#jacob ‘jack’ shadow

[petrichorvzlia]

i know Moonrise isn’t that popular but i was really hoping to find some fics about it bc the characters look so good (even if the story gets crazy with the flashbacks like hello?). so please if anyone writes any moonrise blurbs or ANYTHING PLEASE I BEG. i want to read. i NEED to read.

[rosemaryblossomworld]

Johnny, I chose you once!

Not realising yet that you were shaping my "type of guy"!

[emmedoesntdomath]

this might just be a me thing, but I’m such a fan of characters not referring to themselves with their nickname. like. they’re doing a whole inner monologue, and it’s sad, and depressing, and generally pathetic, but then their best friend calls them their nickname and it’s like. oh. yeah :)

because they may suck in their own heads. they could very well be the worst person alive in their own little brains. but when someone they care about calls them that one thing with that one tone of voice, suddenly they suck a little less. suddenly they’re less of a screw up. suddenly the serotonin hits their system and it’s like watching a light come on.

they might not be good enough, but the person everyone thinks they are is, and secretly, that makes them feel just a little bit better.

[military-newsboys]

Jack: alright, plan b *Snider appears at the end of the hallway* Jack: scratch that, plan f

[redlightofdawn]

so Jack and Phil Moonrise should totally bang right

[loiteringandlurking]

jack who thinks he's suave but his idea of flirting is shadow boxing and bantering

[incorrectuksies]

davey: *cough*

davey: told you so.

jack: *cough* *cough*

jack: you fucking didn't.

[heckcareoxytwit]

A preview of Crypt of Shadows 2023

CRYPT OF SHADOWS #1

REOPENING THE CRYPT! Once more, as All Hallows’ Eve draws nigh, the dust-covered slab that seals shut the crypt, blocking out the sun and casting it forever in shadow, has creaked open to let the darkness loose to prey on the Marvel Universe! Be they mercenary or mage, guided by law or by rage, our heroes will face their terror, and they’d best pray their spines are sturdy enough for the job…or the crypt they find may well be their own!

Written by: Al Ewing, Cavan Scott, Declan Shalvey, Sarah Gailey, Steve Orlando Art by: Alex Lins, Dev Pramanik Cover by: Leinil Francis Yu, Jesus Aburtov Page Count: 36 Pages Release Date: October 18, 2023

[profoundmisfitdichotomy]

This Jack and Phil backstory??? This flashback is kinda intense??? What the hell.

[whateyescantsee]

When the Past Clings to the Present

Part Three

Summary: Remmick is hungry.

Notes/Warnings: mentions of Remmick feeding, squint mention of blood, thoughts on what immortality gave him. Images from Jack’s film Lady Chatterly’s Lover used in the collage. So excited that we get a digi copy soon. Yes, I pre-ordered it. Did you?

❤️s, feedback, comments & reblogs are appreciated. Want to be tagged? Just ask! 💐Thank you for reading!💐

“Now, remember we can lure a few away. And we are not there to make any new members for our family.”

He looked at the three of them.

“When, can I make myself a companion?”

Annoyance evident in his voice, though feeling it was already grating. He was half tempted to roll him out into the next dawn the next time they all slumbered. It would not be the first time he sacrificed one of his own to keep himself safe. He had learned about self preservation long ago.

He wasn’t about to lose it all to some whiny singer, whose singing began lacking once given the gift of immortality. He kept that to himself though. He also had learned long ago how to shield himself and his thoughts from others of his kind. It had come in handy more times than he cared to remember.

“You have more learning to do my son.” He clapped him on the back.

A mumble came from the kid.

Fabric, twirled beside him. He curled his lips and made his mood light as he looked over. He saw that his young wife had tied back the wild tresses that curled and fell down your shoulders with a ribbon, you had snagged from one of your victims. You were learning that victims provided opportunities for gain more than merely blood and possible companionship.

“You look as fresh as a flower.” He reached and gave her cheek a quick touch against her cheek.

“I’m glad. I want to be pretty.” You said in a mixture of soft and higher tones.

Reminded him of a bird song, not always wanted but could be enjoyable at times.

“You are dear, lass.”

*******

As they grew closer, relief washed over him. He took in the layout of the gathering. It was big, most taking place outside. Trees and bushes framed the party. He watched as one came from the shadows of the trees, relief very plain on their face. Those trees would make a perfect cover. The nearest dwelling was a fair distance away. Not in running distance, the thought mused him. But if things went the way he wished, no one would notice anything was amiss till they were already gone.

There were tables with cloths draped on them, they were littered with plates of food eaten and ready to be consumed. The scent of alcohol prickled his nose. Many of them were warmed by the consuming of everything in large quantities. Their moods were soft and pleasant. He felt only merriment no quarrel was in the air.

He could feel they were all family with lots of smaller families and wives or husbands. This would be like picking the best herring or pickle from a jar.

“Now we are the be pleasant and gracious. No violent picks or attacks. Drink your fill but remember the surroundings. If do this right, we could probably have a few to feed on.” He reflected on it. “This feeding could appease the hunger for at least a month, perhaps longer. So don’t get messy.”

Jacob, he felt needed to hear this more than her. That’s what made her a good wife. She followed his lead. Jacob had made quite a mess the last time. He could control the beast that resided deep inside of them. It ruled when the hunger took over. It was what gave their body, mind immortality.

“I’ll try not to get too excited.” A sharp chuckle came from Jacob, he slid him a look and the chuckle ceased.

*******

“Well, my sister has one. Her husband got her one.” A pout formed on soft face as she folded her ams in front of her.

“Doll, you got to tell him that you deserve to have one of those manglers.”

He nodded, slowly as he allowed a smile to cross his face. Resting a hand on the tree trunk beside the pouting blonde he leaned in close. He could feel as her heart skipped. She smelled so good. She had soaked herself with flower petals before this get together. She was as fresh like the flowers she had plucked. It pleased him. He didn’t always get someone that fresh and sweet. As he spoke to her, he could feel as she grew more charmed his understanding words.

“A gas powdered one. Top of the line.” He suggested, he drew a little closer.

“Yes.”

