#thirteen reasons why aesthetic

[witduel]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤi have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which i sometimes so madly indulge. it has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that i have periled life and reputation and reason. it has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ― edgar allan poe

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

I believe this is the tiktok op is talking about. For those who don't feel like opening the link, here's what it says:

This is yet another case of Alicent stans being pissy when confronted with the truth of her character and taking it out on Rhaenyra. The poster of the tiktok is simply pointing out Alicent's hypocrisy and how readily she sacrificed her daughter for her ambition.

Apparently op believes Rhaenyra stans are making up actual facts of the story? I know they didn't read the book, but did they even watch the actual show? The main reason why Rhaenyra is seen as a better mother than Alicent is because we actually see how they treat their children.

Alicent takes every opportunity she has to instill treason into her sons. She teaches Aemond that Rhaenyra's sons are below him and constantly yells at Aegon that he's the "true heir". She actively allows Aegon to bully Aemond, as long as he does is in private. She full on physically assaults him when she thinks he's being too disgraceful in public.

With Helaena, it doesn't really matter how nicely Alicent treated her. Ultimately, Helaena is treated by her mother as a method to support Aegon's claim and give him "true Targaryen" heirs.

In the show, this is made even more disgusting because Alicent herself was forced to marry at a young age and have children she didn't want. She forced her only daughter to marry Aegon, who bullied and demeaned her, at fucking thirteen, this likely being when Helaena started menstruating. That's not being just a "flawed mother", that's a woman sacrificing her daughter in the name of blind ambition and treason.

I'm sure Alicent did love her children, in her own demented way. But she didn't love them enough to spare them from her and her father's ambitions. Alicent sacrificed each of her children for the throne and lived to see them all die for it.

Rhaenyra loved her children more than anything, part of the reason she fought so hard was for them. She knew Alicent's psychopathic sons would kill them if she surrendered. Every scene of Rhaenyra and her children, we see how much she cares about them and how tenderly she treats them. No, Rhaenyra isn't a perfect mother, but her sons never doubt for a moment that she loves them.

Not to mention that Rhaenyra actually respects their opinions, she included Jace, Luke, and even Baela and Rhaena in her war councils, and takes their opinions seriously. Alicent doesn't listen to her daughter or treat her like an adult. Aegon she drags around like a reluctant chess piece, one she beats because she can't deal with the the fact that she raised a rapist, but doesn't actually care enough to not make him the most powerful man in the realm. Aemond she treats as her emotional support, which is interesting given how completely unstable the guy is.

Op is another example of how Alicent stans don't actually like Alicent as a character, they like her aesthetic and victimhood. They hate how Alicent actually is written and lash out at anyone who points out who she really is.

[iepurasdepraf]

Hhhhhi~ Um... this was supposed to be short, but uh...it's not. Part 2 soon. I hope you like it! Feed back is appreciated. I will likely rewrite this before part 2 or before it goes up on a03. Anyway! Here you go.

Acrid smoke stung your eyes until the oscillating fan made another pass giving you respite until the cigarette between your teeth burned down a little more. You needed it. That hit of nicotine to keep your eyes open even if it made it hard to at the same time. You were at the tail end of an eight hour shift, tired. Bone tired. It was day four of five and you had to come back tomorrow at 7pm. It was 4:47am. You just wanted to go home.To sleep. Thirteen more minutes and you were free. Just thirteen more. Thinking about it made your arms feel heavier, even counting your tips felt like a chore at this point. “Hey! You got a guy!” 

You were too tired to groan. You ripped the cigarette out of your mouth and asked as nicely as you could manage “Table or VIP?” “I dunno,” The other girl said, waddling past you with one of her heels off already. “Just asked for you on my way back and I said I’d get you for him.” You snuff your smoke out a little too aggressively, but she doesn’t notice. You weren’t mad at her and didn’t want her to think that so you take a deep breath and check yourself. Whatever this guy wanted would end with a big fat tip for your efforts. Not a bad way to end the night and so you pop a stick of peppermint gum in your mouth out of the tray on the table and put on your best smile while shuffling your money and zipping it up in your bag to take home. 

“Wish me luck.” You say tossing your bag back in your locker and shrugging on your ripped up black tank top on over your bra. It was enough. You weren’t going to pull out all the stops this early in the morning and you were wearing most of your layers anyway. “Good luck!” She called after you. You nearly jump out of your skin when you straight up run into the guy making him take a few staggered steps back after opening the door. He’d been waiting so close to it you were shocked you didn’t hit him right in schnoz. At least you knew who’d asked for you right away.

“Well hey there, handsome!” He was, in fact, not handsome. He was- God, he was really sweaty. Why was he so sweaty? You’d barely touched him and you felt like someone hit you with a toad straight out of a parking lot puddle.

“Hh-ih-hhh-hi.” Oh no, he was a weird one. Like really weird. He stood there in all his buck toothed glory wringing his hands, out of his element entirely in a dorky little suit with a terrible comb over and glasses that magnified his eyes to the point of comedy. Shaking. Trembling. In absolute shambles and for no reason you could see. Existing was this creature’s enemy.

Those big brown eyes blinked up at you and he said…absolutely nothing. He only got out that squeaky hi. He’d been hard to hear over the music, but you weren’t worried about Mr. Mumbles. You’d be back in the VIP soon enough by your estimation and be able to hear him just fine. You put that winning smile back on and his shivering intensified. You didn’t think his eyes could get bigger, but he responded like you’d taken your top off in front of him for the second time tonight. 

He was just your type. Those sweet old nerds that never peaked fell head over heels for you and the 80’s goth aesthetic you so carefully cultivated for work. You triggered that nostalgia for that youth they missed out on, the prime they could have had. The hot girl in their comp-sci class they could never work up the courage to even wave at in the hall and for a couple of thin easily earned, for them at least, measly dollars you could be theirs for just a few minutes. To look at and, for the right price, you’d touch them and they could pretend they hadn’t been such losers.

“What can the Banshee do for you?” “Mmm…” You glanced at the clock then back at him. There was no such thing as overtime here, little man. You couldn’t say that, but you certainly thought it at least twice before he said “I-I-I was hoping wh-” He had some kind of a tic. It looked like he flinched. Maybe he had. It made your shaved eyebrow arch.

 4’10, mousey brown hair. Greasy. Eyes watery and dark. The job came with it’s hazards and it looked like this guy might be one of them. You memorized his features, there weren’t any identifying marks you could see, just in case. Just like your boss had taught you. “I was hoping for a private, uh, show?” Oh, he was English. Now that he was actually managing some words you could hear the accent. That was weird. This wasn’t exactly a tourist destination. He must work in the city? “Yeah?” You say sounding more interested in it than you actually were. 

Your faux enthusiasm made him perk up. “I-I-I brought money! A lot of money!” He reached into his coat and pulled out the biggest wad of cash you’d ever seen with both hands, it had to be at least ten thousand dollars. You grabbed his hands and held them down between the two of you so no one else could see. “Woah! Easy there, killer!” Was he insane?! This was Oldtown Gotham! He’d have jumped for a couple of fives down here if they knew he had them. 

All he did in response was gasp when you touched him then stare down at where your hands had met his sweaty actively vibrating ones. “Let’s take this to the back, alright? You gotta be more careful.” He didn’t move at all until you moved him. Taking that huge brick of cash in one hand and his wrist in the other, you marched him to the first empty VIP lounge like he was a downright naughty boy being taken to his room.

Once the door was locked you turned to him “You could have been killed for this if anyone saw you with it.” You chastised bringing his hand up to set the cash in it. He didn’t answer, still staring at your hand on his wrist so you let him go. To his credit, he seemed to function better in the back. Maybe it had been the lights and loud music that had put him over the edge on top of whatever else he was dealing with? You didn’t know, but after a long quiet reboot he looked a little more human and a lot less like a rat that had touched the third rail. At least he was speaking up now or in the quiet room you could at least hear him better. You couldn’t tell. “I didn’t…think about it, I apologize.” He said in an awfully shrill voice making you question why was he apologizing to you? “I, ah… Well,” He held the money up again “I didn’t know how much to bring, you see, so I…well, I brought what seemed reasonable?” He poised it as a question more than an answer. Like he was asking if it was reasonable rather than explaining that it was. You squinted at him. THAT was a reasonable amount of money to him? How disconnected from reality was he? 

“VIP packages start at three fifty.” You informed with good humor after crossing your arms and he gasped like this was breaking news he couldn’t have googled before coming at all. “Well,” The man counted out a few of the hundreds then fidgeted “What’s the biggest package?” He was nearly cute. “Do you have friends waiting outside or something?” “No! Why no! No, mam, just me!” You felt your hand touch your cheek as you stared at the little weirdo in absolute awed confusion. What on earth? 

“You don’t need the biggest package then, sweetheart.” You were too nice. You should have just taken the money. He wanted to spend it and here you were talking him down like an idiot. “But I want the most time!” He said a little too loudly. God, he was desperate. Your manicured finger tapped against your cheek “We can work that out, but…what do you want?” Please don’t say sex. You weren’t even sure if security was even still in the building. “I-I need to give a presentation.” 

What?

