#tableau development

[dataanalyticsconsoulting]

What are the advised steps for Tableau dashboard development?

Developing Tableau dashboards involves a series of steps to ensure that your visualizations effectively communicate insights. Here's a general guide to Tableau dashboard development:

Define Objectives and Audience:

Clearly understand the purpose of your dashboard.

Identify the target audience and their needs.

Gather Data:

Collect and prepare the necessary data for your analysis.

Ensure data quality and address any data cleaning requirements.

Install Tableau:

Download and install Tableau Desktop on your machine.

Connect to Data:

Open Tableau and connect to your data source (Excel, CSV, databases, etc.).

Perform any necessary data transformations within Tableau.

Understand Data Structure:

Explore the data to understand its structure and relationships.

Identify key dimensions and measures.

Create Worksheets:

Build individual worksheets with appropriate charts and visualizations.

Utilize the drag-and-drop interface to add fields to Rows and Columns shelves.

Design Layout:

Plan the layout of your dashboard.

Arrange sheets in a logical order and use containers to organize content.

Create Calculations:

Use calculated fields to derive new measures or customize existing ones.

Leverage Tableau's calculation language for advanced computations.

Filter Data:

Apply filters to focus on relevant data points.

Consider global and context filters for interactive dashboards.

Add Interactivity:

Include parameters and actions for user interactivity.

Allow users to filter data dynamically and explore different scenarios.

Create Dashboards:

Combine individual worksheets into a cohesive dashboard.

Arrange elements, add titles, and ensure a clean and intuitive layout.

Enhance Visual Appeal:

Choose appropriate colors and fonts to enhance readability.

Utilize formatting options to make the dashboard visually appealing.

Test and Iterate:

Test your dashboard with potential users to gather feedback.

Iterate and make improvements based on user input.

Publish to Tableau Server or Tableau Online:

Publish your dashboard to Tableau Server or Tableau Online for sharing and collaboration.

Set permissions and access controls as needed.

Document and Maintain:

Document data sources, calculations, and design choices for future reference.

Regularly update and maintain the dashboard as data changes or new requirements arise.

Train Users:

Provide training and documentation to help users understand how to interact with the dashboard effectively.

Monitor and Optimize:

Monitor the performance of your dashboard and optimize as needed.

Keep an eye on data refresh schedules and ensure timely updates.

Following these steps will help you create effective and engaging Tableau dashboards that deliver valuable insights to your audience.

Find Tableau Consulting Services

[jackson-odoo-powerbi-expert]

Connect Odoo with Tableau Desktop

The Techfinna Odoo Tableau Connector is a integration tool that connects Odoo with Tableau, enabling real-time data extraction and visualization. With features like custom table selection, automatic schema detection, and support for live data refresh, it simplifies the process of creating dynamic dashboards and reports. This connector empowers businesses to unlock deeper insights and make data-driven decisions efficiently.

#odoo #odooerp #odoosoftware #odoomodule #crm #accounting #salesforce #connector #integration #odoo18 #odoo17 #microsoft #powerbi #desktop #odoo services#odooimplementation#google#odoo development company#odoo crm#microsoft#odoo erp#odoo#good omens

[bigscaryd]

I really really hate Falun Dafa and it's associated businesses, but two things can be true at once: just because they suck real bad doesn't mean they weren't repressed and oppressed by the Chinese government; just because they were repressed and oppressed doesn't mean they're noble.

Indeed, causation does seem to run in the somewhat sympathetic direction - while weird and racist from its founding, it does appear from contemporaneous accounts that the full-bore reactionary/neo-Imperial politics and destructive behavior at least somewhat arise from or in reaction to the suppression and mistreatment of the group.

[lumardesigns]

Mastery Journal

How has the Business Intelligence Technology course met your Mastery Journal Timeline monthly expectations and goals for this course?

The Business Intelligence Technology course met my expectations for this month for teaching and walking me through practical application of BI through the ETL process and implementation of and management of data warehousing. This course exceeded my expectations by going over “Foot Work” (Thornthwaite, 2007) meaning there is no automated way to collect the value DW/BI systems have created; you basically need to get your feet on the ground and ask the questions. Another insight is MARKETING! Marketing and implementation of these systems are very important to the success of DW/BI systems. We were also able to extract, load, and transform data in real time using multiple spreadsheets and extract only the information we needed while editing the format (headers). After we loaded and made maps that were actionable.

