#sj is both proud yet upset...but mostly proud

[mischeaveous-and-random]

#liu qingge survives the caves because Shen Yuan is so snarky about how shitty he is at takint care if himself he starts to regularly#see MQF for check ups just so he can have proof he is in good health wheb he runs into Shen's evil child#thus mu qingfang stops him going into the caves#he cant take any more snide needling comments about him looking sickly#svsss#shen jiu#shen yuan#moshang#mobei jun#shang qinghua#luo binghe These tags jsjsjssj SY just becomes SJ's menace child

Idea: Shen Jiu wanders by the camp of children waiting for the entrance exam one night and comes across a small child beating Shang Qinghua with a stick shouting about his terrible writing and stupid ideas

It's very amusing even as Shang Qinghua is clearly not hurt he still looks cowed. And Shen Jiu is thoughtful, leaving his Shidi to get beaten by a small child

The next day the kids barely break soil before Shen Jiu is like: "That one" pointing at Shen Yuan

Everyone is surprised and pleased with his decision he leaves and in a frantic bit of panic Shang Qinghua nabs Luo Binghe

Which leads to Shen Yuan repeatedly stealing Luo Binghe and when questioned he says "he belongs on Qing Jing, not with that man"

Shen Qingqiu is delighted by the spite and joins Shen Yuan in trying to get Luo Binghe to switch to Qing Jing but Luo Binghe actually quite likes An Ding and Shang Qinghua who ruffles his hair and personally taught him to read.

(Shang Qinghua just wants to not die)

Anyway Shen Qingqiu secretly delights in Shen's sassy and snarky ways but he's also bad with children so he's like "fascinating." *pokes Shen Yuan with a long stick*

Ming Fan tries to bully Shen Yuan and gets called a "forgettable cannon fodder" and "ant boy" and immediately deflates and cries

Remember Shen Yuan was a bored rich kid internet weirdo. He's not dealing with bullshit if he can get away with it

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Under the Knife” - Part 4

“Under the Knife” - Part 4

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist -

Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 3,100-ish 

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Description of Crime Scene/Murder Victims, Murder, Cursing, Blood

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Tag List: @fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan​ @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude​ @ntlmundy

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection.