The blonde glanced away, she was nervous. He watched her throat move when she swallowed. The faint hint of one of her veins called to him. He licked at his bottom lip.

"You are very dapper." She breathed the words.

He smiled, his mask was on. He would look flattered by her words.

Her eyes came back to his, she shifted against the tree as she looked up at him.

"Has, has anyone ever told you?" The words clung to her, making them stumble out of her mouth as she grew flushed by his attention.

He drew closer, she easily began to swoon under him. Easily, he scooped her up and held her to him. She didn't fight, she was entranced.

She inhaled what would be one of her final breaths.

It was so easy. A smirk curled his lips to one side.

"A few." He murmured, softly as his lips grazed her throat that appeared delicate in the light of the moon that filtered through the oak leaves.

Her heart skipped hard, he felt it. Holding onto to her tighter. Elation filling him, takingba handful of her curly blonde strands, he inhaled as he sank his fangs in. He had so entranced, barely a murmured escaped her lips. She would feel no pain. Her life, the coppery scarlet warmth filled his mouth.

Moments, all at once came to his mind. He finally saw what she had spoken of; where she had asked for that clothes straightener, seeing her sisters. It did not stop there, the memories that came to him went even deeper. He saw how her husband had courted her, promised her the world but fell short all the time. Yet, she still cared and had understood. Just before she dimmed and took her last breath. He saw him, she had caught sight as he walked up. It had been her uncle who had warmly welcomed them and told them to join them in the merriment.

He was still handsome, had good figure all these years. It made him proud. When immortality had been bestowed on him all aging had ceased. Yet, he had met others with his gift that had not been good to their bodies and it showed.

Now they did things to hide whatever damage they may have done. Wearing a hat, or a scarf to hide the mars that had inflicted on themselves.

He was tidy, he kept himself. Always had, even when the breath of life and his soul had resided inside of him. He had never suffered any permanent scars in any scuffles over the years. His chest swelled happily with how he had maintained. He gave her peace in her final moments, and she stilled forever in his arms. The gash from his fangs would remain; it would startle her family, especially that husband that had taken her for granted. He felt that she had been aware but still had cared for him.

Just as he laid her down, placing a hand over her heart, when a loud screeching scream filled the night air.

Anger ignited in him. Jacob, had fucked up.

*******

They ran. Earth, rocks and moss all were kicked up as they ran.

Those in pursuit, gave no quarter. Flames flickered, shouts assaulted the air.

He had to focus. Where could they go? How could they hide? Did he really want to expel energy? His hunger was sated, nourished. Fucking Jacob.

[owlisbuffering]

The Name Game

Yuu has taken to using whatever nickname comes to mind when talking to the TWST boys, most of them puns or references to pop culture from their home world that no one understands. No one is safe and it's getting out of hand. Selections include:

Grim: Grimlin, Grimothy, Grimotheus, Fire and Grimstone, Grim Burton, Grim and Tonic, Grim and Bear It, Tiny Grim

(Dorms after the cut)

Heartslabyul

or The House of Cards

Ace: Aces, Ace of Base, Arsenic and Old Ace, DumbAce, SmartAce, Aceassin, Ace-mmetry, Acemmetrical, Crappola, It's a Trap!pola, All About That Ace

Deuce: Deuce Goose, Loosey Deucey (that one was a mistake; immediate regret), Deuces Wild, Deuce on the Loose, What the Deuce, Pas de Deuce, Mother Deuce

Trey: Trey Table, Tea Trey, Muffin Man, Treytor Tot, Great ExpecTreytions, Treytrix Reloaded, Cloverfield, Treytor, Treylor Swift

Cater: C8r Boi, Cater to My Whims, Caterer, Whip and Cay Cay, Diamonds are Forever, Cater-ina, Diamond Jubilee, Kiss Me Cate-r

Riddle: Riddle Me This, McRiddle, Hey Riddle Riddle, Kissed by a Rosehearts, Meet Me in the Riddle, Riddleculous

Savanaclaw

or The Watering Hole

Leona: Leona 500, Lion Sleeps Tonight, Aweem Away, Cat Nap, Comatose, Rip Van Winkle, Lambert

Ruggie: Ruginald, Teach Me How to Ruggie, Rug Doctor, Artful Dodger,

Jack: Jack Be Nimble, Jack Sprat, Jack and the Beanstalk, House that Jack Built, Jumping Jack, Hungry Like the Wolf, Big Bad Wolf, Team Jacob

Octavinelle

or 3 Fish Mafia

Jade: Thing 1, Jaderade, Made in the Jade, Nephrite

Floyd: Thing 2, Vicegrip, Personal Space Invader, Pink Floyd

Azul: Tako Time, Tako Tuesday, Octillery

Scarabia

or The Cave of Wonders

Jamil: Snek, Danger Noodle, Hissy-fit, Peanut Butter and Jam-il

Kalim: Mr Golden Sun, Kalim Me Maybe

Pomefiore

or Sephora

Epel: Epel Juice, Epel-sauce, Epel Pie, Fizzgig, Stufful, Pancham, Sour Epel, Incred-Epel Hulk

Rook: Rook Nook, Rookery, Lumiere, Corvus Christi, Murkrow, Rookadoodle

Vil: Queen V, Beyoncé, Potato Queen,  Madame Peacock

Ignihyde

or Best Buy

Ortho: Orthopedic, Orthodontic, Mr. Roboto, Robotnik, XJ9, Jenny, How to Build a Better Boy

Idia: Ghost Rider, My Good Hotman, Shroud of Darkness, Your Most Lugubriousness

Diasomnia

or Shadow Castle

Sebek: How Doth the Little Crocodile, Coccodrillo, Schnappi, Spinal Tap (because his vol goes up to 11), Totodile

Silver: Sleeping Beauty, Narcolepsy, Poker Face, Woodland Whisperer, Snorlax, Sleeper Cell

Lilia: Lils, Batty, Batman, Stellaluna, Littlest Vampire, Gramps, Lil' Guy, Woobat, Team Edward

Malleus: Toothless, Drag-on, Falcor, Mushu, Spike, Dragon Tales, Malleable, Malnutrition, Malfeasance, Malodrama

[worm-fanon-polls]

(Poll submitted by @cpericardium)

huh! i didn't know you could create a poll in a submission! Odd. (Peri made this poll personally, instead of simply suggesting the poll, though I did edit it)

Make sure to tell me what you think and why you think it!