What have you learned from the course content? Throughout this course, I have gained a deep understanding of business intelligence (BI) systems, including how to manage databases, store data, and uncover valuable insights for decision-making. I explored transactional databases and online processing (OLTP), learning how they support essential BI functions such as reporting, performance monitoring, and forecasting. Additionally, I developed skills in using the ETL (Extract, Transform, Load) process within Microsoft BI, which plays a crucial role in preparing and structuring data effectively. I now understand that cleaning and editing data before loading it into Microsoft BI significantly enhances accuracy, efficiency, and overall business intelligence outcomes.

How might you apply what you learned as you proceed through the Business Intelligence program and in your professional career upon graduation? Throughout the program and in my career after graduating from Full Sail University, I will be able to leverage key Business Intelligence (BI) technologies to improve organizational efficiency and decision-making. By utilizing tools like data warehousing, data cubes, and online analytical processing (OLAP), I can help businesses effectively store, organize, and analyze data. These technologies enable companies to uncover patterns, track performance, and generate insights that drive strategic decisions. Additionally, I can use BI tools to distribute actionable business information, ensuring that teams and stakeholders have access to relevant data that supports informed and effective decision-making.

Reference

Thornthwaite, W. (2007, August 27). Kimball University: Educate management to sustain data warehouse/BI success. InformationWeek. Retrieved from https://www.informationweek.com/it-sectors/kimball-university-educate-management-to-sustain-data-warehouse-bi-success

[cavillionlearning]

Why Learn Tableau? Here are 5 powerful reasons to get started with this industry-leading tool

1. Industry-Leading Visualization: Transform raw data into stunning visuals!

2. High Demand in Data Analytics: Tableau skills are highly valued in today’s job market.

3. Actionable Insights in Minutes: Make data-driven decisions faster.

4. User-Friendly Interface: Easy to learn, even for beginners.

5. Boost Your Career: Stand out in data roles and advance your career! Want to take your skills to the next level?

Join our 1-day Tableau Bootcamp on 2nd November (Online)!

[atharvasys]

Seamless Data Visualization with Our Tableau Development Services

Unlock the power of your data with our specialized Tableau Consulting Services. Our team of experts provides tailored solutions that transform complex data into insightful visualizations, enabling informed decision-making. Whether you need assistance with Tableau Development Services or ongoing support, we are dedicated to helping your business leverage Tableau's capabilities to drive growth and performance. Partner with us for comprehensive Tableau consulting that empowers your data journey.

[aegisisc]

In this post, we’ll compare the key capabilities of Spotfire vs. Tableau to help inform which solution may be best for your needs.

[geekersmagazine]

Enhancing Data Visualization: Effective And Engaging Design Tips With Tableau

Data visualizations will permit firms to communicate insights, trends, and performance metrics to diverse audiences through intuitive graphical representations. Tableau’s interactive dashboards make presenting data impactful, but effective design is critical. Follow these best practices for creating immersive, effective data visualizations with Tableau. Overview Of Data Visualization With…

[manisha15]

Scope of A.I

If you are interested in a career in AI, there are a number of things you can do to prepare. You can start by taking courses in computer science, data science, and machine learning. You can also gain experience by working on AI projects or internships. And finally, you can network with other professionals in the field.The most in demand job profilesin AI are

Robotics Scientist: Robotics scientists are responsible for designing, developing, and testing robots. They use their knowledge of AI, computer science, and engineering to create robots that can perform a variety of tasks, such as manufacturing, healthcare, and transportation.

Big Data Engineer: Big data engineers are responsible for collecting, storing, and processing large datasets. They use their knowledge of data science, cloud computing, and software engineering to build and maintain big data systems.

BI Developer: BI developers are responsible for creating and maintaining business intelligence (BI) solutions. They use their knowledge of data analysis, visualization, and reporting to help businesses make better decisions.

Data Scientist: Data scientists are responsible for collecting, cleaning, and analyzing data. They use their knowledge of statistics, machine learning, and programming to extract insights from data and help businesses make better decisions.

