#little zeller things

[thelilnan]

a couple of my favorite shots of myself (and nathan and con) from this weekend

[kuroshika]

"achilles lamenting the death of patroclus. whenever he is mentioned in the iliad, patroclus seems to be defined by his empathy."

"he became achilles on the field of war, died for him wearing his armor."

"he did. achilles wished all greeks would die, so that he and patroclus could conquer troy alone. it took divine intervention to bring them down."

@rudehannigram thank you for encouraging my meta hyperfixation.

this scene is... this scene!! the art, the moment after when will is processing what hannibal means, the parallels... the absolutely breathtaking image this scene represents.

first, hannibal's first sentence. "achilles lamenting the death of patroclus. whenever he is mentioned in the iliad, patroclus seems to be defined by his empathy." so it's just hannibal explaining what he's drawing. why add that second part? he's looking for a way to draw will into the story. by comparing (in a very clever, very subtle way) their empathies, will has no issue seeing himself in patroclus's place — which leads to his reply.

"he became achilles on the field of war, died for him wearing his armor." this is true. he wore achilles's armor into the battlefield, took his place, just to keep him from doing so. i perceive it as a parallel to will becoming (or sinking into) killer's and copying their mindsets to relive a crime. achilles lost patroclus to this, and hannibal is losing will (and, arguably, will is losing himself too) to the same thing. hannibal is inevitably waiting for will to lose himself in someone else's mind (and !! shocker shocker, it's hannibal's !!) and no longer recognize him, and have will unable to recognize himself.

"he did. achilles wished all greeks would die, so that he and patroclus could conquer troy alone. it took divine intervention to bring them down." this is hannibal's response. he agrees with will's assertion, and seeks to indulge will further. this is where will's own words come into play. "you don't want me to have anything in my life that isn't you." hannibal guides will through his becoming, and as will follows and embraces it, people begin to notice. alana shies away. zeller and price, though already on edge around him from the beginning, are a little more withdrawn. only katz tries to see what's going on, and in result, she's killed by hannibal. he wants will to find his becoming with no one but himself. he's an unstoppable force, and will is an unmovable object. and maybe it's my religious trauma, but when he says "it took divine intervention to bring them down," it felt like such a foreshadowing moment to his and will's own presumed deaths. hannibal constantly refers to will, both outright and in allusion to it, as god. he is hannibal's god, who hannibal worships, a man with the gift even greater than those of the great oracles. and will is the one to push the two of them off the cliff, making their death, in hannibal's eyes, nothing less than divine intervention.

and the moment after, as will processes what hannibal is leading him to is their conclusion, it shuts their conversation down there. there's nothing else to add, and will seems to resign himself to the fact. hannibal has told him their story and will has assigned their characters — hannibal as achilles, will as patroclus, the two star-crossed lovers whose story ends in mutual doom.

[tayasui-mono]

It's incredible how familiar the sets in Hannibal become to you. Dolarhyde pulls off the sheet from Hannibal's desk and it sits there, molten, mellow colouring, light sharply sliced along wood and clinging to glowing leather and you realise you missed it. And what is Dolarhyde doing there, intruding on a space so meaningful? It has so much character, soaked in Hannibal's power and authority. Where is Will's farm house? We see the last of it as it sees the last of Will and Hannibal, as Will tells Hannibal goodbye. The BAU's forensics lab. The busybodies there, white lab coats and silver metallic tables. Price and Zeller arguing, Will standing a little away, the empty clicking of Beverly's lost heels. Hannibal's kitchen. Besides the tragedy, even Will, unable to reconcile with everything that has happened since he met Hannibal, marinates there after Mizumono.

The only thing I don't miss is Hannibal's dining room. I think, the heart of the room was always Hannibal; rather, the dining room is Hannibal's stomach. As long as Hannibal's hungry, any table can be laid at any moment. Wherever he goes, the feast follows.

[theresattrpgforthat]

I'm on the hunt for games where you play as a dragon

Hello friend, so I don't have much that is new since my last Dragon Games Post but I can shout out one new game!

Precious Things, by Lucas Zellers.

Precious Things is a one-page RPG about tiny dragons building cozy hoards.

Your ancestors were colossal dragons with mountains of gold and earth-shaking magic. You are their proud descendants, building a hoard of your own full of magical power. It’s not easy, since you’re under two feet long.

A game for 2–5 players and one GM that takes about an hour and a half to play. Build your tiny dragon and set off on a big adventure!

During character creation for this game, you need to choose one small household item that you hoard, preferably something that you have in your own house. I love that the next step involves describing your little dragon in a way that matches the thing that they hoard! The dice mechanics remind me of Lasers and Feelings, so you'll probably be good at one thing and bad at another. The game itself is very neatly designed, and you can print it in such a way that you can fold it into a little booklet!

If you want something small, quick, and very cute, this game might be for you.

Also...

The last time someone asked me about games where you play a dragon I also found a game called It is a beautiful day in the neighbourhood and you are a Terrifying Dragon, by Perpetually Caffinated Games. It's solo and quick, and free to download!

[hayleythecannibal]

Twisted Minds: Chapter Twelve Releves

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Crying, Death, Malpractice, Lying, Gruesome Death, Realization.

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter

Twisted Minds Masterlist

HOSPITAL - WILL GRAHAM'S ROOM - NIGHT-

Will opens his eyes, stirring as an aroma hits him. He sits up in bed as Hannibal pops the lid on a second Tupperware container allowing the steam to escape a rich amber broth. “Smells delicious.” Will says. “Silkie chicken in a broth. A black boned bird prized in China for its medicinal value since the 7th century. With wolfberries, ginseng, ginger, red dates and star anise.” Hannibal says as he places the bowl of soup on the tray.

“You made me chicken soup.” Hannibal offers a supportive smile. Of course he did. They sit silhouetted by the window, reminiscent of the first meal they shared together in the beginnings of their relationship. “The nurses tell me you've been wandering, Will.” Hannibal says. “I was awake. And wandering with purpose and good intentions.”

“Visiting that unfortunate young woman suffering from delusions?” Hannibal asks as he screws the lid of his thermos back onto the said thermos. “She's my support group.” Will says as he takes a spoonful of soup. “And I hope you're her's. Nothing more isolating than mental illness.”

“I know Dr. Sutcliffe was a friend.”

“She didn't murder Dr. Sutcliffe. Her disease did. I can't blame her for his death any more than you can be blamed for shooting Abel Gideon.”

“The hallucinations, the loss of time, sleepwalking. Could that have all just been the fever?”

Hannibal considers saying what Will wants to hear or what he wants Will to hear, then simply replies: “It's possible.” Not confident enough of an answer for Will. “Fevers can be symptoms of dementia. Dementia can be a symptom of many things happening in your body or mind that can no longer be ignored.” Hannibal says but once again, Hannibal knows whats wrong with Will and it is most certainly not Dementia. “Does Jack know?”

“That this could be more than a fever? No. I haven't told him.”

“Shouldn't you?”

“Not until we know for certain. What we must do now is continue to support and monitor your recovery. The young woman you were visiting. How is her recovery?”

“I don't think she wants to recover. Afraid to remember what she did.”

“Can't say I blame her.”

HOSPITAL - GEORGIA MADCHEN'S ROOM - DAY -

Smoke stains the walls and the high tech HYPERBARIC CHAMBER. BRIAN ZELLER studies the charred remains of Georgia Madchen as JIMMY PRICE studies the charred remains of the chamber. JACK CRAWFORD, Y/N L/N and Will Graham stand nearby. Will is still wearing his hospital robe, holding his rolling IV stand. “Hospital speculates a short circuit could have ignited the fire.” Jack says as he turns to Will and I.

“Unit looks well maintained. No exposed wiring.”

“Don't know if she suffocated or burned to death. We'll look for soot in the lining of her airways.”

Will fights the overwhelming sadness of Georgia's life.

“Horrible way to die.” I say softly. “A kid in Italy was in one of these things. A spark of static electricity from his pajamas set it off. Two cubic yards of oxygen became two cubic yards of fire.” Jimmy says, which makes me feel sadder. “Could she have started the fire?” Will is disturbed by that thought. A thought Zeller finds evidence to support. He pulls a blackened anti-static wrist strap out of the Oxygen Chamber. “She wasn't wearing her grounding bracelet. Prevents build up of static electricity. Took it off.” Zeller says as he looks up at us from the bracelet.

“Suicide? By immolation.” Will says confused, why would anyone want to go out that way? “She was facing two murder charges.” Jack says with a tone that makes me a little angry. “She wasn't suicidal, Jack. She was sick. I was here. I spoke to her.” Will says which causes me and Jack to look at him. “Why did you speak to her?” Jack says in an almost scolding tone.

