Jawbreaker Reunion is a song that The Furies recently suggested to me as a jean song and it's so right for that, very soft and i like it very much :'] (you should also ask The Furies if you want to, it's much more musically inclined than me, i feel hkjhg <3)

awuahg thank you for asking and for reading!! i appreciate it!! <33

oh and here's links to all of the songs in the tags: Come Together Now, Two, Four, Five, Six, Eight, Nine, RPG Animation Meme (<- homestuck lmao)

#volta transmissions #now: songs that didn't meet the requirements (either not a slow song OR doesnt remind me of de characters/skills) but honorable mentions:#you specifically asked for slow songs but i refound ''come together now'' from the lego movie soundtrack and I HAVE SKILL THOUGHTS...#<- no chemi you're not hosting a fucking multi animator project you have enough on your plate THANKS <3 #but!! that is my idealized version of the skills to me though. ''we're all really different but we make each other better together''#dodie has many more slower songs but i cant really relate them to DE hkjhg <3 the oh hellos too!! and the altogether <3 #''two'' from Sleeping at Last makes my heart hurt but i can't relate it to anyone in specific. but if you want a soft song that i love <3 #also from Sleeping at Last but i dont like these songs as much: ''Four'' is Concept! ''Five'' is Viscal! ''Six'' is Psyche in general #but specifically inland and volition!! ''Eight'' is an Endurance song but i'd also take Authority or Phys interpretations <3 #but eight is kind of intense so it doesnt go in the actual list. ''Nine'' might be Empathy? get over being a moralist little guy!!#i like ''Two'' ''Seven'' and ''Eight'' while the other ones are not my cup of tea... but they ARE soft songs i associate with skills!#only tangentially related but the RPG animation meme would be. extremely fun to do for the skills. and i think about it intensely.#LISTEN... there's 30-ish beats at the start for characters. theres 24 skills plus room to show group ups by type (int; psyc; phys; mot)#the entire main thing of the meme is [someone says a stupid idea] [everyone disliked that!!] WHICH IS EXACTLY THE RIGHT VIBE HFJKFH #HOWEVER. i still dont have designs for [checks] MORE THAN HALF OF THEM. so EL BIGO MISTAKO LIEUTENANT! YOU CAN'T!#i wish i was more well-versed in music hkjhg im kinda just vibing with what i got <3 this is why daily voltas stopped :'] alas!#esprit: Sammie

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starlitspires · 2 years

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The Kuranes Principle

The greater denizens of the Starlit Spires, as a rule, are the most human.

In the far outskirts, and the Bailey-Town, and all throughout the Spires themselves, you can find creatures that are fathomlessly foreign to any kind of mortal existence. They are driven by pure simple ideals, with no admixture of ordinary sentiment diluting their motivations -- or by urges so inhuman that they cannot even be expressed in language -- or by their understanding of transcendent principles. Their forms are unearthly, if not impossible. Within the physical spheres, most of them produce the miasma of alienation, because their very nature conflicts with the simplest demands of material existence. Communicating with them requires specialized methods. Understanding them requires insight that is tantamount to madness.

These are mostly the lesser daimons, the common beasts, the rank-and-file of the Spires. They do their strange doings in shadowed corners, or in isolated lairs, and the world continues on. They bend to the will of grander spirits, and sometimes even to the will of mortals, when they are bound into service as familiars.

Meanwhile, those grander spirits mostly speak in comprehensible tongues, and their desires are mostly recognizable to a mortal mind. They have their factions and their politics, their loves and their tragedies. Often they wear forms that are symbolic, or metaphorical; and the symbol and the metaphor rarely needs much explanation.

And the exalted powers of the Spires, the ones who dwell in the penthouse palaces and the deepest sanctuaries -- the Masters of the Thousands, the Paradox Eaters, the gods -- are almost indistinguishable from humans in their appearance and their behavior. Most of them look, and talk, very much like the mortals that they once were. Their agendas are often familiar. Their foibles are often relatable.

(In certain ways, of course, they are all very inhuman indeed. But their inhumanities are well-concealed, to an eye that is not searching; and, for most practical purposes, their inhumanities do not matter.)

This is the ordering of the spirit world. It is not always so; very few things are always so. But it is true far more often than not.

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Piero Greco once knelt in supplication before The Lady of the Blossoming Mysteries, on a field of knife-edged grass, and this is what she told him:

As a woman of flesh, I professed the life sciences, at a university with which you are familiar. I had wealth and security. I discovered new truths, from time to time. But I fled the world, because my days were consumed by the dramas of the faculty. Endlessly we sought to impress each other, and to ensnare one another in our pet projects. We feuded over meaningless slights, and over points of meaningless ideology.

So I turned to the higher mysteries. I became a spirit of immortal starlight, a devourer of gods. And for what? Now I live here in the highest reaches of the Spires, amidst the only beings who could dare to call themselves my peers, and -- we seek to impress each other, and to ensnare one another in our pet projects. We feud over slights and ideology, and it is all very cosmically meaningful, and yet.

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In the upper reaches of the Amber Spire, there is a Chili's. One of the lords of that place is devoted to the comfort foods of his human days. Becoming a Master of the Thousands, with all that entails, did nothing to change his outlook on this matter. And he wrought his will upon his domain, that he might take his ease amidst corporatized casual fun, feasting on nachos and margaritas with his hollow courtesans.

All the workers there are daimons. I could not tell you how the restaurant sources its materials, or whether the food is made from anything that remotely resembles the ingredients used by an earthly restaurant. I certainly could not tell you what relationship, if any, it has to Brinker International. But, apart from the oddities of the staff and the clientele, it is -- to my perception -- indistinguishable from any other Chili's. And it seldom lacks for custom. The ruling powers of the region convene there as often as anywhere else.

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Occultists and travelers often find it difficult to accept this. There are so many who insist on believing that the greatest beings of the spirit-world must be the strangest, the most abstract and elemental, the most inhuman. They cannot shake the idea that the terrible lords of the Spires, who seem so familiar, must be subordinate to something that is utterly unfamiliar.

They think, in short, that attaining power and wisdom is entirely synonymous with becoming unlike themselves.

Which says more about them than it does about the realities of spirit.

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In truth, it is not hard to see why things should be ordered in this way.

Almost everything in the Spires came from the mortal world, in one way or another. Physical reality is the crucible of spirit.

Many of the lesser daimons are fragments-of-people, in their origins -- fragments that can stand alone, conceptually, or fragments that have combined with similar fragments from similar people. They are lesser than human, in the very most literal sense, even if in some ways they may be stronger or more capable. Their simplicity reflects a lack of ontological depth. They do not encompass complexity because they cannot.

Certain lesser daimons were once people entire, travelers and occultists who left their human nature behind to become something wholly other. Some of them fell victim to traps, or predators, and were changed against their will. Some of them made unwise bargains, or engaged in arcane practices that they did not fully understand. Those who abandoned themselves willingly were -- the sorts of people who would abandon themselves willingly. Young, often, and full of high ideals, and monomaniacal. They had little to lose. They saw little value in themselves, only in what they might become. And so, when they transcended material existence, they didn't have much to take along with them into the Spires.

Humanity is like a pair of shoes, or a sweater. It becomes more comfortable as you wear it in. Eventually you find yourself loath to discard it, even when your reason tells you that you should.

The greater daimons, at the end of their mortal existences, were generally older and more attached to themselves. The greatest daimons were generally much older and much more attached to themselves. They bend much of their power, and much of their knowledge, to the preservation of their complex contradictory identities.

It is silly, perhaps. Many things, in the highest halls of wisdom, are silly.

#observations upon a truer world

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jacksgreysays · 4 years

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Blood Moon (to the victor go the spoils remix), 2/? (2020-04-26)

Subang was the first.

After my defeat, Apolaki was shrewd. He didn’t kill me—not with the other diwata watching, waiting to see what kind of Ruler of the Sky he would be, not when my sisters had maneuvered around him for my sake—but he did punish me all the same. Banished to the realm of humans, to live and live and live among them in the world that our father had Created.

That alone would not have been a punishment: my mother was human, I was born in their realm, lived the first fraction of my life as human before Bathala had raised my sisters and I to the Sky, ascended to diwata status. No, that alone would not have been punishment.

It was being alone that was my punishment. While I had been banished from the Sky, my sisters were detained there. Ostensibly to be Apolaki’s attendants—Hanan the Morning Dawn and Tala the Starlit Dusk, bookends to the Shining Sun himself—but we knew the truth. They were prisoners. Hostages. Both of them held close even as I was sent away, reduced to Apolaki’s servant in the realm of humans.

Sometimes, in the centuries that followed, I wondered if perhaps it was more than just punishment; if, somehow, he had foreseen the need of a diwata to walk the world, a divine warrior who could navigate the realm of humans. Because, not too long into Apolaki’s reign as Ruler of the Sky, a new threat appeared:

Bakunawa, Serpent of the Sea.

Arrogantly, foolishly, desperately, I thought I could defeat Bakunawa alone, prove myself to the other diwata, and earn my place back in the Sky. After all, I was Mayari, the Radiant Moon, one of Bathala the Almighty Creator’s chosen heirs. Despite my humble origins, I was one of the most powerful diwata, second only to the new Ruler of the Sky and yet...

… I blamed my lost eye and the corporeal form into which I been detained, my prowess diminished even as I still recovered from the battle for the Scepter. I blamed Apolaki for being too cowardly to fight alongside me and protect the Sky as a real Ruler would. Scheming to send me to my death without dirtying his own hands and tarnishing his reign. I blamed the humans for being too weak to defend themselves; I blamed Bakunawa for preying on, despicable. Briefly, I even blamed my sisters for not letting me die with honor, for abandoning me to a fleeting, pitiful existence that would end in a far more pathetic defeat. I blamed everyone but myself.

Subang was the first.

That night was a full moon. That night the light of my purview was supposed to illuminate the Sky, as close to home as I could get. That night was meant to empower me and guide the humans even as I walked among them.

Instead, to my horror, the moon began to darken under the shadow of the Serpent as it rose from Sea to Sky, teeth glistening and ready to rend and consume. Instead, the moon turned red, an ill omen of the blood that would be shed that night.

I was arrogant and foolish and desperate and so I fell once more, defeated. This time, there were no tears. Instead there was anguish: I could not resign myself to an honorable death, not when my failure would mean the world’s end.

Bakunawa was poised to strike—fins and scales gleaming red under my eclipsed moon, almost gleeful in its bloodlust—when the sound of gongs, bold bronze, reverberated through the air.

Subang was the first. Clever and brave Subang leapt forward with her gong, distracting the Serpent and giving me the opportunity to regain my strength and retaliate. Clever and brave Subang whose music underscored the battle, turning combat into dance, defeat into victory…

... But it was not a victory without sacrifice.

Subang was the first. I remember. I remember the gong and mallet fallen to the ground. I remember Subang’s eyes blank and glassy, face smudged with dirt and blood. I remember as Bakunawa’s teeth dug into her, dragging her down into the Sea. I remember the moon returning to its normal luminescence. I remember Apolaki appearing, Scepter of the Sky in hand, while I once again was on my knees, staunching bloody wounds, not crying but filled, once more, with grief.

“Well done, sister,” Apolaki said, too late to be useful, too late to be anything but deliberate. Behind him stood his attendants and that sight was what nearly brought me to tears: Hanan’s eyes void of any emotion, Tala silent, subservient.