Machine Learning Engineer: Machine learning engineers are responsible for designing, developing, and deploying machine learning models. They use their knowledge of statistics, machine learning, and programming to build models that can learn from data and make predictions. The demand for AI skills is expected to continue to grow in the coming years. As a result, those who are skilled in AI will be in high demand in the workforce. Some of the reputed platforms that offers courses in A.I are Coursera, Udemy, edX, DigiCrome Academy, Next Hikes

If you like my blog, don't forget to subscribe and like.

[aegissofttech]

Large amounts of data can be used to generate a variety of visualizations without compromising the dashboards' performance. Thousands of rows of data can be handled with efficiency via Tableau. Read More @ https://bit.ly/3JYslU3

[cece693]

Okay, I just got this idea and I couldn't get it out of my head. So, you know how Hannigram's whole thing is about understanding and feeding into one's dark/immoral side (I can't find the words to explain my brain process, but stick with me). What if Hannigram has a third partner that sees that and enjoys it, but to a sick, obsessive, self fulfilling way. Like, don't get me wrong, they find Hannibal and Will attractive and fuckable, but what gets them going and keeps their relationship alive is murder and tableaus (basically the reader wanting to have a murderer show them their significance through blood and gore.) Don't know how this idea comes across to you guys, but that's how this fic was born.

MURDER IS OUR LOVE LANGUAGE

pairing: hannigram x male reader tags: matthew develops an attraction to the reader, hannigram doesn't like this, jealousy, reader doesn't get his hands dirty, that doesn't mean he's innocent though, reader is such a tease, no explicit mention of cheating, but emotionally cheating can be discerned

You always thought love should cost something. Not flowers wilted in a vase or rings crusted with diamonds, but weight—bone‑heavy, irreversible proof that someone scraped the marrow of their soul out just to show you its shape. Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham understood that language better than anyone else. That’s why you’d slipped so easily between them: a harmony stitched from hunger, empathy, and rot.

Tonight the three of you stand ankle‑deep in snow that glows foxfire‑blue beneath a half moon. The tableau is simple—almost quaint by their standards. A hunter strung from an ironwood, his ribcage cracked open like a cathedral door; lungs spread and frozen into two translucent wings. “Psychopomp,” you named it, because Will taught you words have gravity, and Hannibal taught you gravity can be bent.

Will kneels to photograph the crystalline blood‑flakes dusting underneath the hung corpse. His breath fogs around the lens, eyes shining with the fever that once scared him but now feels like prayer. But Hannibal watches you instead, catching the little tremor of fascination that runs through your fingers.

“Do you approve?" he asks, voice velvet over steel.

You drag a gloved fingertip along the cold cartilage, feel it click like piano ivory. “Approved, stamped, and filed under ravishing. You boys really do know how to flirt.”

A crease of satisfaction ghosts across Hannibal's mouth. Will rises, cheeks pinked by cold and arousal alike, and slips behind you, arms looping around your waist. “Then give us our grade.”

“Ten out of ten for artistry.” You lean closer so they hear the grin in your voice. “Eight for theatricality—you’re slipping, Doctor Lecter." Hannibal’s answering hum thrums down your spine. He adores being challenged, more so when that guarantees your place beside them.

Murder isn't just a bond you three share, it's the foundation of your relationship. You found Will and Hannibal handsome, fuckable, even lovable—but that wasn’t why you stayed. You stayed because every tableau, every splatter, every shuddering breath drawn in front of carefully displayed viscera made you feel seen. Loved in a way words would always fail.

Yet lately, you've felt that ache of familiarity creeping up your spine, whispering about routine. Hannibal notices first, of course, though he doesn't voice it. He simply adjusts his compositions, each kill growing more extravagant, more desperate to retain your awe. Will sees it too, reading your disinterest in the micro-tensions of your posture and the subtle way your attention strays.

And then you meet Matthew Brown.

Having gone to congratulate Alana on her position as the new director at BSHCI after Chilton's 'tragic' demise, you walked down the corridor with a bottle of Folle Blanche to celebrate the news, but was stopped by a man.