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Sɑνe ɱe ʄɾσɱ tɦe ɗɑɾƙ || Jacob Frye ||

A/n: Been thinking about this for a while 😩.

Warnings: descriptions of blood, loss life / child death

The night was still and cold, the only sound the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. Jacob lay in bed beside you, the warmth of the covers wrapped around him, yet sleep refused to be peaceful. His body tensed, muscles tight with an anxiety he couldn’t escape. The shadows seemed to loom larger in the room, and his mind, despite his best efforts to quiet it, was restless.

Jacob’s breathing was shallow, his body soaked in cold sweat. The room, usually a haven, felt oppressive now.

His eyelids fluttered, but the sleep wouldn’t release him. The nightmare had come again. It always began this way, every so often it would creep back in from a place that he had buried so deep.The dream was always the same, always lingering in the back of his mind. But tonight, it felt more vivid more real.

The world around him blurred, and suddenly, he was no longer lying beside you in the cozy home. He was in the same cold, empty streets of London, the oppressive fog thick around him. His heart raced as he tried to move, but his legs felt like lead, each step dragging, each breath short and ragged.

he whispered your name into the mist, his voice lost in the wind. Panic rose in his chest, thick as the fog that clung to him.

He called again, louder this time. “Y/n! Where are you?”

His voice echoed in the streets, unanswered. A chill ran down his spine as he turned the corner, his eyes scanning the darkened alleyways. The familiar, haunting feeling of being watched prickled the back of his neck.

That’s when he saw it.

The shadow of a figure in the distance, familiar and terrifying. His stomach dropped. The silhouette of Jack, standing just beyond the lamplight, he could almost see twisted grin gleaming underneath the mask he wore.

“No!” Jacob’s voice trembled, his heart pounding in his chest. “Not again.”

Jack turned slowly, and for the first time, Jacob noticed something new: the blood. Dark streaks, fresh and glistening on Jack’s blade, the sharp edge reflecting the faint light from the streetlamp. But it wasn’t Jack that Jacob focused on.

"You couldn't save em Jacob...just like my mother...how useless you are."

Then the world shifted in and soon Jacob found himself standing in their cottage, the warmth of the fire long extinguished. The air was thick, suffocating with a sense of dread, the metallic scent filling the air. You weren't beside him, the bed empty, cold. Panic surged in his chest. His heart raced as he called your name, but his voice felt lost, swallowed by the dark silence.

He stumbled out of the room, his breath sharp in his throat. The floor creaked under his feet, the familiar sound now eerie, unsettling. He moved quickly, his eyes scanning the rooms. Nothing. No sign of you, no sign of the children.

And that's when he heard it.

A soft, eerie sound that froze him in his tracks,his blood running cold. A faint whimper, a cry. His heart thudded painfully in his chest. He knew where it was coming from.

His children...

Jacob rushed forward, his legs heavy as if the ground itself was holding him back, refusing to let him go. He pushed open the door, and the sight before him nearly made his heart stop.

The room was bathed in darkness, the only light from the pale moon seeping through the curtains. But there, in the corner, stood a figure.

It was Jack.

The man he trained all those years ago, the disgrace to the Creed.

The Ripper.

His twisted grin was still there, that same cruel, terrifying smile that haunted Jacob’s thoughts. In his hand was the glint of a blade, red stained and gleaming in the moonlight.

He could almost feel the scars burning again, the blade in his eye.

“Jacob,” Jack’s voice was a low, mocking whisper. “Did you really think you could run away? That your little family would be safe?”

His could feel the file rise up from his throat, heart dropping.

“No!” Jacob cried, finally managing to move, to step forward. “Stay away from them!”

But it was too late.

In an instant, Jack was on them, the gleaming knife raised high. You and the children were already on the floor, the sound of the cries muffled by the overpowering vision of death that loomed above them. The knife flashed down, and Jacob’s stomach churned.

“No!” Jacob screamed, his voice raw with panic and helplessness.

But Jack was already there, the blade raised. It was too late.

Jack’s twisted laugh echoed through the room, a chilling reminder of the pain that still haunted him. The blade drove deeper, and the world seemed to slow down, each second stretching out painfully. His chest felt tight as if the weight of everything—the loss, the fear, the guilt was crushing him.

Jacob’s vision blurred as he reached you, as he kneeling beside you. You were cold, lifeless, your body stretched unnaturally on the wooden, your once radiant face pale and twisted in a final expression of horror. And then, he saw the worst of it the blood. The blood that stained the ground beneath you, the blood that soaked your clothes, your stomach.The knife had pierced deep into you.The visceral sight of the gapping wound in your chest.

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes moved to the children.

Margret and James his children, his little ones, lying beside you. They were motionless. Blood staining their small forms.

His throat burned as he screamed their names.

“No! No, no, no!” Jacob wailed, his body shaking uncontrollably as he reached for them, shaking them in a desperate attempt to wake them up. But they didn’t stir. They didn’t respond. The horror of their lifeless bodies,their cold, empty eyes staring back at him was more than he could bear.

Tears burned his eyes as he cradled your cold form in his arms. “Please,” he whispered, his voice a broken plea. “Please, wake up.”

But you didn’t wake up. Neither did the children.

And then, Jack was standing over him, his cold laughter filling the empty cold and darken home, his blade gleaming in the moonlight, blood slowly dripping. “You couldn’t save them, Jacob,” Jack sneered. “I always win. I always take everything from you.”

The world around Jacob collapsed in on itself, the scene blurring and distorting as the mocking laughter grew louder and louder until it swallowed him whole.

Suddenly, he was jerked awake, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat, his heart racing in his chest. His mind was spinning, the horror of the nightmare still clinging to him like a shadow. The room was still, quiet, but the echo of Jack’s laughter and the haunting image of you, the children, lifeless and cold, wouldn’t leave him.

