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milkfordragons · 24 days ago

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How To Be Eaten.

A post-fall fic exploring Will's past, weaving through time to find Hannibal, love, cannibalism and other drugs. TW. The mind perceives existence as a thread unspooling, one event birthing the next, past sculpting present, present carving the future. Yet in dreams, the mind dissolves, slipping between moments, untethered by time, stripped of causality. There, in that formless drift, we glimpse a hidden truth: that life, which appears so linear, is but the rippling echo of a primordial force, a breath from the vast and originless void, where only the great nothing hums.

Here, we are not architects of our future, nor sculptors of our fate. We are first-degree witnesses, adrift on an endless ocean, where waves do not rise from some distant beginning but have always been—moving, colliding, unfolding everywhere at once. And yet, to touch each moment, the mind slows, weaving the illusion of time, a trick of perception that lets us believe in sequence, in order, in a story being written rather than simply revealed.

So Will couldn’t bring himself to blame his mother for everything that had happened in his life. Even when she had plunged his head beneath the water, her trembling hands gripping his small shoulders, he couldn’t find it in himself to resent her. She had whispered fevered prayers, calling upon God to cast out the darkness she believed had taken root inside him. If anything, he wished no one had come to save him. If anything, his mother had been right.

“What a precious little thing, with those big blue eyes,” an old woman cooed, leaning over the stroller where baby Will lay swaddled in blankets.

Elizabeth Graham forced a smile, the corners of her lips twitching as though the muscles had long forgotten how to hold such an expression.

She didn’t think her son was precious. She didn’t think anything of him at all, really. Her body had been hollowed out into a graveyard, and Will was nothing more than another tombstone. Another punishment from God. Another child of the devil sent straight into her womb, a creature she had to purge from this world before he could curse it. But no one believed her. They called her sick. Delusional. Hospitals and medications, white rooms with no edges, bitter liquids forced between clenched teeth.

So she learned to pretend. To be quiet. To smile, to nod. Because if she didn’t, they would take her away again. They would lock her up, and the demon child would be left to wreak his havoc on another family.

So she remained quiet about Will.

Will didn’t think he remembered being a baby. But the sensation of boiling water flooding his nose, blurring his vision, pressing against his skin like a second, searing body…that never left him. Sometimes, even now, he could feel it. Unaware of where the memory came from, only that it lived inside him, dormant until sleep pried open the locked doors of his mind and the truth came spilling through the cracks.

“LIZZIE, NO!” A man’s voice, half-swallowed by the water.

“Let me go! We have to do this!” she yelled, thrashing against his grip, her wet hair plastered to her face in wild strands. She clawed at his arms, but he shoved her back, sending her stumbling against the tile as he lunged toward the water. He pulled baby Will out, cradling the soaked bundle against his chest, his breath coming hard and fast.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured, brushing dripping strands of hair from Will’s forehead. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s okay.”

“My God, no wonder you’re such a weird little thing,” Margaret Thatcher scoffed, exhaling a plume of cigarette smoke that curled lazily toward the ceiling. She tilted her head, her yellowed, brittle hair cascading over her shoulder in stiff strands. Her long red nails tapped against the armrest as she studied Will with blue-shadowed eyes, lined heavily with kohl.

“I mean, with a mother like that,” she added, taking another slow drag. “Who wouldn’t turn out a little strange?”

Will sat silently beside her, small hands clasped in his lap. Outside the smudged car window, fluorescent gas station lights buzzed faintly in the night. They were waiting for his father, who had gone inside to buy cigarettes. A few years had passed since his mother had been institutionalized, and in that time, Robert had met Margaret in some roadside bar. She had been around ever since—rude, sharp-edged, wrapped in the stale scent of nicotine and whiskey.

“You’ll have a big brother to look after you,” Robert had told him when they loaded their things into the truck, bound for Margaret’s trailer park. “It’ll be good for you.”

Jason was fifteen when Will was five, and he did not look after Will.

