#and it's not 2am

[once-in-a-blue-moon-rising]

So, I'm really enjoying my Hannibal obsession, but a big downside is that it makes it really hard to sleep. Tonight, I couldn't stop shaking, so instead of disturbing my partner, I got up and wrote down the story in my head.

Warnings: violence, mentions of death/murder, nudity, implied sex, extremely inappropriate psychiatrist-patient relationships

(PS. I am only on episode 2.1, so no spoilers past that point please and thank you)

They were close. Close enough for Hannibal to taste the trepidation on Will’s skin, to see the flutter of his pulse in his throat. To watch as he leaned even closer, head tilting to the side.

Their foreheads touched.

‘I’m not Alana Bloom, Will’, Hannibal said. His palm was resting on Will’s cheek, the hairs from Will’s beard prickling his skin.

‘I know who you are’, Will replied. He didn’t try to move closer, nor did he pull back.

‘And do you know who you are?’

‘Yes.’

A hair’s breadth closer, lips slightly parted. The tip of Will’s nose rested warm and soft against Hannibal’s cheek. He could smell him – his skin, his toothpaste, his excitement, shot through with fear. Hannibal swallowed, and chose his next words carefully.

‘Then why?’

‘Why?’ Will asked. One of his hands moved to cup Hannibal’s cheek too, and where he’d expected a tremor, there was steadiness. He listened to Will take a breath. ‘Why do I want to kissyou, if I don’t think you’re Dr Bloom?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because you’re very kissable.’

Hannibal drew back, a little flicker of annoyance sparking at the edge of his subconscious. He resented the conflation, even though he had invited it.

‘Don’t lie to me, Will’, he said, and when he tried to pull his head back further, Will’s fingers tightened, getting a grip on the hair at the base of his skull. ‘And don’t insult me.’

Another tightening of those fingers and Hannibal, intrigued, let himself be caught. He let Will rest their foreheads back together, slot their noses into place; let his mouth hover, millimetres away from Will’s. He could feel his beard again – this time not only in his palm, but against his lips.

Will was silent for so long that anyone with less knowledge of Will’s psychology might have thought the question ignored, forgotten. The room around them billowed silence, and Hannibal focused on the rhythm of Will’s breathing, and the ticking of his own watch.

‘It’s the only thing I can think to do’, Will said, eventually, and the desperation in his voice was so affecting that Hannibal allowed him a momentary lapse of control, let Will capture his top lip between his own. ‘The only possible way I can –’

‘Possess me? Consume me?’

Another moment, another taste – teeth and tongues and discordant, beautiful chaos, the tang of blood on his lips.

‘My psychiatrist believes I’m obsessed with you’, Hannibal said, drawing back, this time resisting Will’s efforts to keep him close. Will was breathing hard, and the fear which had coloured his scent before had vanished. His mouth was red, and his tongue darted out to taste the blood on his lower lip.

‘What does my psychiatrist think?’

‘I think you’re fascinated by me, certainly. You’re attracted to me despite knowing that you shouldn’t be. Some might say that constituted obsession.’

Will climbed fully into Hannibal’s chair now, crowding him, made bold by the previous successful experiments. And Hannibal had no reason to deny him, not when he could sink his teeth into him, taste him without extinguishing him. He could feel Will’s blood pounding, put his fingers up against the hollow of his throat and his tongue on his collarbone, and feel him arch and whine, just barely, the first flicker of a plead.

‘Tell me what you want’, he heard himself say. If Will had wanted to devour him piece by living piece, he would have agreed, lain unprotesting on his own examining couch, watching those two hands stain red.

Will was dazed, but he heard, processing the words as Hannibal bit down on the lobe of his ear.

‘I want you to show me’, he said. ‘How you’d do it.’

‘How I’d kill you?’

Will clambered off the chair and, panting, offered his hand. Hannibal took it, and stood.

‘You’re not the only one who gets curious’, Will murmured.