“Jacob?” Your voice broke through the haze, your warm hand on his chest. He looked at you, startled, his body trembling as he took in your living, breathing form. You were there. You were safe.

He closed his eyes tightly, struggling to calm his racing heart. The nightmare had felt so real. So crushing. He could still feel the weight of it in his chest, the emptiness of losing you, losing them.

“I’m here, Jacob,” you whispered softly, your voice laced with concern. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We’re all safe.”

But even as you spoke, Jacob could still hear Jack’s your echoing in his mind, and the image of you, the children, lying dead at his feet, haunted him.

“I couldn’t save you,” Jacob murmured, his voice hoarse. “Not again. I couldn’t save you.”

Your fingers gently cupped his face, lifting his gaze to meet yours. “You don’t have to save me, Jacob,” you said, your tone tender. “We’re in this together. Always.”

But Jacob wasn’t sure if he could ever escape the terror of that nightmare the terror that Jack’s shadow would always linger over them, even in the quietest moments.

His stomach tightened, then brought his your hand to his lips kissing the palm. "Rest...I just...need to see the children." His voice was still raw as you gave him a reluctant nod.

Quietly slipping out of the bed, Jacob then stood at the doorway of the bedroom, watching as you laid back against the pillows, your chest rising and falling steadily with each deep breath. He could tell you were already drifting back to sleep, the exhaustion of the past days finally catching up with you. Your face was peaceful now.

Jacob took a moment to gaze at you, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The weight of the world had always seemed to settle on your shoulders, but when you were asleep, you looked free from it. He moved quietly, careful not to disturb you as he slipped out of the room.

His steps were soft as he moved down the hallway, pausing outside the rooms where the children slept. The door to James’ room was slightly ajar, and Jacob pushed it open just enough to peek inside. James was curled up in bed, his small figure swaddled in blankets, his face relaxed in a peaceful sleep. Jacob’s heart warmed at the sight of him, his little boy so full of life. He quietly stepped in and placed a hand on his son’s head, brushing his hair away from his forehead.

“Sweet dreams, lad,” he whispered, his voice barely a murmur, then he pulled the covers up over him just a little more.

Next, he moved to Margaret’s room. The door creaked open, but it didn’t disturb her. Margaret, unlike her brother, was sprawled out, arms above her head, her tiny mouth slightly open as she slept. She looked so much like you, even in her sleep serene, gentle. Jacob stood there for a moment, watching her with a quiet affection.

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, just as he had with James. “Good night, my little one,” he whispered, then made sure she was tucked in comfortably before stepping back out of the room.

Jacob lingered for a moment in the hallway, taking in the stillness of the house. It was a peaceful night, one that he didn’t take for granted, especially after everything that had happened. He glanced back toward the bedroom, knowing that you were there, resting after all the stress and worry. He let out a quiet sigh, relief settling over him as he walked back down the hall toward you.

When he returned to the room, you were still asleep, your hand resting on your growing belly, the light of a candle casting a soft glow on you. He paused in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight of you, the peaceful rise and fall of your chest, the love he felt for you growing stronger with every passing day.

He quietly closed the door behind him, moving over to your side of the bed. He could hear the faint sound of your breathing, steady and calm. He sat down beside you and gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. You shifted slightly but didn’t wake, your features still soft and relaxed. He could see the exhaustion on your face the toll the pregnancy was taking on you but there was something in your expression that reassured him. You were strong. And you were home. You were here.

Jacob leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you,” he whispered softly, not wanting to disturb your slumber but needing you to know. “We’re all safe. I promise.”

He settled in beside you, slipping under the covers and wrapping his arm carefully around you. The weight of the day seemed to fall away as he held you close, his heart at ease for the first time in days. You stirred slightly, shifting into his embrace, and Jacob pulled you closer, keeping you safe in his arms as you fell deeper into sleep.

He lay there for a while, listening to the peaceful sounds of the house, the quiet of the children’s slumber, the crackling of the fire, and the steady rhythm of your breath. In this moment, he felt as though they could face anything together, as a family. And for the first time in a long while, he let himself relax, knowing they had each other, and that was enough.

Jack was gone and he was never coming back and you.

You and the children were here to stay.

[military-newsboys]

Jack: I hope you wasn't looking for me to be the voice of reason. I keep to a strict diet of ill-advised enthusiasm and heartfelt regret.

[sarahjacobskelly]

Jack Kelly and Les Jacobs

From the moment Les meets Jack, he becomes his shadow, mimicking his every move with wide-eyed admiration—especially in his younger years. Jack notices almost immediately, not only because Les reminds him so much of Michael but also because of Esther’s sharp eye for the habits her son picks up. It doesn’t take long for Jack to realize that every time Les returns home, he’s met with a reprimand for some new behavior he has adopted—whether it’s his grammar, his mannerisms, or the way he responds to authority.

Spending time with the Jacobs family, Jack quickly grows aware of this pattern and makes a conscious effort to adjust his behavior around Les. He tempers his language, refines the way he carries himself, and becomes more mindful of the influence he holds over the boy who idolizes him. What begins as a small effort to keep Les out of trouble gradually turns into something deeper—an unspoken sense of responsibility. Jack never says it out loud, but he doesn’t just see himself in Les; he sees the kind of man Les has the potential to become.

As Les grows older, many of those habits remain ingrained in him, subtle traces of Jack’s influence shaping the way he speaks, reacts, and carries himself. Though he may not fully realize it, the lessons Jack imparted—whether intentionally or not—become a lasting part of who he is, a reflection of the bond they shared and the quiet ways Jack helped shape his path.

Headcanon Roulette

[n1angi]

Shrouded in Darkness

CHAPTER 2 : AMUSE

previous chapter | next chapter

Will Graham x AFAB character x Hannibal Lecter (Polyamory)

Summary:

In the heart of Baltimore, forensic analyst Sidonie Renard navigates the shadows of crime scenes, concealing her loneliness behind a composed facade. Drawn into a web of intrigue, she captures the attention of profiler Will Graham and the enigmatic Hannibal Lecter.