I didn’t ask what was wrong. I didn’t think to ask what was wrong, as battered and drained as I was. I could only breathe and bleed and live and live and live.

“Our first victory against the Sea Serpent,” Apolaki said, and the proud, wrathful, inhuman part of me briefly flared up in indignation before it drowned in exhaustion and grief, “Though, no doubt, this battle is but the start of a continuous conflict.”

Later, I would wonder if this was yet again another bout of foresight or if it was perhaps something more insidious.

Hanan and Tala, still void of emotions, still silent and subservient, bent down for Subang’s gong and mallet. There were no comforting hands, warm or cool, no concerned attention or protective words; they returned to their places behind Apolaki and had nothing for me.

“You know your duty, Mayari,” Apolaki decreed, tone heavy with all the authority of the Ruler of the Sky, before leaving with his attendants in tow. I nearly crumpled with the weight of it. I would not be returning home any time soon, not chained to this impossible duty as I was.

Subang was the first...

... She would not be the last.

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There was the Sky and the Sea and the world in between, the realm of humans. Though perhaps that was a misnomer, for humans were not the only ones who lived among them—and that was not just counting myself.

While the other diwata lived in the Sky, their domains and purviews encompassed the three realms: such as Anitun Tabu, the Rain Bringer, who controlled the weather in the Sky and her brother Dumakulem, the Mountain Guardian, who protected humans on the land. Even the Sea, treacherous though it was, had Amanikable, the Hunter Lord, who watched over the fishermen as they toiled upon the unpredictable Sea.

There were others, of course, and I knew them by name, by face, by domain and purview—for I had been an heir to Bathala, and might have been their new Ruler of the Sky—but there was more than just diwata and humans in the world.

Anito were as numerous as they were varied, and mysterious in addition to that, for their origins couldn’t be attributed to Bathala, even though they inhabited the world he Created. They appeared seemingly randomly and in practically anything—animals, plants, places, objects, natural phenomena, and intangible concepts—even humans. The human anito, uncommon as they were, generally only appeared after death as ninunò, ancestor spirits who guided their descendants through times of hardship.

However, sometimes, there could be an even more exceptional form of human anito, so rare that they had no name; humans who, in life, could even measure up to the power of diwata…

… Like warding off the Serpent of the Sea with nothing more than the sound of gongs.

A/N: I’m going to do this! I believe in myself! Also I have finally stated Mayari’s name! And I am still as bad at dialogue as ever! I’m a little meeeeh about her title as “Radiant Moon” I wasn’t sure if I should use a different adjective but it’s the one that best fits for now, I guess?

I am mixing the different regional myths. Because sometimes Mayari is but one of many moon goddesses (and also, sometimes a guy) and technically Mayari isn’t the moon god(dess) who is related to the Bakunawa myth, but that’s the premise from the original Blood Moon, so I’m filling in the blanks with other moon-related Filipino myths. ~RESEARCH~

#jacksgreyson #writing #fanfiction #original fiction #filipino mythology #diwata #anito #blood moon (to the victor go the spoils remix)#mayari #subang #apolaki #hanan #tala #bakunawa

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the-prince-of-professors · 5 years

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I was rewatching the the mentalist and was wondering: If the team behind the mentalist would say: We do an adaptation of the Raffles book." what would you say: Yay or Nah?

Oh! Well, as much as I love The Mentalist… no. It’s still so very much in the typical *American crime drama* genre, and that’s just not the style I want to see in a Raffles adaptation.

However, Gentleman Jack definitely awoke some Raffles feels in me – and not because the relationship Anne/Ann was so much like Raffles/Bunny, but because the style was something I think would serve the stories well. There was something about the cinematography and the editing that felt fresh and modern yet suited the setting and time period, and made it all feel very close, you know? And that’s how I feel about the books – yes, it’s Victorian era, but oh my god it’s all so relatable and real; and an adaptation really do need to capture that along with the humour and irony… and then just let Raffles and Bunny be real and alive in it all.

Then add some starlit skies and whispers in the dark, flickering candles and shimmering diamonds; bright society balls and cigarettes shared in the quiet garden outside; passionate kisses and longing glances and lots of laughter, and I’ll be happy.

#a j raffles #bunny manders #gentleman jack #the mentalist #answers from toni #kajaono #television #cinematography #i'm not sure how to tag this so i'll just use all the tags x)

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bangtan-dreamland · 5 years

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Future Works

Series

⭐ Cliche Romances: The Bestfriend’s Edition

Summary: Or in which, we find out- is falling for your bestfriend really the ultimate recipe for heartbreak? Or is it worth taking that chance to find out?

❤ Of Hopeless Romances and Starlit Skies

Summary: If there is anything you know, any fact that is central to the foundation of your life, there is only three.

Fact #1: Taehyung is a hopeless romantic. You are the complete opposite.

Fact #2: You are his bestfriend.

Fact #3: You are in love with him.

... Not that you’ll ever admit the last part though.

❤ Of Second Choices and Spring Air

Summary: All you wanted was to be someone's first choice. All Jungkook wanted was for you to choose him. Love is never easy, but when your last relationship ends horribly and you give up on everything related to those four letters, he makes it his mission to show you that there's always been someone waiting for you to choose him, if you'd only give him a chance.

❤ Of Reunions and Drifting Waves

Summary: Park Jimin is someone you swore you'd get over, but years later, when you meet up again in your hometown, the town festival forces you two to keep each other close. Tensions rise when his friends and your friends keep setting you two up, but it's not like anything would ever happen. After all, you'd moved on from him, and he'd never even looked at you that way, right...?

⭐ Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice

Summary: Stepping into the world of sugar babies was something you never expected- moreso being a 'sugar mommy'. However, fate had decided to give you seven men as 'sugar babies'...

What do you do when you're a 'pure' virgin, and your adoptive family wants to set you up with someone to obtain access to your inheritance? Prove them wrong by presenting your dating history, of course! Complete with your own romantic partner- and if you can't get one on short notice (not owing to your inexperience), well... money may have brought you into this trouble, so it's only fair you use it to get out, right?

⭐ A Witch’s Soul(mate)

Summary: Being a witch meant being a supernatural, it meant discrimination and fear and wariness, so you've always kept it hidden, acted as though you were a normal human- until an outburst of your powers sets events into motion, one that forces you to accept your powers- or risk losing everything. You never asked to be bound to a human, and Jimin never expected being connected to a witch- but together, you might just survive and grow.

⭐ tweet with luv

Summary: Confessing to your bestfriend, when you’re sure he doesn’t feel the same way? Bad.

Vague tweeting about your crush on your bestfriend online, for the whole world to see, when you're an award-winning actress with no previous relationship scandals, and he's the golden maknae of the biggest kpop group in the world? So. Much. Worse.

⭐ The Kindergarten Agenda 🌠

Summary: Teaching preschool wasn’t exactly what you signed up for when you applied to be a teacher at Bighit School, but you quickly find yourself falling for the job. It doesn’t hurt that your students are absolute sweethearts, no matter how others seem to see them as demons. If the way that they cling to you is any indication, they feel the same way too. You’re their precious teacher!

And then starts the war when they realize you’re not in a relationship. Who better to be your partner than their older brother slash father slash cousin?

⭐ Wedding Lace

❤ Satisfied

Summary: Falling in love with Kim Seokjin was as easy as one, two, three- trying to control your feelings and falling out of love with him was another matter entirely. Still, what else was there to do? You may have been his childhood friend, his best friend, the person who's been there for him through his whole life, but your sister still had multiple advantages over you even when she didn’t want them- his heart, for one.

The other being her arranged marriage with him.

❤ Here

Summary: All your life, you'd revolved around Seokjin as though he was the sun- and you, the hapless Earth, so close and yet so far. Then enters Park Jimin in your orbit.

⭐ A Siren’s Call 🌠

⭐ Ten Reasons Not to Kiss Her

⭐ Cursed AUs 🌠

Summary: Or, what happens when you mix children shows and movies with BTS?

One Shots

❤ Sticky Notes, Scribbled Hearts

Summary: By their side the years blur into the sidelines, until all you know is love, laughter, happiness- their existence that consumes you like a fire, bright and wild, burning you down into ashes that barely survive because of the wall you build between you and them. You spend countless nights with your heart bricked and hidden away, but one moment is all it takes- and soon enough, the walls will come crumbling down. But are you prepared to take that chance?

❤ Somewhere Out There 🌠

Summary: Always a little lonely, always a little sad- you send off paper airplanes and hope that if there really is magic out there, your soulmate will somehow read them and come find you.

On the other side of the world, the letters pile up on their doorstep.

❤ Heat Haze Days

Summary: You met Kim Namjoon on August 08, exactly a week before the end of summer break, and he walked out of life August 15, exactly a week after he came into yours. The heat haze of the summer days offer more than hope- it offers you action, opportunities. When time is on your side, anything seems possible- but can you really save someone fated to die?

❤ The 15 Years I Spent Chasing You

Summary: You asked him to keep in contact, to never let your friendship die, so he did. He started writing letters to you- and then he composed poems as you grew up, and then raps until he ran away from home, from everything, but not you, before finally producing songs when he became an idol, every word written with you in mind. Now, fifteen years later, Yoongi finally shares with the world a final piece- the ending to your love story.

�� The Anniversary

Summary: Your plan with Seokjin was: get married, move in together, appease your parents, divorce. But somehow one month turns into two, then four, and then all of a sudden, a year was fast approaching.

❤ A List of Reasons Why I Hate You

Summary: On your anniversary with him, you look back on the previous years and realize life truly is a rollercoaster.

❤ Spring Days With You 🌠

Summary: To say that fate had connected you with them didn’t seem as silly as much as it felt right. The two months that followed it only proved it as well, and as you fell in love with every place you visited with them, so did you fall deeper for them, and so did they for you.

Untitled Ideas

⭐ 🌠 Summary: Desperate to end the rumours and scrutiny revolving around your love life, you agree to your friends’ help to pretend to be in a polyamorous relationship with them. To you, it’s just a temporary solution, until the gossip dies down, but is it really just that for them too?

⭐ 🌠 Summary: Running a business isn’t something that’s done all alone, what more to start a business. So really, you’re thankful for your friends who decided to help you turn your grandmother’s old greenhouse into a cafe. Still, between your ex and the mysterious love letters that keep appearing in your office, it seems that you’ll need all the help you can get. Can you save the greenhouse and your feelings as well?

⭐ 🌠 Summary: ’Guaranteed to bring you to your soulmates, through time and space if necessary!’ You didn’t think it’d work, but considering in the span of one night you’d gone from one universe into another, you had to accept, even if only to yourself, that maybe the love potion was actually real.

❤ 🌠 Summary: ‘Keep sleeping like that, with your arm hanging off the bed and don’t be surprised when you feel something holding it in the middle of the night!’ Well, you thought, as velvety fingers intertwined with yours, what better way to beat back the lonely night with your very own demon?

❤ 🌠 Summary: Jungkook had stayed by your side as your pet dog for at least ten months- and he was pretty sure that gave him seniority over this new dog who obviously thought he was going to share you with him. Ha, as if.

And then came along five more.

⭐ Summary: Cursed with the ability to see ghosts since you were born, you’d long been resigned to it- and then came Yoongi into your life, and with every touch that kept you connected to him, the ghosts disappeared- and that was all the incentive you needed to cling to him no matter what.