“Because I know what she felt like.”

“She tried to kill you. She's a murder suspect. Being her friend impacts the case against her.”

“The case against her doesn't really matter anymore, does it?” And with that, Will EXITS. OFF Jack watching him go...

F.B.I. ACADEMY - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - DAY -

Will Graham approaches Jack at his desk. “Checked myself out of the hospital.”

“Check yourself back in.” Jack says as he turns away from Will. “Fever broke.” Will says as he enters farther into Jack’s office. “I don't care.” Jack says as he Turns back around with a scolding look on his face. “Georgia Madchen didn't commit suicide. And whatever happened to her wasn't an accident.” Will says as he approaches Jack’s desk. “I'm going to have Z come down here and put a thermometer in you and if I see a temperature above 99…” Jack scolds.

“She was murdered, Jack.” Will says with a tilt of his head. “By who?”

“By whoever killed Dr. Sutcliffe.” Will says, and Jack just looks at Will like he just lost his damn mind. “His blood was all over Georgia Madchen. Her DNA was all over him.” Jack says Bewildered that Will thought she wasn't his killer given all of the evidence. “She knew what she was capable of. She told me there was someone else there. She couldn't see his face.”

“There was someone else there. Sutcliffe. And she couldn't see his face because she cut it in half. I know you're looking for an explanation to make this all right.” Jack says as his voice raises slightly. “There isn't one. There was something wrong with her. We'll never know what that is. Just that she was wrong. However many doctors she saw, however much help she got, she was fighting that wrong alone.”

“You can't do anything about that.”

“All her adult life this woman was misunderstood. What I can do is make sure her death isn't misunderstood. She didn't kill herself. This wasn't an accident.” OFF Jack considering Will's convictions...

B.A.U. - MORGUE - DAY -

Brian Zeller, Jimmy Price, Jack Crawford and Will Graham stand over the CHARRED REMAINS of Georgia Madchen. “Dismantled the oxygen chamber to see if we could find evidence of someone tampering with the wiring or a short circuit. Nothing.” Zeller says as he looks from his report. “Then what sparked the fire?” Jack asks, confused.

“Inconclusive.”

“Not conclusively inconclusive.” He turns their attention to a SMALL BAND OF MELTED PLASTIC. “Found this. Thought it might have been part of the bed or monitoring equipment, but mass spectrometer said it was celluloid plastic. They don't use plastic in these things.” Jimmy explains to everyone.

“It generates static electricity.” Jack takes the band of plastic, studying it. “It was by her head. Her hair was melted into it. Preserved almost like it was in amber.” As Will takes in the sad dead girl...“Could it have been a plastic comb?”

“Static charge from a plastic comb in a highly oxygenated environment would have a powerful accelerant.” Jimmy supports the theory. “Everything combustible in there would combust.” Will looks at the melted plastic in Jack's hand. “You're holding the murder weapon.”

“Or what she used to kill herself.” A MORGUE DRAWER It OPENS REVEALING the body of Dr. Sutcliffe on a separate drawer than Georgia Madchen's CHARRED REMAINS. Jack, Will, Zeller and Price are gathered around the slack-jawed dead. “Whoever killed Sutcliffe wanted to kill him how Georgia Madchen killed her victim. But not exactly how.” Will says as he points to the nearly decapitated corpse.

“Georgia Madchen carved up her victim's face. Sutcliffe was nearly decapitated at the jaw.” Zeller says as he points to the bodies. “She went further the second time. Serial killers often do.” Jack says but Will's mind whirls around the details and facts, then: “She was copied. Like whoever killed Marissa Schuur and Cassie Boyle wanted to copy how Garret Jacob Hobbs killed his victims.”

“But not exactly how.” Will responds with a look, “Wait, wait. Hold on. Now you're telling me Dr. Sutcliffe was killed by Garret Jacob Hobbs' Copy Cat?”

“And so was Georgia Madchen. Because he thinks she saw his face.” Will says putting pieces together.

“You said Nicholas Boyle was the Copy Cat. His blood was on one of the victims. Nicholas Boyle's dead.” Jack says looking at Will concerned.

“Then he wasn't the copy cat.” OFF Jack Crawford studying Will...

HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - DAY -

Jack faces Hannibal, who sits behind his desk. “Will's connecting murders that previously had no connection.” Jack says concernedly. “Beyond his involvement in the investigations.” Hannibal questions with a very slight head tilt. “That's right.”

“You're wondering if the lines are blurring or if he's onto something.” Hannibal asks but what he’s thinking is if Will is putting it together, What does Y/N Know. Y/N has always known more than she lets on. But what exactly does she know? “I'm wondering about all sorts of things.” Jack says as he takes a sip of his drink.

“May I ask, do you believe Georgia Madchen was murdered?” Hannibal asks Jack with no emotion in his tone. “There's evidence to suggest her death was intentional but it could have easily been by her own hand.” Jack says but even he is questioning himself.

“This woman was bested by madness. Perhaps what Will can't accept is that she took her own life so she wouldn't kill again.” Hannibal suggests, on the outside he is put together and elegant, non-breakable. But on the inside he is slowly going mad, but we all know that he won't get caught until he lets himself get caught.

“Why is that so hard to accept?” Jack asks Hannibal as he is scared for a person he sees as a friend. “If she could survive her delusions, then maybe he could survive his. He was hallucinating when he shot Abel Gideon. In his mind, he was killing Garret Jacob Hobbs. Again.” Hannibal explains.

“What's Will's relationship with Abigail Hobbs these days?”

“You think Will's protecting her.”

“Has been since he killed her father. Just don't know from what.” Jack says as he runs his hands over his face. “I can't imagine he would hide anything criminal from you. I've only ever known Will Graham as a man striving to be his best self.” Hannibal says with a small smile.

“You haven't known him very long. But we both know him well enough to know he hasn't been himself.”

“Will needs our support, whether or not mental illness is involved.”

“Is it mental illness or does his mind just work so differently we don't know what else to call it?” Jack asks and stands, letting the question float in the air. “There are days when even Will doesn't understand his thinking.” Jack Crawford studies Hannibal. There is something the psychiatrist is hiding. He can sense it.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - DAY

Hannibal and Will, mid-session. “I'm much better now. I feel clearer. It had to be the fever.” Will says as he looks at Hannibal with a tilted head. “You checked yourself out of the hospital against the recommendation of your attending physician.” Hannibal says as he observes Will, in every aspect of the masterpiece he is.

“He gave me antibiotics.” Will says observing Hannibal just as much as Hannibal is observing him. “This is not the behavior of someone who is thinking clearly.” Hannibal inquires warialy.

“I'm finally thinking clearly about the Copy Cat.” Will says as he finally brings his eyes to Hannibal’s, their eyes danced around each other but finally meeting each other in the flames of the fire.

“The murders you're attributing to the Copy Cat have suspects, whose DNA was found on the victims.” says Hannibal as he breaks the intense and strenuous eye contact. “So what?” Hannibal stares, then proceeds calmly: “You're choosing to ignore that?

“Both of those suspects are dead. I'm choosing to factor that into my psychological profile of a killer. Georgia Madchen followed me to Sutcliffe's office. She witnessed his murder, she saw the CopyCat.” Will says as he stands up and starts to pace. “Why not kill her then and there?” Asks Hannibal as he leans forward.

“He must not have had time. She was an unreliable witness. And that bought him the time.” Will says as he looks out the window with his back to Hannibal. “So he framed her for the murder?” Hannibal asks and Will looks at him from over his shoulder. “He wasn't planning on framing her. He was planning on framing me.” Will says with a Realizing tone “You believe this is personal.”

“If it wasn't before, it is now. It could be someone at the Bureau, someone in the police force, someone who knows the crimes, and has access to the investigations.”

“Someone like you. Or Y/N?” Will considers that briefly, then dismisses the notion. “Y/N would never- No one is touching Y/N. There will be evidence. I found a pattern. And now I'm going to reconstruct his thinking.” Will says in an almost chaotic and rash tone. Starting to lose it once Y/N was menti

oned. Last time he saw her was this morning when he left her in bed for work. “How do you intend to do that?” Hannibal asks with furrowed brows.

“Take Abigail back to Minnesota. Start where the Copy Cat started. With Garret Jacob Hobbs.” Will says confidently, “Will, this is venturing into the paranoid. I can't allow you to pull Abigail into your delusion.”