This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress​, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again! 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

~~~~~~~~~~~~

No matter how many times you looked at crime scene photos or had to visualize how the killers from the Evil Minds Research Museum had done their work, you were not fully ready to be completely immersed in an active crime scene. 

You were inside another upper-class house in Lorton, Virginia. Everything seemed normal on the outside, until you got past the familiar yellow tape. You were escorted in by Jack. As you walked through the front door, Jack motioned to the right. 

“Mindy Pencalt’s sister called local police and said that she was worried about Mindy. They have weekly video calls and Mrs. Pencalt didn’t respond for two days, which apparently was very abnormal. Uni’s came in and saw her on the kitchen floor, then called in for backup.” 

You walked over, putting on gloves as you got closer. You brushed some hair away from Mindi’s neck. You saw the blood down her front, but you really got a good look at the slice that spanned across most of her neck. You spoke out loud as you inspected the victim, mostly to get confirmation from Jack that you were right.

“This was a quick kill. Sliced neck, just like half of the other victims. No other obvious wounds or marks other than a gash on her forehead that seems to have happened right around time of death. Which means she didn’t-or couldn’t put up much of a fight.” You stood up as you began to see the scene in your mind as it happened. You walked slightly behind where Mindi was laying on the ground. “Most likely from the killer coming up and shoving her head into this set of cabinets before taking his weapon and cutting into her neck from behind.” 

After you had acted out bashing an invisible victim into the overhead cabinets and then taking an invisible knife and dragging it across the same invisible victim, you stopped and looked again at the sliver in her neck.

“The cut starts a few inches below Mrs. Pencalt’s right ear, drags through and across her sternohyoid muscle and stops an inch or so to the left. Leaving her to bleed out at a decent pace. The length of the cut and where it starts and ends indicates that the killer is left-handed.”  

You were looking at the cut on her neck when another thought popped into your mind. Without breaking your gaze from her neck, you held out your open hand towards Jack. 

“Swab, please.” There was some shuffling behind you and not even 20 seconds later, you felt the small familiar shape of a long cotton swab. You gently use your gloved hand and the swab to open the wound slightly. You made a confirming noise to yourself and spoke out loud as you reached your hand out for a disposal bag from whoever gave you the swab.

“The slit is at more of an upward angle. Which means that he is taller than Mrs. Pencalt, who is... how tall?” You ask over your shoulder, still not looking away from the corpse in front of you. 

You could hear Jack flip through his notepad for a few seconds before responding with “5’7”. You just nodded, trying to visualize the killer in your mind. As of right now, it was just a shaded outline of a man. Now you had some sort of height to work with though, but you still didn’t have any major identifying markers yet.

“I would estimate our killer is somewhere between 5’10” and 6’ tall. Which makes him almost painfully average.” 

You looked around Mindi’s body once more to see if there was anything else that really stuck out to you. Any sort of signature left behind on any surface, a stray hair or thread from a shirt being snagged. But you found nothing. You mimed the movements the killer would have made to really see the picture and try to get more into his head. Physically being at the crime scene did so much more than just looking at pictures and notes.

“After the trash is taken care of, he moves on to find and set up his mise-en-scène.” 

You turn to go through the only hallway visible, finally looking up. You were expecting to just meet an accepting or objecting Crawford, but instead was greeted not only to an accepting Jack, but also a somewhat surprised Hannibal. He knew you were brilliant, but he had never had the chance to see you really work. 

“Oh! I wasn’t aware that Dr. Lecter was going to be joining us.” You were really thrown off your rhythm for a minute. Jack nodded before turning and heading down the hallway to what you were sure was a dismembered doctor.

“When you are done, meet me down here. First door on the right.” 

You were left with Hannibal in a slightly awkward position. Looking around at the floor, you tried your best to gracefully get away from the victim and closer to where Hannibal stood without messing up the crime scene. He offered a guiding hand to help to which you gladly accepted. Once you had your feet planted, you decided to speak up and try to dispel as much of the weirdness you felt as you could.

“I um-- I would have offered to drive us both if I’d have known you were coming. I thought you said that you only consulted on one part of this case.”

“Originally, yes, it was just the one. But Jack asked me to tag along, as back up. He wants to make sure he made a good choice in recruiting you. And having never had the privilege to see you work like this before, I felt the urge to agree even more so.” 