Yoongi just wishes you’d warned him before you decided to steal his heart and forever hold on to it.

❤ Summary: Between school, his unrequited crush on his bestfriend, and the looming threat of his finances, Jimin accidentally summons a demon.

⭐ 🌠 Summary: Your blood was special, or so they said, so you had to help them mediate the world of humans and supernaturals, they said, you had to help them keep the peace and harmony, they said.

You just wished that didn’t entail taking care of seven hybrids. Especially ones that didn’t know how to manage their powers.

❤ Summary: In the beginning of everything, there were them, the gods of Life, and then there was you, the goddess of Death.

⭐ Summary: Because it was just a game, and so you thought that it was okay- it was, wasn’t it? To reach the perfect ending you had to make them fall in love with you, to get home you had to make it just right.

But then, why did the new students remind you so much of them?

#mine #just a bunch of WIP that I like best lol #whether I actually write them or not is high up in the air

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borhapstyles · 6 years

Text

Headcanon: First Date with Ben

HEY so it’s my spring break and i’m back temporarily :) i hate saying temporarily but i know that once school starts again i’m never gonna have time to breathe lol but i’d like to think school is temporary, writing for you guys once summer hits will be the real thing <3

this wasn’t requested but as a starter, i’ve written this headcanon :) sorry if it’s shit, haven’t written in a while so i’m a little rusty. i hope you like the ending though, i certainly do.

**this is going off the “Meeting Ben” headcanon I wrote a while back xx

“so uhm…”

“yes?” you giggled, brows raised as Ben swallowed harshly

“i-i was wonderin’ if you’d like to go on a date with me.. sometime..?”

“is this not a date?”

then Ben’s cheeks went red, even more so than they were before

because like

he had been waiting for the right time to ask you on a date since he followed you into that cafe

how was he supposed to know he was gonna spend the next two hours talking to you in that back table

but you looked so lovely underneath the fairy lights of the cafe

and he adored the rose tint on your cheeks whenever you subtly dropped in your love for Queen

that’s another thing, he loved your taste in music

i mean, it’s a given that you liked Queen because of Bo Rhap

but when he learned of all the other bands / artists you loved, he kinda sorta just wanted to kiss you right there

he should’ve

anyways

“n-no, i mean, like a proper date, not that this can’t be considered one, but-”

“i’m joking, i’d love to” you cut him off, more laughs spilling from your mouth

and then you and Ben set a date, a time, and after he insisted on picking you up, you finally let him

the day of, he showed up with your favorite flowers which uh

u didn’t tell him what ur favorite flowers were

he uh.. kinda found out through instagram stalking

he didn’t specifically stalk you

but Joe did

Ben mentioned you to Joe and Joe was quick to find your account

(let’s pretend it’s on public if it’s not)

“oh she’s on public, this is gonna be fun” Joe said to Ben while they were hanging out the next night

“she is?!” Ben jumped over and

for a moment he wanted Joe to like.. stop because he kinda felt weird doing it

but i mean

he also was super super curious to see your posts and kinda also wanted to see more of ur face

so he went along with it

“she might even be funnier than I am” Joe said when he went over one of your captions

“I couldn’t stop laughing when I was with her, she’s hilarious” Ben gushed

“oh wait, what’s that one?” Ben made Joe stop scrolling to click on one of ur pics

it was of u and your friend’s dog

with the caption “don’t tell (your friend’s name) but i’m stealing her dog forever sorry”

“she likes dogs” Ben whispered to himself, a smile on his face as he imagined you with Frankie

that’s when Joe stopped and looked at his friend

“you’ve known her for a total of 30 hours and yet i’ve never seen anyone do this to you.. you really like her, don’t you?”

Ben sighed, he didn’t want to let himself get so deep so quickly but

there was something about all this that just felt so easy, like it’s come into place

and something about you that made him feel as if he’s known you his whole life even if you had never been to england before meeting him

so Ben just smiled and nodded, hoping he wouldn’t get his heart broken with all the risk he’s taking

and they continued scrolling till Ben got a text from …

surprise surprise, you

and completely forgot Joe was there for a moment

“oh by the way, just so you know, her favorite flowers are…” Joe told him before leaving

“how do you know?”

“her instagram, which, if your elderly ass would bother to learn a little more about, is a great app”

so anyways when Ben showed up with your favorite flowers u were happy and he was happy that u were happy

but also lol because you were staying in an airbnb and didnt rlly know where to put the flowers down

aaaannnywaaaays

then you two drove out into beautiful London

the night life was buzzing with Londoners and tourists alike and you couldn’t be happier to be in such a city

much less next to Ben, who if a week ago someone told you you’d be with him

u might punch them for playing with your feelings

but here you are

“you see that building? that’s Abbey Road studios”

“so much history here, I think I’m in love”

when Ben finally stopped driving

you two were in front of a rather tall building somewhere in the financial district

Ben rushed to your side to open the car door

“can i ask where we are now?” you laughed and Ben chuckled as he finally told you

and he made sure to open the door for you on your way in

im convinced chivalry is still alive and comes in the form of ben hardy

and u two rode the elevator aaallll the way up

then you two went through a couple other doors

and then eventually you were met by a host who checked you guys in

then you were led outside

let’s say it summer by the way so you guys arent freezing when u go out

it’s a rooftop area, with outdoor furniture and plants decorating the area

fairy lights strung around the pergola, soft gentle music in the background

there’s a few other couples having dinner but it’s peaceful and everyone’s rather into each other so you know no one’s eyes will be wandering

but your favorite part of the whole thing

was that you could see the entire london skyline from your position, with a table in the perfect spot so no one was blocking the view

“what d’ya think? i-is it too much?” Ben asked shyly as you hadn’t said anything

but you were in love with the place, your heart filled with joy

“it might be too early to say that this is the best date i’ve ever been on but i will, if that gives you any idea for how i’m feeling”

as the dinner progressed, any nerves you felt coming in vanished

as did Ben’s

it felt natural, comfortable, meant to be

and when Ben reached over to hold your hand across the table

part of you never wanted him to let go, even if it made it a little harder to eat

in any case, he himself never quite wanted to let go either

with you, he wasn’t Ben Hardy, actor. he was just Ben

and he felt like he could be anyone he wanted to be around you

he loved that even if you were a fan, you never made him feel like he needed to take on the actor-persona he had

in fact part of you forgot he was even an actor when you asked him if he had met anyone famous

which made Ben laugh and your cheeks go red

but Ben slipped up too lmao

“so I heard you like dogs?”

“...yes but...from.. who..”

then his cheeks got red as he had to carefully explain how him and Joe didnt stalk you on instagram but stalked you on instagram basically

celebrities, they’re just like us

that’s when you laughed

which made Ben realise he could hear you laugh all day and never get tired of it

and never get tired of your smile

something about your twinkling eyes when you spoke about your friends and family back home

and about all your passions, ridiculous and not so ridiculous

u may or may not have let him in on your love for Queen, even more so than in the cafe

and u kinda forgot he was in Bo Rhap for a hot minute

but he was amused, he loved seeing you speak about something so close to your heart

and felt proud to be part of it

all in all Ben felt a feeling he hadn’t experienced in quite a long time, if ever in his life

a feeling of completion, of relief

as if he had been waiting his whole life to meet you

and so he continued listening to your rant about how much you love Freddie and JIm together

watching as you blushed and apologised profusely for going on about them

“don’t be sorry, i wished we could’ve had more of them in the film as well. and i love hearing your opinions on them, i love hearing you talk about it all. it makes me more and more fortunate to have been part of it”

“well i have much more to say about anything Queen related if you’re interested”

“then i’m always here to listen for when you do wanna speak about them”

when dinner finished, you and Ben decided to postpone driving you back

you two walked around the city more and eventually made it to a little park just up the road

your hand in his, humming ‘39 by your favorite band

Ben smiled to himself as he realised you felt the same comfort around him as he did with you

and so the months went on, date after date with Ben

till you found yourselves on your one year anniversary, walking around the same park you two had gone through on your first date

“do you remember when we first came here?” he asked

“of course, it’s when I realised I love loved you and was basically fucked”

“why’d you say you’re fucked?” he laughed

“i mean, i was like, oh god i’ve scared him by talking about my obsession with Queen and he actually knows them and he’ll tell them and Brian and Roger will think i’m crazy and he won’t ever date me again after this and all i can do now is hum ‘39 and hope he won’t block me on instagram after this”

Ben cackled

“that’s not at all what i was thinking, i hope you know that”

“well obviously” you rolled your eyes

“d’ya wanna know what i was thinking?”

“hm”

“I was actually thinking of Freddie while we were walking around”

“same”

“no, i’m serious” Ben chuckled

“why were you thinking of Freddie then?” you giggled, squeezing his hand a little tighter

“well, if I was just going in my head about how if it wasn’t for him there would’ve have been Queen, wouldn’t have been a Bo Rhap, I never would’ve been in anything like it, and I might not have met you then because of it”

“i don’t like thinking about that” you muttered, leaning your head into his side

“really though, it’s mad how much he’s influenced all our lives in a good way” he stopped walking, you standing below him with curious eyes batting at him

“i guess we have Freddie to thank then for bringing us together” you said before pecking his lips

and then you two stood there for a moment, your head pressed against his chest as you listened to his heartbeat

that’s when Ben looked down at you in his arms, then up into the starlit sky and whispered;

“thank you, Freddie”

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy headcanons #ben hardy headcanon #gwilym lee #joe mazzello #rami malek #ben hardy smut #ben hardy x you #ben hardy one shot #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fic #ben hardy fluff #roger taylor #bohemian rhapsody

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elfnerdherder · 6 years

Text

The Unquiet Grave: Chapter 14

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A special thanks to my patrons: @jenacar @evertonem @kenobi-is-king @starlit-catastrophe @sylarana @frostylicker Cecily, Mendacious Bean, Superlurk, and Duhaunt6!! Happy Patron Day!

Chapter 14:

The phone rings approximately seven times before Dr. Lecter answers.

“Hello?” There’s a pause as Will paces listlessly across the hand-woven rug with little feeling and emotion behind it. Lecter’s voice carries along after him, and he catches the purposefully casual air to it. “Agent Crawford, hello. No, you’re not disturbing me.”

Dolarhyde’s file sits open on the desk, alongside his own with its blank pages and cryptic warning. Hannibal had read it with the same intensity and focus that he did everything else before setting it aside to think.

“Agent Graham? Yes, he’s here.”

He sets the phone down on the desk, on top of Will’s files and turns it on speaker phone. Will deviates from his swaying steps and walks towards the desk, hesitating by the front of it in order to stare down at the display –to better avoid the expression he supposes is on Hannibal’s face. Better now than never, in truth, for him to warn Jack about Will’s actions.

“I invited him to my home for dinner after our session,” Dr. Lecter explains, and he sits down in his leather chair, folding his hands across his chest. “Is everything alright?”

“Your house?” Jack’s voice is tinny, echoing.

“Yes.”

The line crackles, then goes quiet. Jack lets out an aggravated laugh, then, “You know, he’s surprising me more and more every god damn day.”

Will spares Hannibal a glance, and they share grim smiles.

“I may safely agree, Agent Crawford,” Hannibal replies. “Is he needed for work? We’ve only barely sat down before you called.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it. He barely gets out enough, I’ll let him enjoy your fine cooking for a night before I pester him tomorrow.”

Hannibal smiles, and it suits his eyes. “The least we can do.”

