devilswill

[devilswill]

INDIE ANGEL DUST OF HAZBIN HOTEL

dead dove ; daddy kink, non-con / rape , dub-con, drug addiction, hard drug use, self-destruction, and sexual abuse in the porn industry will be referenced on this blog.

CARRD | headcanons | memes

Partying in Hell with : @c137sucks ♥, @therealricksanchezpleasestandup

icon credit promo credit

[devilswill]

Histories. History in the making, though Will doesn't expect the rate they've exchanged stories to last. They weren't young anymore and the highest form of intimacy that'd been reached wasn't in sex but in taking a life together. The hunt. Hannibal only stayed stationary for so long ; sooner than later, he was going to kill again.

When the rabbit screamed and he came running, what would his instinct tell him to do? That question played on his mind with images of various outcomes of what may happen. Whomever it would be, the only sin Will could be sure of was rudeness. That wasn't enough to encourage Will to partake.

Gathering his own clothes to begin the day with, Will sports khaki pants with a green button down, green like the forests he used to fish within in the spring and summer seasons. With Hannibal saying he would handle the blankets himself, he nods to affirm before he walks towards the window. His feet baring only socks are silent as they cross the false wood and peers through the closed shades. It was cloudy out ; he doesn't even need to lick his lips to taste the moister that's thick in the air though it was difficult to say if it'd be raining or not.

"When we're intimate?" Will corrects Hannibal. He didn't want to refer to what they did as business. There was an impersonalization there that he didn't like. "I feel laid out and barren. Naked." For everything to see and bare witness to and that wasn't referring to matters of the flesh. Who he was inside was always seen by Hannibal. His scars spoke of how little he knew how to protect himself from him - or how little he wanted to.

He exhales and takes a drink of his bitter coffee. "I think I have to compartmentalize other things.. to a degree. The dogs need stability." And he did not feel stable, though it was difficult for him to assess exactly how he felt. That was unusual but.. it could be measured up to poor sleep. Perhaps the day would unfold and new thoughts and emotions that lay lurking would emerge. They had time.

"It's going to rain today. I assume you've already mapped our next destination?"

Hannibal.. ever in control.

Will’s question about the sheets were brought about with lowered hooded eyes, their DNA would be on all sorts of objects regardless of the cleaning that Hannibal did. The bathroom may be stripped of most of it, but not all. There were far too many hair fibers in the carpet, lint from their clothes… Nothing was to be scrubbed completely clean in this motel. Though Hannibal does know that it was particularly clean to begin with. “It’s not just the sheets. There is hair everywhere, lint and skin cells and…” he hesitated, searching the room as if for a better word, “..histories.”

He smiled, a history that they shared. “Some people would call that evidence,” he said, shifting his focus to his suitcase and settling for a basic white with blue striped collared shirt. It didn’t showcase all of his aesthetics but it was mundane enough not to draw attention. “The maid will not analyze the stains, nor will the manager. They do not care to know who we were, or what we left behind. They want only to fill the room again, to keep it occupied, to move forward. It is anonymity, not absence, that keeps us safe.”

He zipped the suitcase shut and placed it by the door, then turned to regard Will directly. “I will bundle the sheets myself, if it pleases you. The maid just has to toss them her cart without worrying.” And most didn’t. At best, they just wanted to maintain their job. Anything to uproot it would be added conflict in their life of struggles. Security was what they wanted above all.

Now dressed in the universal pieced outfit of business casual, he sealed up his other suitcase and looked to Will, cradling his cup of coffee. “In some circles compartmentalizing is a symptom.” He enjoyed Will’s expression when speaking of subjects that got the cog’s turning in his head. A coping mechanisms sometimes, he wonders where Wills’ mind is articulating. “Do you feel that you do when we conduct business like this?” Business. A way of life perhaps.

[devilswill]

@il-mostrc LOOK. I'M HERE.

[devilswill]

Will can't help but puff out some air from his nose when he speaks of about his well being. Bedelia saw so much ; there was loyalty to Hannibal he didn't understand, secrets she held he'd never hear. But what she did share was of little doubt the truth ; Hannibal would do what he genuinely believed was best for Will. Will saw the truth behind that though .. what Hannibal believed was best for Will was ultimately what sent him down to damnation. He was bad for him.. and Will was beyond saving. Consider this his surrender to Hannibal's vision ; it felt good to surrender.