“This isn't a delusion. I'm not hallucinating. I haven't lost time. I am awake and this is real.” Hannibal eyes Will's determination with curious concern.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - NIGHT

Jack Crawford confronts Hannibal Lecter. “What the hell is going on between Will Graham and Abigail Hobbs?” Jack demands. “Will has been victim to many unusual and irrational thoughts.” Hannibal says calmly. “Has he acted on those thoughts?” Jack asks in a demanding manner he is angry. “Not that I'm aware of or he's aware of, for that matter. But he has experienced periods of lost time.”

“I've seen him confused at crime scenes. He was disoriented.” Jack says in an angry knowing tone. “He may've been confused because he was waking up. Might not have known where he was or how he got there.” Hannibal Explains gently and calmly, and his eyes subtly go to his scalpel just in case. “Waking up?”

“From a dissociated personality state. He would appear perfectly normal and not remember a thing. But a fractured part of him would.” Hannibal explains as he quickly stands up defensively, he towers over jack which balances out the power dynamic and position. Giving Hannibal the Right amount of Intimidation that he desired “You knew about this.” Jack accuses. “He's only recently started to discuss these episodes.” Hannibal admits. “Unless recently was right before I walked into this room, you failed to mention any of this to me.”

“Because I was trying to determine if it was trauma and stress from the work he does for you... or mental illness. Thought it wise to be sure before making any kind of claim about Will Graham's sanity.” Hannibal growls back though really all he wanted to do was see what would happen if Will Graham fell off the edge. Would Y/N follow suit? “He took Abigail Hobbs. Any idea where they could be going?” “No.”

“We have evidence she was involved in her father's crimes. We just don't know how involved.” Hannibal appears appropriately gobsmacked by this revelation. “Could Will know what she did? Is that why he's been protecting her?” Hannibal looks like a man who wants to have a heart-to-heart. “There's something you should hear.” ON A RECORDING DEVICE

Hannibal presses play and watches Jack Crawford listen.

“How did you feel seeing Marissa Schuur impaled in the antler room?”

“Guilty.”

“Because you couldn't save her?”

“Because I felt like I killed her.”

Hannibal presses stop, studying Jack's reaction. “Where was Will the night Marissa Schuur was murdered?” Jack asks slowly, not wanting to believe his realization. “He was supposed to be in his hotel room. I knocked on his door. He didn't answer. He told Dr. Y/N L/N he decided to go to bed early.” Hannibal says softly. “We know Will was in Sutcliffe's office when he was killed. And Will was the last person to visit Georgia Madchen before she died.”

“Is Will Graham a suspect?” Hannibal Asked concerned for Will. “This dissociated personality state you say he goes into... whose personality is it?” Jack asks “Will said he got so close to Garret Jacob Hobbs and what he had done, he felt like he was becoming him.”

“Now Will has Hobbs' daughter.”

“Who Hobbs was intending to kill.” OFF that revelation...

HOBBS HOUSE - KITCHEN -

Abigail walks in and STARTLES to FIND HANNIBAL LECTER standing against the counter. Waiting for her. She immediately runs into his arms for a huge hug. “What are you doing here? Is Y/N here too?” Abigail asks hopeful, she had found a new maternal figure in Y/N.

“I was worried about you. No Y/N did not come, Just Me. Will told me he was taking you to Minnesota. I strongly advised against it.” He gently releases the hug, looking Abigail in the eyes: “Where is Will, Abigail?” Hannibal asks gently. “I left him at the cabin. I didn't feel safe with him. So I left him. He knows everything.” Abigail says Frightened. “So does Jack Crawford.” Abigail's mind spins, her options narrowing. “If I run, they'll catch me, won't they. You and Y/N can't protect me anymore.”

“They'll arrest you when they find you. They'll arrest Will, too.” Hannibal says with slight remorse, something he doesn't feel often if at all. “Did he kill Marissa?”

“They will believe he did. They will believe he killed others, too.” Abigail stares at Hannibal, awareness dawning. “Will always said whoever called the house that morning was the serial killer. Why did you really call?” Abigail asks softly as she gently steps back. “I wanted to warn your father that Will Graham and Y/N were coming for him.”

“Why?”

“I was curious what would happen. I was curious what would happen when I killed Marissa. I was curious what you would do.” Hannibal admits this time though a smile shows through. A wave of near-nausea washes over her, she pushes it down. “You wanted me to kill Nick Boyle.”

“I was hoping. I wanted to see how much like your father you were.” Hannibal says with a cocked eyebrow. “Ohmygod.” Abigail exclaims softly as she takes herself out of his hold. “Nicholas Boyle is more important for you gutting him. He changed you. That's more important than the life he clamored after.” Hannibal explains.

“How many people have you killed?” Abigail asks frightened for her life, and rightfully so. “Many more than your father.” Quiet tears stream as she realizes what she only dare ask:“Are you going to kill me?”

He gently strokes her cheek, then: “I'm so sorry, Abigail. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you in this life.”

[totally-not-a-cannibal-hannibal]

To My Taste

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Part 1: Small Potatoes

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Murder, mention of rape. For this part there is talk of bodies. It's nothing too gory if you can stomach the show this part should be fine.

        All I could hear was the sound of my heels clanking against the linoleum floors of the office building.  I was incredibly late. Jack would have my ass for it this time. It really wasn't my fault, I'm still not used to how heavy traffic can get downtown. As I reached the right floor I saw the team's heads bobbing above the cubicles so I slowed down and crouched. Maybe I can just blend in with the group and Jack won't notice that I came in late.

        I sneak behind Price and Zeller to make my way over to Will. He normally didn't say anything when I was late. I stood up next to him as if I had been there the whole time. Beverly smirked at me from across the room. She tapped her watch and pointed down to the body. 

        It sounded callus but it hardly noticed her when I was on my mission to not be seen. Jack was speaking with a tall, well dressed man who must  be Dr. Lecter. This was probably what saved me from being spotted when I entered. Will handed me the file. 

        "Foot got stuck in a storm drain again?" He whispered. 

        "No, I was caught in traffic." He let out the smallest chuckle. Jack looked over at the two of us with a raised eyebrow. 

       "Is something funny? We got a third dead girl in a month and we have nothing. I don't find it very funny, Will." Will lowered his head and scratched his nose. Clearly feeling a bit embarrassed. "And don't think I missed you coming in late again Lydia." He said as he pointed his finger at me. 

      "There was stop and go traffic, I'm really sorry." 

       "I don't care if the earth opens up and swallows the road. If you are late one more time your ass is out of here." He said as he put his glasses on to read something Zeller handed him. 

       "Yes sir." I say, it being my turn to look down at the floor now. After the tongue lashing I crouch down next to the body. Just like the ones before her she was in her early thirties, white, some shade of blonde, around 120 lbs and shorter than 5'5. She worked a white collar job pretty high up in her industry. And just like all the others she was stabbed, raped then murder. It was a little tough to stomach for me, this group has seen stuff that can only be described as the 10th circle of hell so a simple rape and murder serial killer was probably like a vacation. 

       I pulled on a pair of gloves and started looking around her body. My job was always simpler when it came to a serial killer like this. I was a victimologist so normally I'd be looking for what made the killer pick these victims in particular. The motive seemed simple enough, sexual sadist who has a type. Perhaps some past trauma with a blonde woman, probably an ex or a mother.

       Beverly helped me move her to her side so I could see under. 

      "Kinda creepy huh?" Bev asked, looking at me in particular. 

       "Yeah bodies always give me the creeps, I don't want to meet the person who isn't creeped out by a corpse I guess." Stab marks could be seen on the linoleum under her. He was using a huge knife and must be really mad. 

        "No, I mean how much she looks like you." Bev says as someone comes over to take a picture of the stab marks. We set her back down and take off our gloves. She did look kinda like me but not enough to cause alarm or at least I thought. 

        "Bev she's literally just another strawberry blonde lady." I say dismissively. 

        "Will thinks so too." She says as she nudges him. He was doing that thing he does where he sweats and gets a 30-yard stare. 

       "Leave him alone, he's doing his Nancy Drew thing." 

        "I don't remember reading this part in Nancy Drew." Bev says as she motions to the body. I grin agreeing. 

       The whole time I felt eyes on me. At first I thought it was Jack, keeping a very close watch but he was yelling at Price for something. The feeling only got stronger as we cleaned up to leave. Eventually I turn around and see Dr. Lecter looking at me. Once I noticed him he started to walk over.

       "Hello Agent Trew, I didn't have a chance to introduce myself formally. I'm Dr. Lecter." He says as he holds out his hand. 

        "Oh hi! Yeah I know who you are, Will and Jack mentioned you." I say as I take his hand to shake. He seemed so polite, so civil. I couldn't see why Will wasn't fond of him.

      Will snapped out of his episode and walked over to us. 