He appears out of a utility alcove like a conjured spirit—tall, muscular, with hair the color of autumn leaves cropped close to his skull. His badge reads BROWN, M. but his grin is all teeth and appetite. “Doctor Bloom apologizes,” he says, voice pitched just above a purr. “Her meeting is running long. I'm tasked to bring you to her office."

You don't speak, rather studying him the way you study every living thing: searching for the fracture lines where something tender might leak out. He meets your gaze without flinching. There’s a brightness in his eyes you recognize—an ember forever looking for oxygen.

“Oh,” you murmur, stepping into his orbit, “That's unfortunate. Please, lead the way."

The corridor yawns ahead—white‑tile ribcage, fluorescence buzzing like flies in bone. Matthew’s stride is loose and confident, a man perfectly at home among the medicated damned. “You bring brandy to a psychiatric ward often?” he asks without turning, voice velvet over a razor.

“Only for promotions.” You watch the flex of his shoulders under the thin cotton scrubs. “Most people settle for flowers. I prefer spirits—they keep better company.”

A low chuckle. “I imagine you’re excellent company yourself.”

“Depends how you define excellent.” You let the words hover, bait‑sweet. He bites.

“I like stories that end in blood.” He glances back; the grin widens when you don’t recoil. “Does that qualify?”

Oh, darling, you think, the ache of routine already easing under your sternum, that’s the prologue. After a few minutes, you reach the elevator meant for administration, yet Matthew guides you down a maintenance stairwell that reeks of bleach and ancient rust. He taps an access card; a steel door unlatches with a hiss.

“Short‑cut.”

Inside, the room is nothing more than storage: linens, old restraints, crates of expired morphine ampoules. But also, there's a patient transport gurney parked beneath a bare bulb, mattress stripped, its straps unbuckled like a half‑dressed lover.

Matthew steps close enough that you feel the heat of him through winter wool. “I’m a fan,” he murmurs. “of your work.”

You arch a brow. “My work?”

“Cathedral wings in Minnesota. ‘Psychopomp’ in the ironwood grove.” He names them unerringly, each syllable dripping reverence. “You leave fingerprints in the stitching, you know. Empathy that’s inverted. I study it. I want—” He swallows, lashes flicking down. “Lessons.”

It takes effort not to shiver. “How thorough a pupil are you, Mr. Brown?”

“As thorough as you need.” His breath ghosts your cheek. “Show me a cut; I’ll make it sing.”

Some distant part of you registers risk—Alana two floors up, Hannibal and Will somewhere in Baltimore most likely feeling the shift in your attention like changing barometric pressure—but the greater part thrills. You lift the bottle, letting the neck trail down the line of his sternum until it settles against his belt buckle.

“Earn the toast.” you whisper.

Matthew’s eyes flare. He reaches behind, produces a folded surgical towel already blooming rust‑brown. Inside: a scalpel, clean and eager. “Patient tried to gut me with that yesterday,” he says, offering the handle. “Barely nicked skin. Shall we finish the gesture?”

You test the weight—balanced, hungry. “Where?”

His hands frame his own torso, bare stretch of forearm exposed. “There’s an anatomy lab one level below. Cadavers, tools, no cameras.” He leans in. “We could write a first chapter.”

You imagine formalin fumes, greenish light, bone saws waiting like choirboys. Your pulse pounds, but jealousy is currency, and you are a banker.

Sliding the blade back into his pocket, you lean forward, lips a mere inch apart. "Soon," You promise. "But first, show me something worth teaching."

Matthew’s pupils dilate—dusky rings swallowing color—yet he nods, swallowing whatever reckless plea trembles on his tongue. The promise of soon burns hotter than a kiss. He slips the scalpel away, tucks the towel back into the linen cart, and straightens as though dismissed by royalty.

TIME SKIP

You arrive home late—Hannibal still with clients and Will whisked away by the FBI—giving you time to set your plan into motion. Matthew speaks about death the way priests speak about God, reverent and fascinated, but never quite understanding. You find his fervor charming, his lack of restraint oddly invigorating. Matthew is nothing like your carefully refined lovers; he is raw, volatile, but most importantly—new.