Jason thought Will was stupid. A silent, strange little boy who never talked, never fought back. They shared a room, and Jason wasn’t bothered by Will’s presence there, no matter what type of activities he was engaging with. And after a while, he decided Will should participate in his activities, whether he wanted to or not. And so, whenever Will felt the crushing weight of something pressing down on his back, the scent of sweat and old pillowcases thick in the air, he remembered Jason.

Robert and Margaret were heavy drinkers. They would come home in the early hours of the morning, fumbling at the door, voices slurring into incoherence before one of them collapsed in a heap on the couch. Sometimes, they didn’t make it that far. Will had stepped over them more times than he could count, their bodies sprawled on the stained carpet, their breath thick with liquor.

Jason took those moments alone with Will as opportunities to experiment with the human body. Maybe he wanted to be a doctor, who knows? He definitely liked to see what he could fit inside Will, no matter what it was. It was a fun game for Jason, who had a crazed smile on his face throughout the entire time.

This went on for two years, until one night, Will woke to screaming.

He followed the sound, his small feet padding hesitantly across the cold floor. When he reached the kitchen, he froze.

Margaret was clawing at Robert’s arms, her fingers scrabbling for purchase as his hands tightened around her throat. Her face, once flushed with fury, was draining of color, her lips parting soundlessly.

As if something had snapped, her body crumpled, falling heavy against the floor with a dull thud.

Robert turned, chest heaving, eyes dark and unreadable as they landed on Will’s small, rigid form in the doorway.

“You listen to me,” he said, voice steady, almost gentle. He crouched to Will’s level, his large hands bracing against his knees. “If you ever tell anyone about this, you’ll be out on the streets. And you know what happens to little boys out there, don’t you?”

Will’s breath hitched. He said nothing.

Robert nodded as though he had expected the silence. He reached out, resting a heavy hand on Will’s shoulder.

“I did this for you, son.”

Will was young, but he knew his dad hadn’t done it for him. Margaret wasn’t kind, that much was true. She gave him smaller portions at dinner, let his clothes sit unwashed, ignored him when he needed help. She threw away anything that reminded him of his mother—photos, trinkets, even the blanket he had clung to as a child. She forced him to sit through adult movies he was too young to understand and asked him strange questions afterward.

No wonder Jason was sick.

But Robert hadn’t killed her to save Will. He had done it because that was the way they were, him and Margaret. They fought constantly. This time, it had gone too far. And Will believed his father when he told him he’d end up on the streets if he said anything. So he stayed quiet.

He stayed quiet as his father made him stand there while he cut Margaret into pieces, muttering under his breath as he worked, as if she was still arguing with him. Will stayed quiet as he watched Robert fit those pieces into a wooden box like a grotesque puzzle. He stayed quiet when they drove out to an empty stretch of land and buried it beneath the cold dirt. Margaret had been a drunk, a mean and bitter woman. People expected her to disappear. When Robert went around, red-eyed and slurring about how she had left him, no one asked questions. He sent Jason to live with his grandparents. That was that. No one came looking for her. Or if they did, Will never heard about it.

"You got a lighter?"

Will looked up from the dock where he sat, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the boatyard. A boy stood in front of him, dirty blond hair sticking up in places, green eyes catching the light.

Will pulled out his lighter—a cheap gas station one, red and blue—and handed it over. The boy flicked it a couple of times, then lit his cigarette, inhaling deep before flashing a grin. Will didn’t know it then, but he would keep that lighter for years.

They were sixteen when they met, two kids killing time in a place where time stood still. Will’s father worked on boats, fixing motors, and so did Dean’s. But Dean’s dad wasn’t around much. When he was, he was the kind of man people avoided.

Empty afternoons filled with smoke, grease, and books became something else with Dean around. Will had never had friends before—he didn’t like how people looked at him, the way they filled silence with empty words. But Dean was different. Like Will, he carried an invisible weight, the kind only wounded boys could recognize in each other. Will saw it in the way Dean deflected with humor, in the glint of his eyes that only those who fought demons had. But they didn’t talk about it. They didn’t need to.