        "Speak of the devil, hello Will. Are we still on for tomorrow?" Hannibal asks Will who looks a bit disheveled. He looked almost out of breath. Whatever he did must be hard on him. 

         "Yes. Excuse me." Will says as he squeezes between us to get to the exit. 

         "That's right, you are his therapist?" I ask finding it a little odd a therapist would see someone from the team he was also being a consultant on. 

       "Yes, Jack thinks I can help Will process his feelings towards the Job." Dr. Lecter explains as we walk down the stairs with the group. 

       "Well that's good, we all need someone to talk to I suppose. Will seems like a good guy. You guys get along?" I say probing for a little more info. It was a bad habit of mine, I could be so nosy.

         "But of course, we have a good working relationship. Why wouldn't we get along?" He asked as he held the door open for the majority of the crew exiting the building. I stood at the other door taking his lead, opening the other swinging door. 

         "I didn't mean anything by it. I'm sorry, I'm just trying to get a feel for everyone still." In truth I was getting a bit suspicious. Will was an odd guy sure but he didn't seem to outwardly dislike someone for no reason. Why on earth wouldn't he be friendly with Dr. Lecter who by all accounts seems perfectly charming. 

        "Of course no offense taken. You just started, correct?"

        "Yes siree, got a laminated badge and everything. This is my first case ever actually." I say with an air of pride. I worked hard to get into college early. I have always known I wanted to be here even at a young age. 

        "Well I'm sorry you had to be christened with such a grizzly case." He said as we walked to the parking lot. I hadn't expected the conversation to last so long he was just so easy to talk to. 

         "Oh not at all, I have seen some old case files this group has solved. This is small potatoes, we just need one crack to break the whole dam on this case." The guy had an uncanny ability to leave no trace. He bleached the women's insides and panties post mortem to get rid of any DNA. He was a ghost but I had no doubt we'd get him. 

         He gave me a strange look. His face is so hard to read normally I can tell in an instant what someone is thinking but Dr. Lecter was unreadable. 

        "Small potatoes." He repeats back to me. It dawned on me how horrible that sounded. 

        "Oh my gosh, not that these women are- were small potatoes. That sounded bad. I just meant this isn't as gnarly as like what the Chesapeake Ripper does." I say practically stumbling over myself trying not to sound like a monster. He nods and gives me a soft grin. 

         "I understand what you mean. I just thought the expression was interesting." He seemed to get a small amount of amusement out of my desperate attempt not to not be perceived as some kind of weirdo. 

         I got in my car to go back to the headquarters with everyone else. I was so embarrassed I didn't even properly say goodbye to Dr. Lecter who seemed to have carpooled with Jack. As if Jack didn't have enough reason to fire me now I've gone and sounded like a total jerk to his favorite person. 

          Maybe Dr. Lecter wouldn't mention anything, he's foreign.  There's a chance he just thought the saying was funny. I was sure I was overthinking it at this point. It was said and done, no taking it back so there is no reason to dwell on it still. If only that worked to tell yourself.

         The rest of the day was full of theory building and chasing whatever small leads we had. So far this guy could be half the men in Virginia. Frankly we are not even sure if it's a man yet. All we know they are strong, strong enough to stab through a body hard enough to leave chips in the ground below. We have a bruise in the shape of a large hand around one's neck and another on a different girl's hips but aside from that we have nothing. 

         Jack was torn whether or not to alert the public. It's always a tough call; you could risk spooking the killer or agitating them. Unfortunately the media got hold of the story before it could be squashed. It was a shit show.

          It was getting late and Will and I were staying behind to bounce some ideas off each other. Unfortunately my bad habit reared it's ugly head. I had to ask about him and the good doctor.

       "So what's the deal with you and Dr. Lecter? You act like you can't stand the guy." I say as I tack some evidence to the board. 

        Will doesn't answer me at first, his nose buried in a file. "Will?" 

        "I don't get along with psychiatrists. I don't like to be psychoanalyzed." He says not looking up from the papers. 

         "Oh I see." He was an interesting one. Maybe he has a thing about psychiatrists like I do with dentists. Will didn't seem like the type to have an irrational hatred of someone for their career choice but I suppose I haven't known him for very long at all. 

         "You want the rest of my sandwich?" He asks, still not looking up from the file. It was a turkey and cheese cold sandwich from the vending machine. My upper lip curls in disgust but I didn't want to be rude.

         "Oh no thank you I'm full." I say, still working on the board. Finally Will's eyes are pulled from his work to take in the site of the whole board. He shifts in his seat and gets an uneasy look on his face. He kept looking back to me then to the board. 

          "Beverly might have been right… You look like they belong on that board with them." I knew he didn't mean for that to sound so intimidating but it still made my skin crawl the way he spoke, his eyes grazing over me. He clicked his pen over and over as he thought. 

         "Do you know how many blondes are in this city? He's not even picky about the shade. We have a dishwater blonde, bottle blonde, strawberry blonde. Maybe he's a collector. He's not going to be looking for another strawberry blonde Will."

         "It's more than hair though. Your faces, jobs, ages. You all could have been friends. All the victims grew up in Virginia, just like you right?" He asked as he stood up. His tone changed and I couldn't place what it reminded me of.

       "Yeah in the southern part." I specify. He turned me by my shoulders to face him. 

       "You're what 5'3?"

       "And a half." I say with a grin. He didn't return the favor. He was working at something. He took the pen and held it above his head like he was going to stab it down at me. I stood there letting him do his mime show. I would have thought it was funny if he didn't have such a dark look in his eyes. 

        "He stabbed the first victim before she was on the ground. All the others he took to the ground then stabbed." He was starting to sweat again. I leaned past him to check the board if he was correct but he pushed me back in place. It wasn't forceful per se, it was almost like he was setting a cup back on a table that had fallen off. 

        "Get on your back." It wasn't a request. I laughed at him. 

        "Will, I'm in $120 dry clean only, Pants from Anne Taylor. You have lost your damn mind if you think my ass is getting on that dirty floor." His face didn't change. He looked like he does when he zones out at crime scenes. I take a step back from him. There wasn't something quite right with how he was looking at me. Honestly I wasn't sure if he was even looking at me; it was like his eyes were looking right through me. "Will…" I said as I snapped in his face. The light came back on behind his eyes and he looked at me confused. 

        "What's wrong, I was reenacting the first murder. You have done a reenactment right?" He said softly as he swallowed hard, he wiped the sweat off his brow. His body language didn't match his calm voice. 

        "The reenactment is useless, you are nowhere near this guy's height." I said as I took the pen from his hand. I brushed it off. He was just an odd guy, who took his job very seriously as we all should in this line of work. 

         "Ouch, I'm above average I'll have you know." He says with a grin as he leans against the table. I was gathering up the files and organizing them for tomorrow. 

       "You live alone?" He asks as he hands me an envelope.

        "Yep, just me and my love birds, Ricky and Lucy." He chuckles a bit. 

         "Why don't I drive you home. You can leave your car in the parking lot for the night. I'll pick you up in the morning. We could even grab breakfast." He suggests as he helps me carry the boxes of files to a cabinet. I roll my eyes and smirk. 

         "Oh is this a come on Agent Graham?" He laughed and held the door open for me as he made our way to the dark dank parking garage. 

         "No no nothing like that I promise. You just fit this guy's type so I want to make sure he doesn't get a 4th victim. The time between the murders is only getting shorter." He walked me to my car and opened the back door to make sure no one was hiding. 

        "I appreciate it Will I really do but I'm pretty sure he's a collector. He is not looking for another strawberry blonde. If he sticks to his accelerating timeline we have at least a day or two before starts his hunt again. I'll be fine." Will begrudgingly let me drive home alone. 

         My house was a small yellow one bedroom home I was renting from a sweet old lady who lived down the lane. It fitted my needs perfectly, I even had a view of a small lake from my bedroom window.  

          It was a warm night for September. I got in and opened my windows to save money on the power bill. My love birds were happy to see me. I fed them then myself. I hadn't had time to hook up my cable so I just watched them preen each other lovingly. I have always liked birds, my mother would tell me drunkenly about how birds are our dead loved ones watching over us. I hope that wasn't the case because I will often change in my living room. 

          They were very considerate birds and normally slept through the night so I never had to put a sheet over them. I filled their water before closing up the cage for the night. A nice cool bath sounded really good so I drew a bath for myself.

         Beverly and Will had gotten to me a bit. I kept my service weapon on the edge of the tub while I bathed. Will has a seemingly supernatural connection with the killer's they hunt so maybe I should take more stock in his worries. 

