amomentwiser

[amomentwiser]

Hannibal + touching Will’s face

[amomentwiser]

Hannibal + touching Will’s face

[amomentwiser]

Fell asleep listening to a cute little podfic on Soundcloud. It kept auto-playing the whole night, which gave me the distinct honor of waking up to the words, "Gabriel buried himself to the hilt into Aziraphale and began to thrust slowly..."

Like. Ma'am. It is 7 am. This is my return to the waking world after spending hours gallivanting around with the Sandman. And this is how I am welcomed, before I even open my eyes?

Anyway, I hope those two very... odd lovebirds got a happy ending? Idk.

[amomentwiser]

“And in the end, I believe that we don't need to do anything to be loved. We spend our lives trying to seem prettier, smarter. But I realized two things.

Those who love us see us with their hearts and attribute qualities to us beyond those we really have.

And those who don't want to love us will never be satisfied with all our efforts.

Yes, I really believe that it is important to leave our imperfections alone. They are precious to understand those who see us with the heart.”

// Frida Kahlo

[amomentwiser]

*staring sternly into the mirror* you've had a wild week, you haven't eaten today, you've barely interacted with people today. do not trust the Vague Sense of Unease

[amomentwiser]

The entirety of Hannibal S2 is like,

Will: "I'm vengeance incarnate, manipulating Hannibal into getting caught"

*proceeds to look at him with the softest most adoring gaze the whole time, and does everything in his power to woo him, including making murder tableaus*

Hannibal: "I'm intellectually macho and tough and incapable of love"

*proceeds to look at Will with literal heart eyes, both of them lit on too many occasions by the glow of a flickering fire*

and is the friendship in the room with us right now?

[amomentwiser]

The second paragraph is so specific it's freaking me out a lil bit. "Might be the socially awkward type of autistic but don't want to admit that" mere DAYS after my therapist asked me to get assessed and I said no is just. So unnecessary.

I get why people in the show hated Will a little bit. This type of accurate profiling is not going to win you any friends, dude. Leave me and my daddy issues alone.

bringing my super autistic pattern recognition powers by judging you based on your favorite Will Graham:

Season one wet dog fish cabin unwell Will: you are trans, you want to look like that specific brand of Will, you mimic Hugh's enunciation to try to sound like him, you are an intellectual, you are young (younger than 25), you probably live with your parents or with a rommate who is very similar to you in personality or taste, you are american, you want to be funny/constantly making jokes, you are the "I don't fit in" type of autistic, you have some specific skill (maybe drawing, maybe tech), you play an instrument, you have fits of histeria when you see photos/videos of Hugh or Mads (the gen z hand thing where you pretend to eat your fist).

OR

You are very young (15—25), traditionally feminine, major daddy issues, you think you are Abigail, you think Will actually loved Abigail, you are constantly confused if you want Will to fuck you or to father you, might be into dead dove fics, you have a savior complex, you consider yourself an "old soul", you "prefer older men", you write poetry, you listen to Lana, you like the aesthetic if Lolita but probably never read the book, you like the coquette style, you are perceived as shy or quiet, you are internally slutty but externally virginal, you crave to feel beautiful, may or may not struggle with ed, you may have a cat, you are the socially awkward type of autistic but you don't want to admit that, it terrifies you to think people perceive you negatively/as anything other than perfect, you don't have many friends, girls tend to have problems with you, you have one best friend or none, you fantasize about being the loveliest, the unparalleled, the one they love the most.

Season two slutty fancy murder husband Will: you are +22 years old, you are bi/pan but pending more for men, it's hard to impress you or offend you, you don't flinch from darker themes and you don't hide your tastes out of shame, actually you're pretty shameless, you are very open about who you are, your tastes, sexuality etc, you don't care much what others think, you've always liked m/m media and consume it a lot more than het or any other kind and you exclusively read m/m fanfiction, you are the blunt "off putting" type of autistic, you're actually perceived as cool by most people even though you don't consider yourself cool. you want Mads to choke you, you are very creative, you have a competence kink, you psychoanalyze everything, you have a fucked up sleeping schedule, you have a lot of friends and if you don't it's out of choice, you might be dating what's known as a golden retriever man. or a really pretty girl.

[amomentwiser]

i was such a weird lonely little girl and maybe i grew to be a weird lonely woman but idc i built this life for myself and maybe it doesn’t always make sense to others and maybe isn’t always easy or beautiful but it is mine and i cherish it

[amomentwiser]

Tempo (2003) | Hannibal (2013-2015)

[amomentwiser]

I love being promiscuous in theory. Like in my head I enjoy being this insatiable femme fatale who goes around town just making eyes at people in crowded bars and fucking. In practise I'm like eee no touch. I hate loud music and sometimes suspect everyone's lying about how much they like the whole sex thing

[amomentwiser]

look, the thing that has always gotten me about life is that I could be having an absolute shitfuck of a time, and the first snow of the year will still take my breath away. I was so mind numbingly depressed the day I met who is now one of my best friends. The day my favorite artist died, I ate the best breakfast sandwich of my life at a now-closed diner in DC. The day my grandma died I had spent the morning at a farmer’s market torn apart by indecision on whether she’d want a cherry or apple pie for her birthday celebration later that day. And the thing that always, always gets me is that people try and find meaning, and we make meaning, but honestly? life is so goddamn random. and I want to stick around because fuck I don’t know if I’ll get a brilliantly bright random again, but I know it’s possible and sometimes the random is fucking awful, and sometimes it’s both. and this isn’t a lecture or me trying to scrape reasoning off the sides of the jar of life. It’s just so damn interesting to me.