( Right? )

He wordlessly allowed Hannibal to touch him, to bring him in, then watched him as he started his clean up before his eyes eventually found themselves away. Feline indifference was accurate - much like a cat, Will seemed almost apathetic to the presence of another.. until the point Hannibal would leave the room. Alas, there weren't places to tuck away to here so there was no need to wonder where his other half had gone. Will goes back to packing their belongings.. folding their clothes, putting any with blood on them in plastic bags to handle later, and everything within was handled with plastic gloves.

"What's to be done about the sheets? Are we talking them with us?" Like the bathroom wall currently had.. their DNA was all over it. Bev would pick up on it quickly if she were still here .. she was through with her job, pulled things apart slice by slice to see what was inside .. exactly how Hannibal killed her. She wasn't Will's friend .. but he didn't dislike her. Where would she be if she'd listened to him? Truthfully probably where she is now.

Coffee was ready. Will took a small break from packing and folding to pour himself and only himself a glass. He knew Hannibal wouldn't want a cup. His eyes took to observing him again, almost feeling like he was over-dressed in that robe with Hannibal staying naked. That smell though.. straight chemicals. Will kept his nose close to his cup to mask the scent. It was awful.

"Are you accusing me of compartmentalizing?" He asks as his mind continues to wander how are they going to stuff the blankets with them. They'd need another bag before long.. or dump some excess where it wouldn't be found.

Was he compartmentalizing? His thoughts once more wander back to Beverly. She had to do just that in order to be in a room with him, in order to consult with him about the latest murders. Sure there was a level of.. impersonalization he was becoming familiar with.. but Will felt more like himself than he'd ever been allowed to be. Had Hannibal noticed something Will hadn't?

Hannibal felt once again that he had Will in his palm, to a degree, that made him unfurl a smile. There was a particular smile he had cultivated for these moments: not the one he reserved for friends, nor the gracious, leonine smile for strangers, but a private expression of satisfaction too subtle for mirrors and too rare for photographs. "I remain, above all else, a psychiatrist still. Even now, perhaps especially now, your well-being is my chief concern, Will." Hannibal stood and felt the ache in his muscles, a dull warmth that reminded him how even he was not immune to the aftereffects of violence or the demands of passion. Every cell seemed to protest, but he greeted the discomfort with a certain reverence. After all, it was the price of their freedom, their togetherness.

"Well then, checkout is at noon." Not that it mattered in a place like this, he's very doubtful they had a maid on hand. He'd clean up the bathroom regardless, no need to set off more alarm bells to already risque motels that are in line with shady dealings. He had learned, through years of necessity, that even the most listless motel custodians could spot a trace of hemoglobin on a white bath mat.

He drew Will in with a gentle, guiding motion, his hand alighting on the back of his neck with a proprietary squeeze. He allowed his fingers to comb through the tangle of Will's hair, both as a gesture of affection and a subtle check for debris, blood, or any other damning evidence. It was a game they played sometimes: Hannibal inspecting Will, Will submitting to the scrutiny with a resigned, almost feline indifference.

He became accustomed to traveling with cleaning products. He favored bleach and comet for the most damning tasks, ammonia for the delicate work, and a variety of unscented wipes for the in-between. They were carefully packed in baggies so as not to bleed out onto his clothes. He also cleaned in the nude for added precaution. Through the bleach smell, he picked up on more coffee being made. It was pity he couldn't stand what Will had procured. He could really use the caffeine.

He emerged with ruddy knees, placing everything within the baggies again and packing it within the suitcase that now lay on the bed in preparation for their departure. Only when he was certain every surface gleamed, when the harsh scent of disinfectant overpowered even the residual odor of iron and sweat, would he permit himself a shower.

Their boathouse was moored some distance away as they scouted their newfound life. The only issue now was which collared shirt to wear, his nonchalant way of picking out such a mundane thing after wiping blood off the walls would appear callous to anyone else. To them, it was simply part of their routine.