          I finished my bath and wrapped myself in a towel. I was in my own head now and took my gun with me to close all my windows and make sure my door was locked. Once I was sure my home was as secure as it possibly could be I got changed. It was going to get unbearably hot tonight with the windows closed so I elected to wear underwear and a tank top. If I was sure the nice old landlady wouldn't let herself in if I didn't answer at the first knock, I would have just slept naked.

          I laid my gun on the bedside table and tucked my phone under my pillow, a habit I kept from my college years. I got comfortable and found it surprisingly easy to sleep in the heat. 

         A sound from my living room woke me up. It was the sound of my love bird's cage rattling softly. It wasn't uncommon for them to have a small lovers quarrel in the middle of the night so I didn't bother checking on them. It wasn't till I heard one start to chirp that I sat up. They only sing in the morning or at a person. That's when it hit me. I got up and went to grab my gun to investigate. To my horror I couldn't find it. I knew I had put it arm's length away but it was gone without a trace. 

        My stomach sank as I heard a snapping sound just as the love song stopped. 

[vinceaddams]

Speaking of thrifted fabrics, I also recently got one of those baggies with multiple little bits in it because I could see a piece of nice brown linen that I wanted, and one of the other things in there turned out to be this.

A relic from another time. Canada switched to Metric in 1975, and this is 3 yards, though I don't think all the stores would have changed over immediately. It's also from Zellers, which doesn't exist anymore.

The original price on the tag was $2.99 and then it was reduced to 2.44. I asked my mother how old she thinks it is, and she guessed the 70's. I think I should start a scrapbook for all the fascinating old bits of paper that aren't valuable but that I can't bring myself to throw out.

[thegreatestjournalistofalltime]

Trust & Conflict (closed to @corxner )

(please note that the victims' names in this post—or future posts in this thread—were all totally made up and used to add some depth to the story. any similarities to a person, or the name of a person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. this applies to any further names made up for the fictional victims in this story. also, please be aware that this thread contains dark themes, which will be tagged for anyone who may need it.)

A librarian by the name of Janice Berr had been brutally murdered going home from work one night. Someone had punctured a hole in her fuel tank, it seemed, and followed her. She was found in the woods, near where her car was left with the front, driver's side door and trunk wide open. Judging by how many times she had been stabbed, and the state the wounds left her in, it was determined to be a crime of passion.

Maybe a former lover? Maybe someone had an axe to grind? However, there were no leads. Everyone seemed to like her, and any potential suspects had airtight alibies.

Freddie had heard about the case, of course, but these sorts of things happen all the time, unfortunately. It didn't quite fall into her purview.

When Faye Riche, a counselor, turned up in much the same way (except in her own home), that was when Freddie looked into it a little deeper. There were similar markings left by the murder weapon in each case. Both victims were women. Both murdered at night, seemingly in a rage. It had seemed a pattern was emerging.

That was until a new body was discovered in an abandoned parking lot. All Freddie knows is the address, where she is driving to now, and that the victim is a man with the same markings left by what seems to be the same knife. She has the heat on. The night is cold and her drive is a silent one.

When she arrives, she can see that the usual lot are there already. Jack Crawford stands a short distance away from the body, speaking to a local detective. Will Graham stands, seemingly in a trance, putting himself in the shoes of the killer. On the ground, she can barely see the body with the CSI team blocking her view as they carry out their work. She recognizes almost all of them—Beverly Katz, Jimmy Price, and, of course, Brian Zeller—but the fourth… She's never seen him before. He seems younger than the others, and she takes note that Will walks directly over to him after speaking with Crawford about whatever he just imagined.

Meanwhile, over at the crime scene…

Crawford walks over to his team at the body. "What do we know?" he asks.

Price is the only one of the four standing. He holds the victim's wallet in his hands, looking through its contents.

"Carl Getty," he answers, looking at the man's driver's license, "forty years old, and judging by the ID card I found, he works at one of the local high schools in the area."

"He's got some scraping on his hands, and there are little pieces of gravel in the cuts," Zeller says, holding Getty's palms up for Crawford to see.

"The gravel seems consistent with the paving in this lot," Katz adds, "and he has a laceration on the back of his head. He was struck from behind."

Will had been taking it all in, but when they finish, it's he that turns to the only one that hasn't spoken yet.

"What did you find, Faust?" he asks softly, encouragingly.

However, before an answer could be given, Zeller interrupts, saying, "Shit… Freddie Lounds is here. How did she find out so fast?"

Will looks up towards the direction of the barricades and sees her. He begins walking over to her and, sensing that there might be an issue, Beverly follows after him.

With someone looking after Will, Crawford turns his attention back to Faust.

"Yes, what did you find?"

[arwainian]

Reading This Week 2024 #38

hello hello! audiobook reading persists into this week and for the forseeable future. basically any time that i have the bandwidth to be reading a physical book with my eyes i think "oh i should be working on my thesis" so audiobooks are what is keeping me from just sinking into a pile of work and never emerging

Finished:

Bloom Into You, Vol. 4-5 by Nakatani Nio, translated by Jenny McKeon this manga continues to rule, giving me my cute romance fix

Ancillary Sword by Ann Leckie, narrated by Adjoa Andoh i'm liking that while this is like the sequel to Ancillary Justice, this was a pretty self contained story. Breq i love you. love the further exploration of ancillary-ship and imperialism and had a good chat with a friend about similarities to elements of Murderbot (we looked up publishing dates so if there was any inspiration taken, Imperial Radch came first)

Squire written by Nadia Shammas and Sara Alfageeh, art by Sara Alfageeh i felt a little undersold on the friendships the protagonist made in this, but the art was amazing the whole way through

Happy New Year by kathkin on ao3

from a clear sky by kathkin on ao3

Survivor Injustice: State-Sanctioned Abuse, Domestic Violence, and the Fight for Bodily Autonomy by Kylie Cheung, narrated by Dana Wing Lau a weird thing that's happened since i've dedicated my research brain to sexual violence is that any book written with an even slightly wider audience in mind very quickly becomes a bit tedious bc I've read all of this before. however i do think the portions of this that are about domestic violence and controlling how people vote, and the prevelance of sexual violence across all political parties in the US was the most worth the read part of this book for me

The Wicked + The Divine, Vol. 2: Fandemonium written by Kieron Gillen, art by Jamie McKelvie holy shit?? excited to read the next volume (tho i think i'm going to switch the the Big volumes that collect 10 issues at a time insted of the ones with 5-6)

Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo, narrated by Emily Woo Zeller really excellent YA lesbian historical fiction/romance set in Red Scare era san francisco chinatown. really nicely balances the protagonist finding herself, finding community, and finding love, with a realistic depiction of what life was like for a young lesbian during an intensely homophobic era

my real face by kathkin on ao3

Started/Ongoing:

Rethinking Rape by Ann J. Cahill reading for my thesis! my undergrad college gets a shout out in the acknowledgements

Most Ardently by Gabe Cole Novoa, narrated by Harrison Knights ya romance remix of pride and prejudice where "Elizabeth" is actually a trans boy, Oliver Bennet. i think it's sweet but i have one issue with the book generally and one issue with the narrator. first, since i'm familiar with pride and prejudice and have read/watched a few different adaptations at this point, i'm finding the pacing of this book a bit odd. like the disastrous darcy proposal happens 75% of the way through instead of closer to the middle. this throws me off because it means there's gonna be less time afterward to build toward Oliver and Darcy actually understanding each other than i think they deserve. my issue with the audiobook is that Knights has some very distinct character voices, and yet sometimes reads lines with the wrong voice, and no one at the publisher noticed? you can't read one of Jane's lines with the lispy voice you gave Lydia and not expect me to be completely thrown out of the book. however, i do like hidden identity stuff, so the parts of the book where Oliver knows Darcy both as himself Oliver and when he is closeted/girlmoding as Elizabeth is like catnip to me up to a certain point

[thelilnan]

accidentally laced fingers with a customer while handing him his coffee and it turns out that's literally one of the worst sensations on this godforsaken earth

[rion-writes]

Ohhh magnar?? For wip game

This fic is the one I am the most upset I haven't completed yet.

Fall 2014 where we still through Winds of Winter would come out within the decade. My best friend 5eva and I took a roadtrip through the Pacific Northwest and hashed out the entire plot points for this story. I bounced all my ideas off them and worked down to the nitty gritty about making everything canon compliant.

Things that happened in my life that pretty much wrecked me from any sort of fun fandom experience for 4-5 years made any staggered updates on this fic nil to poor. I also found that due to both source materials I could only work on this during fall/winter lmfao.

By the weirdest sort of coincidence that same BFF 5 eva finally picked up rewatching GOT and the terrible, awful, no good, very bad fanfic seasons and conclusion. We're talking about it again.

and it's fall/winter.