The look you must have given him prompted him to explain “I need to give a presentation! At work! A w-work presentation and, well, I-” He melted into nervous giggles before he finished, but managed to suppress them enough to finish after a moment “I need to practice. An audience so to speak and-” Oh, he looked miserable suddenly. “I don’t…” His voice lowered to a whisper “have any friends.” Your heart felt a little pang for him. Same, man. Well, sort of. You had work friends, but it wasn’t hard to believe this guy had no one at all. “Truly, I do need this!” He added quickly “My research depends on this! I promise I don’t mean to insult you or waste your time! I could lose funding and and and-” “I’m happy to work something out with you, but let's get you a drink first, alright?” “Alright.” He parroted back while taking quick half breaths on the verge of hyperventilating. 

With peace and love, he didn’t look like a man who could hold his liquor. Nor did he seem like the type that would handle it well if he managed to so. He needed to relax. You were the complete package, you knew how to make more than a quick few cocktails. It was a part of the image. Thumbing through the Rolodex of recipes in your head you stopped on the first one that wouldn’t kill him on impact. A Friar Tuck, of course. Chocolate milk for big boys. You glanced back at him on your way to the fully stocked minibar. Big enough boys. Hazelnut liqueur, dark crème de cacao, and frangelico with, in this case, some nice cold half n’ half shaken with ice then strained in a glass.

“Sip.” You say handing the glass to… hang on a second. “Now,” You sat him down in a chair with some gentle ushering “Let’s try this again. Hello, handsome.” He giggled nervously at you and smiled a sort of odd suppressed smile over being called handsome. You realized he was trying to hide his teeth now that he as thinking about it. There was no hiding those buck teeth. “What’s your name?” 

“Jervis. Jervis Tetch.”

[hisuiregionontop]

I've been thinking about it on and off for almost a month now, so!! Here's what I've considered:

Reigen:

- He'd definitely have a Psyduck. Despite the name, Psyduck is and has always been a pure water type.

- Nacli. Na is sodium. Salt splash. Comedy genius.

- Hypno. I think because of the pendulum

Ritsu:

- Kadabra. The spoon, but also because it's essentially a younger brother to Alakazam.

- Espeon, because Espeon isn't born a psychic type, like how Ritsu had to awaken his powers

- Shedinja. I'm gonna be completely honest, I don't have any valid reasons for this

Teruki:

- I'm super obsessed with the idea of him having an Alolan Exeggutor, for obvious reasons.

- Jolteon, probably because of the hair. Also when he does his air whips it reminds me of electricity :]

- Ralts. No idea why.

(I was so tempted to give him an all-Alola team of Exeggutor, Dugtrio, and Raichu but I felt it was kinda cheap)

Mob:

- Milcery. Milk. Again, comedy genius. Also, Milcery is just super cute and Mob would love cute Pokémon

- Espurr. Adorable, psychic, and it was my favorite Pokémon for a while

- Flabébé, because @/chainsaw-headache mentioned the flower that sprouts from Mob's head during the Mogami arc and I LOVED that idea :] also it kinda reminds me of A-Z from X & Y, which the Mogami arc reminds me of

(Unrelated, but during a car ride when I was twelve or thirteen, I encountered a shiny Flabébé and accidentally ohko'd it. Did I cry? Almost.)

Tome:

- Cleffa comes from space! It's a great fit for her (also the Clefairy line kinda reminds me of the aliens from MP100 for some reason)

- Elgyem/Beheeyem. iirc, they're linked to UFO crash sites within the lore of Pokémon

- I think she'd be super into searching for Deoxys tbh

Shou:

- Quilava, probably exclusively because of aesthetics.

- Victini. Tell me he doesn't look EXACTLY like Victini

- Ditto. I think he'd like Ditto. No explanations

Serizawa:

- Mimikyu. It seems evil, but it really isn't. It just needs people, like Serizawa.

- I get Flaafy vibes, honestly

- Skitty. I feel like he'd ADORE Skitty tbh

(Side note, why isn't there an umbrella Pokémon. As much as I love Klefki, an umbrella makes just as much sense, which is zero)

Tsubomi:

- Eevee, because everyone loves Eevee. It's popular, like Tsubomi.

- Swoobat, because I feel like she'd love it. It's cute.

- Deerling, just because I really love the idea

Honestly a lot of these are just vibes so feel free to provide better ones :]

[hayleythecannibal]

Twisted Minds: Chapter Thirteen Savouruex

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Crying, Implied Death, Malpractice, Lying, Realization, Injuries, Gun Violence, Betrayal.

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

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - DAY-

Will is in his bed, dawn light streaking through the windows. He looks drawn, ill, groggy.

The dogs are barking and he throws back the covers. To REVEAL his feet and legs are covered in dried mud which smears the bedclothes. The light hurts his eyes. Will is immediately concerned. A beautiful winter morning. Will shields his eyes on the porch as the dogs rush out barking. WINSTON stays by Will’s side. He looks down at him. Winston pushes his head under his hand. The others bark and mill. Something has them thrown, agitated. Will turns back inside.

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - DAY-

The dogs fuss around Will as he heads for the SINK, and runs the tap good and cold. He drinks from the faucet. GRABS a bottle of aspirin and weighs four in his palm before swallowing them and then bending back to the faucet, feeling bad. He glugs water, sighing breathes between each swallow.

He straightens, wipes his mouth. AND THEN, with sudden violence, he RETCHES and HURLS into the sink. AND STARES. Lying in the sink, spotted with ASPIRIN is a grey, perfectly intact HUMAN EAR... Will STARES at it...

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - DAY-

Will explodes off the porch and drops to his knees in the

yard. Retching and retching but nothing more comes.

He looks up. Around. Nothing. Whirls around. Woods all

Around. Will, his anxiety, his anguish, his fear...

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - DAY -

Will sits on the porch. Shivering. Staring. Hannibal’s car pulls up and Hannibal gets out. Comes to Will. “I went to Minnesota. I took Abigail. We went to Minnesota. She didn’t come back with me.” Will says with this eerily calm and shaken voice. Hannibal is effectively feigning shock and concern.

“Show me.” He holds out as hand. Will looks at it, looks up at Hannibal and then takes it and stands. Hannibal ushers him inside.

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - DAY-

Hannibal wraps a blanket around Will. Sits him down. Through the KITCHEN DOORWAY, Hannibal stares at what is in the sink with stunned silence. Will sits in the living room, looking into middle-distance.

“I don’t remember going to bed last night. But I must have. Maybe I got up to let the dogs out and I…” Will says his face looking stressed and distraught. He knew he could so something like this. But he never thought he would, especially to someone he cares about. What will Y/N think? What will she Do? Will she still love me?  “When did you last see Abigail?” Hannibal snaps Will out of his thought process but Will is still zoning out. “I woke up and my feet were muddy.” Will says softly and almost monotone. 

“Will….When did you last see Abigail?” Hannibal says while slowly walking towards Will. “Yesterday. At her father’s cabin. I had an episode. She said something was wrong with me. She

was afraid of me. She ran away.” Will says softly. “What happened? Why was she afraid?”

“I hallucinated. I hallucinated that I killed her. But it wasn’t real. I know it wasn’t real.” He looks at Hannibal, desperate, terrified. Hannibal is saddened, concerned. He kneels next to Will 

“Will, we have to call Jack Crawford. You can’t run from this. It will only make things worse. Get dressed.” Hannibal says reasonably and Will nods slowly. 

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - ENCLOSED PATIO - DAY-

Hannibal stands patiently next to the door observing the PERIMETER FBI AGENTS and LOCAL POLICE have established. Among the FBI and ANIMAL SERVICES VEHICLES, we can see BRIAN ZELLER, BEVERLY KATZ and JIMMY PRICE patiently waiting.

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY-

JACK CRAWFORD stands with TWO FBI AGENTS, surrounded by the dogs. Will sits, still stunned, in his overstuffed chair. “What are we going to find when we go to Minnesota, Will?” Jack asks Will as he searches for an answer he doesn’t have, then admits: “I don’t know.”

Jack studies Will, his broken pony, then turns to an AGENT:

“Process him.”

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - SLOWER MOTION - DAY -

as the door swings open revealing Hannibal Lecter still standing on the porch, a sadly stoic expression on his face. WILL GRAHAM He is in HANDCUFFS, the TWO FBI AGENTS at his side. Jack Crawford follows Will out, but stops on the porch with Hannibal Lecter. Jack nods to his team and the ANIMAL CONTROL OFFICERS and FBI AGENTS, including Zeller, Price and

Katz, get to work, picking up their gear.

WILL’S P.O.V.

Zeller, Price and Katz move into his home with EVIDENCE COLLECTION KITS, their expressions dour. They look at Will, then look away. Beverly looks back, making eye contact.

Will holds her gaze for a moment then has to look away. Will is marched across the front yard by the TWO FBI AGENTS. They lead him to an FBI VEHICLE. One of the Agents opens the

back door while the other Agent tucks Will’s head and pushes him into the back seat and shuts the door.

FBI AGENTS are removing EVIDENCE BOXES from his home. Two ANIMAL HANDLERS are leading the dogs out of the house on leashes. WINSTON breaks free and runs toward Will.