You could feel like there was something off or something else he wasn’t sharing, so you just raised your eyebrow at him, waiting for him to continue. He took a slightly large inhale before changing to a more cautious tone of voice. 

“I also agreed because Will and I thought it would be safest if I followed this case as well.” 

Your mood went from confused and unsure to upset and slightly betrayed very quickly once Hannibal’s reasoning settled in your brain. You tried your best to stay cool, but you couldn’t help the frustration that slightly morphed your voice. 

“So this is Will’s way of babysitting me, is it? He-- No. Both of you are so sure that something is going to happen that you felt the need to put yourself on this case?” 

“This is just a precaution and to try and help Will feel a bit better about the situation.” 

“I--.” 

Before either of you could continue, Jack’s voice rang from the next room over.

“Lecter! Graham! Get in here! We don’t have all night!” 

You took a deep breath, trying to sort out the clusterfuck of emotions in your head. You opened your eyes and diverted all attention to walking away from Hannibal and ignoring the situation. Before you could take a full step, Hannibal tried to speak. 

“(Y/N)--”

You just paused and held your hand up to stop him.

“I’m sorry but I really do not want to talk to you about any of this right now. I just want to go in there, get some initial findings, and go home.” You couldn’t fully see it, but Hannibal nodded his head in understanding and extended his arm in the direction of the next room. You muttered a small “thank you” before continuing towards where Jack called out for you.

You would deal with all of this later. For now, you needed to be able to look at this scene and try to find anything that could save whoever this creep had in mind next. 

Walking into the room, you saw the various markers and teams working on collecting evidence and taking pictures. Jack was right by the door to greet you into your first macabre serial killer scene.

“Give us the room.” Jack ordered and everyone got to the end of whatever they were doing and filed out, giving you, Jack, and Hannibal the room to yourselves. Now you could get a better visual of just what you were dealing with. 

“Do you want to know what we have so far, or do you want to just do your thing?” Jack watched you as you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the scene in front of you. All you could do was shake your head ‘no’ as you worked your hands into a fresh pair of gloves, which was enough of an answer for Jack.

“The floor is yours, (Y/N) and Dr. Lecter.” 

With Jack’s previous experience with your brother, he had learned to just let your brain work and then talk later. But Hannibal had never seen this side of you, so he observed with immense curiosity as to what you pick up on and the connections you make. 

“I would rather (Y/N) take over. This is her case. I am just here for support.” Hannibal said somewhat softly, seeing that you were trying to slip into the same mindset as he had witnessed earlier with Mrs. Pencalt.

You tried to just breathe through the resentment you were feeling as you straightened your shoulders and stepped through the doorway of the room, slowly making yourself forget that they were there, focusing on how your killer would have done all of this.

You could assume this was Dr. Pencalt and Mrs. Pencalt shared bedroom from the general layout of the home, or the fact that Dr. Pencalt was laid out in the middle of a king sized bed. 

As you stepped closer and closer, you were able to see those clean cut lines that you’d come to know very well by now. His body looked slightly elongated due to the fact that he, like the previous Scalpel victims, was dissected at every major joint. Each part of him had an inch or so gap between each other. 

Making your way around the bed, you found the door to the attached master bathroom open and the light on, a trail of blood connecting the bed to the bathroom. When you peeked inside, the once pristinely gray floor tiles now had a layer of red over them and thick blood stuck in the grout. You nodded as you committed that room to memory and walked back to the bed.

You carefully tilt Dr. Pelcant’s head to the side to try and find a small hole in where a syringe would have gone, figuring it would be somewhere in his neck. You couldn’t find anything with just your naked eye. 

“We’ll have to see if Beverly or Zeller can find the injection point. If we can see any sort of angle to it, that could help narrow down our killer’s height.”

Jack wrote that down in his notes as you took a step back from the body and scanned the whole room again. Your gut was saying that you just needed to keep looking. Hannibal and Crawford watched you, waiting to see if you had anything else to add. Hannibal saw that you were slightly troubled by something.

“Something wrong, (Y/N)?

"Something about all of this is off."

“What is it?" Jack butt in, a slight shift in his tone making you a little more frustrated at yourself for not seeing it yet.

"I'm not sure. It’s just-- This set up- This doesn't feel like the others. Not entirely."