His eyes were bright and his hands were steady, unknotting Hannibal’s tie, assaulting the buttons on his waistcoat. He was being aggressive, but not enough to damage the garments. A familiar flare of excitement, tinged with something rarer, flashed through him. He pressed a hand against his trouser pocket, feeling for a handle.

‘You’re an interesting prospect’, Hannibal told him, backing him slowly towards the back wall of the office. Will’s hands stilled. ‘I don’t need to work to get close to you. That makes things considerably easier.’

Will’s back hit the wall, and Hannibal, heart thundering now, advanced until they were almost pressed together.

‘Strangulation is a particularly effective way of rendering a person unconscious’, he said, his left hand moving to press against Will’s windpipe – not hard enough, not really, but enough to make him gasp, to make a fresh flicker of fear kindle in his eyes.

‘And what about –’

‘I’ve already disarmed you’, Hannibal said, the gun from Will’s holster already in his hand, now dropped and kicked out of harm’s way. ‘You, unfortunately, cannot say the same.’

A flash of silver and Will’s right hand was pinned to the wall by the cuff of his shirtsleeve and the knife. Hannibal had his left securely contained in his own right hand, and he increased the pressure on Will’s throat, just a fraction. Will groaned, and that same thrill flared.

‘I assume in reality’, Will said, struggling to speak. ‘In reality that knife goes through my palm.’

‘Naturally.’

‘And then?’

Hannibal released him.

‘You pass out. I carry you downstairs and take you home.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t keep good knives at the office.’

Will smiled weakly, and Hannibal let him reorient himself, stowed the folding knife back in his pocket, and straightened his waistcoat as best he could. The tie, it seemed, had been discarded over the back of the chair, and he was curious enough as to where this was going not to fetch it immediately.

‘Do you want to know the rest?’

Will nodded.

‘I’ll spare you the journey, but you wake up, undressed, tethered to my worktop.’

He watched Will finger the bottom edge of his shirt and, understanding without needing to be asked, took two steps back into his space and undid every button, eyes locked on Will’s, not moving his gaze to push both shirt and jacket to the floor, nor to turn his hands to the buttons of his trousers.

‘Hannibal, I –’

‘I know.’

He hoisted Will, completely nude, into his arms, and laid him out on his couch. He could see the rhythm of his heart faintly against his ribs, saw him shiver even as his skin flushed and eyes darkened.

He ran a single finger from throat to sternum, to navel, finally allowing himself to look, to feast upon Will Graham, to contemplate him as the work of art he should, rightfully, have become shortly after they met. He was far too alluring, far too dangerous, and now, far too beautiful. Hannibal swallowed.

‘I never settled on a final decision’, he said, allowing Will a moment of eye contact. ‘Perhaps that’s why you’re still alive.’

‘No it’s not.’

Hannibal smiled quietly, turning his gaze back to Will’s flesh.

‘Perhaps not. Dismemberment always appealed, although I’d have needed to take you somewhere more isolated for that. The neighbours, you know.’

Heartrate increasing again, he took one of Will’s hands in his own, and ran his lips and nose up from wrist to shoulder, following the veins.

‘Open heart surgery would have posed similar problems’, he said, and now he pressed his cheek to Will’s chest, kneeling beside the couch, Will’s fingers curling into his hair. ‘But I think my favourite option – the most poetic – was drowning.’

Will laughed – or rather, he huffed out a breath of air that Hannibal felt against his scalp, and he watched his stomach rise and fall with it.

‘Don’t tell me’, he said, and Hannibal shifted his head so that he could look into Will’s face as he formulated his assumption. ‘The blood of all my supposed victims?’

Hannibal blinked. Then, slowly, he climbed onto the couch, pinning Will in place, letting the feeling of an impending kill vibrate through him, even as the only resistance Will offered was to arch into his body and stare, defiant.

‘No’, he said. ‘Mine.’

[imaveryevilenby]

monks are dumb you have an entire monestary full of other guys with shared interests as you but you DON'T fuck them? or. or anyone?