A HANDLER grabs Winston’s collar and drags him away towards the DOG VAN. Winston barks and whines, looking back at Will.

He watches in anguish as Winston is dragged off. And as the S.U.V. he’s in pulls away from his home, JACK CRAWFORD AND HANNIBAL LECTER Inside Will’s house behind them, FLASHBULBS going off as Will’s living room is turned into a CRIME SCENE.

F.B.I. S.U.V. - DAY-

Being driven away, Will leans his head against the window,

his home and dogs and life receding into the distance.

B.A.U. - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - DAY-

In t-shirt and boxers, WILL GRAHAM stands in the brightly-lit, sterile space on a white paper mat. Staring straight ahead. He hands his pants to Jimmy Price who bags them. His shirt and his right and left shoes are stacked on a nearby table in three separate, appropriately labelled evidence bags. His eyeglasses and watch are also bagged and tagged. Jimmy Price holds Will’s khakis with one gloved-hand and digs through the pockets with another. Zeller logs the evidence

next to an operational video camera. It is painfully awkward for them all. Will stares in silence.

“Right rear pocket. One leather wallet containing 17 dollars cash.”

“Right rear pocket. One leather wallet 17 dollars cash.” Jimmy dips a hand into another pants pocket. Removes KEYS. “Front left pocket. Key ring. Two keys. House and car.”

“Front left pocket. Key ring. Two keys. House and car.” Jimmy checks the other pocket. Finds a POCKET KNIFE. “Front right pocket. Folding knife.” He handles the small folded knife carefully, examining the knife handle, a smudged fingerprint in what might be blood.

“Front right pocket. Folding knife.” Zeller grabs a new evidence bag, drops the knife inside.

WILL  is staring straight ahead under this. RED FALLING PARTICLES come into focus. Falling through the air like snow --

B.A.U. - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - LATER-

Will stands in his underwear alone with Beverly Katz, who is SCRAPING under his nails with a small tool. A dull red RESIDUE falls onto the white paper. They’ve both seen it often enough to know what it is. BLOOD. The file slides under his nail and the red flakes fall onto

the paper...He watches the dusting of blood fall from under his nail. Beverly is looking at Will. Struggling with the situation.

“I can’t do the silent treatment. I can’t pretend I don’t know you and I can’t pretend we don’t both know what I’m finding under your nails.” Beverly says as Will remains silent, in numb shock.

“You called me once because you didn’t trust yourself to know what was real. This blood is real, Will.” Beverly says with concern for her friend, she never thought he would do this. “I know.”

“Do you know how it got there?”

“Not with certainty, no.”

“Certainty comes from the evidence. I didn’t want to find any evidence on you. I wanted to be certain about who you are. But you can’t even be certain about yourself.” Beverly says with solace. “Not anymore.” Will says almost emotionless, Numb even, but really all he can think about is how this happened and what Y/N will do. 

“If you weren’t certain about yourself, then you shouldn’t have been here. This is the FBI.” Beverly says very promptly. “I thought I would get better.”

“How long have you been lying about what’s going on with you?”

“I wasn’t lying –”

“You knew your state of mind. You should have recused yourself from any investigation. You were irresponsible and a girl is dead.” Beverly steps back from him. Angry with him. “However far over the edge you were leaning, I was hoping that you wouldn’t fall.” Will looks at her, hating this. Not wanting to face it. “You always said all you do is interpret the evidence. So do it,

Will. Interpret the evidence.”

“According to the evidence…” Will fights what he wants versus what he thinks. Finally --

a whispered, horrible realization.

“I killed Abigail Hobbs.” Will’s horrible admission… Tears forming and his voice shakes……. F.B.I. ACADEMY - JACK CRAWFORD’S OFFICE - DAY- Y/N on closer and closer onto her growing horror as she listens to Jack Crawford --“We analyzed the tissue. It matched Abigail Hobbs. It was her ear. Her blood was under Will’s fingernails. Scratches on his arms look like defensive wounds. She fought back –” Jack says.

“No. No. No. Shut up.” Y/N is struggling with this information, tears welling. She pushes them back. Finally she can’t hear another word. “Just stop talking.” It comes out more of as a plea as opposed to anything hostile. A long beat of silence, both of them stressed, neither of them above succumbing to the pressure of it.

““He won’t. Get too close.” You Told Alana you would cover him. You could see he was breaking.” Y/N says loudly, she just found out her surrogate daughter is dead, and her partner and Lover killed her. You would be upset as well. Well if you believed it. “Yes, I could. And I kept pushing him because he was saving lives.” Jack says Feeling for the woman in front of him. “Not Abigail Hobbs’ life.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you couldn’t see he was breaking.”

“Of course I could see it! Alana even told you not to put him out there.”

“Every decision I made about Will Graham’s mental health was under the advisement of a respected psychiatrist, who Alana Recommended.” Jack says as he glares at her pointedly. 

“Hannibal had to know. He had to see something was wrong.” Y/N knew, she knew Hannibal saw something was wrong, he very clearly wasnt stupid, and he definetly wasnt one to shy away from something he could study. 

“Not until it was too late. Just like the rest of us. Hannibal said Will was exhibiting signs of dementia.”

“Dementia isn’t a disease, it’s a symptom of disease. We have to find out what’s causing it and treat it.”Y/N exclaims, its an act, Will doesnt have dementia, this is something Y/N knows, she knows so much and speculates so much more but who can you trust when you know too much. 

“The concern is that there may not be anything to treat. Will had a brain scan. They found nothing.” Did they? Did they find nothing or is that just what Hannibal told Will? “This started with Garret Jacob Hobbs.”

“Maybe Will did what Garret Jacob Hobbs couldn’t do. Kill his daughter.”

“Abigail’s blood is on all of us. And so is Will’s.” the weight of that responsibility hangs in the way...

FBI PARKING LOT - Y/N L/N’S CAR - DAY-

We HEAR a MUFFLED SCREAM coming from the inside of the vehicle until it FINDS Dr. Y/N L/N behind the wheel of her car, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles as

she lets out her frustration and anger and sadness.

B.A.U. - INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY-

Will sits at a table in his jump suit. Y/N L/N ENTERS. She can’t hide her distress at seeing him this way. And he can’t hide his relief at seeing her walk through the door.  “Hi.” he akwardly smiles, he hopes she still loves him.  “Hi.” I say as i look at him, i dont believe he could have killed her, nor anyone else besides Garret Jacob Hobbs. 

“You’re flushed. You been yelling?” Will notices, it makes me smirk. “Screaming is more like it.” I say with a raised eyebrow as I lean on the wall. “I could use a good scream. I can feel one. Perched under my chin.” Will says honestly, he would probably benefit from a good scream to be honest. “Let it out.” I say softly. 

“I’m afraid if I started, I...wouldn’t be able to stop. I’m surprised Jack let you in here.

Given our romantic relationship.” Will says softly as his eyes traces my features as if he would forget them. “Jack doesn’t know about our romantic relationship. Didn’t know.” I sit down across from him and self-consciously glances at the two-way mirror. He slides his hand out, but catches himself and withdraws. Will glances selfconsciously at the two-way mirror.

“Been in touch with Animal Services. I’m going to pick up your dogs in a couple of hours. I’ll bring them back home with me and take care of them until... whenever.” I say softly and kindly, Of course i still love him, but i cant tell him that now, especially with Jack on the otherside of the mirror. “Are you sure? Whenever could be a long time from now.” Will says with suprise, “I’ll take care of them until then.”

“Thank you.”

“We have to do some tests. They’ll be the standard psychopathology tests. Thematic Apperception. Minnesota Multiphasic.” I explain, Im torn between wanting to be the one who does this and not the one. Because its hard to act like i do not care nor that i dont love the person that i have been through the most with. 

“Suppose you’re going to ask me to draw a clock while you’re at it.” Will says with a amused chuckle, i meet his eyes with a confused expression. “Hannibal ask you to draw a clock?” I ask confused, if He has what i think he does, Hannibal’s gonna get an ear full.  “Said it was an exercise to help ground me in a present moment. A handle to reality to hold onto.” 

“Was the clock normal?”

“Would I be here if it wasn’t?” Now My interest is raised. My antenna humming. I pull out pen and paper and slides it across the table. I swear to god. “Draw me a clock please.” I ask nicely and i watch his hands. Will takes the pen and paper and starts to draw a CLOCK.

My anger and horror grows as i watch Will draw a clock with all of the numbers and hands stacked on one side. Dahli-esque. Just like he did before with Hannibal. Will turns the picture and slides it to me. “See. Just a normal clock. Telling the time isn’t my problem.” I look at Will with growing dread.

“It’s the least of your problems.” I knew it, just need a brain scan to confirm it.  The truth of that weighs on us both.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - DAY-

We are TRACKING along the dark, empty hallway towards where light shines through from a window by the door. CLOSE and CLOSER to the FRONT DOOR. It OPENS to reveal two LOCAL COPS, guns at the ready. they make their way down the hall. One tries the LIGHT SWITCH but the power is dead. They move to the Kitchen doorway. They flash their flashlights, SCANNING the room. And the beams pick up splashes and sprays of BLOOD, slick black in

the shuttered gloom, turning red in the beams....The floor is covered in a pool of blood.