-

Magnar is a Hannibal fanfiction set in ASOIAF. By set I mean pretty much every event that is happening in canon is happening in the background of this story, without actually seeing any of the 'main' ASOIAF characters. Most little folk and knights don't after all, but a few tertiary and secondary characters get a line or two to move the plots along.

Ser Jack Crawford, under the banner of King Stannis Baratheon, is sent to Skagos with his men including Bravosi sellsword Beverly Katz and houndsman Will Graham. Besides establishing King Stannis' presence on the island and the North itself they're escorting Maester Price and his Acolyte Zeller to work for the 'civilized' North at the request of the Citadel.

Namely, the portion of the island controlled by the Vergers and gifted to them for their service to the Targaryen throne. They claim to have roots in Old Valeria.

What concerns Ser Jack Crawford more than the legitimacy of the Vergers is the whispers going around the taverns and trading stalls-

That the Ripper of the Narrow Sea had made berth from Skagos.

-

Magnar (9437 words) by Rionarch Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Hannibal (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Alana Bloom/Margot Verger Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Abigail Hobbs, Jack Crawford, Beverly Katz, Alana Bloom, Margot Verger, Baratheons (ASoIaF) Additional Tags: War of the Five Kings, Wargs & Warging (A Song of Ice and Fire), Greenseers & Greensight (A Song of Ice and Fire), Cannibalism Summary: As King Stannis Baratheon makes his play to protect the realm and solidify Northern support at the Wall, he sends his landed knight Ser Jack Crawford to treat with the lest vestiges of a Valyrian House, the Vergers, on Skagos. Magnar Hannibal Lector has other ideas he'd rather entertain.

I have a few chapters already up. Have a snippet of the next one.

-

“Oh, do beg my pardon. I didn’t mean to startle any of you. I simply thought that if a caravan as well armed as yourselves was going to the castle it might be just the right time to go myself.” Flame red hair and sharp cheek bones might have done something to hide her if the verdant purple shawl hadn’t been the mainstay of the whorehouses in King’s Landing.  Lady Margot scoffed but Beverly wasn’t as sure. 

“I’ve seen you outside of Muskrat Holdfast. What’s your business with the Magnar?” Ser Jack cut her off and looked less amused by the minute.

“What does a whore have to do with the following of King Baratheon’s men?” Her smile was more stoic. 

“Well I’d certainly done enough in his late Majesty’s Baratheon service. I’m just a woman who looks out for other little deers and their interests. If you must know there’s a certain someone at the castle who I have to look after.”

[sidleyparkhermit]

for the character ask meme: kickin' it old school with Beverly Katz, 6, 12, 21, 24?

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

I think she and Zeller are both very secular -- Bev in keeping with her general upbringing, and Zeller in reaction against his -- and neither of them takes Jewish holidays off from work unless they have family things. One time, though, she opted to fast for Yom Kippur when it was supposed to be a pretty easy day at work, and it was not an easy day at work at all, and it took a little while for Zeller, who was not fasting, to realize why Bev was increasingly distracted and hangry, and he went down to the FBI cafeteria and pestered them until he got a single bulk-bag cinnamon stick in a little disposable dixie cup, and he took it back up to the BAU and tried to quietly leave it next to her but she was so zoned out he had to draw her attention to it. Once she clocked what it was she was deeply touched and she took a sniff and then got on her phone to look up how to say the blessing you’re supposed to say when you smell some spices on Yom Kippur and took another, slower sniff, and she felt her mind clear and her hunger ease a little, and she returned to her long day of work. And the split second that it was nautical twilight Zeller showed back up with the other thing he got from the cafeteria which was a bag of huge cinnamon rolls, which they ate right there at her desk, and technically it was the first time they ever hung out outside of working hours, and she felt buoyed by a great feeling of gratitude and for some reason so did he.

[cloudbattrolls]

Encroached

Gliese Benral | Gliese's Hedge Maze | Present Night

If you want to know what the creatures in this drabble are, I recommend checking out @nihils-trolls's plot!

The blueblood held the shears expertly, snipping away at her hedges with sweeps of long practice. How long had she kept these? Since she was six? Five, even? 

She couldn’t quite remember how long it had been, only that she’d planted them when her eyes were still gray and her horns were maybe half the length they were now. 

Gliese heard a very dramatic scream coming from a few hedge walls over and her ears flicked irritably. Couldn’t a girl trim her plants in peace?

It didn’t sound like Zeller or Kit, so who cared. Maybe Haredad had caught an intruder.

When a yell followed it the little highblood sighed deeply and supposed she’d better go check it ou -

What the fuck was that doing here.

A shadowy black blob peeped out of her hedge, one awful green and golden eye showing. She dropped her shears on the ground with a thud and swung out her flamethrower to blast it, not caring about the damage or the smoke now rising to the sky as fire licked through the plants. 

At least she kept them well watered; it wouldn’t spread too quickly, and she didn’t have time to worry about it right now.

She whistled high and shrill for her lusus, if he was in range, but if not she’d just have to solve it herself.

Her flamethrower away again, Gliese ran toward the voice now yelling and cursing again. Her eyes crackled with orange sparks as she called ghosts to her, skeletons as well. None of her plant constructs would be good here; better things that couldn’t burn, or wouldn’t do so easily.

Now she had to hope she wouldn’t have a fucking seizure. 

At least if she did, her skeletons were instructed to preserve her at all costs.

A few burst from the ground and gave her the lift she needed to leap over the next hedge and -

-swear like the soldier she’d once been as she landed, flamethrower out again as her angry and baffled glowing eyes took in the wreckage before her.

Bigger blobs had already consumed half the plants in this area and were still eating away at them. The ground itself was riddled with puddles of black, gleaming like oil in the moonlight. 

“HEEEEELLLLLP!”

Cried a terrified voice.

Right, the troll.

She spun around and saw them; their bright red coat made it easy as they ran like hell from the biggest monster yet, but it was clear it would catch them in seconds.

Gliese opened fire on that blob, not getting all of it on her first go, but enough to slow it down, let the troll - let the troll whip out an umbrella and quickly rise up into the air with a shimmering aura of red magic as they clutched its handle. 

She grinned. Another mage.

Then she blasted at the big blob again, her skeletons and ghosts keeping the ones around her busy, but she could feel a seizure coming on. 

Ugh, it wasn’t fucking going down.

Fuck it. She had no choice. 

Gritting her teeth, Gliese pushed her psiionics further, her vision growing hazy, and the last thing she heard before she passed out was the howl of her ghosts inhabiting her skeletons, bolstering their power.

Then it all went dark.

—

She woke up in her hive.

On her couch.

Damn. How long had she been out?

She looked out the nearest window and realized not too long, the sky had barely lightened; the moons hadn’t yet set.

“Hello, I do hope this IS your hive and I didn’t just follow some skeletons that carried you into someone else’s. But I thought: big fancy mansion, blueblood, the two go together like salt and pepper. Oh, I put the fires out too, because widespread arson seemed like a bad idea.” 

She sat up and looked over, noticing the troll from before.

They didn’t have their coat on anymore, and their umbrella was nowhere to be seen.

“Say, do you know what those are? I haven’t the foggiest, but they certainly are nasty, aren’t they? Glad you came along and razed them to ashes when you did. I wish I’d known about that before.”

They nodded after saying so.

“Felt like rot to me. What kind, I’m not sure, but something along those lines. Very strange, don’t you think?”

Gliese blinked her orange eyes as they spoke, slightly surprised by how the maroon looked in just a fitted black tank top and purple skirt over black leggings. 

They were a little on the heavier side - unusual for a lowblood, though they were still more lightly built than several mid and highbloods she’d seen. They looked soft, but she saw calluses on their hands; they’d clearly labored before, were probably stronger than they looked.

They also had nice curves.

“Are you even listening to me?” They said with minor annoyance and bafflement after a brief pause, arms crossed. 

She noticed their coat had been flung on another couch and - huh, they had a blue bracelet on one wrist, only a few hues above her own.

“Yeah, yeah, I know about these things already.” The hare troll said dismissively, waving a hand.

They sputtered, and she enjoyed their shocked expression behind their big red glasses.

“Wh - why didn’t you say so at the start?” They demanded in their goofy accent. 

Seriously, they sounded like some of the characters on the shows she used to watch. It was funny, but kind of cute to listen to.

“Didn’t feel like it.” She said smugly, ears flicking.

They put a hand to their face.

“Brilliant. Brilliant! I’m dealing with someone who thinks it’s cute to waste my time! Oh, of all the luck…”

The blueblood smirked at their agitation, watching their ears flick up and down. 