[overcaffeinated-aro]

ok not to be that guy but like. labor rights and working class rights can coexist with 24h services and late amenities. its certainly hard to do so without worker exploitation in this political and social environment, it’s not a conflict likely to resolve overnight. but 24h services are important and especially valuable to those of us that are disabled or are on a different circadian rhythm. in fact more professional, health, and government services should be available or at least possible to work on asynchronously (if applicable) during late or odd hours, while workers also get sufficient pay for their labor and proper consistent scheduling. this would be much easier on the workers with night schedules if the entire professional world didn’t grind to a halt at 5pmEST

[beabubb]

"Remember the Innovators competition?"

"I remember you,"

Hi so what do you mean the innovators competition that au ekko and powder danced and fell in love in is the same one jayce and viktor went to in the canon universe haha what do you mean. haha what do you. what do. you.

tiktok credit to: @naxa._439 (if anyone wants to make a fic based on this PLEASE im begging u)

edit: omagod this blew up :00 my comms are open ! so if u want me to draw some specific jayvik headcannons i would JUMP at the opportunity please i need fluff content brainrot ideas

[st-just]

Okay this is gong to sound condescending on several levels but:

There's a kind of cliche about training a dog - that if you want it to always come when it's called, you should never scream at or punish it when it does. Even if you just spent twenty minutes getting increasingly panicked thinking it was dead in the woods! Even if it had been trampling through the neighbors garden! It is very important that it's direct association is 'stopping whatever super interesting thing I was doing to go back to human = being praised and rewarded'. If the association is instead being screamed at or punished, the dog will be less enthusiastic to stop whatever fun thing it's doing to run to that.

I feel like a great many people would noticably improve their own lives if they started applying the same logic to how they treated other humans.

[wolfythewitch]

He has risen yayy

[toodrunktofindaurl]

fan letter

[prince-ically]

So. A THING I noticed about Legends ZA.

I've immediely fallen in love with the designs for the girl rival and protag, yeah? So I've taken a bunch of screenshots so I can, y'know, Draw Them.

And.

They're the same fucking person.

The eyes, the bangs, even the hair swoop at the back. Their designs are THE SAME other than outfit and colouration. So I've gone and doublechecked the male rival and protag and? SAME THING

Same little hair swoop and eyeshape. Wonder if theres a lore reason or???

[atalana]

but seriously i do find it so funny that ford was like OH GOD MY PRECIOUS REPUTATION after bill possessed him around other people for all of one night

and then he gets back to this dimension after thirty years and this is now the photo the press associates with his name

[artificial-d3vil]

that dmc3 dante mod where he's emo

coming back with a style that i finally accomplished🙏

the mod is by rhen7 on nexus mods if anyone wondering

[doraingrid]

You're here. You're really here.

[cometblaster2070]

i'm making myself laugh thinking about this but I wholeheartedly believe madame morrible absolutely HATES the thought of glinda and elphaba being together like the mere mention of gelphie would probably send her into immediate cardiac arrest and it's not even because she's homophobic or anything I just fully believe she dislikes glinda so so much she's just like this is absolutely NOT happening in my house.

glinda and elphaba are having their gay ass moment and she's like "I sense a disturbance in the force; the wind is telling me those fucking lesbians are at it again."

like IK this woman hates to see glinda's fruity ass coming for several reasons but first and foremost I believe it's because she's so fucking ANNOYED by how much elphaba loves and cares for her, like this pink bitch is throwing a wrench in her plans just by EXISTING and being herself.

and she can't even really do anything to glinda because it'll make elphaba upset and she really can't have that so she just has to sit there and be like

[lotus-pear]

11/20

[reaandull]

exiting with a bang

[humming-fly]

The 2D vs 3D contrast of the sonic and shadow generation hubworlds cracks me up the more I think about it

Bonus:

[st-just]

I'd like to apologize for every negative thing I ever said about menswear guy. I was considering him as a political commentator but I neglected to appreciate his glorious Posting Spirit.