Fingers trailing to your lips, you let the faint smear of his cologne linger, before rubbing your thumb across the lapel of your coat until the scent bled deeper into the weave. Matthew’s aftershave was a cheap blend—sandalwood, camphor, a top‑note of something medicinal that clung like disinfectant—but beneath it lay adrenaline, hot copper, the musk of fear edged with hunger. You could still taste it when you pressed two fingers to your tongue.

In the study you drew the blackout curtains, then laid your phone on the desk. A single new message from Brown glowed on the lock screen: Tell me what color you want the insides, and I’ll match the shade exactly.

Reverent, breathless. A priest awaiting scripture.

You didn’t answer. Anticipation was the holiest silence.

Instead you crossed to the cheval mirror and shed your coat, draping it carefully so the scent wouldn’t escape. You peeled off your gloves next, holding them flat in your palm. Their leather was dusted with chalky residue from the stairwell wall—Matthew’s back had pressed there when you’d leaned in, hemmed him with your shadow, promised soon. You lifted the gloves to your face and inhaled.

Raw. Volatile. New.

The words pulsed through you like second heartbeat.

Hannibal and Will arrived an hour later, the door downstairs making noise, yet you remained silent. Your fingers continuing to drift idly over the piano keys, letting your lovers know exactly where you are. Muted notes thumped against the keys as you let one fingertip fall, then another—toneless, more rhythm than music. Each click announced I‑am‑here and, more provocatively, come‑find‑me.

The townhouse echoed with boot steps. Coats rustled. A door latched. Still you played—click, click, click—until Will stormed into the music room like a hunting dog off leash.

“You could answer when we call,” he snapped, damp hair plastered to his forehead. Rain or sweat—you couldn’t tell, but the scent was pure agitation.

“I was occupied.” Click. You never looked up.

Hannibal followed, slower, shutting the parlor doors behind him with the finality of a vault. He removed his gloves finger by finger, gaze crawling over you. “Busy with what?” The faint tremor in his voice belonged to a man suppressing the urge to bare teeth.

“Or whom,” Will corrected, pacing a tight circuit around the piano bench. “You reek of hospital disinfectant and someone else’s cologne.”

You finally lifted your eyes, meeting Will’s with a lazy smile. “Smell is such a subjective sense. You sure it isn’t imagination?”

Will planted both palms on the piano keys, trapping your hands beneath his. His pupils were blow‑black, jealousy flicking like a lighter. “Who touched you?”

You shrugged, the gesture making your wrists grind under his weight. “A friend. We talked anatomy.” You cocked your head, letting your gaze drift down Will’s throat—tracking the jump of his pulse. “He’s enthusiastic.”

“Matthew,” Hannibal supplied before stepping closer. “The scent matches his locker in the sub‑basement.” He inhaled at your hairline, lips almost grazing your crown. “Camphor and old fear. All that just from a hug?”

You laughed, breath warm against his cheek. “A near‑kiss, maybe. I could feel his pulse through my coat. Like a rabbit between a wolf’s jaws.” Your words were soft; their effect was napalm.

Will’s grip closed, bruising. “Did he taste you?”

“Not yet.” You slid one trapped hand free to trace the seam of Will’s lower lip. “But he wanted to.”

A flash of motion—Hannibal’s hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back so your throat arched. “You allowed desire to linger on your skin,” he murmured, jealousy silky and cold. “Why?”

You hissed at the delicious sting. “Because it’s a mirror. I watch you watching me, and I feel alive.”

Will’s fingers left the keyboard to clutch your waist, hauling you off the bench. The piano stool clattered aside. Your spine kissed the baby‑grand’s polished edge; Hannibal’s body pressed from behind, sandwiching you. You sensed the taut reins of their control fraying. “Have you pictured him alongside you?” Will’s voice was an acid snarl. “A new toy so you can discard us?”

You let a breathy laugh slip, tilting your head just enough that Hannibal’s lips skimmed your pulse. “Discard you? Darling, I’m not insane. Even the gods keep their oldest monsters close.”

Will loomed closer, the twin lines between his brows cut deep. “Then why entertain him at all?”

“Because first kills taste different,” you whispered. “Don’t you remember? The bright, copper rush before skill dulls it down to routine? Matthew carries that thrill in every heartbeat. I want—” Your lashes fluttered as Hannibal’s teeth grazed skin. “—to taste it again.”