“It is pretty funny. Hey, look on the bright side; I can tell you what I know.”

She paused as they sighed and took their hand away, looking at her mulishly. Then she addressed them again.

“What the fuck’s your name, anyway.”

“Crista.” They said, sullen. “What’s yours.”

“Gliese.”

“Well, miss Gliese, I hope you’re not just yanking my chain and you do know something about these little abominations.” They said irately. “I almost died out there! As you might recall.”

“Vaguely.” She said in a casual tone meant to irritate the other mage, who rewarded her with a huff and by putting their hands on their hips. 

“But yeah, I do. Friend of mine’s studying them right now, and I’ve learned the hard way to not put any magic close to them, or they’ll eat it and try to kill you getting the rest. They’re not alive, they’re not dead, they just…exist. Fucked up little things.”

“The real revelation here is that you have friends.” Muttered the lowblood grumpily, but with minimal bite, looking down at the floor. 

Gliese felt like she was being gently teethed by a scolded puppy who wanted to try gnawing at you again, but was too nervous that they might actually be kicked this time.

She smirked again. What a dork.

“Aw, try not to be too jealous. How many friends have you got?”

They squawked in protest and she laughed, which only made them squawk again.

“Enough! More than you, probably! With your charming personality and stunning gift for being a right pain in the neck!”

She grinned wider. “Wow, really laying on the flattery.”

They looked done, their hands gripping one another. “This isn’t at all important, I don’t know why I let myself get distracted…do you know anything else?”

“They have blood inside them sometimes.” She said, just as casual. “And my friend gave it a drop of godling blood to see what would happen.”

They gaped at her. “Where did they…I don’t even want to know. No! I really don’t want to know, at all. Insane. You’re both insane.”

“Hey.” She snapped. “Call me what you want, but leave Quil out of it. She’s doing her best.”

They snorted. “Fine, fine! It’s just you that’s insane, then. Happy?”

“I’ve been happier.” She quipped, flippant.

“I am weeping most tragically for you, you simply can’t tell right now.” Said Crista, sounding infinitely weary. “So what happened? With the blood?”

“Dunno. It revitalized it a bit, I think. I’ll ask Quil.”

The maroon considered that, then spoke again.

“Fire’s good against it, of course. Anything else you know of?”

“They can be contained with anti-magic stuff.” The blueblood replied, thinking of Quilis’s walls of force. “I’d stick with fire, though.”

“I see.” Sighed the lowblood. “Well! Can’t hang around, I’d best be going.”

Gliese blinked. 

“What, you don’t want to rest or anything?”

They looked at her.

“What makes you think I’m stupid enough to loiter in the hive of a blueblood I don’t know? And you’re a necromancer. I only trust one of those.”

Gliese scowled.

“If I wanted you dead, you would be.” She said scornfully, thin arms crossed. “You’re no match for me and you know it. If I was some wicked witch I’d feed you to my zombie or whatever.”

They snorted heavily, shaking their head. “Oh, she has a zombie! Wonderful. Yes, you sound more and more trustworthy by the moment. I’ll be leaving now.”

They went to put their coat back on, but before they could, the necromancer cleared her throat.

“Well, if you wanna leave without dinner…”

“You sound like you want to poison me!” Snapped the maroon, shaking their head as they (sadly for Gliese) put their coat back on and tied the waist ribbon. 

“At least try to be subtle about it.” They muttered under their breath.

The hare troll looked at the ornately painted ceiling. Maybe she was really rusty. Pity too, pitch had always been the quad she was best at.

Then she looked back down at the other mage.

“Look. I don’t want to fucking poison you, you idiot. You can watch me make the food yourself if you’re that worried. I’m trying to make up for the fact you got fucked up on my property. Why the hell would I have helped you just to kill you now?”

“Don’t ask me why I think bluebloods will act like bluebloods, miss, we’d be here til the sun came up.” Crista said wearily. 

Their ears flicked as they considered it, then they sighed and took their coat off again.

“Fine, since you’re so insistent. I won’t say I’m not a bit peckish. But I am going to watch you make it.”

She grinned. “Sure, sure. Hope you like vegetarian.”

They raised their thick eyebrows.

“Depends on the dish. Please tell me there will be dessert.”

She paused. “Do fruit bars count?”

Crista groaned.

“You’re killing me.”

She smirked. 

“Relax, I have dark chocolate if you’re that desperate. Just don’t take a lot of it, it’s usually for my moirail.”

“Rest assured I shan’t.” They said wryly, and the blueblood laughed as she turned away to walk to her kitchen, Crista shaking their head as they followed.

[brightspine]

science husbands 👀

This is my fave thing I'm working on rn! It's Brian Zeller/Jimmy Price from Hannibal which isn't a rarepair, but is a lot more rare than it should be 😤 in this, Jimmy and Brian are divorced after certain events of the show. Jimmy moved away but was asked to come back to help with a case. Have Jimmy running into Brian while revisiting his old favorite coffee shop before he moved:

There, staring into his phone over the rim of his mug, sat Brian Zeller. Before he could plan an intelligent move, Jimmy found himself stalking over to the side of the table. He stared a moment, his mouth opening and closing again as it tried to grasp a word.

"You don't drink coffee," he said.

Brian looked up, his lips tugging into that knowing little smile of his. "Hello to you, too," he said.

"Hi," said Jimmy with an exasperated huff. "You don't drink coffee."

"Huh." Brian's finger traced around the rim of the mug, dragging a tea tag around to the front. "I guess I don't."

"What are you doing here?"

"Not drinking coffee, obviously."

"So noted. What else?" Jimmy knew he was angry. He could feel it burning in the pit of his stomach. He just couldn't say why.

"Well, I was catching up on Words with Friends, if you must know. What are you doing here?"

Someone was clearing their throat behind him. The barista placed a cappuccino on the table and walked away before Jimmy could thank them.

The two stared at the cup before Jimmy sighed in defeat and sat down. "Drinking coffee," he said.

[pickledpascal]

Sweet Nothing

Chapter One: The Loneliest Time

Summary: Doctor Blake Adler is new at the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Department. She's to be a part of the team and get as comfortable as possible before being thrown in the field by Jack Crawford. Beforehand, though, she must meet everyone.... A certain curly haired man catches her attention.

Warnings: Light ableism (?)

Word Count: 2.2k

Sweet Nothing Masterlist

Next Chapter

Being in the FBI was not for everyone. During time at Quantico, you could see dead bodies cut up a hundred different ways after just one class. There’s a reason not everyone becomes an agent, seeing bodies bloodied or drained or eaten doesn’t get easier. Certainly not for someone who’s squeamish. The select few trainees that make it fully into the Bureau don’t last long. Sometimes they die on the job, others quit with their sanity intact. For some, though, the job is perfect for them. They don’t have time to be doing anything else so they choose to save lives. Some even find it rewarding because of that. Or the secret, fourth, thing. The FBI could make a perfect cover if you’re a murderer….

Thankfully, for Jack Crawford, Doctor Blake Adler is not. She’s a highly decorated young woman, with two PhDs–one in Psychiatry and the other in Criminology–and passed her FBI training with flying colors. Which meant she was perfect to fill a missing spot in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Sure, Jack had Doctor Bloom and Doctor Lecter on call for anything he may need but Doctor Adler would be easier to get to and may even understand the people they’re going after much easier than them.

“Thank you for the position, Mr. Crawford.” Blake smiled, hands behind her back in a kind gesture. She wasn’t exactly looking at his eyes, Jack could tell. But the effort was appreciated. 

Jack let out a small huff of air as a light laugh, “Just call me Jack, Doctor Adler.”

“Then you can call me, Blake.” The young woman countered with a light laugh of her own. As she adjusted her glasses on her face, she asked, “I must admit, I still feel like a trainee. I have no real world experience. So why me? The Behavioral Unit is…. Very tricky to get into.”

Jack shook his head as he opened the door for Blake, “You’ve helped me more than you know, Doctor. While small, every bit helps when trying to catch a killer.” He admitted, guiding the young woman inside. “First, I’d like you to get acquainted with the team. At the moment, there’s nothing big happening so your first real day won’t be until tomorrow. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Blake winked, waving lightly as Jack retreated into his office. The sealed glass work stations were pretty much empty besides one that had a few people working on a body. “Slow day indeed, huh.” She whispered to herself before looking down at the papers in her hand. Jack, being the head of the Behavioral Unit, compiled a list of those Blake would work best with. 

4. Brain Zeller – Seems arrogant, Doctor Adler hates the type to believe they’re smarter than they are. Will treat Doctor Adler too harshly.