"Could it be because these are not photographs, like how you're used to seeing?" You know Hannibal didn’t mean to sound condescending in any way, but with your bitter bias towards him right now, it definitely felt it. Still, you didn’t look away from the bed.

"No. I know it's not that."

You couldn’t tell exactly what Jack and Hannibal were discussing behind you but you didn’t really care; Everything had started to muffle as you focused more and more on the display in front of you. 

My eyes and gut keep bringing me here. This is it. Something isn’t right here. But what the hell is it? The body is cut up in the same way as the other doctors. The only slightly weird thing is that the eyes are left open on this vic. Everything is so neat and tidy, why can’t I tell what is wrong?

Then it hit you. That’s what is wrong: Things were neat. More specifically, the bedsheets.

"The sheets." You felt the words slip out of your mouth as your brain was still going, now picking up on how this bedroom looked like a picture from a Better Homes & Gardens magazine, just with a dead body laying in the bed instead of a photogenic couple or dog or something.

“(Y/N), I really don't think their choice in bedding lead to their--"

"Shh! Shut up for a second! Just-- Everyone shut up!" You waved your hand at Crawford to try to quiet him quicker. Jack was about to reprimand you, but Hannibal held up a hand to him, letting him know that you were on to something. You did a full circle around the room before landing back on the sheets. 

“The sheets are flat.” You said aloud, moreso to yourself than to the other two off to the side. You then looked directly at Jack, not giving Hannibal any attention, knowing that would bring your personal life back up and derail the potentially good track you were on.

“There are only two victims in this household, correct?” You spoke while following the blood drip stains from the edges of the bed to the pool on the floor to the trail that led to the bathroom.

“Yes.” Crawford responded, slightly judgmental.

“And we’re sure about that?”

“Positive. I looked in every room in this house myself before you two got here.” You just nodded, your eyes finding their way to the bathroom and the seemingly odd pool of blood in there.

“Were there any weapons found in the bathroom?” Both men were a bit confused at the sudden change of topic, but continued anyway.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“How well did the crime scene interns look though?”

“What exactly are you insinuating, (Y/N)?” You could tell that Jack wasn’t a fan of you talking like that, but you had your reasons. 

“Either we have a mysterious third victim that was killed in the bathroom and then vanished, or this is one of those cases where the evidence collecting teams didn’t search thoroughly enough and missed out on a piece of evidence.” Jack waved his hand, motioning for you to keep talking. 

“Taking into account that there is only one trail of blood that leads between these two pools of blood, there are in fact only two victims in this house. So what I am insinuating is that your collection team missed something.” You turned back to the corpse in the bed and went on to explain yourself further, physically taking the steps that the vic would have taken in this likely scenario. 

“Dr. Pencalt was relaxing in bed when he heard commotion in the kitchen. Instead of jumping out of bed and going to check it out with no weapon, he rushed to his bathroom to search for something to defend himself with.” 

You quickly scanned over the bathroom, your eyes finally landing on exactly what you were looking for: the toilet. You gently hopped over the blood that had stuck to the tiles and got to the toilet. You lifted up the lid to the tank and reached in. You turned back to the men as you got the new piece of evidence out safely.

“One of the most common places that civilians hide their guns or valuables are in airtight baggies, in the tanks of their toilets.”

Jack gave you a slightly annoyed look before calling for an evidence bag and handing it to you. You sealed up the gun and hopped back to the main bedroom, Hannibal making sure to help steady you as you landed. Once you were on solid ground again, he respectfully backed away. You gave the gun to Jack, turned around to face the bathroom, and continued your assessment.

“So, like I said, he goes to his bathroom to try to get his gun to defend himself against whatever he thinks is in his kitchen other than his wife. He gets into the bathroom but then is stopped before he can make it to the toilet or his gun. Here, he is injected with whatever insanely fast paralytic drug our killer decided to use tonight, and falls to the ground, where the killer decides to chop him up.” You walked parallel to the trail of blood leading back to the bed. “And then place him here.”

You could feel yourself slowly losing your grip on your mind due to exhaustion. You took your gloves off and ran your hands over your face. 

“I need to get some air. I did all I can here. I need to write some stuff out and then I can get back at this tomorrow when I have some more forensic evidence to work off of.” You were about to leave the room when Jack called out.