Word count: 4,5k

Chapter Warning: Murder, Blood, Gore.

The dim sunlight spread across the field, accompanied by the soft chirping of birds. Sidonie tied her short hair into a lazy bun and draped a scarf around her neck as her dog barked with excitement for their morning walk.

“Lucy, easy there, it’s too early for all that,” she mumbled as she opened the door. Her dog bounded out and made its way towards the nearby forest.

Sidonie closed the door behind her, lifting her scarf to shield herself from the chilly morning air. While hugging herself for warmth, she observed her dog trotting ahead, occasionally pausing to investigate a scent.

This routine was familiar to her: a leisurely morning with a cup of tea or coffee, followed by a reluctant shuffle to the shower. She went for a simple breakfast of cereal or toast with jam before embarking on her daily walk with her beloved dog, the one who brought life to the otherwise empty house she lived in.

As she scanned her surroundings, Sidonie noticed her dog standing still, sniffing at something on the ground. Approaching to see what had caught its attention, she tilted her head and furrowed her brow in curiosity.

There, she found a dead crow lying on the ground, its wings spread wide, feathers shimmering in the sunlight. The bird had its head tilted at a peculiar angle, its feathers stained with blood, and its mouth ajar. She pulled her dog away, concerned it might catch something from the carcass.

“Come on, let’s go this way,” she urged. As she clicked her tongue, she guided her companion to go the other way, and they carried on with their walk across the field.

Will stiffly fired the gun, the sound echoing in his ears. Uncomfortably, he fixes his gaze on his target, remaining focused. Garret Jacob Hobbes’s body seems to approach him. Will’s heart races with unease, his eyes meeting the dead stare of his victim. A few knocks on the window jolt Will out of his dream. He glances around, puzzling over the surroundings.

“We’re here,” Jack informs him. Will nods as he adjusts his tousled hair. His deep blue eyes land on the rustic cabin that belonged to Hobbes. As he opens the car door, he follows Jack, examining the many police officers combing the area for evidence.

Both of them put on the gloves provided by the police. Before entering the cabin, they armed themselves with a flashlight.

Inside, Will noticed the dead stag on the table and several animal heads displayed around the room. While observing the scene, Jack’s face shows clear disturbance. Will spots a staircase and ascends, with Jack trailing behind. They enter a room encased in antlers, every surface adorned with them, including the walls, ceiling, and floor.

Will notices dried blood on one of the stags, creating a pool below. Jack’s eyebrows raise further, visibly perturbed.

“Could be a permanent installation in your Evil Minds museum,” Will remarks.

“Well, what we learn from Garret Jacob Hobbs will help us catch the next Garret Jacob Hobbs. There are still seven dead bodies that are accounted for,” Jack responds, scanning the scene with his flashlight.

“Because he ate them.”

“Had to be parts he didn’t eat,” Jack notes.

“Not necessarily.” Will lifts his brows as Jack blinks at his statement.

“What if Hobbs wasn’t eating alone?” Jack suggests. “It’s a lot of work. Disappearing these girls, butchering them, and then not leaving a shred of anything outside of this room.” Will considered his words for a moment.

“Someone he hunted with?”

“Someone in a coma, who happens to also be someone he hunted with,” Jack presses, referring to a conversation they had in the office yesterday.

Will blinks, remembering the young girl who lay in the hospital room whom he saw a few days ago. He sighs deeply, already knowing what Jack implied.

“Abigail Hobbs is a suspect?”

“We’ve been conducting house-to-house interviews around the Hobbs residence and this property,” Jack explains, watching Will closely. “Hobbs and his daughter spent a lot of time together. They spent a lot of time together here. She would be the ideal bait, wouldn’t she?” Will licks his lips, irritated at his words.

“Hobbs killed alone,” Will insists, meeting Jack’s gaze for a moment. Jack chooses not to respond, but he definitely takes notice of what he’s witnessing. Will glances at Jack for a moment before noticing something on the floor. He grabs it. It appears to be a long red hair.

“Someone else was here.”

Sidonie stepped out of the elevator and made her way towards the lab. She wore the same shoes and coat as yesterday, but today she added a cerulean-colored turtleneck with a delicate golden necklace paired with brown slacks. Her hair was already up. When she entered the office, Baverly greeted her.

“Hello there, Hawkeye,”

“Jack told us about the hair,” Jimmy remarked.

“And it’s only your second day,” Brian raised his eyebrows.

“Not as an analyst.” Sidonie clarified as she hung her coat and grabbed her gloves. “I have years of experience.”

“Leave something for us to discover, won’t you?” Beverly nudged him

“There’s always plenty of work, I’m sure you’ll find something.” Brian raised his hands, mumbling about it being just a joke. “Good job, by the way,”

“Thank you.” Sidonie looked at Brian, offering him encouragement. “We've all got our reasons for being here. All of us can bring something useful to the table, so don't let me discourage you.”

“This job pays me well enough not to be discouraged,” Brian retorted as he grabbed the files from the table. “But documenting all of this is the worst,” Sidonie smirked in agreement.

“I agree.”

“I don’t mind it. It’s quite relaxing.” Beverly rolled her eyes.

“Jimmy, don’t lie.”

“I’m not,”

“He is,” Brian whispered to Sidonie, earning a glare from Jimmy.

“You sigh all the time while you do it,” Beverly countered.

“It’s out of pleasure,”

“It doesn’t sound like it,” Brian chimed in, causing Sidonie to chuckle. Jimmy was about to argue back when Jack entered the lab. All eyes turned towards him.

“We’ve got the alibis from the cabin if that’s what interests you,” Jimmy noted, and Sidonie looked at Beverly, puzzled.

“It’s from the previous case. Minnesota Shrike,” Beverly explained, and Sidonie recalled the news that had been all over the place these past few days. Seven missing girls were victims of cannibalization.

“Anything leading to Hobbs's daughter?”

“Nope.” Brian shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Maybe she wasn’t involved after all,” Jimmy suggested, but Jack didn’t seem to like that answer.

“Sidonie, I want you to look at the case.”