True, Blake pushed back against a lot of her teachers in the Bureau and outside it because of this.

3. Jimmy Price – Smart, but almost too kind. Doctor Adler hates those who are too kind for no reason. Or more specifically, will try to tiptoe around her. 

Blake pursed her lips from the smile that threatened to form. Jack got it right again. He did have her profile which told him all the nitty gritty details that she didn’t want to think about.

2. Beverley Katz – Similarly to Goldilocks, these two would make a great fit and are ‘just right.’ Will not treat Doctor Adler too harshly but won’t treat her as if she’s too fragile either. Personalities match almost 95%.

Blake cocked her head a little at the words in front of her eyes. She was only number two? Then who was number one if Beverley was supposedly ‘just right’ for her. 

1. Will Graham – Will has a special insight to crime scenes that it seems Doctor Adler and him share. However, Will Graham does not necessarily like working with others. Especially those who may try to get inside his head. May take some time before they truly start to mesh together but they should be a perfect match after initial bonding takes place.

The doctor studied the words for a moment. “Looks like I need to find Will Graham….” She murmured, mostly to herself.

“Will Graham isn’t usually here unless the Chesapeake Ripper has decided to show up.” A voice piped up. Said voice was attached to a woman with black wavy hair and dark eyes. Has she ever taken that leather jacket off? Seemed like it was well loved.

Blake gave her a courtesy smile, “You must be Beverley Katz. I’m Doctor Blake Adler, a new addition to the team. I guess.” She explained.

Beverley hummed softly and nodded at Blake, “Will is usually in one of the lecture halls. Not sure which one, never visited him myself but I’m sure you could ask one of the students roaming around the halls.” Well, thank god for Beverley Katz. Not one to mince words.

“Thank you, Ms. Katz. I look forward to working with you.” Blake turned, her face dropping a bit as she adjusted the weight on her shoulders and began walking towards the lecture halls. 

Sure, Blake has heard of Will Graham before but she’d never had the opportunity to take one of his classes. The seats always filled up, though she’s not sure if it’s because he was a good teacher or because plenty of his students found him attractive. Either way, she’s never met Will Graham but it felt like years in the making. Classmates in other classes talked about him non-stop. His way of commanding a classroom by his movements or by his voice or simply by the pictures he decided to put on his slides.

Just in time for the end of class, Blake entered Will’s lecture hall as students were exiting. The young woman huffed softly as a few men bumped into her, rolling her eyes as she kept treading forward. She knew what she looked like. Blake was a trainee fresh out of Quantico and now she was running errands for the Behavioral Unit. At least, her 6 foot tall height made her intimidating to most or else she would have been trampled out of the classroom. 

Jealousy really is a disease. 

"Class just ended." The man at the desk stated, voice monotone. His resting voice seemed careless but also…. Careful. And tired. So, so tired. 

Blake narrowed her eyes at the shorter man, pursing her lips. That had to be Will Graham, the name matched his appearance well. His hair was a deep brown, curled on his head and unkept as if it was begging to be touched, eyes were blue and held a certain sadness in the skin around it. And his unkept stubble. All in all, Will Graham was attractive like the rumors said but he also looked…. Sad. Like maybe he was beaten down by seeing so much in his life. Perhaps that's why he became a teacher instead. Except, he certainly wasn't just a teacher anymore.

"I know I look it but I'm actually here on behalf of Jack Crawford. I'm new in the Behavioral Unit." Blake explained after all the students left, walking closer to the desk Will was perched on. "He believes we would make a fine crime solving pair." She joked softly, avoiding straight on eye contact.

Will noticed immediately what she was trying to do. "You don't have to…. Try to not act normal." He smiled lightly, almost pained. "Did Jack tell you?"

"No. But I don't like eye contact much either, it's very…. Taxing. Don't know exactly where to look or for how long." Blake shrugged, looking away from Will to her hands for a moment. Something about her jacket seemed to be much more interesting to look at. "Doctor Blake Adler." 

Will hummed in response, "The famous trainee that helped Jack Crawford himself on a few cases." He joked, cocking an eyebrow as he finally looked up fully to take in Blake's appearance. 

Doctor Adler was six feet tall, which was more accentuated whenever she wore heels, deep forest green eyes, short brown hair with blue at the ends that was styled to be slicked back and away from the eyes. The blue dye in her hair was faded which insinuated she hadn’t redyed it in a few months. Will also noticed a light dusting of freckles on her nose as well as black ink ever so slightly peeking from under one of her sleeves. Blake was…. Astonishing. And Will doesn't describe just anyone like that.

"How does it feel?" Will asked, smirking slightly. "To be famous even before you became a real agent?"

Blake shrugged, leaning against the desk next to Will. "Weird. I don't think I helped that much but then Jack keeps saying it really helped him and I don't know why." She admitted, looking off to a fixed point in the paneled walls.

"We think differently." Will could tell. It took a few seconds, Blake was harder to read than most others but he could tell why Jack wanted Blake to meet him. They were similar. Very similar. "And sometimes Jack hasn't thought about things the way we do." The man pursed his lips, letting his eyes fall to his lap.

Blake let out a light laugh, shaking her head. "Jack is smart but he can only do so much." She agreed, running a hand through her hair as she felt a few strands come out of place.

Will watched this from the corner of his eyes, admiring the way her hand glided through her hair. He noticed her nails were painted black and that there was a small tattoo on her right thumb. A small crescent moon, filled with black ink.

This moment was cut off by the lecture hall door opening. A woman in a long sleeved floral dress stood in the doorway. 

"Doctor Bloom." Will's gaze hardened lightly, standing from the desk. After all, Will knew he was unstable but Alana couldn't give him another reason….

Alana's gaze traveled from Will to the taller woman next to him. "You must be Doctor Adler." She smiled politely, though not that authentically.

Tension was all Blake could feel in that moment. Time to back out. "Yes, and you must be Doctor Bloom as Will said." She nodded, "Unfortunately, I believe Jack wants me in his office so I can't properly say hello. We'll probably see each other again soon though." With that, Blake gave Alana a light smile and high-tailed it out of there.

Once back at Jack's office, Blake let out a breath after closing the glass door. She shook off the weirdness from earlier and rolled her neck to release some tension.

"Work drama already? On your first day?" Jack asked with an amused chuckle from behind Blake.

The doctor rolled her eyes as she turned towards him. "Not my drama. Will Graham and Alana Bloom drama. I sensed some…. Unresolved tension." Blake's lips upturned in disgust.

"Not a fan of kissing then, Doctor?" Jack's eyes held an amused glare.

Blake shrugged as she sat by his desk. "Not exactly. Never kissed anyone before. Not one that counted anyway." She shook her head, "Enough of that. Do I get my own office? Or is that reserved for special agents?"

Jack rolled his eyes and closed the folder he was working on. "Since you're a special case and you requested an isolated office, yes you do get one." He explained.

Doctor Adler, while possibly the most promising agent to be added to the Bureau, could be the most unpredictable as well. Sure, Will Graham–who has self-diagnosed himself on the autism spectrum–has worked for the FBI since…. Well, forever, the Bureau has not had someone clinically diagnosed on the autism spectrum in the field and working of the Behavioral Unit full time. Blake Adler is sort of a test run, to see if people like her can handle it long term. 

Knowing this, of course, Blake had some requests. Sometimes, she likes to isolate herself. It can help her to think or simply, if she gets overstimulated, it gives her some place to go. While at work, there aren't many places to go when having a nervous breakdown because something happened that she didn't want besides the bathroom. But then people might hear Blake crying. That is something she doesn't need. So a private office was a must have. The Bureau didn't want Blake's talent to go to waste, so they obliged enthusiastically.

A start to a wonderful relationship always starts with boundary setting. 

Doctor Blake Adler – PhD in Physcology and Criminology

Height: 6’0

Eye Color: Green

Hair Color: Brown

Profile: Psych Eval makes it evident Doctor Adler is on the autism spectrum but this knowledge isn’t new to the Bureau. Has shown she’s an asset to the Bureau and seems to not pose a threat to herself or others. Stable enough to be considered for a position. Although her particular but subtle hate of authority may make it difficult for her to take orders. As well as her appearance may be intimidating when questioning witnesses, unfortunately there is no way to rectify this.

[arsonforcharlie]

Listen I feel you on the tofu burn thing okay. I had a huge gnarly burn on my left tit once and it scarred pretty cool. Unfortunately, it was acquired during a very stupid naked drunk pizza baking incident which is a little less cool.

my other non-surgery scars are from things like "making pancakes" and "my manager at zellers got me with a box cutter" so i feel the uncool scar origin pain already tbh