The TWO COPS hold on the charnel scene and stare...

B.A.U. - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - DAY-

Jack, Me, and Alana are with Zeller, Price and Katz. “Will was a fisherman. He tied all of his own lures.” Jack says to them. “Most anglers use feathers, twine, fur, bits of shell. Designing their flies to catch specific fish.” Jimmy says as he anaylzes the lure in his tweezers. Beverly displays a LURE --

“This one caught my eye. I noticed the hair color. Took me a few to accept what I was seeing. I ran a chem-set to confirm the connection.” Bev says as she looks at me with sadness, i can feel all of the deep emotions in the room. Its almost Overstimulating but i need to know everything to prove Will innocent, I know for a fact he didnt do this. 

“What connection?” Alana asks confusedly, she was Just as angry with Jack as i am. 

“Four of the lures are made from materials including human remains.” Bev says, well this keeps getting interesting.  Alana is stunned. Jack Crawford has heard many strange things in his career, but this requires a beat to process.

“We have DNA matches on all of them.” Jimmy says grimmly, As Beverly explains, she displays her grisly discoveries – “This one is Cassie Boyle. Bits of bone fragments and pieces of lung. Marissa Schuur. Antler velvet, a fingernail, wound with her hair. Doctor Sutcliffe. Crushed teeth, soft tissue from inside his mouth, bound with cartilage from his jaw.” Bev says as she displays the different lures. 

“All victims of the Copy Cat?”

“Other lure was made with hair and fiber matched to Georgia Madchen.”

“He kept trophies from his victims.”

“Trophies. Now Will Graham is a serial killer taking trophies?” Jack say incredously, he was in disbelief that any of this is happening.  “Something is wrong with Will, physically, neurologically. He’s not a serial killer.” Alana says, she was also upset after i showed her the clock. 

“Abigail’s just his latest victim. Must’ve been working together. She was probably going to expose him.” Zeller says in a tone that i do not like but i just stay leaned on the wall and watch and feel the comotion. Jimmy and Beverly glare at him but is unrepentant. “We let the fox into the chicken coop. And he played us all.” Zeller says and i glare at him.  

Jack Crawford winces at that horrible possibility...

B.A.U. - INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY-

Will sits alone. A MUFFLED CLICKING SOUND can be heard. Faint, but getting LOUDER. Will looks to the TWO WAY MIRROR. The MUFFLED HOOF STEPS draw closer and closer. Will stands from the table and crosses to the MIRROR, cupping his hands to see through it. nothing. Just the dark reflection of his eyes. Then a SILHOUETTE rises from the darkness behind the mirror, as if made from it. The ANTLERED MAN, Will’s personal Devil. As Will shudders with horror...

B.A.U. - INTERROGATION ROOM - REALITY-

Will is sitting back at the table, staring absently at the TWO WAY MIRROR. He realizes not only did he not get up and cross to the mirror because of his shackles, but now…JACK CRAWFORD...is sitting opposite him, his face slack with worry. A tiny startle from Will. He was off in a nightmare when Jack walked into the room and sat opposite him. “You’re sick, Will.”

“I wasn’t consistent with taking my antibiotics. My fever came back.” Will admits, he knows Y/N and Hannibal would scold him for doing so. “We’re going to move you to a secure medical ward where we will find out what’s wrong with you. And get you the treatment you need.” Jack says with distaste, how could he be so blind he thought to himself. How could he let any of this happen? 

“And then what? Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane? Have Chilton fumbling at my head?” Jack analyzes Will, hoping for any confirmation of something. “This job doesn’t generally lend itself to optimism. I desperately want to be optimistic about an alternative to what every fiber of evidence is telling me you did.”

“I can’t confess to something I don’t remember.” Will says, and why would he? For a lighter sentence? No, the courts and media will rake him across the coals. “Question is, how much more is there that you don’t remember? We found your fishing lures.” Jack says with a look. 

“I should hope so. They were on my desk next to the front door.” Will says oblivious to what they found entwined in them. “We found human remains in the materials you used to make them. Cassie Boyle. Marissa Schuur. Donald Sutcliffe. Georgia Madchen. Will’s mind reels, he shakes his head, unable to accept what Jack Crawford is telling him. “No. I wasn’t sick when Cassie

Boyle was murdered. I wasn’t sick when Marissa Schuur was murdered.” 

“That’s not an argument you want to be making right now. Not to me.” Jack says with a warning look. “Because then I’d be a psychopath.” Will says and his jaw clenches, “My biggest fear is learning you knew what you were doing all along.” Jack says as he looks into Will’s eyes and for once he doesn't avoid it.

“Don’t have to be afraid of that, Jack. But there is something you should be afraid of and that’s whoever is doing this to me.” Will says leaning closer. “Someone is doing this to you? Is that what this is? A set up?” Jack asks confused because Will has made some crazy claims but this- this is insane.

“They’ll be close to you. It could be someone here. Working with you. They know the cases. They know forensics. They know I’m unstable.” Will says, who is doing this? Certainly not Y/N.  “Do you hear how paranoid you sound?” Will allows himself a sad smile, not believing what he’s about to say, but also not knowing what to believe.

“Or it could just be you. Then I’m pretty much screwed, aren’t I?” Jack’s heart breaking at the state of Will of mind...

F.B.I. - DAY-

Will, now in IRONS, is being shuffle-walked to an AMBULANCE by a PARAMEDIC and a GUARD. Jack looks on, despairing. Will looks out at Jack as he is stepped up into the

AMBULANCE. Hold their look till the doors slam closed.

AMBULANCE - DAY-

The moving ambulance. Will Graham is sitting back on the GURNEY. His CUFFS round the gurney rail and fastened. Will is watching the solitary GUARD opposite him. He glances away with trepidation, he knows what he has to do, but doesn’t want to do it. He steels himself.

Will looks down, takes a deep breath and CRACKS his thumbs out of joint. A horrible SHRIEK/GROAN of pain as he slides his broken hand from the cuff in one move. The GUARD looks up. Will turns on him with a mixture of malice, pain and regret. And lunges.

HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - DAY- 

Hannibal stands with Jack and Me, mid-conversation.

“Broke his thumb getting out of the restraints. Disarmed his guard, threw him and the driver out of the vehicle. They found the ambulance in an alley in Dumfries. These are not the actions of an innocent man.” Jack says, sounds like what Able Gideon did when he went around killing his psychiatrists. 

“They’re the actions of a man who is impaired. I had Will draw a clock to test for cognitive dysfunction.” I place Will’s DALI-ESQUE drawing of a clock on the desk. Hannibal reacts, very concerned. Like he didn't already know. 

“That’s extreme.” He reaches for his notebook and opens it REVEALING the drawing Will made in his office. “This is the clock Will drew for me two weeks ago. It’s normal.” Bullshit.

“What disease progresses gradually but plateaus for lengths of time?” I raise my eyebrow as I pretend to buy his Bullshit. “Will has periods of clarity. We’ve seen him lucid and aware one moment and then the next moment he’s not.” Hannibal says looking me in the eyes. 

“It has to be some form of encephalitis.” I say with a deep breath, I crack my knuckles individually without breaking contact with Hannibal.

“Autoimmune encephalitis. Body’s immune system attacks the brain as if it is itself an infection.” Hannibal says as he searches my eyes for something, i'm not sure what he's looking for but i'm sure he won't find it. “It’s hard to diagnose. There are no tumors. No lesions. Wouldn’t show up on a brain scan unless you knew you were looking for it.” I say, I know this is whats wrong with Will. But I also know someone is setting him up.  Jack Crawford puts the train back on the tracks:

“Just tell me if he could’ve killed five people and not known about it.” Jack asks us. Neither I nor Hannibal can bring themselves to answer. “It’s unlikely.” Hannibal answers finally.

“Doesn’t feel like dementia. Feels like an intelligent psychopath. This killer called the Hobbs house, warned Abigail’s father. Hobbs then hung up the phone, killed his wife and cut his daughter’s throat.” Jack says but I just look at him with a sad look. “I and Dr. L/N were with Will that entire time.” Hannibal says, and i nod my head. 

“Did he have an opportunity to make a phone call?” Jack asks, my eyebrows furrow, No….He didn't but- Hannibal did. 

“At the construction site. Before we went to interview Garret Jacob Hobbs. Will was in the office

while I was outside loading the car with files, but he was only in there a minute or two.” Hannibal says as he looks at Jack to my face that's contorted with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw. 

“Dumb luck and bad bookkeeping. It’s how Will said you and him caught Hobbs.

How would you say you two caught Hobbs?” He glances at me, as if to prepare me for what’s coming.

“We were looking through the files and it was as if Will plucked his name out of a hat, based on little more than an incomplete address.” Hannibal says as he studies my face. I shake my head, 

“That’s what Me and Will do. We make those kinds of leaps.” I say with a bewildered look. 

“Allow me to play the devil, Dr. L/N. This clock test. Would Will Graham know how to fake it?”