Instead, they would drive around in Dean’s old car, wind tearing through the open windows, Nirvana blaring from the radio. They climbed onto the roof, lay back, and smoked while staring at the stars. Will didn’t understand, then, the strange tightness in his chest when Dean laughed or the way his skin prickled when Dean’s arm brushed against his own. He only knew he wanted it more.

When Will dozed off in Dean’s car, he would wake up screaming, drenched in sweat. Dean’s hands would find his shoulders, grounding him.

"My brother gets those, too," Dean had said once, voice low.

Will didn’t know much about Dean’s brother. They went to the same school, but Dean never talked about his family. All Will knew was that the nightmares ran in their blood, that his brother was quiet and strange, and that he liked dogs. Like Will.

At home, things got worse. Robert had learned after Margaret that it was easy for a man like him to get away with things. And so he started collecting bones.

Women from bars, the ones no one missed. He’d bring them home, slit their throats, make Will mop the floors. Cut them up. Take a marrow. Dispose of them.

Will learned to shut down. His body moved through the motions like a machine, a vessel emptied of anything human.

Dean talked about running away all the time.

"We can make money easy. I know a few tricks, and we don’t need much," he’d say, lighting a cigarette, the glow illuminating his sun-kissed skin. "We’ll take my car. Sleep in it if we have to."

One evening, Dean picked Will up from the boatyard. Will’s hands were trembling. His father had hidden a body earlier that day—the first one that year, in that town—and he couldn't shake the cold weight of it. He wasn’t hiding it well. Dean noticed.

"We leave tonight," he said. "I can’t take this anymore either, you know? My dad—he…" He shook his head. "Doesn’t matter. We’ll get rid of them tonight."

So they left. They drove until the world stretched out wide, until they were nothing but two boys parked in the middle of a canyon, the night vast and open above them. They stayed there, one night, then another.

One morning Will woke to soft, broken sobs in the driver’s seat.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, voice groggy.

Dean wiped at his face, shook his head like he could brush off the feeling. But he couldn’t.

"I have to go back," he whispered. "I can’t leave my brother alone."

And so they turned around.

When Will walked back into the house, Robert didn’t say a word. Just looked at him, long and heavy.

Dean never showed up again. Not at the boatyard. Not at school. Not ever again. All that was left was the blue and red lighter.

#Fine I did it #you asked and here it is #let me know if I should keep going because this was hard hahaha #musings #nbc hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #fanfic #htbe

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droctaviolovecraft · 6 months ago

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TW: Jimmy Savile, sexual abuse and exploitation, child abuse, psychological trauma, hospitals and terminal illness, manipulation and gaslighting, death and grief

Jimmy Savile and Margaret Thatcher at Mandeville Hospital (1977):

"The nurses tell the children to pretend to sleep when Savile came to visit."

Identification: Gaunt Scout

Lead Researcher: Dr. Öctavio Kalev

Abomination #: ANM-622-KV

Classification: Neutralized ✖️

Type of Anomaly: Manifesting, historical, humanoid

Type of Damage: Trauma, psychological, auditory, dream-related, public, child-related

Containment: ANM-622 must be contained within a standard humanoid containment cell located in Department-██. The cell should be constructed of reinforced steel and equipped with infrared and motion-activated cameras to monitor any erratic behavior inside. The lights within ANM-622's containment area should be kept at a minimum of 1000 lumens to deter the entity's activity.

An emergency set of strobe lights is installed outside the containment chamber and can be activated remotely by authorized personnel in case of any containment breach or unusual activity. Thermal sensors are positioned around the perimeter of ANM-622's cell to detect any abnormal temperature fluctuations. Any personnel assigned to observe ANM-622 must do so from a separate, sealed observation room.