“Yes, of course. Good bye, Dr. Lecter.”

“Good evening, Agent Crawford.”

The line goes dead, and silence settles back into the room. Will’s pace doesn’t cease; rather, it seems to persist with a fixated vengeance until Hannibal clears his throat. It disturbs his stride and focus, and he jolts before looking back to Hannibal with an expression much like the one he’d given when they first met, when Will realized that there was nothing at all normal about this Lecter person, no matter how hard he looked at him.

He thinks back to how close Lecter held him, and it solidifies his suspicions.

“If I feed you, I can’t be called a liar.”

“I’m not hungry,” Will replies.

“Aren’t you?”

Will is, but he isn’t quite sure how to say it; how he hungers for something not quite tangible, not quite able to be felt. He wonders if it was the hunger that did Hobbs in, not necessarily the fantasies that prompted it.

He looks to the grandfather clock that stands regally against the wall beside darkened cherry wood. It’s close to dinner time, and most people kept their meals on a schedule. Most people eat three meals a day and eat them around generally the same time.

Most people, when doing their job, don’t stick their nose so far into things that it exposes their neck.

“I don’t trust your eating habits,” Dr. Lecter decides, and it pulls Will from his thoughts, disjointed as they are. He can feel his walls, now, crumbling. Not large boulders that tumble, crack and smack together, but grains that dust away with the persistent wind. Things are loud, in Will Graham’s head. He wonders if Francis Dolarhyde’s mind is quiet, or if he feels bombarded by the screaming.

Can you see?

“Is there much you trust about me?” Will asks, humorlessly. He allows himself to be guided down an austere hallway of elegant drapes and refined paintings. He thinks of the hunger he’d felt, bare hands pressed to the pages of Blake’s work.

He wonders just what it is that Hannibal Lecter is hungry for.

“I believe that at your core, Agent Graham, you want to help people,” he replies, and he flips the lights to his kitchen. “That tells me that at that same core, you have good intentions. I can work with those.”

“I can’t.”

“You can,” Hannibal replies with ease.

Will is deposited onto a stool as dinner is prepared ‘as quickly and painlessly as possible.’ It’s vegetarian, and Will tastes nothing in the soup, more basil than tomato and richer in cream than the normal canned version he’d personally buy for about .79 cents each.

It’s nice, though. It gives him time to compartmentalize. The flavors won’t allow him to dwell on his real problems.

The guest bedroom is accented in bold ocher and gold threading in the tapestries that adorn windows closed against the frosted edging. A couple of hours later, Will sits on the plush blankets and presses gloved palms to the duvet, wondering at the thread count he’s about to sleep on. To say that Hannibal Lecter’s personal living quarters are lavish is an understatement, and although Will certainly doesn’t live in squalor, government wages aren’t exactly the lap of luxury.

He thinks of how careful Hannibal was to steer the conversation away from Jack Crawford’s phone call during and after dinner. He didn’t make mention of it, and Will was quite fine to set the situation aside for the evening.

Just enough to rest. God, that was all Dolarhyde wanted for him, wasn’t it? He just needed some fucking rest?

He lays down, and he closes his eyes. Behind his eyelids, marked by a gaze seeing yet unseen, he watches small grains of his walls crumble with each gust of worry that bursts against him.

When he dreams, he dreams of walls sturdy and strong. Thick layers of cement hold them, carefully weighed and measured, fitted to exact specification. They sit two feet thick, and try as he might, Will can’t see the top of them, for all the world they keep stacking higher and higher. The air around him is light, the grass beneath his feet warm. Within his walls is a glade, and a stag moves about it, as at ease with him as he surprisingly is with it.

Where the bricks come from, he can’t see, but something about them is familiar to him, a touch as soft as his own and equally yearning. With his back to the stag, he presses fingertips to the stone, then palm, then forehead.

Hannibal broaches the topic of their next step at breakfast.

“About an hour ago, Jack Crawford called this morning to give me more information regarding his call yesterday,” Hannibal confides, pouring Will a glass of espresso.

The fact that he even has an espresso machine isn’t lost on Will as something that ordinary neurotypicals don’t typically do, but the man also has a bidet in the guest bathroom. Eccentric seems to be his thing.

“What’d he say?”

“He informed me that Dolarhyde attacked one of your fellow agents just this past evening, and when he couldn’t get a hold of you, he became concerned. I informed him that you decided to finish work early yesterday in order to meet me for dinner to discuss something I posted in the journals.”

“They know,” Will reminds him, quietly. Breakfast is sweet, and he spoons a small helping of pomegranate into his mouth.

“Yes, but it is the power of how much they know, Agent Graham. Your six-month evaluation is coming up, according to Dr. Bloom. How are your walls?”

He’d stared at himself in the mirror, earlier in the morning. The only eyes he couldn’t seem to see into were Hannibal’s, and his own.

“They feel…sturdier.”

“I’ll take this moment to remind you the importance of stable friendships. Stress isn’t always so stressful when you have a strong outlet for your emotions in times of trouble.”

“It’s not my emotions that I generally struggle with,” Will retorts dryly, but something stops him from entirely laughing, and he turns his spoon over, studying his oblong face in the back of it. It reminds him of the house of mirrors, and he quickly spins it around once more. “Friendship. Is that what you’d call us? Friends?”

Hannibal is quiet, and Will glances up to his face, studying the curve of his lip as he smiles. It’s faint, and Will wonders how easily he sees it, that he is used to looking so intently to find it.

“What would you call it?” Hannibal wonders.

“You’re my therapist, but it’s a work-mandated therapy. You accompany me in my work, so that counts as both colleague and babysitter.” Will ticks them off on his fingers, propping his elbows onto the table. “You watched my dog while I was gone, so that is either a fellow church member, or at the least an acquaintance.”

“I have no membership to a church, although I have several Sunday masses under my belt,” Hannibal assures him.

“You have met me for coffee a few times outside of therapy or work-related business, so that adds the potential for ‘old high school acquaintance’.”

“I don’t have a pyramid scheme to sell, though.”

“And you’re currently abetting an empath in committing several felonies, so that’s somewhere within an emotional spectrum. Maybe friends, maybe enemies. I think either one illicit enough of an emotional response to count.”

Will wouldn’t quite say that that sobers Hannibal, but he is contemplative as he polishes off his juice. Will isn’t quite sure how to steer away from that topic of conversation, nor is he sure the thoughts running through Dr. Lecter’s head. Abetting a felon. A felon that isn’t quite known yet as a felon, but a felon none-the-less. He wonders if he’ll have a matching black hoodie like Dolarhyde’s, soon; if he’ll have to go and find his own chloroform so that he can question mentally unstable empaths within the confines of a musty hotel.

There’s something relaxing about the ease of Lecter’s house, the rooms and walls that look untouched because out of all the places Will walked through, Hannibal is the only one to live in them. After breakfast, he is left to his devices as Lecter gets ready for work, and he takes his time admiring the paintings on the wall, the instruments in a small parlor adjacent to the study.

He is tempted, if but for a second, to take his gloves off and roam throughout the kitchen, where Hannibal’s work, passion, and emotion is most obviously prevalent. He wonders if that would be inappropriate, though; if Hannibal’s hardened resolve would crumble in the wake of a nosy empath whose hands touch what was never theirs to own.

He did take them off in the guest bedroom, but that was to sleep. Hannibal had ensured no one else’s skin had touched that pillow, let alone the covers, and Will had rested surprisingly well despite not having to lay his jacket down to protect the bone arena of his skull. He wonders if he’d ever slept so soundly at the EBAU; if dreams were so tangible within such a public and scrutinized space.

“I’m fond of you,” Hannibal finally says in response to Will as he’s dropping him off at the FBI HQ. It’s a casual statement, but the weight of it sits on Will as the cement walls loom behind him, grey and imposing. Hannibal glances to him, and that same faint smile flickers. No thoughts. No intrusions. Just his words and his smile. “We’ll start working on your walls in our next session.”

“You’re fond of me,” Will repeats, and it sounds more like he’s clarifying rather than parroting.

“Yes.”

They stare at one another. Will swallows, hard, and he tracks the steady pulse in Hannibal’s neck, the same steady beat that he’d felt when they were locked within his wardrobe, cheek pressed to wool as a killer lurked just outside. Steady. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, in all things, seems steady.

“Do have a pleasant day, Agent Graham,” he says, and he gives enough time for Will to take his cue and step back onto the sidewalk, lest his shoes get run over.

I’m fond of you.

The air is crisp and cold, although the sidewalks are swept clean from snow. Salt clumps in small piles where the automated doors slide open.

I’m fond of you.

“Agent Crawford is waiting for you in his office, Agent Graham,” the receptionist, a Dreamer, informs him at the front desk.

I’m fond of you.

“Good morning, sir,” a security guard greets by the elevator.

I’m fond of you.

“Jack’s on a warpath,” Beverly warns him as she passes by him with a purpose, hell-bent on the labs.

I’m fond of you.

“You can head right in, Agent Graham,” the EBAU’s clerk chirps.

I’m fond of you.

Jack’s waiting beside the desk when Will walks in, poised like he’s been waiting for this moment since the day before when he called Hannibal.

I’m fond of you.

“Morning, Jack.”

I’m fond of you.

“Morning, Will.”

I’m fond of you.

Will studies the room, and it’s not lost on him that there is another man sitting neat and tidy in the corner, quietly content. It takes another scan of the office for Will to realize just who it is that’s sitting tucked away, and when he does cold sweat breaks out on his back, a dotting of it just along his forehead, too.

I’m fond of you.

“Morning,” he greets Agent Jackson, slowly.

Agent Jackson’s expression yesterday when he first came across Will at Gateway Corp. was the resigned look Will no doubt often had when doing a particularly unpleasant part of his job. The second, surprise. The third, fear, blinding and all-consuming. Now, though, his face is pleasantly blank, a slate wiped clean of anything that ever made somebody something. His clothing looks much like someone that’d slept in it, and when Will looks to the space just at the side of Jackson’s eyes, he’s dismayed to see nothing much at all, like passing by a doll in a toy store with plastic parts and nothing of importance tucked away inside.

Agent Jackson blinks at Will, once. His smile is distantly vague, and when Will looks back to Jack, three things become incredibly obvious at that moment:

First, Agent Jackson is no longer the man Will found in the bathroom at Gateway Corp.

Second, Jack is trying to see whether or not Will is realizing just that.

Third, if the EBAU knows that he weaponized his gifts, he’s not leaving HQ alive.

“What’s wrong with him?” Will asks, and he thinks of Hannibal’s words, how they echo and bounce about with wild abandon within mildly sturdy walls. They bounce soft, though. They know the sort of danger he’s in.

It is the power of how much they know.

I’m fond of you.

“You think something’s wrong?” Jack asks.

Will lets his lip curl, but only a little. “I think that even neurotypicals could see something’s wrong with him, Jack.”

Jack relents after a moment, but his shoulders are still taut. He circles the desk to come around and stand beside Will, too close for comfort. “Found him at Gateway Corp. Can’t see anything on their cameras, but looks like Dolarhyde dropped by for a visit.”

“Evidence he wanted to hide?”

“From this guy, or from us?”

Will frowns down at Jackson’s stupidly placid face. “Maybe both. Do you…do you want me to see?”

“Do you want to see?” Jack asks.