“I’m not familiar with the case, so I’m not sure if I’m—”

“Will Graham is giving a lecture about the case in an hour. Get familiar,” he ordered. “I’m sure he will mention the copycat case too.” She cast a quick look around as her colleagues signaled her to go.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said as she removed her gloves, grabbed her lab coat, and left. Silence fell upon the room.

“And here I thought I would pile her up with documenting the evidence,” Brian commented, and Beverly rolled her eyes.

“And then you dared to complain about not having something to do.”

“Go back to work,” Jack pressed as he turned around to leave. As the door closed, Brian spoke again.

“Jimmy you seemed to enjoy documenting, right?”

Sidonie quietly entered the lecture hall, noting it was already half-full. She found an empty seat near the front and sat down, crossing her arms as she observed the room. Some students were chatting about the case, while others passed around the papers. No one seemed to mind her presence, perhaps because she was wearing her lab coat. As more students arrived, the hall filled up quickly.

After a few minutes, Will Graham walked in, and the students stood up, clapping enthusiastically. Sidonie stayed seated.

“Thank you. Please, stop,” Will gestured for them to quiet down, clearly uncomfortable. He placed his briefcase on the desk and dimmed the lights, bringing up a slide showing Hobbs’ resignation letter. He paused, studying the slide.

“This is how I caught Garret Jacob Hobbs,” he began, capturing everyone's attention. “It’s his resignation letter. Does anybody see the clue?” He scanned the room, but ignored the raised hands, leaning on the table as he continued. “There isn’t one. He wrote a letter, left his phone number… but no address. That’s it.”

Sidonie leaned in slightly, her eyes drawn to the image of Garret Jacob Hobbs’ lifeless body, pierced by ten bullets. She blinked at the number, then glanced back at Will.

“Poor record-keeping and dumb luck,” he sighed, turning back to the slide. He stared for a moment, recalling the image of Abigail Hobbs lying on the floor, her neck cut, struggling to breathe, surrounded by a pool of blood. His hands shook as he tried to stop the bleeding, cradling her head in his lap.

The room fell silent as Sidonie shifted her gaze between Will and the picture. Given his recent arrival at the B.A.U., she pondered the reason for his behavior, like why he fired ten bullets. She guessed it might have been due to adrenaline.

Will looked back, seeming to return to the present, and shifted uncomfortably. He clicked to the next slide, showing a photo of Garret Jacob Hobbs and his daughter Abigail smiling after a hunting trip. Sidonie leaned back, her jaw tightening slightly.

In the photo, Abigail, a young girl with long black hair and blue eyes, appeared happy, a stark contrast to the likely reality of her life.

“Garret Jacob Hobbs is dead. The question is how to stop those his story is going to inspire,” Will remarked, leaning away from the table as he observed the next slide. “He’s already got one admirer.”

Sidonie’s eyes narrowed slightly at the image of the woman posed with the stag’s antlers. It was him.

“The Copycat.”

The lecture progressed slowly, with Will presenting more images related to the case while the students discussed it among themselves.

Sidonie listened attentively, but her thoughts kept returning to the copycat. She understood why Will referred to “The Painter” as careless. This murder was distinct—it felt like an insult. The killer was skilled, likely experienced, meticulous, and astute. The motive behind the girl’s murder remained unclear, aside from the resemblance to Abigail.

“I wonder why her lungs were removed…” a woman murmured behind her.

“Perhaps a tribute to the Shrike,” a man whispered in response, eliciting a disgusted noise from the girl beside him.

When Will announced the end of the lecture, the students began gathering their belongings and heading towards the exit. Sidonie made her way down and approached Will slowly. A student ahead of her attempted to engage with him, but he appeared too eager to depart to acknowledge his surroundings. He shuffled his papers.

“Interesting lecture,” Sidonie remarked, and he glanced up, mildly surprised by the unexpected compliment. His gaze shifted from her lab coat to her face. Recognizing her, he looked away, continuing to sort his papers.

“Um, thank you. I wasn’t expecting to see you… at a lecture.”

“Me neither,” she confessed, slipping her hands into her coat pockets. “I’ve been intrigued by the copycat ever since I learned about the lack of evidence.” Will furrowed his brow, searching for the right response.

“I’m sure the analysts are examining the evidence—the visible ones,” Sidonie nodded, seemingly unaffected by Will's sarcastic remark.

“The copycat isn’t the reason why I’m here, though,” she added. “Jack asked me to dig into the Garret Jacob Hobbs case, see if there's more to uncover.” Will paused, averting his gaze. He tightened his grip on his briefcase, seizing it as he sat up, chuckling softly.

“Tell him there is nothing to find. He is only wasting your time,” his voice was subdued, and his demeanor noticeably shifted. Sidonie blinked at Will's tone as he prepared to leave, but before he could depart, someone intervened.

“Hi, Will.” Will nearly stumbled back against the table. Sidonie looked at the black-haired woman, noticeably shorter than her, with soft blue eyes and a slight smile. She wore a red pencil skirt and a white and black plunging neckline shirt.

“Hi,” he sounded resigned.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” She glanced at Sidonie, offering a small smile, which was out of politeness. Sidonie shook her head, sensing the atmosphere.

“No, um, I was just about to leave. I have to get back to work.” Sidonie waved as she turned to depart.

“Stay,” Jack’s voice echoed through the hall, and the woman glanced back. Jack greeted her, whose name turned out to be Alana. He stood next to her, while Will walked around the table, gathering his files.

“How was the class?”

“They applauded, it was inappropriate,” he said, avoiding eye contact, evidently irritated.

“The review board disagrees. You’re up for a commendation, and they approved your return to active duty,”

“The question is, do you want to go back to the field?” Alana interrupted. Will looked between them, torn between satisfaction and apprehension.

“I want him to go back to the field. And I’ve told the board I’m recommending a psych eval,” Jack responded to Alana instead of Will. Will opened his mouth slightly, a realization dawning on him.

“Are we starting now?” Alana raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, the session wouldn’t be with me.”

“Hannibal Lecter is a better fit. Your relationship isn’t personal. But if you’d be more comfortable with Dr. Bloom…” Will gripped his chair slightly.