Direct interaction with ANM-622 should be limited to testing protocols authorized by at least two Level 3 staff members. No one under the age of 18 is permitted within 30 meters of ANM-622's containment area at any time, including other anomalies. Any reports of ANM-622 appearing outside its containment cell should be treated as a potential containment breach, and immediate lockdown procedures must be enacted.

Description: ANM-622 is a humanoid entity resembling an extremely emaciated elderly man, approximately 3.92 meters tall, weighing 120 kilograms. Its skin is abnormally pale, with the bones of its ribs, shoulders, and limbs visibly protruding beneath the surface. The entire body of ANM-622 is covered with fine, depigmented hair, except for sparse reddish patches in certain areas of the chest, groin, and arms. The eyes are disproportionately large and dark, with severely dilated pupils, suggesting a high sensitivity to light.

The entity's posture is typically hunched, likely to facilitate movement in narrow spaces. Its chest is deformed, with a pronounced sunken area near the sternum consistent with pectus excavatum. ANM-622's hands are characterized by abnormally long fingers, each of similar length, including an extended thumb that is disproportionately long. The nails are thick, discolored, and sharp at the tips.

Behavior: ANM-622 exhibits a compulsion to observe human subjects through windows, with a particular focus on children. It is more active during nighttime or in low-light conditions, including rainy weather. When ANM-622 identifies a potential subject, it approaches the nearest window offering a clear view and begins to tap on the glass with one of its long fingers. The tapping sound produced is notably louder than expected, resonating with a deep "click" that unnaturally reverberates throughout the surrounding area.

Once ANM-622 has gained the subject's attention, it will maintain eye contact, remaining outside the window and staring directly at the individual. Witnesses report an overwhelming sense of dread and an inability to look away. In cases involving children, recurring nightmares often follow the encounter, with dreams frequently depicting ANM-622 whispering, waving, or lightly touching the back of the subject's neck or shoulders. If the subject remains in place for more than five minutes or continues to focus on ANM-622, the entity will attempt to vocalize. The sounds produced are a mixture of guttural noises, harsh breathing, and clicks, none of which resemble any known language. Prolonged exposure to these sounds has led to reported symptoms, including temporary auditory hallucinations, headaches, and vertigo.

Although ANM-622 has not demonstrated the ability to physically pass through solid barriers such as windows, there are several documented cases of its appearance inside rooms under certain conditions (see Incident Report 622-2 for details). The entity does not appear to show any interest in adult subjects unless they actively interfere with its focus on a child.

[[collapsible show="+ Incident Log 622-2" hide="- Close"]]

Incident Log 622-2: Containment Breach on ██/██/20██

During a routine observation of ANM-622, the entity was observed repeatedly approaching the glass of its containment cell and tapping in a rhythmic pattern. In response, Subject P (P-9742), equipped with a tracking collar and infrared camera, was dispatched to guide ANM-622 back to its cell. As P-9742 approached the entity, he reported auditory hallucinations of a voice resembling that of his deceased grandmother, speaking to him from inside the cell.

ANM-622 then placed its hand against the glass of an adjacent observation room, resulting in a rapid dimming of the internal lights. Thermal readings showed a sudden drop in temperature of nearly 15°C, with frost forming on the interior surface of the observation room window. Despite the environmental controls indicating no changes in external conditions, P-9742 described a profound sense of comfort and an irresistible urge to approach the entity.

The situation was resolved when the supervising researcher activated the emergency strobe lights, causing ANM-622 to retreat violently and return to its containment area. Subsequent investigations revealed that the dimming of the lights was not due to any known electrical failure, and the source of the temperature drop remains unexplained.

[[/collapsible]]

Addendum 622-3: Discovery

ANM-622 was first documented following a series of reports at Stoke Mandeville Hospital, United Kingdom. The reports described cases of children waking up in the middle of the night and seeing "a tall, old man" outside their bedroom windows. Local police had previously investigated multiple occurrences of sexual abuse within the hospital, as well as erratic electrical disturbances and sudden cold spots. A recorded photograph of a vaguely humanoid silhouette outside a child's window led to the deployment of MOTHRA Institute agents for investigation.