It’s the staged look of it, Will decides much later, that determines what he does. Jackson purposefully positioned away from the main portion of the room, Jack close enough to touch but not close enough to feel. Jack’s office isn’t small, yet they’re sequestered far enough away from the main angles of the cameras that the look of it isn’t quite damning.

Yet.

“Jack, what’s going on,” Will prompts, softly. “What’s wrong.”

Jack lets out a slow breath, something speaking of the years between them and all of the work Will’s done in his time. The RA’s under his belt. The killers crowding his head. The whisper that one day, maybe one day, he’ll be right alongside them, dead. This time, Will isn’t entirely tempted to try and glean secrets from his boss. There’s something in him, something persistently needing, that whispers that maybe, maybe Jack will give him more than just death.

Maybe.

“Tell me your whereabouts yesterday, and I’ll tell you why I’m worried about it,” Jack says heavily.

Will looks from Jackson to Jack. He fixes his gaze onto the curve of his cheek, where his jaw determined years ago that no matter the expression on his face, Jack would always appear mildly aggressive in nature. It’s a bone he’s being thrown, Jack allowing Will to fill in the gaps first. He doesn’t miss the opportunity, and he doesn’t let it pass him by. He wets his bottom lip, tucks his hands into his pockets.

“Shit, Jack, you know I’m feeling the heat,” he says. “I called Dr. Lecter.”

“You called him?”

Will nods. “Yeah, I called him. I wanted to talk about his articles.”

“Bloom says you have a fixation on his articles.”

“I do.”

I’m fond of you.

“So you call him?”

“He invited me to his house, I go, we talk about his articles. He invites me to stay for dinner, and I do. He said you called.”

“You didn’t answer my calls.”

“Phone died. It was charging at Lecter’s, but I hadn’t turned it on yet.” He allows a pause to flutter about, awkward, before he plunges on. “Do you…you don’t think I did this, do you? Jack?”

Jack laughs, but its humorless. “I don’t think you did, but you’re the only E-3 not institutionalized, Will. It spooks higher ups when something…well, shit, something like this happens. You look at that man, you tell me what you see. Feelers couldn’t get anything off of him, so it’s making Purnell nervous.”

“So it’s a show, then. I’m humoring you,” Will clarifies.

“Humoring the bureau,” Jack replies. His expression is just as humorless as his laugh.

Will isn’t quite sure how to voice it in a way that makes sense, but seeing what’s come of Agent Jackson is terrifying on a personal level. The man doesn’t so much as blink when Will puts bare palms to his temples, and when Will looks into eyes vacant, trusting, and open, there’s something that breaks inside of him, to see just what he’s capable of.

I’m fond of you.

There is nothing. Where thoughts, panicked and frantic in the face of Will’s ambush used to rush, fleeting and wild, there is silence. Walls of memories hold doors laid open, the feeling like a house newly modeled and ready to sell. The white picket fence isn’t peeling. The door is wide open, and there is a sense that no feet have walked through the foyer, no hands that have touched the dry wall and claimed it as their own. Will trembles, touching Jackson’s shoulders. He can see inside, but there is nothing to see, and it’s like what he imagines the Perkins house to look like, now that someone’s had the time to paint over the screams.

He inhales, and he smells Dolarhyde.

It’s not the end table that dumps Will unceremoniously onto the chair opposite of Jackson’s, but a small ottoman. It hits the back of his calves, and he crumbles onto the cushion with hardly a resistance. He thinks of chloroform pressed to his nose, how everything smelled like gasoline and dread. He thinks of Dolarhyde across from him, gun trained to him yet eyes begging him to just fucking see.

“What do you see?” Jack asks after Will has caught his breath.

He feels something bitter, like biting into a bad almond on his tongue as he replies, “Dolarhyde.”

Jack bows his head, and there’s quiet in the room. Agent Jackson is a blank slate, never-ending, and Will for the first time truly understands what it is to fear the power an E-3 could hold, should they ever decide weaponize it.

I’m fond of you.

#LiaS scribbles #The Unquiet Grave #empath!will #hannigram #someone help will graham #hannibal x will graham #hannibal au #hannigram au

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book-of-baba-fett · 2 years

Note

Taylor Swift ask...

Okay, I preface this by admitting I'm not a Swiftie, though there are a few I still enjoy...

Shake It Off or Blank Space (whichever one hasn't been asked yet...or both if you're feeling it)

Challenge: Send me a Taylor Swift song and see if I can't find a way to relate it to a fic

Ok both of these were fairly tough; kudos!

Shake it Off: This is what Talia blasts at the temple on repeat when she's grounded and people are spreading rumors she's a dark side user.

Ok this is making me think of @thebitchformerlyknownaskenobi's OC Kau'ra; particularly for the Starlit Murder fic.

Cherry lips, crystal skies I could show you incredible things Stolen kisses, pretty lies You're the King, baby, I'm your Queen Find out what you want Be that girl for a month Wait, the worst is yet to come, oh, no

Screaming, crying, perfect storms I can make all the tables turn Rose garden filled with thorns Keep you second guessing like "Oh, my God, who is she?" I get drunk on jealousy But you'll come back each time you leave 'Cause, darling, I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream

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redfleece · 3 years

Photo

My iMac died on me last night. I was not surprised when the screen went blank out of the blue leaving me with matrix-like lines on screen. The iMac has never broken down and has served me well for nearly 8 years. As I waited for the diagnostic in the repair shop, I contemplated on getting a new one. But I felt sad to let go of the iMac. Alas, everything is temporary, even machines. I've lost several friends this year alone. Most of them had passed away due to illnesses (non COVID-19 related). Some of my friends are still battling illnesses such as stroke, cancer, motor neuron disease and multiple sclerosis. Their pain makes my degenerative disc disease seem so minute. I lament how I am unable to go running or carry backpacks on future treks. O how small my sufferings are compared to theirs! Humans are always ungrateful. We do not realise the blessings in our life until we experience pain and loss. Would I rather swop my situation with my friends facing worse health challenges or with those who are living in war torn countries or those facing hunger and homelessness? I kept thinking of death a lot nowadays. I wonder, what if I am called home soon? Am I ready to face God? Have I done enough actions of good? Have I used my intelligence/wealth/health to benefit others? Have I earned enough rewards to enter jannah (paradise)? "By (the Token of) Time, Verily Man is in loss." (Quran 103:1-3) Time. It is one of the greatest gifts God has given us, yet we often neglect it. I remember walking through the quiet streets of Cambridge at night. It was calm and there was a certain sadness with the night. It was as if time stood still. Not even a whisper of the wind. The starlit sky was gorgeous, a reminder of God's greatness. The silhouettes of the colleges breathtaking, another reminder of God's gift (to us) of knowledge and the ability to think. I particularly loved this photograph of bicycles left on the pavements taken by my Newnham sister Zara. During times of reflection (like now), I wonder, will I be there in the morning to pick up my bicycle or will my bicycle be left abandoned as I would not be returning to this transient world... #reflection #time #death (at King's College, Cambridge) https://www.instagram.com/p/CW0t7g5twhB/?utm_medium=tumblr