Hannibal’s hands slid down, thumbs hooking your belt to keep you still while he spoke against your ear. “Do you crave novelty or worship?”

“Both,” you confessed, arching when Will’s thigh crowded between yours. “He’d bleed a rosary if I asked. Maybe I’d let you string the beads.”

Jealousy cracked across Will’s face—equal parts fury and hunger. He grabbed your jaw, forcing your gaze to his. “You belong to us.”

“Then prove it,” you challenged, lips curling. “Stake your claim before the altar-boy rings his bells.”

The provocation snapped the last thread.

Will’s mouth crashed onto yours—open, savage, tasting of storm. Behind you, Hannibal set his teeth to your shoulder, most definitely leaving a mark in case you decide to give into Matthew.

Your breath stuttered, pleasure and mischief tangling in your throat. You could feel the bruise blossoming beneath Hannibal’s teeth—a violet signature no cheap cologne could mask. Will’s hand fisted in your hair, wrenching your head back until the chandelier light flooded your vision.

“Say it,” he growled, lips a razor’s breadth from yours. “Whose?”

You swallowed a laugh that tasted like lightning. “I’m yours.”

Hannibal’s tongue soothed the bite, the low rumble in his chest equal parts pride and warning. “Pluralize, beloved.”

“I’m both of yours.” Your gaze flicked between them—Will’s eyes blown black, Hannibal’s molten gold. “For now.”

Will’s nostrils flared; jealousy flashed like sheet‑lightning. “For always.”

“Convince me,” you whispered, deliberately arching against Hannibal’s front, grinding spine to mahogany and hips into Will’s thigh. “Make me feel it.”

Will answered with teeth, biting the hinge of your jaw—claim staked in living flesh—while Hannibal’s palm slid to your throat, a velvet collar of intent. “You feel this?” Hannibal’s thumb graced your pulse, languid as a garrote. “That’s our music. We dictate the tempo.”

“And if I prefer a faster rhythm?” You let the taunt drip like warm resin. “Matthew’s heartbeat was—”

Will cut you off with a brutal kiss, swallowing the name like poison. “His heart stops tomorrow,” he hissed against your lips. “Yours keeps playing for us.”

“You’ll stain it ultramarine?” you panted, half‑mocking, half‑pleading. “The shade of a drowned lung?”

Hannibal chuckled, dark silk. “We’ll give you a cathedral of blue—lungs fanned like wings, every vein a ribbon for your hair.”

A ripple of desire shuddered through you so hard the piano strings thrummed in sympathy. “Then show me now,” you dared, voice hoarse, “how a maestro rehearses before opening night.”

In a single movement Will gripped your thighs, hoisting you onto the piano. Wood groaned beneath sudden weight. Hannibal pressed in from behind, caging you between bodies and black lacquer. “Hands on the keys,” Will ordered. You obeyed, fingers splaying across ivory. The cold bite of the keys grounded you—one wrong twitch and you’d crash a cacophony through the quiet, an exquisite risk.

Will leaned forward, breath searing your ear. “Play something.”

“What?”

“Anything,” Hannibal murmured, lips ghosting your nape. “We’ll accompany.”

You struck a hesitant chord—D minor, aching and unresolved. Will matched the rhythm, mouth descending to the hollow of your throat, sucking a bruise in perfect meter. Hannibal’s hand slid lower, fingertips tapping your ribs in sync, each note an incremental invasion.

Another chord—A minor. Will’s teeth. Hannibal’s palm cupping you through fabric.

You gasped, a discordant trill that made both men smile—predators harmonizing over prey willingly caught. “Keep playing,” Will commanded, voice a rasp of thunderclouds. “You stop, we stop.”

Challenge accepted.

Your hands shook but you kept the melody staggering forward—something baroque and broken, exactly befitting three monsters starved for novelty.

Hannibal’s free hand found your chin, tilting it until you met his gaze. “When the lungs bloom blue,” he promised, “we’ll lay them here, across these keys, so every note tastes of devotion.”

Will’s answering hum vibrated against your sternum. “And you’ll play us a love song on them.”

Your pulse hammered wild arpeggios under Hannibal’s thumb. “Then I’ll need a full octave,” you whispered, voice frayed with want. “Both lungs together.”