After a long moment, I finally answered. “Yes. But i know Will and he-”

I’m fighting the sad apparent “truth” of it all and realizing there's someone in the room that likes to play god... Y/N’S HOUSE - DAY-

I come through the door after WILL’S DOGS, holding them all on two group leashes. The dogs pull until…“Tssst.” The dogs focus.

“Sit.” The dogs obey. Except for one. “Everyone.” The final dog sits. Alana allows herself a small, sad smile as she unfastens each of their collars from the lead.

“Okay.”  She gives them each a small treat. Y/N shrugs off her coat and drops her bag on the counter as the pack of dogs mill. She crosses to the REFRIGERATOR. Y/N Pours a glass of bourbon. The dogs follow her. She takes a deep sip and sighs. She rests against the counter as Winston cuddles at her feet. She’s exhausted. Just as she’s noticed the dogs have all trailed away...

“Y/N.” I STARTLE, dropping My glass of Bourbon.  Will Graham is now standing in the room with me, the dogs milling about, sniffing and greeting him with wagging tails.“Please don’t scream.” Even if he didnt ask, i wouldn’t’ve screamed. 

“Will…You can’t be here,  I can’t harbor you. No matter how much I want to.” I say with concern, “I know. Just got a little confused. I needed to get my bearings. It’s good to see the dogs. Thought I wasn’t going to see them again. Or you.” He says as he squats and pets the dogs.

“I know you didn't do this, I know it. You didn't kill anyone other than Garret Jacob Hobbs.” I say softly, I know this, Hannibal knows this. Will would never, even in hallucination, hurt Abigail. Let alone Kill her. 

“If I don’t find out who is doing this to me, I’ll be going away. They already think I did it.

They’ll diagnose me with something and they’ll keep diagnosing me and they’ll keep being wrong.” Will says as he shakes his head, and I agree. What's happening to him isnt mental. It's physical. And I know Hannibal knows it. 

“I’ll work from the inside. I’ll figure it out honey, I'll do whatever it takes.” I say softly as I look at him. I do mean it. I will figure a way out for Will.  I won't let anyone put him away. I won't let anyone take away his freedom. I'll give him the help he needs and I'll make sure justice is served. 

“I love you.” He walks towards me slowly, takes my face in his hands and kisses me softly. My breathing hitches as i kiss him back my hands going into his soft hair. I pull away. “I love you.” I say and I lean towards him, my mouth at his ear, “I’m gonna flash the lights of my car, I’m gonna pretend to be frightened. I’m not gonna stop til I figure out who did this to you.” I whisper in his ear and pull away, becoming the character I need to play.  Will smiles at me and takes the car keys, sad and disappointed. He considers them a moment, then hands them back to me.

“You were pretty slick about that. You just unlocked your car doors, didn’t you? Flashed the lights? They’ll be waiting for me outside.” Will says in a dark tone, getting into the character he needs to play, though he plays it a little too well. “If there was somebody out there, wouldn’t they already be coming through the door?” I say shakily,taking a shaky step back. “No, they wouldn’t. Because they know I could kill you before they got up those stairs.”

The reality of that hangs in the air, then:

“Goodbye, Y/N.” He quietly moves toward the back door, disappearing down the hall. I wait there for a moment, afraid to move. I realize she stopped breathing and takes a jagged breath.

OFF that moment...

HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - DAY-

Hannibal works at his desk in his darkened office. Then: “Hello, Will. How are you feeling?” REVEAL Will is up on the landing, tucked in the corner. “Self aware.”

“You frightened Y/N.” Hannibal says concerned for her. “She’s confused about who I am, which I can relate to. Are you confused about who I am?” Will asks as he stares off into space. “I’m not confused. I’m skeptical. Meaning I’m willing to change my mind should the evidence change.” Hannibal says as he stands from his desk.

“Do you believe I killed Abigail?” Will asks as he looks down into Hannibal's eyes. 

“I believe it’s entirely possible, if not nearly indisputable based on how you discovered her ear.” Hannibal say as he maintains eye contact. “If it was just Abigail, I would have believed. I would have believed I got so far inside Hobbs’ head, I couldn’t get out.” Will says softly. “But it wasn’t just Abigail.”

“I know who I am.” Will says surely.

“All sense of who you are has been distorted by your illness. You know who you are in this moment. That isn’t always the case.” Hannibal says to him. “I didn’t kill any of them. Someone is making sure no one believes me.” Hannibal sighs, debating how to best help his friend.

“If we’re to prove you didn’t commit these murders, perhaps we should consider how you could have. And then disprove that.”

HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - THERAPY - LATER-

Will sits opposite Hannibal, a session like any other save for the fact that Will is wearing a prison jumpsuit.

“If you are this killer, that identity runs through these events like a thread through pearls. Cassie Boyle would have been your first victim. You said her crime scene was practically gift wrapped.” the crime scene in the darkened shadows of the room as if in the recesses of Will’s mind: CASSIE BOYLE MOUNTED ON THE STAG HEAD, all of it PAINTED BLACK.

WILL GRAHAM

“It told me and Y/N everything we needed to know to catch Garret Jacob Hobbs.” As Hannibal speaks, Will can see out of the corner of his eye, movement near the crime scene, A SEPARATE AND DISTINCT DARK SHAPE with ANTLERS, prowling near Cassie Boyle’s body.

“You’d seen one of Hobbs’ victims, you knew how he killed. You may have been exploring how he killed to better understand who he was.” 

“I wasn’t in Minnesota when Cassie Boyle was murdered.”

“She disappeared on a Saturday. Found her on a Monday. You would’ve had the weekend to do your work.”

“I know I didn’t kill her.”

“How do you know?” Will’s mind spins for an answer. Hannibal doesn’t allow him to articulate it, continuing to draw a psychological picture

as  another crime scene in the room: MARISSA SCHUUR MOUNTED ON ANTLERS, all of it PAINTED BLACK.

“What did you think when you first met Marissa Schuur? How much like Abigail she was? Same height, same weight, same hair color, same age.”

“How could I resist?” The BLACK ANTLERS around Marissa Schuur move REVEALING the INHUMAN SILHOUETTE of the DARK SHAPE, only now it becomes clear it is the MAN STAG that haunted Will’s nightmare. “So much like his daughter, you may have wondered why Garret Jacob Hobbs didn’t kill her himself.” Will fights the confusion, sickened by it.  another crime scene behind Hannibal’s desk: DR. SUTCLIFFE NEARLY DECAPITATED AT THE JAW. PAINTED BLACK.

“Dr. Sutcliffe wasn’t killed how Garret Jacob Hobbs killed. He was murdered how you imagined yourself murdering a woman only days before.”

“How Georgia Madchen killed. She said she dreamt I killed Sutcliffe. But she couldn’t see my face. And then she was murdered.”

“You catch these killers, Will, by getting into their heads, but you also let them into yours.”

BLACK ANTLERS rise in the darkness behind Hannibal, the MAN STAG taking shape from the shadow. It has Hannibal’s face. Will winces at the image in his head, shaking it off. “I’m trying to help you, Will.”

“Then take me back to Minnesota. I want to see where Abigail died.” OFF Will’s determination...

HANNIBAL’S CAR - NIGHT-

Hannibal drives, windshield wipers thumping rhythmically as rolls RAIN off in sheets. He glances over at Will Graham who dozes fitfully in the passenger seat.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - DAY-

Hannibal’s BENTLEY pulls into the driveway, Hannibal behind the wheel. Will Graham in the passenger seat. Hannibal and Will get out of the car and head into the house. Even though the car has been turned off, the PURR OF THE BENTLEY’S ENGINE continues to haunt Will beneath the PICTURE and carry on into and throughout the next scene.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - FOYER - DAY-

Will ENTERS. He walks cautiously down the hall, Hannibal no longer behind him. He walks into:

THE KITCHEN Breakfast time. LOUISE HOBBS is cooking eggs, Garret Jacob Hobbs helping her prep. Abigail sets the table. It’s the moment before everything in Abigail Hobbs’ life changed.

Will Graham stands in the room, watching the scene. The phone RINGS. It startles Will. A sense of dread as Abigail crosses to the phone and answers it. “Hello? Just a second. Dad, it’s for you.”

“Who is it?”

“Caller i.d. said it was blocked.” She hands her father the phone and as he raises it to his

Ear, GARRET JACOB HOBBS is NOW WILL GRAHAM. Will puts the receiver to his ear. The pervasive purr of Hannibal’s Bently engine suddenly stops. “Hello?”

“Will?”

“Yes.”

“We’re here –”

He opens his eyes. 

HANNIBAL’S CAR - NIGHT-

Hannibal sits in the driver’s seat; we can still hear the carCOOLING and PINGING. Will takes a deep breath and heaves a sigh as he OPENS HIS CAR DOOR and climbs out.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - BASEMENT - NIGHT-

The SLIDING GLASS DOOR slowly ROLLS OPEN and Will and Hannibal ENTER. They move cautiously through the room. Will turns and sees Hannibal standing behind him, a familiarity to

their placement in the room takes us to...