Field agents discovered that ANM-622 exhibited a pattern of appearance in low-light conditions, primarily targeting children. Following the identification of ANM-622, Class A amnestics were administered to the affected families, and a cover story was disseminated about disturbances and local hysteria.

Addendum 622-4: Ongoing Research

Several tests have been conducted to understand ANM-622's compulsion towards children and its ability to affect the environment. Initial theories suggest that ANM-622 is attracted to feelings of fear, particularly from younger individuals, which may act as a stimulus or form of sustenance. This hypothesis is supported by observations of increased activity during heightened emotional states.

Addendum 622-5: Jimmy Savile

Researchers examined historical records involving Stoke Mandeville Hospital, and the analysis revealed multiple cases mentioning an abnormally tall and thin figure observed near orphanages, children's hospitals, and private properties associated with prominent figures.

A review of public records uncovered a disturbing pattern of unexplained occurrences and reports of a "tall, pale man" at locations connected to the late entertainer and convicted sex offender known as "Jimmy Savile," who was accused of involvement in over 400 cases of sexual abuse, including young children and terminally ill patients. The MOTHRA investigation into these reports aimed to determine whether ANM-622 had a connection to Savile's documented activities, potentially serving as an accomplice, facilitator, or a manifestation resulting from the extreme psychological trauma inflicted on his victims.

On ██/██/19██, a nurse working at the hospital reported seeing a tall and emaciated figure outside one of the children's wards at night. The nurse described a "skeletal man" hunched near a window, slowly tapping on the glass. Security footage from the night in question showed an indistinct figure matching Jimmy Savile's physical shape; no alarms were triggered, and no evidence of entry was found. The affected child, aged six, later reported having nightmares about "a tall man" who spoke to them "with voices that sounded like many people."

The hospital was a frequent destination for Savile, who was known to visit under the pretext of charity work. Similar reports from other institutions visited by Savile over the years emerged during the investigation. Most notably, these accounts included statements from children describing recurring dreams of "the man at the window," often coinciding with times when Savile was present in the same building.

Research into ANM-622's activities raised the possibility that its behavior might be connected to cases of significant psychological trauma, especially involving children. Some researchers theorize that ANM-622 may act as a "fear feeder," attracted to intense emotional distress and sustaining itself on fear, dread, or despair. The correlation between its sightings and locations associated with Jimmy Savile's abuse suggests that ANM-622 might have been drawn to the lingering trauma in these areas.

The theory further speculates that Savile himself may have been aware of ANM-622, either intentionally or subconsciously. Some survivor testimonies describe feeling an overwhelming sense of cold and a sensation of "being watched" that did not align solely with Savile's physical presence. In several instances, these descriptions were accompanied by mentions of a tall, skeletal figure in the background of the rooms.

Although there is no direct evidence linking Savile to ANM-622 beyond circumstantial connections, there is a hypothesis that ANM-622 may have manifested more frequently or with greater activity near places where Savile's crimes occurred, possibly as a reflection or amplifier of the collective trauma.

In an effort to establish more concrete evidence of ANM-622's presence, researchers conducted interviews with individuals who had been exposed to Savile's abuses and also reported sightings of a "tall man." The following excerpts summarize notable findings:

Survivor 622-A: The subject was a former patient at [REDACTED] Hospital in the early 1980s. They recalled a strange figure outside the window one night, described as "white and bony, like it was starving." The entity allegedly tapped on the glass and stared directly at the subject, who experienced recurring dreams afterward. In these dreams, the subject reported hearing Savile's voice along with a faint clicking noise that grew louder as the entity approached.

Survivor 622-B: The subject, a former resident of a children's care home visited by Savile, claimed to have seen "a very tall man" lurking near the property's outer fence at night. The subject's nightmares after the incident involved both Savile and the figure, with Savile speaking to the tall man in an incomprehensible language. The subject reported feelings of sleep paralysis and cold sweat during these dreams.