“No.” You stopped and faced him to see if he was serious. His face was stone. “Write out what you need to. Then I want you and you, Dr. Lecter, to report back to my office in an hour. I need a list of suspects, a good motive, or something out of this case, tonight.”

You knew you couldn’t do or say anything to change Jack’s mind without possibly getting yourself taken off the case. So you just took a deep breath and nodded, making your way out of the bedroom. Hannibal just nodded his head as well and followed you out.

You heard the soft but quick steps of Hannibal’s nice shoes catch up to you as you reached your car. You didn’t want to talk to him, not sure of what you would even say now that you felt almost completely drained. 

“Hannibal, I really don't--”

“I know.” 

You were slightly taken aback at his interruption. He leaned slightly towards you and opened your car door. You then realized that he only wanted to make sure you got to your car safe, as he always did when he was with you. You felt slightly guilty, but tried to not think about it too much as he waited until you had your seat belt on to shut the door. Letting you drive off; Leaving you alone in your car to try to prepare for this undoubtedly intense brainstorming in an hour.

[silver-and-ivory]

I simply do not believe that you can, in fact, continue to listen to black people, or indeed ascribe any value to them at all, while also defending your right to be afraid of them as a generic group. You -will- discount what they say, regardless of whether or not it should be discounted. And like, your entire justification for this, besides someone abusing you, is that other people feeling bad makes you feel bad, and how dare they. That you're proud of this is amazing.

(cont) But I dunno, you clearly can’t and shouldn’t engage with racial issues because of your scrupulosity. What’s astounding, though, is that you take that same scrupulosity and wear it like a badge of integrity and superiority. And it’s perfect for you, since because your racism is a product of your scrupulosity, nobody can criticize you, because that would be unfair.

Hey, anon.

If I’m interpreting your message correctly, you’re mainly concerned by me because you think that I am proud of hating black people, and the other issues - not believing I can listen to black people, saying I don’t value black people, etc. - are all linked to this. You would be okay if I treated my scrupulosity as something that I needed to work on, but you *aren’t* okay with it because you think I’ve given up on trying to help blacks.

You have a very valid point here, and it’s one that I hadn’t necessarily thought of. Thank you for explaining!

However, I think there has also been a miscommunication. (link to whole post)

Here’s what’s going on with me being proud of being a “bad racist”:

I’m proud that I was able to look at myself clearly and admit, Yes, this is how you feel when you see black people, and it’s how you’ve felt for a while.

I’m proud that I am finally able to separate “actually a legitimately bad person who is very harmfully racist” from “just someone who my abuser thinks is a racist”.

I’m proud that I don’t have to constantly worry about what other people will think of me, and that I’ve finally thought my way out of sj.

I’m proud that I’ve confronted what I feared most (being a racist).

I’m proud that I was able to recognize my emotions in general- the dissociation and guilt/shame associated with Her, the intense self-loathing I had begun to develop, the anxiety caused by constant self-criticism, and yes, the secret fear of black people. I spent a long time ignoring them and denying that they exist - this might be something to do with alexythmia, or maybe just certain thought complexes associated with sj.

Of course, to someone looking in this would look at lot like “lol I hate black people”, especially, when, um, I literally said something like “lol I hate black people”.

My intention behind this was to say, “So, ex-friend, I’m someone you would call a racist. I’m someone you would accuse of hating black people. But I don’t actually endorsedly hate black people, obviously, and I’m done adhering to your standards for who I should be. I’m illustrating this by showing how absurd it is that you might think I endorsedly hate black people. Also, I do legitimately unendorsedly hate black people and you’re the reason why.”

So yeah, anon, sorry about 1) any unclarity there or 2) any negative effects it’s had on you.

However: I have repeatedly stated that I believe that people should have their own spaces where they can say things like “fuck white people” and “die cis scum”, preferably tagged for things like “racism cw” and “cisphobia cw”. This is because I believe in the concept of safe spaces for competing access needs. The same holds true here.

So I’m not sorry for being honest about my emotions, or for confronting my fears.

Do you know what it means for an emotion to be unendorsed vs endorsed? Because I think a lot of your upsetness stems from there-

Unendorsed is when you feel or think something, but you actually know it’s completely wrong. Like, if you really like ice cream you might think, “There is literally no one in the entire universe who doesn’t love ice cream exactly as much as I do.” And then you would realize, “Well, actually, that’s completely untrue and I shouldn’t assume that everyone else is exactly like me.” But you can also realize that this thought has legitimate roots - that you really like ice cream and associate it with your grandmother - and you can also listen to it without judging yourself.