Will stands where he is now, Hannibal in the same position, only Y/N, Alana and Abigail are also present. Abigail asks: “Are we going to re-enact the crime? You be my dad. You be my mom. And you be the man on the phone.” Hannibal is caught off guard. More so by Abigail’s steely nonchalant stare that follows her comment.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - BASEMENT - RESUMING-

Realization dawning, Will dares to stare at Hannibal only briefly before averting his eyes and turning away. “Are we going to re-enact the crime?”

“If it would help you.”

“It may come to that.” Will shrinks into the shadows of the house. Hannibal follows.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - FOYER - NIGHT-

The house is cold. Will and Hannibal climb the stairs to the main floor. Will pauses, bracing himself, as he moves into: THE KITCHEN. the Kitchen is empty. Blood stains everywhere. A processed crime scene. Forensic markers etc.

Will STARES – Steps into the room. He bows his head, his face crumpled with emotion. He takes a breath and then looks up again. “It’s as if Abigail was supposed to die in this kitchen. Nothing we did was able to change that.” Hannibal is as horrified by the room as Will, feigning as though he is seeing it for the first time. Will looks at the ARTERIAL SPRAY on the wall, deeply saddened.

“Her throat was cut. She lost great gouts of blood and there’s an unmistakable arterial spray –”

He stops himself, unable to speak for a moment. “They haven’t found her body.”

“Just the one piece.”

“If you were in Garret Jacob Hobbs’ frame of mind when you killed her, they may never find her body.”

“Cause I honored every part of her?” Will says as he turns around and looks at him. “Perhaps you didn’t come here looking for a killer. Perhaps you came here to find yourself. You

killed a man in this very room.”

“I stared at Hobbs and the space opposite me assumed the shape of a man filled with dark and swarming flies. And then I scattered them.” Will says as he puts his hand into his jacket pocket. “At a time when other men first see and fear their isolation, yours has become understandable to you. You are alone because you are unique.”

“I’m as alone as you are.”

“If you followed the urges you kept down for so long, cultivated themas the inspirations they are, you’d become someone other than yourself.” Hannibal remarks as he gazes at the mural of blood spray. 

“I know who I am. I’m not so sure I know who you are anymore. But I am certain one of us killed Abigail.” Will raises his gun and steadies it at Hannibal. “Are you a killer, Will? You. Right now. This man in front of me. Is this who you really are?”

“You called here that morning. Abigail knew. You kept her secrets until she found out some of yours.” Hannibal eyes the gun in Will’s hand. “You said it felt good to kill Garret Jacob Hobbs, Will. Would it feel good to kill me now?”

“Garret Jacob Hobbs was a murderer. Are you a murderer, Dr. Lecter?”

“What reason would I have?”

“You have no traceable motive, which is why you were so hard to see. You were just curious what I would do. What Y/N would do.  Someone like me. Someone like Her.  Someone who thinks how we think. Wind them up and watch them go. Apparently, Dr. Lecter, this is how I go.”

Betrayed and confused, Will’s finger tenses on the trigger.

Jack Crawford ENTERS, gun drawn, sees Will is preparing to shoot Hannibal, and in a terrible re-enactment, SHOOTS WILL. BLAM! A bullet slams into Will’s shoulder and he is knocked against the counter, slides down it. Right where Garret Jacob Hobbs died. Blood flecks Hannibal’s face and shirt. Jack comes forward, still holding his smoking weapon. He kicks the gun from Will’s loose fingers. Looks down at the bleeding Will with anguish. Will looks up at Jack and Hannibal. Will holds Jack’s gaze. “See? See?” His vision begins to dim and LOSE FOCUS, as it does HANNIBAL BLURS AND SHIFTS into the BLACKENED MAN STAG, and we...

HOBBS RESIDENCE - NIGHT-

The gurney is being moved to an ambulance by PARAMEDICS. Jack Crawford is moving behind it, concerned. They take us past - HANNIBAL LECTER, who watches Will being put in the ambulance. Flecks of blood still on his face... the gurney is rushed into the ambulance and the doors are pulled closed on Jack Crawford. The ambulance pulls away, lights flashing. Leaving Jack to  watch it go and then he turns to Hannibal. Their eyes meet.

HOSPITAL - ER - NIGHT-

As an ER team work on Will, his clothes have been pulled away. A DOCTOR is cleaning the BULLET WOUND in his shoulder. The wound is ugly and red. a blood bag goes up on a stand. A needle is slid into the crook of Will’s elbow. Monitoring machines start to bleep. A bloom of BLOOD in the barrel of an I/V needle as Will is injected with drugs. Another I/V bag - antibiotics, slid into his other arm. from the foot of the bed. Will Graham, unconscious, drips and drugs and machines working on his behalf… Sleeps. In a hospital bed. Wired up to drips and monitors.

HOSPITAL - WILL GRAHAM’S ROOM - DAY-

Down the corridor and into Will’s room. Will Graham unconscious in the bed. Two chairs

pulled up by the bed. Hannibal sits in one, eyes on Will. He looks up as Jack enters. Jack takes the other seat. “Right hemisphere of his brain was inflamed. Been placed in an induced sleep. He’s being treated with antiviral and steroid therapies.”

“Is he responding?”

“More or less. He’s expected to make a substantial recovery. Over time.” Hannibal looks at Will in his comatose state, then asks: “Would you have gone to Minnesota if he didn’t have a gun on you?” Jack asks Hannibal as he gazes upon Will who has the feelings of Betrayal dripping from the very essence of his soul. “Even now I feel that I’ve failed to satisfy my obligation to Will.”

“Any regrets?”

“More than I would care to admit. Psychiatrists can have divided loyalties. We have to protect our patients from becoming victims of the pressures we face to help them.” Hannibal says as he sits with the fact that Will  does not trust him anymore.  “Will Graham isn’t your victim.”

“Nor is he yours.” Jack considers that, not so sure it’s the case. “In my life, I’ve seen some hideous and offhanded ways in which the world breaks people. This is worse than anything I’ve seen on the autopsy scales. What I experienced with Will Graham has caused in me a small tectonic shift. I am not the same man I was yesterday.” Jack says.

“No one in this room is.” Hannibal studies Jack Crawford’s regret as B.S.H.C.I. - CELL BLOCK - DAY- 

The cave-like cell on the high security block. The security gate opens and Hannibal Lecter steps inside. He stops and takes in the surroundings. The smells. Straightens his tie. Hannibal walks down the block, aware of the inmates. He continues down the corridor until it finds the last cell on the block REVEALING WILL GRAHAM INSIDE. He wears a B.S.H.C.I. jumpsuit. His cell bare except for bed and table. They appraise each other through the safety barrier.

“Hello, Will.”

“Hello...Dr. Lecter.”

[misc-obeyme]

My love for pokemon has been ignited again recently, so let’s crossover it with another thing i like (Obeyme :D). What pokemon’s type the casts specialized in? Here’s my take:

Lucifer is probably dark or fire type (cuz it fits his aesthetics)

Mammon would be electric or dark type

Levi is obiviously water type

Satan probably psychic/grass? (Or he doesn’t specialized in any types at all, just cats)

Asmo is bug/fairy (i’m leaning onto bug types more cuz bugs are fashionable cuz y’know there’re plenty of clothes are based of bugs’ patterns?)

Beel: fighting type

Belphie: normal or ghost

Thirteen is definitely poison

raphael just gives me massive steel type

Diavolo would be dark/fire/ghost??? (Not sure)

And i think Solomon would be a professor (cuz i can’t think of a type that fits this old man lol). And i really struggle with the remaining characters tho (my imagination has really gone dry)

Ohhh boy. Not me being a huge Pokemon fan ldsaklfdsj. I shall not reveal my true age by telling you how many of these games I have played. MOVING ON

Okay, let's see, I've seen some speculation about what kinds of Pokemon the characters would have, but I haven't considered it myself. Mostly because I know that if I tried to create teams for all the characters I would go down a rabbit hole the likes of which no one has ever seen. I would spend days, possibly weeks, maybe even months, hyper fixating on it.

I think there are a lot of Pokemon that fit the characters but most of my ideas involve mixed type teams.

But if they were like gym leaders and had only one specific type that they specialized in? I think I can manage that?

These are just my general thoughts, kind of off the top of my head, but it's all subject to change at a moment's notice lol.

I agree with Lucifer being Dark. I can just see him having a Houndoom, Zoroark, possibly an Umbreon.

I can't help but think that Mammon would be Normal because there is no way that guy doesn't have a Meowth. Also wouldn't it be cute if he had a lil Eevee?? I also see him with a Zigzagoon.

Levi is definitely Water. Gyarados, Lapras, maybe a Greninja? Yeah that feels right.

Satan would absolutely just be cats. Though I do believe I saw someone say Mimikyu would be a good one for him, too, and I agreed with that argument! But if I had to choose a type for him, I think Psychic is a good choice. Since he tends to be more focused on knowledge and the mind, I think it could work. Plus can you imagine him with a Galarian Ponyta? And of course he'd have a Meowstic!

I tend to lean more toward Fairy for Asmo just because I'm pretty sure he doesn't like bugs lol. But I think if I was gonna choose something for Asmo, it'd be Grass. I know, but hear me out. How many Grass type Pokemon are straight up beautiful flowers? Give him a Bellossom or a Sunflora or a Roselia.