“Greedy,” Hannibal chastised, though delight shone in his eyes.

“Insatiable,” Will corrected, teeth grazing your ear. “Exactly how we like you.”

You struck another chord—E minor—and let the resonance wash through the room. It was met by the low, feral sounds of your lovers devouring jealousy and turning it into worship against your skin. Tomorrow, Matthew’s lungs would sing ultramarine under moonlight. Tonight, the three of you composed the overture—each gasp, each bruise, each trembling key a promise that art would always cost blood, and love would always demand more.

[blorger]

As a seasoned Draco Malfoy stan, I appreciate and enjoy reading too much into every single one of his book appearances but if I was forced, gun to my head, to pick just one as my favorite I'd probably go with the astronomy tower scene in HBP.

Draco and Dumbledore's conversation is truly a standout gem like few others in the books and any Malfoy scholar worth their salt ought to be well-versed in it; it's a veritable keystone moment for Draco's character development as it offers a glimpse into his inner workings like nothing else does, not to mention the much needed nuance and depth it adds to his characterisation. I felt like it was my civic duty to contribute to the Malfoy studies curriculum with a deeper look into Draco's Big Moment so I went ahead and produced this,

Draco's big day out: a retrospective

To set the scene: Draco has just spent the better part of a school year trying to kill Dumbledore under orders/threats from Voldemort himself and we join him atop the astronomy tower just as his plan comes to fruition. Dumbledore and Harry -our hidden observer- land there after a hectic day of Horcrux hunting (having been lured there via morsmordre), at which point Draco proceeds to disarm Dumbledore

Dumbledore has just consumed large quantities of poison and is actively dying on account of a curse he received earlier in the year ( also he's not planning on defending himself for Big Byzantine Plan reasons) but, according to Harry, Dumbledore gets disarmed fair and square

so let us give a round of applause to our boy Draco because, as Dumbledore begins talking to him, things stop going according to plan .

As the book's denouement takes place through Dumbledore and Draco's conversation we begin to notice that a few things are off with the tableau; the roles of captive and captor seem reversed and Draco, who ought to be more confident than ever, is having trouble going through with his plan.

We learn a few things through Draco's various appearances in the books but something that has perhaps not been obvious thus far is that he is just not a violent person. In all of Harry and Draco's skirmishes throughout the books, Draco has never once initiated a physical confrontation and his inexperience and uncertainty are made manifest now that things have come to a head: as the Deatheaters that Draco let into Hogwarts via the vanishing cabinet confront members of the Order, Draco shows more and more signs of unease with the violence taking place:

and

and

Draco is so distressed by the violence he's witnessing that he feels the need to tell Dumbledore he isn't involved in it. Here he takes pain to both distance himself from what he believes to be a murder and to inform Dumbledore of what happened

and here he feels the need to inform Dumbledore that he didn't intend for the notoriously bloodthirsty Fernir Greyback to come to Hogwarts

As Dumbledore and Draco talk, we see that Dumbledore understands fully not only what is happening but also Draco's feeling about it.

Dumbledore is certain that Draco won't kill him (and he will later be proven right); another important thing to notice is that Draco is labelled an "innocent".

In one of Snape's memories that Harry witnesses in DH, we find out that Dumbledore, aware of the mission Draco had been entrusted with and fully intending to die by the end of the year, wanted Snape to be the one that killed him precisely because he saw Draco as an innocent

Perhaps because of this (or maybe just to stall long enough until Snape can come in and kill him), Dumbledore's attitude towards Draco is paternal and teacherly through their conversation; he encourages Draco to tell him all about his various schemes and praises his inventiveness throughout

and

and

Draco, for his part, seems to crave this recognition and, as the conversation progresses, begins showing his reluctance to kill more and more openly and shows sign of self sabotage

As Draco and Dumbledore dissect the situation they find themselves in, Draco also feels the need to warn Dumbledore of Snape's duplicity