#reflection #time #death

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brandonkarson · 8 years

Text

Life is But a Dream: Chapter 2

There had to be something serious going on with Austin for him to react to things and situations the way he has lately. I know now what's been bothering him. Infidelity is a HUGE no no in the book of marriage, period. It's one of the reasons me and Taylor decided to wait for marriage for awhile, until we both were sure that we wanted to be together, forever. I turn to Austin. "So, what makes you think that he's cheating? Did you see it for yourself? What's going on at home, Austin?" He looked at me and he answered, "We're going through a lot. He and I argue everyday all of a sudden, we don't make love like we used to, and he's always on the phone late at night. That's when I figured something was definitely up with him." "Maybe it's a patient, asking questions about the ass injections or what they should do to reduce pain due to lypo...it has to be something work related...right?", I questioned. Austin looked at me, let out a sarcastic giggle, and turned his direction back to the Italian scenery. This is serious. He really thinks Guy is cheating on him. I like to look at the positive in the situation, if there is any, you know? I mean, let's face it...he did say that they were arguing a lot...but he also said that them arguing came out of nowhere...hmmm. Once I tried to get Austin's attention again, the travel guide interrupted. "Welcome, to the Da Vinci Italiano! This is where you will be staying while you enjoy this Italian excursion. Here are your keys to the house. If there is anything that you want to know or ask of me and my team of servants, we are at your service 24/7, ready to serve and guide you through all of Italy during your stay." As the boat reaches the dock of the villa, I grab Austin's hand. "I'm here for you Austin and I'm going to stay here. Don't you forget that.", I say to him. He takes off his Tom Ford sunglasses, looks to me & I notice a single tear falling from his eye. "I know.", he answers. I continue holding his hand while we both step off the boat. As the servants grab our luggage, I overhear Orrin & Laura discussing something. "I think that I love her.", Orrin says. "Really? Wait...is that like you love her sex or you actually love who she is as a person...as a human being...like, as in not one of your blow up dolls?", Laura asked. "Shut up, Laura! I'm serious. She's really nice. She makes it her mission to make me think about things. I feel like I'm always in a challenge with her. I talk to her like every day.", Orrin answered. "Wait, a minute...are you sick or something?", Laura asks while feeling Orrin forehead as if he has a fever. "No, but seriously, I think it's beautiful. I'm proud of you...I really am.", Laura added. "Sike! Ha! You really believed me this time. Hahaha!", Orrin screamed. Laura looked at him and said, "I hate you, dude. I really hate you." in a jokingly manner. Orrin always was the jokester of the four of us. He's extremely attractive too and he knows it. Back in LA, he & I were actually in a relationship. He was my first boyfriend. Before I became Brian Warner, the actor, I was Orrin's "rib". That's what he would tell people when he introduced me. Orrin and I share a bond that I have with no one else in our circle of friends. Distance broke us up. He and I began to become such big names right around the same time, about four years ago. My services were needed in Atlanta, for my first film and he had big business deals going on at the time in NYC. With both of us being so busy, we didn't find time for us. So, we decided to be best friends forever. "Congratulations, O. You deserve to be happy.", I tell him. "Thank you, Brian. That means a lot coming from you.", he answered. Then there was this random silence. "Brian...?", Laura asked. "How are you?" I looked at her, took a deep breathe and replied, "I'm better than good, better than most." "That's a really good way to look at your situation. I remember when me and Falon went through a rift in our relationship and now, we're stronger than ever. It's not so much the focusing on the problem, it's more about the resolution, working to make sure this problem never happens again...working through the problem." At that moment, I realized something. Laura was right. I shouldn't be so focused on what happened, because whatever it was, it happened in the past. I can't do anything about Taylor getting a girl pregnant during our relationship, but I have complete control over my actions and how I react to all of this. A member of the production crew comes up to me and Austin and tell us that we are meeting up with the rest of the cast for a Venetian dinner. Since this is being filmed for content, I guess I should dress up pretty nice. "You two will be the last to arrive to the dinner.", he tells us. "Come in, act normal. We will give you the signal to come in." Austin turns to me. "It's time to slay this. I mean, pull out your best attire.", he says. I look back at him. "Your wish is my command." We both laugh and began the process of finding something to wear to this dinner. I don't have Hanna with me this trip, but I know what I look good in. I get dressed with the intention of making someone ask, "Who are you wearing, and where can I get it." Nude is the color for the night. I pulled out my Balmain suit that is the same exact color as my skin tone, paired it with matching Guüd Boi suede loafers and met up with Austin. Austin met me at the door, drenched in Tom Ford, head to toe, all black everything. He grabs my hand. "No matter what happens tonight, we must remember to hold composure. Promise me you won't lash out?", he asks. "I promise. I'm good.", I answer. We hop in the boat, and head to the restaurant. The venue is breathtaking. It was set at night, starlit, overlooking the Venetian skyline. We get of the boat, holding hands, cracking jokes at each other. We walk up the steps and it seems as though we're walking into a screaming match. We haven't even walked into the equation yet and they are already on ten. We get the signal from the producer to walk in...here goes nothing. I walk in and Austin follows. "What's up, everybody! What's going on?" The conversation that had erupted came to a halt & everyone looked to me and Austin. They welcomed us in. "Austin, oh my God! What are you doing here!", a voice says. "And Brian! Brian Warner!", he continues. "Yeah, we're here man. How are you? How is everyone, actually? Seems like we walked in on something serious." Austin replied. "Yeah, like I heard whore and bitch and every other thing being thrown around. What's going on?", I asked. "Well, first of all my name is Greg, Greg Hardwick.", he tells me. "Wait, Greg Hardwick from the Los Angeles Hardwick's?", Austin replied. "Yeah, that's me.", Greg replied. Greg Hardwick is the heir to his grandfather's 5.6 billion dollar commercial real estate firm based out of Beverly Hills, California. He's the only child, but he's not spoiled. He started his very own luxury residential real estate firm. "It's so nice to meet you.", I say to him. "No, it's really nice to meet you. I love your work.", he replied. "Thank you, I appreciate that.", I tell him. As I look around the table, everyone is eyeing me down. "I don't know you, actually.", a guy says to me. "That's okay. Turn your TV on sometimes...you'll see me in living color.", I tell him. "Wow, was that supposed to be shade?", he replied. "No, it's a revelation...sunshine if you will. Just letting you know what it is.", I told him. "You know what, that's the problem with you C List 'stars'. You think everyone knows you, and everyone is supposed to cow down to you.", he screams. I look at him and laugh. "Sir, firstly let's tone that down. I'm no one you want to scream at...trust me.", I tell him. "Secondly, I just sat down five minutes ago...FIVE! So what the hell are you talking about? The reality of the matter is, no ones know who YOU are...which would explain why you're doing any & everything in front of these cameras. You're thirsty and you...", and the next thing you know, he throws a glass of red wine in my face. I stood up, unbuttoned my blazer, took it off and I left the dinner table. Now, I know I could have went a totally different way with this situation, but before I reacted, I had to check myself. Two of the producers came up to me. "I don't know where that came from. I really don't. We knew nothing about that.", one of them tell me. "It's fine." I reply. "I just won't be filming with him anymore...ever again.", I tell him. "If that's what you want. But, in due time all of this will boil over.", the other producer explains. "I'm sure it will, but I didn't sign on to have this happen to me. I have a career, a VERY valuable and lucrative career. I will not be apart of something that could potentially ruin my reputation.", I explain to him. I left the conversation and decided to head back to the villa. Immediately, I sit and think...was this a good idea? Is this what I want people to remember me by? As I'm walking off, I notice that I left my phone at the dinner table. I turned around and began heading back to the table. Still shirtless, I walk up to the table and there he is...the guy who threw the wine in my face. He looks at me and we have this really serious stare down. He knew that I was over the situation from earlier, but I did say he would do anything to get people talking, because we still don't know his name. Then, the worst thing he could've done happened, yeah you guessed it...he swings at me, twice. I knew he would though. The first attempt, I dodged...the second one was unexpected. He connects with the back of my head as I'm walking away from him. Next thing you know, I'm being detained by security as they knew I was ready to retaliate. Apparently, try must've been having a hard time holding me back because I managed to bruise a few of them, trying to get to guy who remains nameless. "I need my phone.", I scream as they try to detain me. The whole time, I was searching for my phone and I didn't even think to look for Austin. Then suddenly, all you hear in the background is, "AUSTIN NO!?" I turn around and Austin is in a full on brawl with the same guy I almost damn near killed. Literally ten seconds later, Austin comes jogging up to me, with my phone on his hand. "You forgot something.", he says. "Thank you. Are you okay?", I ask him. "Oh, I'm good...that other guy, not so much.", he replied. As me and Austin back to the boat, I look at him. "I can't believe that just happened.", I tell him. "Well, that's what happens when you have nothing to lose. That dude has seventy thousand followers and a little fashion line. He's from Atlanta, apparently. He just social media famous.", he explained. "Him doing what he just did will only boost his relevance. People like to see fights and shit, especially when you aren't well known." I don't get it. People literally will do anything to become relevant...ANYTHING. This is sad and I refuse to be apart of this. "I'm over it...all of it.", I tell Austin. "So you're over this trip...or everything as a whole?", he asked. "The whole thing.", I answer. "It's only going to get WORST! I'm not going to risk my name. At all. I've worked too hard to get where I am & I will not deal with this bullshit.", I replied. I grab my phone, make my way off the boat and make a phone call to my manager. She picks up. "Brian, how's filming?", she asked. "I got a drink thrown on me, I got swung on & didn't get a chance to swing back...I'm over it.", I replied. "WHAT!? Give me two minutes.", she says. Literally two minutes later, I get a call from my manager. "Brian, it's Leah. I got you and Austin tickets back to L.A. I've contacted Austin's management and they also think it's best that the both of you stop filming with the crew. Your attorney has also been notified and will be giving you a call first thing in the morning to discuss legal actions, just in case you had any ideas of taking the assailant as well as the production company to court.", she explained. "Wait, I'd have a case against the production company as well?", I ask. "Hell yeah! You weren't even supposed to be on this show. They kept pushing to put you on the cast & the money as well as the contract looked great, so we went with it. But then this happened. Your contract CLEARLY states that if another cast member were to physically assault you without being provoked, you have sole control over if you want to continue filming.", she replied. One thing that I will say is that I have the BEST manager in the entertainment industry. All of this was discussed within a two to five minute radius, after the whole situation went down. It was clear that I needed to leave the show, and Leah needs a raise.

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elfnerdherder · 6 years

Text

Ill Intentions: Chapter 16

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A special thanks to my patrons: @jenacar @frostyleegraham @evertonem @starlit-catastrophe @sylarana @kenobi-is-king @frostylicker Mendacious Bean, Duhaunt6, Superlurk, and Cecily! <3

Chapter 16: An Element of Surprise

Will Graham stared at the two-way mirror in front of him, and he tried to ignore the headache that sat just behind his left eye. Time moved differently when one was being questioned. He had to keep looking at his watch to ensure that time was moving at an even pace.

“Having trouble keeping eye contact, Mr. Graham?”

“There’s nothing new there to see, Jack.”

Jack didn’t like the familiarity of his Christian name being used. His mouth puckered, and he looked ready to spit venom.

Will looked back to Jack’s earlobe. “Don’t I get a phone call?”

Jack considered him for a long moment, then nodded. “At the end.”

The room was a normal 8x8 with boring cement walls and a boring aluminum chairs. His watch was only at forty percent. He’d been there for a couple of hours.

“I told you everything I know,” Will protested. “I don’t know what else you want from me.”

“See, at first I was pretty willing to believe that,” Jack agreed, only he didn’t sound so agreeable. “A reporter sniffs out a crazy, things happen. He’s willing to cooperate, I’m willing to cooperate. I think that I’m an agreeable man when things make sense.”

Will agreed with no such sentiment, considering everything that’d happened since their first meeting.

“But when it gets back to me that you’re trying to dig into medical records, I get a little nervous. When you’re still going places without telling anyone, attending galas without telling anyone –”

“–As though a reporter can’t just go to a God damn gala, honestly –”

“And your little friend Freddie Lounds accidentally lets it slip that you two are working together –”

The look Jack Crawford gave him was somehow both stern yet betrayed. Their hated of Freddie Lounds, the very tie that created their small alliance, had unraveled. Somewhere, Will had overplayed his hand there. Freddie’s mouth was too big.

“You can’t arrest me for playing nice at work,” Will whispered. “You have your job to worry about, and I have mine.”

Jack wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. Somewhere along the way, with Abigail, homeless men, the Ripper, and now this, Will had missed it. He could see the change in skin tone, the lighter strip where the ring had rested for so long, vulnerable and bare. He wondered if Jack worried over the spot often, so long he’d had something there to touch. He wondered if he was a widow, or if his own obsession with the Ripper had taken precedent over other people.

In truth, Will could relate to that.

“You’re aware that you’ve been arrested for obstruction of justice and impeding an investigation. After speaking with the DA, we’re willing to cut a deal and let these charges go, should you comply and cooperate with our investigation in catching the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“I have been cooperating.”

Jack snatched a file up from the table and opened it, slapping papers down with definitive, sharp thwack’s.

“Then why is it that the Chesapeake Ripper is leaving you a dead body that the Maestro first tried to send?” he snarled. “What game are you playing here, Mr. Graham?”

Will stared at the photos of the body that’d dropped on him. It was not the pallor or rigor mortis of the corpse that disgusted him, but rather the throat that’d been peeled back to expose vocal cords that Will had only seen once before –it was rather difficult to forget what bleached vocal cords looked like, after all.

It was the body from his apartment. The Chesapeake Ripper’s favor.

“…I’m not playing any games, Agent Crawford,” he said, and he tried to make his voice shake ever-so-slightly. “But that doesn’t mean that you’re not getting played.”

Jack’s sigh was aged, rancid. He slapped the file closed, and he stood. “I’m having a psychiatrist do an evaluation on you. Depending on what he has to say about this matter, depends on whether or not I’m inclined to agree with you.”

“Do I have any say in this?”

The door was closing just behind him as Jack replied, “No.”

It took awhile for the psychiatrist to show. Seconds ticked, minutes passed, and Will stared at the photos of the dead body. Time had not done the victim well; the contortion of his limbs seemed painful, even in passing, and there were lacerations at his mouth; likely from where the Ripper had pulled the neck of the cello out. Will wondered where the Ripper was now, if he was laughing at his joke. He wondered just what notes the Maestro had intended to play for him. Will Graham & Co.

The door opened.

His watch beeped with a reminder; wake up.

“Good afternoon. Will Graham, was it?”

Will watched the Chesapeake Ripper stride across the room and sit down across from him.

Rather, he watched the man from the gala stride across the room, face remarkably placid despite once having dared to cry in public at the voice of an angel.

He heard the Chesapeake Ripper, and that’s all that mattered.

Face to face, at last. Will’s heart skipped a beat, then began to pound violently.

“…Yes, that’s right.”

“I’m Dr. Lecter, and I’ll be doing your psychiatric evaluation. Is that alright?”

Will leaned back into his chair and folded his arms tight across his chest. His heels dug into the cement floor. “I think that you and I both know that I don’t have a choice in that.”

“You know, I’ve a remarkable associate that I could ask a favor of, if you’re uncomfortable. We always have a choice, in some way or another.”

“Do you really believe that?” Will asked with a snort.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter’s smile was all teeth. “Don’t you?”

He was dressed rather eclectically, tweed with a matching taupe tie. Silvering ashen hair was combed neatly with a professional part, and Will could imagine the two of them across from one another in utter darkness, eating a bird whose song charmed God. This guy looked the part to find a person willing to sell him Ortolan under the table. He was handsome, in an intense sort of way. There was something purposeful, rigid in his face, as though he were two seconds away from being severe. The straight, firm line of his mouth only added to it, coupled with incisors that looked lethal enough to tear flesh.