Then I would give Bug type to Beel lol. Though I absolutely feel like Fighting would work, too ('cause like omg Beel with a Machamp). I just think it goes with the whole fly situation, you know? Plus how cute would it be for him to have a Butterfree? I mean yeah okay he can have a Scyther too and like a Joltik but also give that guy a Cutiefly you know what I'm saying?

Belphie definitely gives me Ghost vibes for some reason. I can't explain it, but I just see him definitely having a Drifloon. Also a Gengar. And a Pumpkaboo just because that feels right too lol. I have no idea why.

I think Diavolo would be the Dragon type. That feels right to me. Dragonite, Salamence, Garchomp, maybe a Drampa or Goodra. I dunno, just feels like the right type for him.

I really can't decide on a single type for Barbatos. I think he'd like a Ghost type like Sinistea or a Fairy type like Comfey. But he's got the Little Ds, right?? They're close enough! Demon type lol.

Now I could totally see Solomon being one of those absolutely unhinged professor types lol. But I could also see him having Flying or Ice type. Or Psychic or Fairy. I think he could have any of those. Like give that grandpa an Alakazam or an Altaria or a Glaceon or a Clefable. Okay see this is what I mean when I start being unable to choose a specific type lol.

I could also see Simeon having Flying type. Again with a Swablu or Altaria, but also a Togekiss or Swanna.

Luke would be Fairy type. Especially considering how many Fairy type Pokemon are also desserts. Give that kid an Alcremie, a Slurpuff, and of course a Fidough! Also a Togepi to match Simeon's Togekiss.

I agree that Thirteen would be Poison. That feels accurate! Give her a Seviper and a Croagunk! Oh and a Salazzle.

I think Raphael could be Steel, Ground, or Rock lol. Or even Fighting I think would work too. I don't think there's a spear like Steel type, but there is the swords Aegislash. But I think I could see him with an Onix or like a Solrock too.

Mephisto completely baffles me. Maybe Poison also? Or Fire? I could see him with a Ninetails.

Well, these are just basic ideas, and I agree with multiple types for each character. It's too hard for me to give a single type to each! For instance, I also think Mammon would have a Gimmighoul and that's a Ghost type. I didn't even give anyone Electric in the end, but I could see him having a Pikachu, too lol.

Anyway, that was fun to think about, but you can see that if I got serious about it, I'd end up getting way too into it lol. I'm always open to hear other people's thoughts and ideas on this, too! I know others have discussed it before! (For instance, I recommend checking out @/another-lost-mc because I know Jes has a Pokemon AU!)

[artificialqueens]

Untouchable for Life, Chapter 1 (Anetra x Sasha Colby) - Writworm42

Admin Note: I'm so worry, Writ!! You should have been in the last queue, and I'm also sorry that it's taken me a million years to fix it after you told me. I have no excuse, I just completely forgot and I apologize deeply! -V

A/N: Summary: Anetra should be grateful for his new job as a photographer for the city's biggest queer tabloid. Especially considering how hard he fucked up before landing there. But it's all lost on him until he's roped into a special assignment, one that ties Sasha Colby into his life. But can the knots that bind him to his past be undone? Or will the cord he and Sasha walk on snap?

Sorry not sorry for all the puns in the summary fhdsjfk but I promise chapter summaries will have more specific to the chapters themselves and the story as a whole!!!

Anyways, remember how I said I'd never write another multichap bc they're too much stress? WELP! Thank you nickysjaida for encouraging me and athena for beta-ing, you're both so wonderful <3

Fic title from I Turn My Camera On by Spoon

Anetra sighs, dropping his head into his hands as his thoughts race. His boss watches in front of him intensely, almost to the point of scrutiny, but what can he do?

He doesn’t exactly have options here.

“I just don’t get why—“

“The board wanted you gone,” Michele shuts him down immediately. “Hell, they wanted your head on a platter! This is the best I can do for you. You either take it, or you go collect your things.”

“But I wouldn’t even get to write!” Anetra huffs. “Not even captions or anything!”

“I know,” Michele says coolly. “Why do you think I was able to negotiate this? You’re too good to lose, Anetra, but I guarantee if you walk, it’ll be the last time you ever work in journalism, photo or otherwise.” 

Anetra groans. Michele is absolutely right—he fucked up, and fucked up big. Lose his credibility big. Sue the whole company big.

But does that really mean he has to go to Q-Beat ? He’ll be a laughingstock in the journalistic community— Q-Beat may be the most popular queer magazine in the country, but it’s barely above a tabloid. Hell, maybe it’s worse—they’re probably the only print mag he can think of that has more listicles in one issue than actual pieces, and the product placements are so obvious they might as well just say Absolut wrote the news updates. 

There’s a reason the whole industry calls it Q-Bait as a joke. 

But with the scandal he’s in, he can’t afford to negotiate now. If he wants to do anything other than Walmart Christmas portraits for the rest of his life, he has no choice but to take this job.

"Fine," he finally sighs, grabbing the contract and pulling it closer. "Give me a pen."

--

The Charles Media building is often referred to as a marvel of architecture in the city, and the reputation isn’t unearned. Standing under its sloped, pink-painted roof are twenty-five floors of different print outlets, each an empire in its own right. Anetra has to admit, it’s kind of impressive--from magazines to books, encyclopedias to graphic novels, if you can flip or scroll through it, you can find it nestled among the offices in the tower.

Perhaps most impressive, though, is the way the architects were clearly so committed to the bit when they designed the place. From floors one to twelve, everything is wide, spacious, and decorated in black and silver. The floors narrow slightly after that, and from thirteen all the way to its sloped roof, the building’s colour scheme is a deep magenta, with sparkle and hints of blush. And that’s just the outside--within the walls of 96 Tucker Avenue, things are even more colourful, bringing the entire aesthetic full circle.

The perfect shade of lipstick for the perfect media queendom, both inside and out.

At least, that’s the vision the company projects. Right now, Anetra feels anything but perfect—and from the way his coworkers avoid him in the elevator, he’s pretty sure the feeling is mutual. 

At least Q-Beat is near the top floor. Once the last few people filter out around the sixteenth floor, he has the elevator car all to himself, leaving him alone to try and collect his thoughts. 

From what Anetra knows, the farther up the tower you go, the more isolated the group, meaning there’s a chance that no one at Q-Beat knows who he is or what he’s done. A perfectly fresh start. Good; his talent will speak for itself that way, and he can make friends based on that. If he even wants to--maybe friends aren’t such a good idea. The main condition of being able to keep this job was to lay low, after all. 

Plus, the longer he tends to stay in one place, the less people seem to want him around. Especially now that he’s a liability. 

It’s a thought that hurts, and he’s glad to be able to swallow it as the elevator comes to a stop at the twenty-third floor.

The sight that awaits Anetra as the elevator doors glide open makes his jaw drop. 

Back on the eighth floor where Anetra’s old magazine was located, everything had been all business all the time. The walls and the floor were a stern black, with tiles that clicked under your feet as you walked. There had been almost no decor in the entrance either, other than a pair of leather chairs under a harsh silver sign directing visitors to various offices tucked behind heavy mahogany doors.

But on the twenty-third floor? 

Anetra can’t help but feel like he might as well be on an alien planet. He had expected pink, had expected some sparkle and embellishment. But he had had no idea just how much of a culture shock it would be. It’s such a contrast, he barely knows where to start—though maybe the entrance is as good a place as any. The floor’s lobby is fully furnished with tables and chairs and even some floral arrangements, separated from the action by only a glass door and floor-to-ceiling windows that allow a clear view of the Q-Beat workspace behind it. The floors are plush zebra-print carpet, the walls an almost violent pink lit up by a fluorescent sign welcoming visitors to Q-Beat with cursive font. And when Anetra peers into the office space, he sees not a maze of cubicles, but an open floor plan that’s bustling with people in casual dress.

In other words, friendly coworkers and lax norms without anywhere to hide from either. 

Fuck. 

“Are you Anetra?” 

Anetra snaps to attention and sees a tall blonde standing in the office’s doorway looking at him with anxious eyes. 

"Oh, um… Yes?" He frowns. He was supposed to meet the editor-in-chief first, but this woman is in jeans and a tank top that shows off well-defined muscles and big tattoos, her hair fluffed up in an almost rockabilly style--definitely not like any chief Anetra has seen before.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" The woman's eyes narrow. "Because I have a meeting in fifteen minutes and only ten before my Ativan hits, so I really need to get a move on orienting you if you are."

Anetra decides right then and there that no matter who this woman is, he definitely likes her.

“I’m Anetra,” he tries again, stepping forward and extending a hand for the woman to take. 

“Loosey LaDuca, she/her pronouns, editor-in-chief,” she shakes his hand firmly. But before he can drop his hand away, she grips it harder, pulls him forward through the glass doors and into the office. 

“Let me introduce you to the others, they’re really excited to meet you.”

Crap.