"You know," Hannibal said, "in certain circles, the ability to compartmentalize is considered a virtue."

[devilswill]

ᴡʜʏ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀ? ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀʏ.

CARRD

[devilswill]

Will never had been great with boundaries. If his sharp tongue, biting remarks and every attempt at avoidance didn't push some away, it became and too frequent that boundaries were pushed. Will had even failed to see obvious red flags ; what kind of therapist drove two hours because their client missed an appointment? But Will hadn't cared; he'd apologized and then jumped straight into work, showing the Ripper his latest artistic masterpieces so unbeknown to him. All that time and what he'd been searching for what right under his nose? Suddenly every smile he didn't miss when speaking of his finest work all made perfect sense. How many victims had he fed Will?

The thought is pushed from his mind. That unspoken oath to ignore the worst in each other in order to continue to enjoy the best. Instead of a grimace, Will's eyebrows raised while his lids remained a lazy half-moon lids. Was Hannibal referring to when Will was on hit scent or when they were in the throws of the bathroom? Not that it mattered.. both questions had the same answer.

"You leave an impression," he answers with a soft smile, one that almost seemed to dance. Even when Hannibal's eyes left him to observe what he could make out of the bathroom, Will kept his sights on him. This greatest challenge.. one that Will had ultimately failed to overcome and surrendered to. No more did he have to wonder what it would be like to run away with him.

"I have complete and utter faith in your perception of me, Hannibal." He knew he was right. There was something that howled inside him, something that'd only just been released from a cage. Some skills needed to be taught.. and others were as natural as instinct. Leaving an impact on Hannibal was instinct.

"This is true," Hannibal remarked, shifting back into his memories to the moment Will laid out all the clues of the Ripper in one of his classrooms. Hannibal glanced at them all, masterpieces of his work all scattered about being examined. It was the night Will had escaped into his mind for hours and Hannibal went on a quest to find him-- all two hours worth of a drive when he didn't show for his appointment.

Though Hannibal had not been present to witness Jack Crawford's expression firsthand when he heard Miriam's voice echo across the phone line like a phantom believed lost to time, he'd felt its resonance through Will's recounting.

In the here and now, he regarded Will with a curiosity akin to a predator studying its equal. "I can still make calls," he jested, a smirk playing at his lips, though there was no urgency in his tone to act upon such an utterance…not yet, at least. For now, the allure of this relentless pursuit alongside Will held its own dark charm.

"You've never had it so challenging before, have you?" Hannibal remarked with quiet triumph as he slipped from beneath the twisted embrace of the sheets to perch on the bed's edge. A contemplative silence settled between them as his gaze drifted toward the bathroom door, just ajar enough to reveal broken tiles peeking through like jagged teeth. This was to be one of those particularly grisly clean-ups--an art form in itself and one that would etch itself indelibly into his memory alongside this worn motel room and its unsettlingly vivid yoke-yellow fixtures.

"And yet," Hannibal continued with subtle introspection, "it seems you haven't laid bare your full potential." His words carried not only a challenge but an invitation, one intertwined tightly with anticipation.

[devilswill]

Are you scarred? Probably more than I know. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ Will Graham is not a lesbian. He sure made a go at it.

[devilswill]

—Will looking at Hannibal

[devilswill]

On a more serious note, Will's relationship with physical intimacy is something fascinating to me. It can be written off as just 'local man is horny, more at 7' but it's deeper than that.

Will is portrayed as socially awkward and withdrawn, seemingly plagued by fear and anxiety. Fear makes Will rude and Will can be extremely sharp and verbally aggressive. He is divorced from the concept of family and connection and seems to have no interest in connection or bonds.

But this isn't true. It's quite the opposite.

While he mostly adopts strays in the form of dogs, Will attaches to human strays as well. He is soft for people that are lonely and misunderstood. Alana never played mind games with him and I feel that added to his attraction on top of the physical attraction. Will longed for family even when he'd little understanding what that even was and found a 'pre made' family in Molly and Wally. While there was not a romantic love between himself and Margot - she is gay and he very well knew this and was confused why she was approaching him for sex - against his better judgement and understanding of who she is, he accepts her advances in my opinion not only because she's beautiful but because he felt a kinship with her and the physical scars they bore. It wasn't love but for Will there was connection - be it one sided as it was revealed to be.