“Sometimes we have a choice. Other times, emotion removes the ability to truly choose, blinded as we can be,” Will said.

Dr. Lecter tilted his head slightly. “Do you often feel as though you are not in control?” he wondered. Will thought of his voice pressed close, the dead body placed neatly on his dining room chair. His voice was the same.

His voice was the fucking same.

“I keep myself more scheduled than most, I’d say. I remain in pretty good control.”

Hannibal glanced down to the photos of the dead body in front of them, then looked back up to Will with an amiably sympathetic expression. “Do you truly think so?”

Will laughed, and he looked over Hannibal’s shoulder to the mirror, his ashen face staring back at him. His head ached. He thought about the magpie and wondered if it’d be alright. He wondered if he’d gotten the quarter in the end, or if they’d confiscated it.

“They’re not recording this. Doctor, patient confidentiality,” Dr. Lecter assured him.

“Thank you.”

“In two weeks’ time you are, coincidentally enough, going to be my patient. I thought it morally necessary to maintain that same professionalism now.”

“You recognized my name?”

“When Agent Crawford made the call, I couldn’t refuse. I do try to keep in mind all of my new patients, and I thought it better for you and myself than to be questioned by anyone else,” said Dr. Lecter. This time, his smile was small, a secret thing for the two of them. Will wanted to hold it close and hoped that Jack wasn’t watching.

“Do you enjoy games, Dr. Lecter?” Will asked.

“I’d say that I enjoy them as much as any other man.”

“But no more. Only enough to appear utterly normal in every way, shape, and form.”

“Do you feel that you do the same, Will? Do you wear a person suit?”

“If so, it’s a bad one, don’t you think? I stand out like a sore thumb.”

The good doctor laughed, fine lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. They were the color of a faded barn door, lines of brown cutting through the rich color. He wondered what they looked like in the sunlight.

“I believe your suit depends on who is around you. You don their persona as you see fit. Some people you fear to see, to take upon yourself, but others you take to as a fish to water.”

“Who do you think I’d fear to see?”

“Your Avid Fan is someone that first comes to mind. With such a mind as theirs, surely perception would be a tool that is pointed both ways. They may see the world as a stage for their most vivid dreams and horrors to play out, but you’re also the one able to stand beside them and see it, too.”

Will licked dry lips and tilted his head, mirroring the man just across from him. “Understanding doesn’t mean guilt.”

“Your taking in Miss Hobbs after she came all this way to find you would tell me otherwise, Mr. Graham,” the Chesapeake Ripper said kindly. “How is she doing?”

Will thought of the Subway she worked at, and he wondered if he should have just bought a bag of chips rather than pay so much for such a terrible sandwich. Maybe he’d have felt a little bit better about this whole arrest and current situation.

Granted, sitting down across from the Chesapeake Ripper hadn’t been on his list of things to-do today, but so far it was going well.

The game was getting really, really interesting.

“…I may feel some responsibility,” he said after a moment. ��Although it’s not my fault that the FBI decided to kick down her door. I know that.”

“Do you often wonder, though, how different it would have gone had you been there instead?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you think you’d have been able to save her father, that she didn’t have to watch both her greatest nightmare and her greatest protector fall?”

In the light, the Ripper had a way of cupping his cheek as he spoke, his gaze so fixed that there was no question his intention was solely on Will. That sort of seeing, that sort of fixation, was enough that Will’s normally swinging foot stilled, pressed hard to the cement where the cement pushed back. It was grounding, his stare. He thought of the drug addict he’d stabbed and wondered if the doctor had been giving him much the same look in the dark alley.

He wanted to ask; he figured he’d better not.

“I think there was no way that Garrett Jacob Hobbs was leaving that house alive,” he replied after a time. “I think that he’d have found a way to die no matter who was there. His world was ending. Her world was ending. There was no case to plead. Likely he knew what happens to guys like that that go to prison. Death was mercy, and he was selfish until the last second.”

“How do you feel about death? Do you also see it as a sort of mercy?”

He thought of the Ripper saving that man, only out of some sort of responsibility to the body shutting down rather than the person inside of it. Action and reaction. He’d let both Will and the would-be mugger live.

I was curious.

“Death…is personal to everyone, I think. My mom always said you couldn’t tell someone how to grieve because they were the one dealing with death. The one that died has the easy job of dying, but it’s those they leave behind that have to face death fully and try to understand.” Will shrugged and bit at a hangnail on his thumb. “I think sometimes its mercy, and sometimes its unjust. Mostly, though, it simply is. We as humans imbue it with meaning, but death itself is neither good nor evil. It is the simple balance of nature.”

“Were you close with your mother?”

“Aren’t all young men?” Will returned, equally as calm.

“I was unable to, as my mother passed when I was very young.” Dr. Lecter adjusted his notepad and scratched a few things down. “I imagine that we would have been.”

“What is death to you, Dr. Lecter? Do you imbue it with meaning?”

“If we are the ones to give death its importance, then yes. Death is an elevation. In the bible, they speak of people rising up as angels, as guardians and heralds to god.”

“Almost like a reward. When one suffers, it is with the hope that there is a payoff for their suffering.”

“What is your payoff in this, then?” Dr. Lecter asked. “After the Ripper is caught, after the FBI finally leaves you to your paper and your work, what is the payoff for all of this suffering?”

The way he said suffering didn’t make it sound so awful. It sounded tempting, something that rolled off of the tongue and left you wanting. Will watched his lips, then looked back to his eyes.

Why did he have to be so god damn interesting?

“I was thinking of a vacation, actually. I’ve been compounding vacation since I first started there, so…something far away. Something relaxing.”

“Something where you can forget your close encounters with the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“No matter where I go, that’s not something I can forget, Dr. Lecter.”

That small smile returned, fleeting and all-knowing. “Not with the way your mind works, at least.”

“Not with the way that my mind works,” Will agreed.

“Do you think that you could go back to writing after this? Given how eloquent your writing has been since everything began.”

Are serial killers your muse?

“Have you read my works, doctor?” Will asked with mock surprise.

“I’ve been following them off and on, yes. You’re a hit in Baltimore, too, given your attendance at the gala. It seems that everywhere you go, you leave something memorable behind. You’ve even a little bit of a following, so I’ve heard.”

“And yet there I was, sitting at my office space wondering if I’d die writing about baby’s breath.”

That small smile flashed once more, and something about it made a jolting sensation strike at his chest, centered and distinctly pleasant. He resisted the urge to rub at the spot, smooth the feeling away with soft pressure.

Dr. Lecter excused himself shortly after, and Will was left to sit once more, mind spinning. Without the doctor sitting across from him, staring, he was left to turn their words over, blood racing. The Chesapeake Ripper left him his ‘favor’. He’d dropped it on his head, and there he was, sitting in an interrogation room at the FBI again.

Only the Chesapeake Ripper was there too, and Will was absolutely correct; he was closer to Jack Crawford than Jack would ever know. Somehow, that revelation was exciting rather than horrifying in its reality. He wondered if Dr. Lecter had consulted on the case of Mary Mai, considering she’d been his patient.

It didn’t take long for him to report to Jack. Within a few minutes, Brian from the Maestro crime scene was there, setting down documents for Will to sign and explaining the process of his release. Will’s handwriting was a sloppy scrawl, but it was difficult to listen when all that he could think on was facing the Ripper for the first time: no gimmicks, no ruse, no smoke and mirrors.

Just the Chesapeake Ripper. His blood was tingling, spitting. If he was much of a runner, he’d have gone for a run later.

“Dunno how he found you psychologically sound,” Brian was saying as Will stood and stretched. “I’d have you behind bars just for the trouble you alone have caused.

“Guess that’s why he’s the therapist and not you,” Will quipped. “Where’s Jack?”

“He’s in a meeting, but he said that he’d keep in touch.” Keep in touch. It was another way of saying you’d better be sticking around.

The Chesapeake Ripper wasn’t out in the hallway when Will was escorted towards the front desk, nor was he loitering just outside after he had made his phone call and asked Molly to pick him up. Will stood in the cold with the memory of the Ripper playing through his head, over and over and over again. Every time he stood and excused himself, the reel would flicker, turn static then cut short. Every time the ripper walked in the door for the first time and stood with the light from the hallway silhouetting him, there was a moment that Will focused on, despite the bitter cold and the way the tip of his nose was starting to hurt.

The Chesapeake Ripper, for all of his games and his machinations, looked surprised.

Then, the surprise faded, and the game began; it was somehow different, though. Like seeing an old friend and not quite knowing just how to be around them. Seeing him had changed things, and Will wasn’t so upset about being arrested anymore.

Molly met him at the roundabout in front of the building, and she smiled warmly as he climbed in.

“Did you survive your time in county?” she teased.

“I got a few scars from shanks,” he admitted. “A gang tattoo with that poke-and-needle style all the inmates swear by.”

“They let you have any hair trimmers in there? A razor for shaving? You look like you just came off of the set of Castaway.”

She grabbed his jaw and turned his head first one way, then another. He allowed the inspection with good humor, thought of the Ripper maybe watching from a window up above as he told Jack Crawford the sort of person that the Ripper thought him to be. Obviously, his estimation of Will had been good enough to make Jack let him go. Obviously, he’d said enough that Jack couldn’t very well keep him.

He couldn’t play so many games if Will was locked up, could he?

Molly had a way of laughing that warmed from his ears to the tips of his toes. It could have been the heater in the car, but Will didn’t think it was. Caring about Molly Foster was easy. She was the sort of person that made caring second nature, made joking commonplace. Her hair was the perfect hues of blonde, her eyes were the sort that one could call home, and her nose turned up with just enough sass to make her jokes land neatly.

Why she’d ever decided to start dating him again was far beyond Will. He figured she could do much better. She was textbook white picket fence, and while the Ripper certainly thought Will could don such personas –

–well, there was a reason the Ripper first thought they’d be good friends.

Back at her house, they lay sprawled over one another and watched bad television, laughing at the unease of Lifetime movie actors, and for a moment Will wondered just what would happen if he didn’t do what he knew that he had to do next. He wondered what would happen if he just allowed himself to lay there, laughing, and maybe in two years he’d marry her after letting Jack Crawford know just who it was he was gaining psychological insight from.

The moment of hesitation passed, though. He had something important to do.

“How’s work been?” he asked.

“Pretty busy. We’ve begun testing meat for that study I told you about. Some of the results so far have been…well, shitty, actually. Lots of meat claiming strictly beef coming back with turkey or chicken, assorted parts rather than the specific cut they claim it to be.”

“That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

“They’re not going to like what they find, but that’s why they came to the lab. They couldn’t trust their own business to give honest answers, so they found someone that would.”

He held his breath, glanced to her freezer where his own packaging of questionable meat lay. When she muted the TV on the commercials, he exhaled slowly.

“I have a favor to ask,” he confessed.

“Will Graham asking favors is a rarity.”

“I have some meat that also comes from a questionable…source,” he began. “You could include it in your study if you wanted, but really I just need to know what it’s from.”

“Did you pick something up from the farmer’s market? I told you that place doesn’t always sell as advertised,” she teased.

Will forced himself to laugh.