“I’m not going to be comfortable with anybody inside my head,” Jack looked away.

“You’ve never killed someone before, Will,” Alana’s tone softened. “It’s a deadly force encounter. It’s a lot to digest.”

“I used to work homicide. I’ve got a good metabolism,” he defended as he began to walk away, only for Jack’s voice to halt him.

“The reason you currently ‘used to’ work homicide is that you couldn’t stomach pulling the trigger. You just pulled the trigger ten times,” Sidonie absorbed that information, recalling the body of Garret Jacob Hobbs.

“So, the Psych Eval isn’t just a formality?” Will’s voice lowered.

“No, it’s so I can sleep at night. I asked to get close to the Hobbs case, and I need to know you didn’t get too close,” Jack’s voice was cold. “How many times have you spent the night in Abigail Hobbs’ hospital room?”

Sidonie blinked at the sudden revelation, slowly understanding where Will stood. Will's emotional nature was a defining aspect of his work, often making him overly empathetic. Jack kept a close eye on him for this reason. However, their differing viewpoints led to a lack of harmony between them.

Will likely felt sympathy for the potential suspect, considering he had killed her father. But without evidence, nobody could make any accusations against Abigail Hobbs, or anyone else for that matter.

The room fell silent for a few moments.

“Therapy doesn’t work on me,” Will said firmly.

“Therapy doesn’t work on you because you won’t let it,” Jack implied, moving closer to him. Sidonie leaned back on the table as Alana sighed.

“Because I know all the tricks,” Will corrected.

“Perhaps you need to un-learn some tricks,”

“Why not have a conversation with Hannibal? He was there. He knows what you went through,” Alana suggested as Will removed his glasses and began to walk away.

“Come on, Will. I need my beauty sleep!” Jack shook his head as he glanced at Sidonie from the corner of his eye. He turned to her. “Did you get familiar with the case?” Sidonie nodded as she stood tall.

“I did.”

“How likely is it that Abigail Hobbs was involved in those crimes?” he asked her, and she remained silent. She glanced at Alana, who also appeared to be interested in her response.

“I am not a profiler, I can’t profile Abigail Hobbs,” she told Jack. “I only came here to get familiar with the case and see if there could be potential evidence or clues.”

“So, are you saying there are none?”

“The house and the cabin mentioned earlier were empty. From the looks of it, there is close to no evidence that points to Abigail,” Jack crossed his arms at the answer. “For now, I can’t offer much insight on the case.”

“She’s right, Jack,” Alana told him. “Until Abigail wakes up, we need to be patient.”

“Until she wakes up.”

“Don’t push it,” Alana advised. “And talk to Hannibal.”

“I will.”

Will peruses the books neatly arranged in Hannibal’s mezzanine. He wasn’t entirely certain why he had come here. Perhaps he was genuinely considering Alana’s advice. Hannibal had been present when he killed Garett Jacob Hobbs, the only one he could confide in.

However, Will didn’t view this as therapy, nor did he consider Hannibal a friend. Their connection was based on sharing a traumatic event, at best. Friendship? Certainly not.

Hannibal's gaze flickers over Will's contemplative posture, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he retrieves a paper from the file, drawing Will's attention.

“What's this?”

“Your psychological evaluation. You’re totally functional and more or less sane. Well done.” Hannibal remarks, prompting a subtle furrow of Will's brow.

“Did you rubber-stamp me?”

“Jack Crawford may lay his weary head to rest knowing he didn't break you and our conversation can proceed unobstructed by paperwork,” Hannibal clarifies as Will paces along the mezzanine, his hands slipping into his pockets. Hannibal's eyes track his movement.

“Jack thinks I need therapy.”

“What you need is a way out of dark places when Jack sends you there,” Will falls silent for a moment, the straightforwardness of Hannibal's response igniting something within him.

“Last time he sent me into a dark place I brought something back,”

“A surrogate daughter?” Will remains silent. Hannibal scans the book on his desk, his tone taking on a slightly lighter note. “You saved Abigail Hobbs' life. You also orphaned her. It comes with certain emotional obligations, regardless of empathy disorders.”

“You were there. You saved her life, too. Do you feel obligated?”

“Yes,” Hannibal's voice is firm. “I feel a staggering amount of obligation. i feel responsibility.” Will gazes at him, listening intently. “I've fantasized about scenarios where my actions may have allowed a different fate for Abigail Hobbs.”

Will nods, recognizing his feelings mirrored in Hannibal's words. He bites his cheek.

“Jack thinks Abigail Hobbs might've helped her dad kill those girls,”.

“How does that make you feel?” Will almost rolls his eyes at the predictable therapist question. He arches his brows at Hannibal.

“How does it make you feel?”

“I find it vulgar.”

“Me, too,” Will quickly agrees.

“And entirely possible,” Hannibal adds.

“It's not what happened. Yet he is persistent,” Will recalls the events of the morning. He knew Sidonie wasn't part of Jack's agenda, yet her sudden involvement still irked him.

Was Jack trying to push him further by sending people to plant ideas in his head? Making him doubt Abigail's innocence? Will refused to entertain the thought.

“Jack will ask her when she wakes up or he'll have one of us ask her,” Hannibal suggests. Will furrows his brow.

“Is this therapy or a support group?” Hannibal's face twitches upward slightly, finding Will's comment amusing.

“It's whatever you need it to be,” he reassures. “and Will. The mirrors in your mind can reflect the best of yourself and not the worst of someone else.”

Sidonie packed the equipment into the bag and took a deep breath. It had been a few years since she last worked in the field. She felt a mix of nerves and excitement about what she was about to witness. Putting the camera, kits, and measurement equipment into the bag, she glanced at Brian and Jimmy, who were also getting ready. Looking around, she felt a bit puzzled.

“Where's Beverly?”

“She went to fetch Graham,” Brian's voice carried a hint of frustration, eyebrows raised. Sidonie nodded, noting his tone.

“I'm ready,” she announced, closing her bag.

“We're all set,” Jimmy smiled as Beverly entered the room, with Will trailing behind her.