Physical intimacy is grounding to Will as much as it is a distraction from all his turmoil. It's also a means to connect to another human being, even if the emotion felt isn't a romantic love - it's still something possibly quite intimate for him. When he kissed Alana, he was desperate for grounding because he felt like he was going crazy.

And then there's Hannibal. Throughout the show, Han is touching Will both with and without his consent - quite a lot without it when Will is often not aware of his surroundings due to sickness or being drugged. Even when he's of sound mind though, Will never rejects Han's approach for physical contact. When he touches him, Will may not reciprocate or initiate - but he never shows discomfort nor rejects him either. In their last moments together on the cliff is the first time Will finally embraces Han - he grabs his arm and forces it on his own waist and rests his head against his shoulder. Throughout all their time, this is the only time Will forces a physical, intimate moment.

Just as Will shows his lack of interest in bonds when that isn't how he really feels at all, one may assume that Will hates being touched and physical closeness - but through observing him, this is never the case. He does not touch others but he at worst tolerates and at best allows them to touch him, even sometimes surrendering to their comfort.

Physical intimacy matters greatly to Will. He just doesn't know how to ask for it.

[devilswill]

I can't stand this mf 😭

[devilswill]

touch-starvation needs to be written with emphasis on the starving part. you are hungry to be touched. so hungry that even the very taste of it makes you nauseous. it has been long since anything has ever touched you, ever fed you - that your body has grown more used to that gnawing emptiness more than anything else. it's better for you to be held, to eat but it makes you sick to try. you know

[devilswill]

𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔨𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔒𝔫𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔬𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯.

🇼‌🇮‌🇱‌🇱‌ 🇬‌🇷‌🇦‌🇭‌🇦‌🇲‌ 🇦‌🇨‌🇨‌��‌🇷‌🇩‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌ 🇹‌🇴‌ 🇳‌🇧‌🇨‌'🇸‌ 🇭‌🇦‌🇳‌🇳‌🇮‌🇧‌🇦‌🇱‌ ​🇮​​🇳​​🇸​​🇵​​🇮​​🇷​​🇦​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​ ​🇹​​🇦​​🇰​​🇪​​🇳​ ​🇫​​🇷​​🇴​​🇲​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇳​​🇴​​🇻​​🇪​​🇱​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇷​​🇪​​🇩​ ​🇩​​🇷​​🇦​​🇬​​🇴​​🇳​

blog may contain disturbing & unsettling themes in accordance to the show. follow at your own discretion.

dead dove content includes ; cannibalism, romanization of a toxic dynamic, suicidal idealization, alcoholism, domestic abuse & violence, manipulation & gaslighting, drugs & the non-consent of their use on a person.

[devilswill]

It truly was remarkable how completely and totally different they were - as different as the sun and the moon.. or the lion to the lamb. Will did not particularly have a thrill in dodging and evading. He's too used to being on the other end, of being a bloodhound on the trail with a nose that rarely led him astray. He knew how people that'd be after them thought - he knew what they'd be looking for. That made him all the more cautious to vanish without a trace. However.. that wasn't Hannibal's idea of fun. He loved to gloat too much.

"You had the benefits of TattleTale Crime and our conversations to see how your mockery impacted those of us lapping up your crumbs. How do you intend to get such a view now?" Hannibal had some traits that crossed wires with narcissists - he absolutely loved reading and hearing about himself. Now that he was free, 'Hannibal the Cannibal' was no longer old news.

Hannibal wouldn't be caught a second time. Will aimed to keep that promise.

Still, the small, rested smile stayed content on his lips, one that lacked the usual bite and fangs it so often held even today. "I never woke up with everything aching before you." He muttered as a hand was brought to his neck. It was still warm and he could feel damage to it beneath his finger tips. Every movement he felt each time they slammed into the broken tiles. There were likely scratches and cuts from those jagged edges. How did Hannibal manage to sleep so peacefully? He'd endured more damage than he did - even if only because Hannibal allowed for it.