“I just have…a suspicion it’s not what it says it is. I know you’re busy, but if you have the time…”

His voice trailed off as she rolled over onto him, and the look she leveled at him was equal parts suspicion and mischief. No tingling sensation, though. No weird pressure in his chest that he willed to rub away. Molly was Molly, and Will Graham was a certifiable ass hole.

Beverly was surely going to agree with him after they caught up.

“If I have free time, I’ll do it. It’s the meat in the freezer, right?” At his nod, she nodded and rested her chin lightly at the dip in his chest. “You’re not making me run tests on human meat, are you?”

He kissed her rather than have to try and brush off a question like that. Hands rested onto her hips, held tight, and they didn’t unmute the TV when the movie came back on. When he kissed her, he wondered if she could taste his lies; if they were rancid, or if they were as sweet as she claimed them to be.

#LiaS scribbles #Hannibal fanfic #hannigram #hannibal au #Dark!Will #Ill Intentions #Journalist!Will #Grey!Will #the Chesapeake Ripper #hannibal x will graham #molly foster #nbc hannibal

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brandonkarson · 8 years

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Life in But A Dream

Chapter Two: There had to be something serious going on with Austin for him to react to things and situations the way he has lately. I know now what's been bothering him. Infidelity is a HUGE no no in the book of marriage, period. It's one of the reasons me and Taylor decided to wait for marriage for awhile, until we both were sure that we wanted to be together, forever. I turn to Austin. "So, what makes you think that he's cheating? Did you see it for yourself? What's going on at home, Austin?" He looked at me and he answered, "We're going through a lot. He and I argue everyday all of a sudden, we don't make love like we used to, and he's always on the phone late at night. That's when I figured something was definitely up with him." "Maybe it's a patient, asking questions about the ass injections or what they should do to reduce pain due to lypo...it has to be something work related...right?", I questioned. Austin looked at me, let out a sarcastic giggle, and turned his direction back to the Italian scenery. This is serious. He really thinks Guy is cheating on him. I like to look at the positive in the situation, if there is any, you know? I mean, let's face it...he did say that they were arguing a lot...but he also said that them arguing came out of nowhere...hmmm. Once I tried to get Austin's attention again, the travel guide interrupted. "Welcome, to the Da Vinci Italiano! This is where you will be staying while you enjoy this Italian excursion. Here are your keys to the house. If there is anything that you want to know or ask of me and my team of servants, we are at your service 24/7, ready to serve and guide you through all of Italy during your stay." As the boat reaches the dock of the villa, I grab Austin's hand. "I'm here for you Austin and I'm going to stay here. Don't you forget that.", I say to him. He takes off his Tom Ford sunglasses, looks to me & I notice a single tear falling from his eye. "I know.", he answers. I continue holding his hand while we both step off the boat. As the servants grab our luggage, I overhear Orrin & Laura discussing something. "I think that I love her.", Orrin says. "Really? Wait...is that like you love her sex or you actually love who she is as a person...as a human being...like, as in not one of your blow up dolls?", Laura asked. "Shut up, Laura! I'm serious. She's really nice. She makes it her mission to make me think about things. I feel like I'm always in a challenge with her. I talk to her like every day.", Orrin answered. "Wait, a minute...are you sick or something?", Laura asks while feeling Orrin forehead as if he has a fever. "No, but seriously, I think it's beautiful. I'm proud of you...I really am.", Laura added. "Sike! Ha! You really believed me this time. Hahaha!", Orrin screamed. Laura looked at him and said, "I hate you, dude. I really hate you." in a jokingly manner. Orrin always was the jokester of the four of us. He's extremely attractive too and he knows it. Back in LA, he & I were actually in a relationship. He was my first boyfriend. Before I became Brian Warner, the actor, I was Orrin's "rib". That's what he would tell people when he introduced me. Orrin and I share a bond that I have with no one else in our circle of friends. Distance broke us up. He and I began to become such big names right around the same time, about four years ago. My services were needed in Atlanta, for my first film and he had big business deals going on at the time in NYC. With both of us being so busy, we didn't find time for us. So, we decided to be best friends forever. "Congratulations, O. You deserve to be happy.", I tell him. "Thank you, Brian. That means a lot coming from you.", he answered. Then there was this random silence. "Brian...?", Laura asked. "How are you?" I looked at her, took a deep breathe and replied, "I'm better than good, better than most." "That's a really good way to look at your situation. I remember when me and Falon went through a rift in our relationship and now, we're stronger than ever. It's not so much the focusing on the problem, it's more about the resolution, working to make sure this problem never happens again...working through the problem." At that moment, I realized something. Laura was right. I shouldn't be so focused on what happened, because whatever it was, it happened in the past. I can't do anything about Taylor getting a girl pregnant during our relationship, but I have complete control over my actions and how I react to all of this. A member of the production crew comes up to me and Austin and tell us that we are meeting up with the rest of the cast for a Venetian dinner. Since this is being filmed for content, I guess I should dress up pretty nice. "You two will be the last to arrive to the dinner.", he tells us. "Come in, act normal. We will give you the signal to come in." Austin turns to me. "It's time to slay this. I mean, pull out your best attire.", he says. I look back at him. "Your wish is my command." We both laugh and began the process of finding something to wear to this dinner. I don't have Hanna with me this trip, but I know what I look good in. I get dressed with the intention of making someone ask, "Who are you wearing, and where can I get it." Nude is the color for the night. I pulled out my Balmain suit that is the same exact color as my skin tone, paired it with matching Guüd Boi suede loafers and met up with Austin. Austin met me at the door, drenched in Tom Ford, head to toe, all black everything. He grabs my hand. "No matter what happens tonight, we must remember to hold composure. Promise me you won't lash out?", he asks. "I promise. I'm good.", I answer. We hop in the boat, and head to the restaurant. The venue is breathtaking. It was set at night, starlit, overlooking the Venetian skyline. We get of the boat, holding hands, cracking jokes at each other. We walk up the steps and it seems as though we're walking into a screaming match. We haven't even walked into the equation yet and they are already on ten. We get the signal from the producer to walk in...here goes nothing. I walk in and Austin follows. "What's up, everybody! What's going on?" The conversation that had erupted came to a halt & everyone looked to me and Austin. They welcomed us in. "Austin, oh my God! What are you doing here!", a voice says. "And Brian! Brian Warner!", he continues. "Yeah, we're here man. How are you? How is everyone, actually? Seems like we walked in on something serious." Austin replied. "Yeah, like I heard whore and bitch and every other thing being thrown around. What's going on?", I asked. "Well, first of all my name is Greg, Greg Hardwick.", he tells me. "Wait, Greg Hardwick from the Los Angeles Hardwick's?", Austin replied. "Yeah, that's me.", Greg replied. Greg Hardwick is the heir to his grandfather's 5.6 billion dollar commercial real estate firm based out of Beverly Hills, California. He's the only child, but he's not spoiled. He started his very own luxury residential real estate firm. "It's so nice to meet you.", I say to him. "No, it's really nice to meet you. I love your work.", he replied. "Thank you, I appreciate that.", I tell him. As I look around the table, everyone is eyeing me down. "I don't know you, actually.", a guy says to me. "That's okay. Turn your TV on sometimes...you'll see me in living color.", I tell him. "Wow, was that supposed to be shade?", he replied. "No, it's a revelation...sunshine if you will. Just letting you know what it is.", I told him. "You know what, that's the problem with you C List 'stars'. You think everyone knows you, and everyone is supposed to cow down to you.", he screams. I look at him and laugh. "Sir, firstly let's tone that down. I'm no one you want to scream at...trust me.", I tell him. "Secondly, I just sat down five minutes ago...FIVE! So what the hell are you talking about? The reality of the matter is, no ones know who YOU are...which would explain why you're doing any & everything in front of these cameras. You're thirsty and you...", and the next thing you know, he throws a glass of red wine in my face. I stood up, unbuttoned my blazer, took it off and I left the dinner table. Now, I know I could have went a totally different way with this situation, but before I reacted, I had to check myself. Two of the producers came up to me. "I don't know where that came from. I really don't. We knew nothing about that.", one of them tell me. "It's fine." I reply. "I just won't be filming with him anymore...ever again.", I tell him. "If that's what you want. But, in due time all of this will boil over.", the other producer explains. "I'm sure it will, but I didn't sign on to have this happen to me. I have a career, a VERY valuable and lucrative career. I will not be apart of something that could potentially ruin my reputation.", I explain to him. I left the conversation and decided to head back to the villa. Immediately, I sit and think...was this a good idea? Is this what I want people to remember me by? As I'm walking off, I notice that I left my phone at the dinner table. I turned around and began heading back to the table. Still shirtless, I walk up to the table and there he is...the guy who threw the wine in my face. He looks at me and we have this really serious stare down. He knew that I was over the situation from earlier, but I did say he would do anything to get people talking, because we still don't know his name. Then, the worst thing he could've done happened, yeah you guessed it...he swings at me, twice. I knew he would though. The first attempt, I dodged...the second one was unexpected. He connects with the back of my head as I'm walking away from him. Next thing you know, I'm being detained by security as they knew I was ready to retaliate. Apparently, try must've been having a hard time holding me back because I managed to bruise a few of them, trying to get to guy who remains nameless. "I need my phone.", I scream as they try to detain me. The whole time, I was searching for my phone and I didn't even think to look for Austin. Then suddenly, all you hear in the background is, "AUSTIN NO!?" I turn around and Austin is in a full on brawl with the same guy I almost damn near killed. Literally ten seconds later, Austin comes jogging up to me, with my phone on his hand. "You forgot something.", he says. "Thank you. Are you okay?", I ask him. "Oh, I'm good...that other guy, not so much.", he replied. As me and Austin back to the boat, I look at him. "I can't believe that just happened.", I tell him. "Well, that's what happens when you have nothing to lose. That dude has seventy thousand followers and a little fashion line. He's from Atlanta, apparently. He just social media famous.", he explained. "Him doing what he just did will only boost his relevance. People like to see fights and shit, especially when you aren't well known." I don't get it. People literally will do anything to become relevant...ANYTHING. This is sad and I refuse to be apart of this. "I'm over it...all of it.", I tell Austin. "So you're over this trip...or everything as a whole?", he asked. "The whole thing.", I answer. "It's only going to get WORST! I'm not going to risk my name. At all. I've worked too hard to get where I am & I will not deal with this bullshit.", I replied. I grab my phone, make my way off the boat and make a phone call to my manager. She picks up. "Brian, how's filming?", she asked. "I got a drink thrown on me, I got swung on & didn't get a chance to swing back...I'm over it.", I replied. "WHAT!? Give me two minutes.", she says. Literally two minutes later, I get a call from my manager. "Brian, it's Leah. I got you and Austin tickets back to L.A. I've contacted Austin's management and they also think it's best that the both of you stop filming with the crew. Your attorney has also been notified and will be giving you a call first thing in the morning to discuss legal actions, just in case you had any ideas of taking the assailant as well as the production company to court.", she explained. "Wait, I'd have a case against the production company as well?", I ask. "Hell yeah! You weren't even supposed to be on this show. They kept pushing to put you on the cast & the money as well as the contract looked great, so we went with it. But then this happened. Your contract CLEARLY states that if another cast member were to physically assault you without being provoked, you have sole control over if you want to continue filming.", she replied. One thing that I will say is that I have the BEST manager in the entertainment industry. All of this was discussed within a two to five minute radius, after the whole situation went down. It was clear that I needed to leave the show, and Leah needs a raise.

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