“All right, the car's ready. Have you packed everything?” Beverly asked, and they nodded. She glanced at Sidonie, winking at her. “Are you excited?”

Sidonie stared. Jimmy and Brian looked at Beverly with a questioning look, while Will just slightly looked their way. The question was odd on its own.

“You have no idea,” she smiled slightly, feeling warm in her chest.

When they arrived at Elk Neck State Forest, they were the first ones to step into the area. Four of them gazed at the bodies unearthed from the ground. In each of the nine bodies, one hand was visibly out, connected to a tube, with mushrooms growing out of them. Some bodies seemed more decayed than others.

“Wow…” Brian snapped a photo.

Sidonie stared, then glanced at Beverly. Beverly nodded in reassurance, prompting Sidonie to take out her equipment as well. Jimmy and Brian began taking pictures while Sidonie and Beverly focused on gathering physical evidence. They retrieved extra gloves, tweezers, kits, and swabs, and got to work.

After nearly two hours, they finished their work.

Beverly peeled back the ripped skin from the victims as she examined the teeth, looking disgusted. She glanced at Sidonie, who was observing the victim's nails.

“I doubt I’ll be able to eat after this,” Beverly muttered. “Especially mushrooms.” Sidonie remained silent, her attention still on the victim. Beverly looked back at the approaching figures. Will and Jack stepped onto the crime scene. Beverly tapped Sidonie’s shoulder, causing her to jolt. She noticed Jack and Will approaching.

“Seven bodies, various stages of decay, as you can see, all very well fertilized,” Jimmy reported to them.

Sidonie reached into a grave containing a partially uncovered, fungus-ravaged corpse, its eyes, nose, and mouth covered in duct tape, its palms filled with black soil.

“He buried them in a high-nutrient compost. He was enthusiastically encouraging decomposition. A patient way to dispose of a body,” Beverly remarked.

“They were buried alive. Whoever it was, they wanted to keep them that stuck there. At least for a little while,” Sidonie spoke up, standing next to Beverly.

“Line and rebar were to administer intravenous fluids after burial. He was feeding them something,”

“No restraints?” Will asked.

“Just dirt,” Jimmy responded.

Beverly pointed at the other end of the air supply system.

“The other end of the air supply system comes up over there. It isn't a very considerate clean air solution, which clearly wasn't a priority. Because he's not lazy,” Will reflected.

“No, he's not.”.

“Let's clear the scene,” Jack instructed all four of them. As they stepped over the scene, Will lingered. Sidonie glanced at him.

“Did you find any shiitakes?” Beverly asked her as Sidonie raised a brow.

“Isn’t he coming?”

“That’s his preference,” Sidonie nods acknowledging the information. As they move away from the scene, she pauses and looks back at him, observing with curiosity. Beverly stops walking, watching Will from a distance with a knowing expression.

Sidonie observes him as he walks around the grave, stopping as he starts to speak to himself. She can’t hear what he says, but his expression is stoic, yet entranced. He gets closer to the ground and sits down, still murmuring to himself.

Sidonie’s crosses her arms, taking in the sign.

Will's empathy was a double-edged sword. While it allowed him to understand complex minds, it also took its toll on him, keeping him distant from others. But what intrigued her most was whether he could truly relate to those he empathized with. Was it his imagination, cognitive functions, or something deeper?

Observing the scene was captivating, yet she sensed a subtle flutter of unease. He pauses for a moment, his expression shifting. Suddenly, the supposed corpse grabs Will’s hand, and he jolts back to reality with a slight shout.

The victim breathes in harshly as Beverly calls for an EMT. 

Sidonie steps into the scene along with the others, checking the victim's pulse.

“Don’t touch him!” Zeller shouts at Will as the man stands up, leaning against a tree far away. His face is pale. As the EMT arrives, Sidonie clears the way, looking at Will. His whole body is shaking.

Glancing around, she notices that no one seems to be acknowledging his state. Contemplating whether to approach him, she briefly considers her options before making a decision.

“Are you okay?” her voice is calm. He looks at her for a moment, swallowing. His eyes narrow, and he moves away. It's a sign he doesn’t want to be disturbed. 

Her eyes follow him. As she turns around, her gaze catches a familiar figure on the other side of the police. A red-haired journalist, disguised as one of the victim's mothers.

Sidonie stares at her, and the woman seems pleased with what she sees. Her blue eyes are filled with intrigue, almost sparkling.

“Looks like you got a live one,” red-haired tells the policeman next to her.

Sidonie decided to leave the office ahead of schedule today after completing her tasks earlier than expected.

Seeing Freddie Lounds at the scene so soon after leaving law enforcement was annoying. She knew Lounds had a knack for meddling where she didn't belong, stirring up trouble with her pointless chatter. It was just another irritating encounter she could do without.

“Hawkeye?” Beverly's voice brought her back to reality, causing her to blink repeatedly. She looked at the black-haired woman next to her, relaxing her jaw. Beverly gave her a knowing look. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay. Why are you asking?”

“You seem a bit off since the case,”  Beverly noted as Sidonie glanced down, silent for a moment.

“I guess the victim... caught me off guard.”

“Yeah, I understand... It's been a while, after all,” Silence fell over them for a few moments.

“I should head out. My dog needs to be fed,” Sidonie grabbed her coat as Beverly nodded in understanding, stepping back slightly.

“See you tomorrow then.”

Returning home, she received a warm welcome from her excited dog. Stooping down, it showered her face with affectionate licks. Sidonie grinned at the gesture, patting its head lovingly.

After slipping off her shoes, she headed to the kitchen to prepare some tea. While filling the kettle with water, she glanced out the window. The night was falling, painting the sky in shades of dark blue.

A sudden movement outside caught her attention, drawing her gaze to a tree branch. There perched an owl, its sizable form blending into the shadows. Sidonie squinted, leaning closer. It seemed strange; despite living so close to the forest, she rarely spotted owls.

Suddenly, as if sensing her presence, the owl locked eyes with her, its yellow eyes fixed on her. They locked gazes for a moment before the owl hooted and flew away.