Hannibal was having the time of his life. Even in this shitty motel as he leveled his eyes at the popcorn ceiling, those yellow water spots blooming in some of the corners. He knew of the precautions involved in their new routine of things, but he invited the thrill. To leave small breadcrumbs but always stay a few steps ahead. It was his modus operandi; it entertained him seeing those race around him while he stayed, enjoying the performance.

Elbow bent and arm reaching as if to touch the ceiling, he observes his fingers curling outwards, blood still caked underneath the nails. The sun cast a warm glow across his body, the light spilling over the sheets like liquid gold. The bed dipped under the weight of Will, causing Hannibal to shift slightly toward the indentation.

"I suppose it does," he remarked with a sly grin, his hand coming to rest on his bare stomach. "After all, I kept you all scrambling, didn't I?" His main objective now lay beside him--years spent molding Will into his equal, though the result was never quite perfect. Perfection wasn't necessary; he relished everything that was uniquely Will.

"I never slept in until I began to slumber by your side." Hannibal confesses, glancing at the bedside clock; it was an old-fashioned one, the annoying blare that was a staple in the 90s. He briefly wondered if there was still a Bible tucked away in the nightstand drawer. There was no urge to move to the bathroom to clean. Hannibal unfurled on the bed like a cat soaking in the sun.

[devilswill]

Trying to make a point

[devilswill]

humanstray = devilswill

[devilswill]

Chelsea Hodson, from Tonight I’m Someone Else: Essays; “The End Of Longing,”

[devilswill]

Will leans against the doorframe, standing between the bathroom and the rest of the motel. A brow is raised though he is silent - and so often his expressions speak more than even his words did. There's amusement there, as well as a signature baffled look. Considering all Hannibal lived with prior to his incarceration, Will found him adjusting to shitty locations quite well. So long as he had his coffee and ingredients selected himself, he was making do. Perhaps he gave a man used to riches too little credit.

As far as Will went.. he could always depend on his imagination to take him somewhere further away when the yoke-yellow was a bit too gross to continue to look at. He could take them somewhere more familiar, somewhere that didn't smell of vomit and piss the second you walked outside.

The cleaning was left to Hannibal then. It wasn't that Will wouldn't help him if asked, but they naturally fell into their roles for chores and what was expected of them.

"We continue to make a habit of that then it may lead to a trail," he speaks as he starts to collect their things to pack. He could practically hear Hannibal though he wasn't speaking yet - you worry too much. Though he may have to help with cleaning after all ; it was best to pack light. He grabs his own robe before returning to the bed, sitting on the edge of it while peering over his shoulder towards Hannibal, one eyebrow lifted higher than the other.

"Does it excite you? For the hunter to be the hunted?" After all.. Hannibal seemed to be having the time of his life.

There were no reservations when all limitations were rendered. It was unbridled, unforgiving, taking all and more without any comprehension of the ramifications in the current frenzy. It was the aftermath that provided material for storytelling, piecing together the narrative from fragmented memories like a jigsaw puzzle. There were always vivid hues swirling in the recollections, but one color stood out, dominating the canvas: red.

Hannibal would rather be scarred by Will than live with the reminder of what was carved on his backside. Verger made a lasting impression, one that Hannibal only witnessed in a mirror. With a sigh, Hannibal eased himself back onto the mattress, the springs protesting with a squeaky symphony that settled into silence after fifteen seconds of initial disturbance. His fingers performed a gentle ballet across his temples, applying pressure as the tips brushed against the growing length of his hair.

Those fingers wandered down to his neck, tracing the contours of his muscles and collarbone. The skin there was tender, prickling under his touch, freshly marked from the encounter hours earlier. Was it the sharpness of a blade or the imprint of teeth?

The sound of Will moving about in the bathroom brought a smile to spread across his face. Cleaning up was often his task, while Will focused on preparing their bags. Over time, Will had become adept at packing, especially when it came to Hannibal's belongings. "It is a wise choice to select establishments that pay little heed to newly acquired stains," Hannibal remarked, amused by the thought.