[amomentwiser]

Criminal Couture - Chapter 9

After the workshop tour, the murder couple moves to the house for lunch. Will opens the door and is immediately ambushed by the dogs, who jump up around him and lick him silly. Will nearly combusts on the spot when Hannibal joins him, bending down to greet each of them individually. He is also pleasantly surprised when they offer their heads for petting instead of growling at him, as they sometimes do at strangers. The sight of Hannibal fitting so seamlessly into his life makes his heart feel full.

Hannibal walks around his living room like he owns the place. Will envies Hannibal that effortlessness — he could be in a swamp or horse farm, the fluorescent-lit halls of the FBI or under glittery chandeliers in Florence, and still strut around like he belongs there.

Will brings out some wine to have with the food as Hannibal unpacks each Tupperware and lays out the feast on Will’s dining table. While Will is busy pouring, Hannibal goes to fetch cutlery from the kitchen, and he must have some crazy chef intuition because he opens the correct drawer on the first try. He also avoids stepping on the loose floorboard in the living room, and dodges the dog-beds in his way without missing a step.

Ha, that’s weird. Almost like he’s… been… here… before.

Wait.

“Hannibal. Have you already been to my house??”

Hannibal smiles. “It was nice of you to clean up for me. The living room was a tad messier last I visited.”

“What!? When?”

“The day after you visited my home, of course. I had to… plant certain things. In certain places. Just a protective measure, you understand.”

“What the— Hannibal. If I were to look really hard, would I find evidence of dead people in my things?”

Hannibal smiles warmly. “What a clever boy you are.”

Will blushes and preens. “That I am.”

Hannibal pats his head. Will hums appreciatively. They stay like that for a while.

Suddenly, Will frowns. “Whoa, whoa, wait! Don’t think you can distract me by head pats. I’m not done interrogating you.”

Hannibal nods and clasps his hands behind his back. “Very well. What would you like to know?”

Will glares at him. “Did I say you could stop? Get those illegally magical hands back on my head. We can talk while you pet me.”

“I’m starting to think I don’t need to frame you to commit you to an asylum,” Hannibal mutters.

“YOU WERE GOING TO FRAME ME? Wait, I don’t know why I’m acting so surprised. That tracks, actually.”

“Relax, Will. I removed the incriminating items from your home that other time I came here.”

Will sighs. It’s not even shocking at this point. “And when was that.”

“After we officially started dating. I realized I’d much rather cage you with my arms than behind bars.”

“That was sappy and terrible.”

“And yet you’re currently grabbing both my wrists to prevent my hands from leaving your head.”

“It’s impolite to draw attention to your guest’s touch starved-ness, Dr Lecter, you should know better than that.”

“This is your house. I’m the guest.”

“And I would’ve agreed, if you hadn’t pulled out that brand-new skillet and expensive China — that I certainly do not remember purchasing — from my cabinets.”

“I just don’t like dining without my essential kitchen equipment!” Hannibal whines.

“In retrospect, I should’ve been suspicious when my dogs welcomed you with open arms. Or, well, paws.”

“You’d be surprised what wonders a bribe of endless supply of sausages does.”

Will crosses his arms and glares at Hannibal, briefly wondering why he ever went to all that trouble to get a boyfriend. This is what he gets for it: a house full of traitors. “If you’ve seen everything already, why did you make me give you a tour of the workshop?”

“Not everything. The workshop was, indeed, new to me. It was soundly locked on my previous… visits, and in any case I wanted to see it for the first time from your eyes. It is the place that contains the essence of you, after all.”

“Commits multiple B&Es and calls them visits,” Will grouses.

“Commits various murders and calls them research,” Hannibal retorts.

“I— Whatever. Just give me the damn food.”

》 Full fic on AO3

[amomentwiser]

You didn't move out of your parents' home

And the next thing you know you're twenty-four

And still waiting for life to begin

You've spent your entire existence in standstill.

You can't be yourself while you're still there

(It doesn't end well; you've tried)

But you won't really know who yourself is until you leave.

Who are you, away from their influence?

Who are you when you're not being graded every moment just for existing?

There are people who go out into the world to find themselves--

Travelling, meeting strangers, kissing and dancing.

You've seen them in the movies.

You wonder what it's like to be so free --

The only way you even know who your real self is

Is by mentally mapping out the parts you've suppressed.

You take stock of the parts clamouring for release,

Yelling themselves hoarse behind the iron bars of your fortress

And beat them back with a cane.

It's not time for them to come out yet.

You'll open the gates when it's safe,

And hope against hope they're not dead by then.

[amomentwiser]

hugh dancy as prince charmont in ella enchanted (2004)

[amomentwiser]

Joy Sullivan, from “Culpable”, Instructions for Traveling West

[amomentwiser]

Hannibal dreams that Will sneaks into his mansion, goes incorporeal, and floats into his mind somehow. In the dream world, Hannibal’s mindscape suddenly takes physical form. Will hops over the barbed wire on the walls of his fortresses, walks up to the gates of his mind palace, and throws open the doors of the Norman Chapel like they were never locked to his hands. He walks around like he belongs there, wide eyes hungrily taking in the frescoes on the ceiling and the skeletal mural on the floor. He picks up and examines each keyed object just as he had in Hannibal’s home — as if he can view the memory attached to it like a movie on the projector of his closed eyelids. As if it is his right. He de-materializes and reappears in different hallways of Hannibal’s mind, tries the handle of each locked door, and analyses Hannibal’s past, present, and future. He peers into the holes on the floor of his mind, and Hannibal can tell that miraculously, inexplicably, by the grace of fate or god or no deity at all, he has been sent someone who understands.

[amomentwiser]