Endorsed is when you feel or think something, and upon further consideration you’re like Holy shit I’m completely correct. Like, if you care lots about ~becoming immortal~ you might think “Death is the worst thing ever and we need to put it at the top of our list of Stuff To Cure.” And then you would think back on this and realize “Yep, death is definitely the worst thing ever.”

My hatred of black people is unendorsed, but I’ve investigated it and realized it’s a pattern-matching defense mechanism in reaction to having been abused, or at least severely mistreated. I wish, anon, that you would stop dismissing my experiences with abuse as minor. They were not. They aren’t an excuse or a logical reason for hating black people, but they are significant and they are an emotional reason. I am not perfectly logical; I am affected by pattern-matching and bias just as much as anyone else.

I have clearly stated that I don’t endorsedly blame black people as as whole for this, and I have no idea where you would have gotten that interpretation.

If you’d give a woman abused by a man some leeway with her misandry, then you ought to do the same for me. (Also, note that I use this framing because I think you, anon, will be most compelled by it, not because I’m ignoring the degree to which women abuse men, which is comparable in scope to male-on-female abuse.)

I however do endorse my hatred of Her, and I endorse pride in my ability to recognize my emotions and dictate my own morality.

Ultimately, it was extremely important to me to be able to admit to and reclaim and to be proud of this pain; and to recognize the fear and hatred while also committing eventually eliminating my own antiblack racism. And that brings me to the next point, which is that-

I think at the root we agree on something quite important: we both want to have an end result of me not (unendorsedly) hating black people anymore.

I don’t know what to do, but I’ve gotten some suggestions, mostly along the lines of “find black people who aren’t extremely into sj and who are generally kinder people, and become friends with them”. This is a good idea, since it would decrease my threat assessment when I see black people so that my emotions are more in step with reality. Kind of like exposure therapy.

I could also try to establish thought patterns that automatically appear whenever I start on a fear/guilt/shame spiral. I’m going to try to do that sometime soon.

I also disagree with your statements about what I can or should not do.

I am in fact able to value black people, as you can see with my willingness to do things for black people like “calling members of Congress about police brutality” and “donating money to some kind of cause” and “donating money to AMF”. If I did not abstractly value black people I would not care about their civil rights and lives.

You’re correct that my fear of blacks could create a bias against listening to them. However, now that I recognize this bias, I can try to correct against it by e.g. seeking out black perspectives for reading and consideration. For example, right now I’m reading Sister Outsider, by Audre Lorde, and I’m not only passively listening but also trying to engage with and evaluate her arguments. (It is a very interesting book.)

Again, I want to become stronger! Tsuyoku naritai. I want to be able to stretch myself and to become less scared of black people. I want to be able to take risks on my own terms, and to take care of myself while doing so. (This is relevant to e.g. the dignity of risk and the ability to set your own boundaries.)

I want to help social justice, real social justice. And I think that I could handle it /if/ it was safe- again, it’s like exposure therapy, a controlled environment with people I trust, who deserve my trust. Unfortunately, there is a certain dearth of communities like this that I can access right now.

Finally, you say that I think that no one can criticize me for my racism because it’s due to scrupulosity.

In some sense, this is in fact true. I do not support criticizing people for talking about their unendorsed emotions/feelings. If you want to vent about my unendorsed feelings, I would suggest that you do it in a space that is not my blog. If you want to eliminate my emotional racism, then you ought to find an actually effective way. Ignoring and guilting myself for it didn’t work in the past. Meeting more black people who aren’t abusive, however, might, as would removing myself from situations with Her.

In another sense, however, I am happy to engage with criticism if it is logically sound and moderately polite, as I am doing now. That doesn’t mean I won’t dismiss it, but it’s also not like you’re not allowed to or like I’m being unkind to you for criticizing me.

In yet another sense, I welcome criticism of my endorsed racism. I just don’t think that I’ve been endorsedly racist lately?

Not sure if you had something else in mind.

Anyway, thanks a lot, anon. I mean this sincerely- I appreciate your effort and your goodwill towards me. :)