Incident 622-7: Anomalous Manifestation During Testing

On ██/██/20██, during an authorized psychological test involving ANM-622 and a Subject P with a history of childhood trauma associated with abuse, ANM-622 displayed unexpected behavior. When the subject was instructed to recount their traumatic experiences, ANM-622 approached the observation window and began tapping rapidly, producing a clicking sound described as resembling human speech when analyzed with audio software. The sound pattern, when processed, matched phonetic markers consistent with Savile's voice as recorded in archival footage.

Following this event, the room's temperature dropped abruptly, and the subject entered a catatonic state, remaining unresponsive for several hours. After recovering, the subject claimed to have heard a conversation between two distinct voices during the event: one they recognized as ANM-622's guttural tone, and the other they identified as Savile's. The nature of this connection remains speculative but suggests a deeper relationship between the entity and environments or individuals connected to extreme trauma.

[[collapsible show="+ Interview Log 622-8" hide="- Close"]]

Date: ██/██/2008

Interviewer: Dr. ███████

Interviewee: Jimmy Savile

Location: [REDACTED]

Context: Following increasing reports of an entity resembling ANM-622 manifesting at locations previously visited by Jimmy Savile, Institute personnel arranged an interview under the pretext of an investigative documentary. The aim was to assess Savile's potential knowledge of ANM-622 and its possible connection to the anomaly.

[BEGIN LOG]

Dr. ███████: Thank you for agreeing to this interview, Mr. Savile. I'd like to discuss some of your charity work, particularly at hospitals and care homes. You've spent a lot of time visiting children's facilities, haven't you?

Savile: Oh yes, I've been a regular visitor to many hospitals and care homes over the years. It's always good to bring a bit of joy to the children, you know? [Smiles]. You'd be surprised how much a friendly face can do.

Dr. ███████: Yes, I'm sure. During those visits, did you ever notice anything... unusual? Perhaps something outside the buildings, or even inside?

Savile: [Laughs]. Ah, now you're talking! People always say these old places are full of ghosts, don't they? But I've never seen anything like that, unless you count the old nurses. [Winks].

Dr. ███████: Actually, I'm referring to reports from children who mentioned seeing a "tall man" outside their windows during your visits. Some described him as pale and thin, with a hollow chest. Have you ever heard anything like that?

Savile: [The smile fades slightly. He looks away before shrugging]. Children, eh? Good heavens! They have such vivid imaginations. Maybe they saw someone passing by, perhaps a gardener or a security guard. Kids get frightened by all sorts of things when they're stuck in those beds, poor little things.

Dr. ███████: Some of these reports also mentioned unusual sensations. Cold spots in rooms, flickering lights... even a knocking sound on windows. Does that sound familiar to you?

Savile: [Leans back, appearing slightly agitated]. I've heard the stories, of course. But that's all they are, stories. Nothing more than kids making things up or trying to get a bit of attention. You know how it is. [Smiles again, but it seems forced this time].

Dr. ███████: Mr. Savile, I'll be direct. We have information suggesting that during some of these incidents, you were present at the locations where the children reported seeing the figure. It seems to happen more often when you're around. Why do you think that is?

Savile: [The smile disappears completely. Savile's tone becomes defensive]. I don't know what you're implying, doctor. I've done nothing but good for those children. I brought joy and raised money for their hospitals. Are you trying to say I had something to do with some bogeyman stories?

Dr. ███████: I'm not implying anything, Mr. Savile. I'm simply trying to understand why these sightings are so often linked to your presence. Some children even described hearing a voice resembling yours, speaking alongside the knocking on the windows.

Savile: [Visibly uncomfortable, he shifts in his chair, making a smiling yet irritated expression]. Kids say all sorts of things, don't they? Sometimes they hear voices in their dreams, things that scare them. But those are just nightmares, nothing more. I can't help it if they have overactive imaginations.