Another thing of note is just how young Draco sounds throughout the scene. In front of Dumbledore, who acts almost paternal, Draco sounds like a boy, petulant and insecure:

and

Finally we come to the crux of the matter: both Draco and Dumbledore know that Draco is not a killer

so Dumbledore attempts to save Draco from the impossible situation he finds himself in

and

it's here that we find out that, for all his bluster about wanting the glory that would come from killing Dumbledore (and aside from his very founded worry for his own life), Draco has been motivated to participate in his mission out of worry for his own family

it's because of them that he still tries to make himself kill Dumbledore and it's Dumbledore's offer of saving them that ultimately makes him lower his wand

and

[patchouii]

Some Hannibal & Will headcanons I have, just for fun:

. Hannibal has a sweet tooth. Usually he doesn’t allow himself to indulge in it, but every so often he’ll have a designated “cheat day” and make pastries and sweets. All of which somehow manage to utilize the versatility of his favorite secret ingredient, just for the wickedly ironic juxtaposition of it.

. Part of the reason Will likes fishing is because it’s an activity in a quiet, meditative environment that makes it easier for him to use his empathy to visualize the world around him as he wishes, sort of how he does with crime scenes. He started doing it while fishing with his dad, and he’d joke that Will would “go all glassy-eyed like the fish”.

. Will can use the excess of mirror neurons that give him his unique “empathy” abilities to mimic bird calls and even people’s voices really well, and he enjoys doing so. Sometimes he’ll say something stupid with Hannibal’s voice just to annoy him. Usually it’s something with a bad cannibal pun in it.

. Despite his criticisms of Will’s old aftershave, the reminder of their beginnings and how far they’ve come is too strong for Hannibal to resist. A bottle of it appears in the bathroom of wherever they’re staying for Will to use— it’s nostalgic, and it also lets him know where Will is if they’re separated in a crowd.

. Hannibal has an old scar where the back of his neck joins his shoulders. It has a faint chain-link pattern to it from abraded skin freezing to a metal chain and being pulled off thanks to the horrors of one fateful winter. Will never asks about flaying it off like he did with the Verger brand— he knows the answer.

. Will develops a phobia of deep water after the fall, his decision to take them over due to Dolarhyde’s camera still running for Jack to find and the adrenaline-and-euphoria l’appel du vide of the moment haunting him with nightmares. He refuses to let it rule him, swimming laps in their pool at night. Hannibal often joins him.

. Sometimes, instead of going right to sleep, reading, or having some fun before bed, they’ll lay on their backs side-by-side with their hands laced and delve into their minds together. Hannibal will close his eyes and enter his memory palace, Will often keeps his eyes open and unseeing and visualizes with his empathy.

. The actual first time Will kisses Hannibal is when he’s on Chiyoh’s boat on the Atlantic. He’s high on pain meds and roiling with emotion over Hannibal’s unconscious form beside him. It’s just a soft, weak brush of lips. In his feverish state, he hopes that Hannibal’s infection will spread to him so that he can’t leave him behind if he dies of it.

. The first kiss they really count happens when they’re both settled in Cuba, sitting on the porch of the little beach house Hannibal secured for them and watching the sunset, drinking iced hibiscus tea. Will only confesses much later that the red droplets on Hannibal’s lips reminded him of blood and he just leaned right in unconsciously.

. Even though they have to be careful with their kills post-fall, Hannibal makes sure to allow for one special kill every year. He sets up a tableau of a skinned man in the shape of a heart with flowers stabbed through the skin in a remote location and lets Will figure out how to find it by Valentine’s Day.

. Will lets Hannibal teach him how to do serial killing. It ends up sating his curiosity about the theories he’d had on the Ripper as well as further sating his dark urges, growing those appetites. The fact that Hannibal has his victims awake on the table sometimes is a point of contention, Will feels bad that the only part of him that feels bad is the part that mirrors the victims if he isn’t careful.

. Between Will’s empathy picking up on all the little details and emotional indicators and being able to copy them back and Hannibal’s analytical skills and expertise with conveying the image he wants through tone and body language alone, they can communicate wordlessly. They sometimes default to this, whether intentionally or not. It’s a little unnerving to watch.

. Will has a not-so-slight caffeine addiction after many years of drinking coffee to get out the door early from college to his cop years to Jack calling at ungodly hours. He won’t drink anything but instant microwave Folgers. Hannibal has tried to replace the coffee in the container but Will catches it every time.