Dr. ███████: Let's talk about a specific incident from 1982, at [REDACTED] Hospital. A nurse reported seeing a tall, skeletal figure outside the children's ward. Security footage captured a figure identical to you. You were there that night. Do you recall anything out of the ordinary?

Savile: [The subject's demeanor changes, becoming unusually calm]. I've been in many hospitals, many nights, doctor. There are always shadows. There are always noises. If you're trying to pin something on me, you'll need to come up with more than ghost stories.

Dr. ███████: I'm not accusing you of anything, Mr. Savile. I'm interested in knowing if you've ever felt... accompanied during these visits. Some people have described a feeling of being watched. Have you ever experienced anything like that?

Savile: [Long pause. Savile's expression is unreadable. He speaks slowly]. There are always eyes watching, doctor. In hospitals, on the streets, everywhere you go. [Leans slightly forward, lowering his voice]. Sometimes, it's the people you least expect who see the most. But you already know that, don't you?

Dr. ███████: What do you mean by that?

Savile: [Sits back, smiling again, but his eyes remain cold]. Oh, nothing really. I'm just an old man who did a bit of good in his spare time. If you want to go chasing after fantastic stories about bogeymen, be my guest. But don't come knocking at my door when you find there's nothing there. [Pauses]. Or maybe... it's not nothing. Maybe it's something you don't want to find.

Dr. ███████: Mr. Savile, one last question. Do you believe in the idea that some things can feed on fear? That perhaps the terror experienced by children could attract... something?

Savile: [The smile returns, wider than before]. Oh, doctor, fear is a powerful thing. It can drive people to do all sorts of things, see all sorts of things. If there's something that feeds on it, well... there certainly isn't a shortage of food, is there?

[END LOG]

---

Jimmy Savile demonstrated a complex ability to manipulate his own body language, often using evasive or ambiguous speech patterns to deflect questioning or obscure the truth. His conversational style frequently employed nonlinear responses, digressions, and humor to create confusion or redirect attention away from sensitive topics. These tactics allowed him to manipulate interviews and investigations, consistently avoiding consequences by shifting narratives in his favor.

Some linguists at the MOTHRA Institution theorized that Savile's use of language went beyond mere rhetorical skill and bordered on the anomalous. In several documented cases, interviewers and law enforcement agents reported feeling disoriented, forgetful, or mentally impaired after prolonged interactions with Savile. This phenomenon may suggest that Savile had an unconscious or latent ability to influence others through his speech, possibly compelling them to disregard or downplay any allegations against him.

Savile maintained close relationships with various influential individuals, including former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, members of the British royal family, and senior BBC officials. His connections granted him not only access to powerful social circles but also a level of protection that extended far beyond the reach of the average celebrity.

Several reports indicate that Savile's ties to figures like Margaret Thatcher may have played a crucial role in shielding him from prosecution. Internal documents and testimonies suggest that allegations made against him were repeatedly dismissed, suppressed, or "lost" by law enforcement agencies. Requests to investigate Savile were often met with resistance or completely derailed, possibly due to his network of powerful allies who were complicit in his activities or fearful of the potential consequences if his crimes were exposed.

Following Savile's death from pneumonia on October 29, 2011, all reported sightings of ANM-622 ceased completely. Before Savile's death, ANM-622 had been observed intermittently, with manifestations predominantly occurring at locations associated with trauma or where Savile had frequented during his lifetime. The abrupt end to these activities after his death suggests a potential connection between Savile and the entity, either as a direct or indirect influence on its manifestations.

The cessation of ANM-622's activity raised questions about the true nature of its existence and whether it was somehow linked to Savile's life force, influence, or actions. Further research into residual anomalies and long-term psychological effects on individuals exposed to ANM-622 is ongoing, although no new manifestations have been reported since Savile's death. As of this latest review, ANM-622 has been provisionally classified as Neutralized, pending any future reappearances.

The content of this interview has been classified as Level 4 access due to the sensitive nature of the subject matter and possible connections to anomalous phenomena.

#scp #scp foundation #mothra institution #writing #anomaly #horror #original scp

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