—

Loosey’s tour of the Q-Beat workspace is a whirlwind, so fast that Anetra almost wishes he’d brought a notebook with him. Though that probably wouldn’t have done much to help him either; Loosey doesn’t even stop to breathe as she charges through the office with Anetra in tow, so he seriously doubts she would have let him slow down to write. At least he avoids seeing too much of the team this way; Loosey’s version of ‘introducing’ is more like drive-by name-dropping, and Anetra is perfectly content to settle for the waves he and his new coworkers exchange as he passes. 

Good things can’t last forever, though, and sure enough, Loosey’s tour comes to a hard stop right in front of a large table surrounded by people who immediately turn all their focus on Anetra. 

“This right here is our photography department. Well, two of them are,” Loosey rolls her eyes. “The rest of you, get back to work please?” 

“Hey, they were working!” a short woman with hair almost as big as Loosey’s protests. “Half of them were reviewing the photos that are going to go with their article.”

“Uh-huh, and the other half?” Loosey retorts. 

“Is this Poppy’s replacement?” The other woman left at the table pipes up quickly, a smooth change of subject accompanied by an even smoother smile. 

“Oh, yes,” Loosey says, her eyebrows raising in surprise as if she’d forgotten Anetra was beside her. “Anetra, this is Mistress--” she points to the smaller woman, who nods curtly, “--And this is Salina. Ladies, Anetra is coming to us from News Summary Weekly , so things might work a little differently here than he’s used to. So be nice, Mistress.”

“Hey!” Mistress huffs when Loosey shoots her an extra-pointed look. 

“You know I’m right,” Loosey rolls her eyes. “Now, will you guys take over from here? These pills are not doing what they’re supposed to, so I’m gonna go take a three-minute power nap before I have to talk budget for the rest of the afternoon.” 

“Sweet dreams!” Salina calls after her, cackling when Loosey shoots her the middle finger over her shoulder in response. 

Just like that, their attention is turned back on Anetra, giving him the distinct feeling of having been thrown to the wolves. 

“So you’re from the political phonebook, huh?” Mistress starts in right away, her lip twitching as she looks Anetra up and down. “You’re certainly dressed like it.”

“Hey, wait a second,” Salina adds pensively, “Ain’t that the magazine with the guy who--”

“Sorry, what are your guys’ pronouns?” Anetra cuts in fast before Salina can finish that sentence, hoping to God the heat he feels rising in his cheeks isn’t visible to the two women before him. “I use he/him.”

“She/her for both of us,” Mistress answers with narrow eyes, her tone of voice skeptical. Anetra’s going to have to look out for her, he can tell. But at least Salina seems distracted enough—her attention is already back on her computer, which she wastes no time in sliding over to Anetra.

“Alright, newbie, come here and sit down, let me show you all the different softwares and shit we use in this department.” 

It’s a close call, but he’ll take it. He smiles gratefully as he moves over beside Salina, leaning in close to get to work.

Pride Challenge Points: 2806

[leviathans-watching]

This may be odd but

Do you have songs you associate with the Obey Me characters? Like, they remind you of the characters for any (or no) reason

For example No Problems by ONICKS and Marqui Jordan kinda reminds me of Mammon

okay i just listened to that song and yes totally!! also i loved it thx for giving me a new artist to explore!

anyway,

lucifer: blood in the cut by k. flay because it fits him aesthetically and lyrically imo

mammon: gotta get to know ya by the seratones because it captures his energy and wildness

levi: when i think of levi i think of his determination, especially to do and be better and expand his world so reincarnation by leanna firestone

satan: bloodline / difficult things by orla gartland for his family issues esp with lucifer 😋😋

asmo: i feel like a god by deathbyromy its fucked up just like he is (pspspsp check out my playlist for him here)

beel: golden by jill scott bc i think it fits his mentality (check out my playlist for him (sort of) here)

belphie: this is def for his more introspective and broken side, but wild time by weyes blood

diavolo: more by lawrence because my king does not give up 😤

barbatos: a pearl by mitski because sometimes i just think about how much he gives and gives to diavolo and yeah

solomon: winter: will by the arcadian wild idk it just gives me his vibes

simeon: stolen fruit by tank and the bangas bc it's light but impactful, with a lot of the same messages i associate with his character

luke: because duh, raining like magic by raffi

raphael: point to prove (i was an ugly kid) by bug hunter, idk why but i feel like he had a hard time in his adolescence and through puberty (esp considering his relationships at the time)

mephisto: lmao idk why but suddenly i see by kt tunstall is so him

thirteen: whore of babylon by zheani, again fucked up like she is (and here's my playlist for her!)

and ofc, my mc: need to find my place by us the duo

[angstyyyangel]

𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓼 ˗ˏˋ ୨♡୧ ˎˊ˗ 𝓲'𝓶 𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓪. 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝓮 𝓿𝓲𝓿𝓲 <3 𝓲'𝓶 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓷𝓮𝔀 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓷𝓲𝓬𝓮!! 𝓲 𝓭𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓫𝓬 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓮𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝔂𝓹𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸 𝓯𝓪𝓻, 𝓲 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓰𝓻𝓮𝓽 𝓲𝓽. 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓯𝓾𝓷.

i'm turning 18 this month.

i'm from alaska, ik pretty cool. i'm in oregon rn. i'm half european. my mom was fully european, and my dad was american obviously. at the end of the day, most americans have european roots, so even if ur european-american, ppl just see u as american 🙄 and tbh since i was born and raised in here and haven't visited europe, i don't really feel my roots that much, don't get me wrong i love my roots but i think i just got my dad's personality and mindset more, but i wanna visit europe so bad and get close to my roots!!

i like anything dark and weird. my aesthetic would be a mix of emo, coquette/morute and grunge/dark fairycore.

i listen to female artists like lana del rey, melanie martinez, ashnikko, clairo, marina, poppy, men i trust, girl in red, suki waterhouse, taylor swift, nicole dollanganger, lady gaga, avril lavigne, halsey, miley cyrus, billie eilish, honey gentry, banshee, kailee morgue, etc.

i listen to some male artists like mgk, corpse husband, role model, mac demarco, eyedress, mareux cavetown, yungblud, d4vd, lil peep, xxxtentacion, the weeknd.

i listen to a lot of bands/duos too, the neighborhood, chase atlantic, maneskin, my chemical romance, nirvana, deftones, linkin park, arctic monkeys, waterparks, paramore, evanescence, crystal castles, cults, etc are some of my favorites.

this is not all i listen to lol. i listen to almost everuthing soft/sad music, rap/hiphop, folkpop, 2000s music, weirdcore, latin music, etc. i love french and russian music too.

thrifting, baking, reading, journaling, sketching, watching horror movies, animated horror stories and true crime documentaries, listening to music, going out at night, etc r the things that bring me joy.

i also watch anime. another, mieruko chan, devils line, diabolik lovers, dance with devils, nana, death note, kemono jihen, phantom in the twilight, seraph of the end, rent a girlfriend, horimiya are by far some of the best animes i've watched. i've watched almost all the studio ghibli movies.

i love 2000s shows like tvd, gossip girl, gilmore girls, skins, pretty little liars, one tree hill, etc. and 2000's movies too (mean girls, clueless, not another teen movie, legally blonde, wild child, she's the man, what a girl wants, the crush, the girl next door, she's all that, the notebook.)

i'm a huge twilight stan. 🦇

my favorite movies are the virgin suicides, lolita, jennifer's body, gone girl, the love witch, girl interrupted, pearl, thirteen, black swan, ginger snaps, buffalo '66.

i like tv shows like the queens gambit, anne with an e, spinning out, dawson's creek, good witch, insatiable, shadowhunters, riverdale, chilling adventures of sabrina, i'm not okay with this, the society, deadly class, you, scream, the originals, fate: the winx saga, the end of the fucking world, the umbrella academy, the haunting, dahmer, clark, ratched, izombie, grand army, 13 reasons why, cobra kai, wednesday, elite, ragnarok, derry girls, baby, etc. i finished hemlock grove, teen wolf and the mist.

i have a list of almost all the movies i've watched but that's for another time.

i mostly watch supernatural/fantasy, horror/thriller, slasher/gruesome, psychological/mystery but i do watch romance/drama sometimes.

i don't watch comedy, only dark comedy/ deadpan.

i like sylvia plath.

i have a lot of celeb crushes but no 1. would be lily rose depp and bill skarsgård.

audrey hepburn is my role model.

i like watching yt too, i watch a lot of stuff. spooky stuff, comedy, vlogs, wieiad videos, a lot of food related stuff, edits. i like watching vogue beauty secrets. i listen to asmr, i'm sure u can imagine what kind 👁️👁️

sam and colby are my comfort youtubers. love jake's vlogs too.

some of my fave youtubers are kate brock, sadie crowell, sydney serena, sophia kleo, julia ayers, elle gibson, alia zaita, jazmin tyler, annika osterlund, blair walnuts, enya umanzor, eva meloche, joyish, fitgreenmind, isabela juliana, isabelle heikens, karissa love, alexandra andersson, romee strigd, kellymichalita, lani pliopa, lauren brodauf, leyla tavas, liezl jayne strydom, lydia campanelli, mina rome, olivia jade, oatmilkmakeup, rosie maio, etc.

i watch rebal d, duncanyounot, danny gonzalez, kurtis conner, chad chad, larray, ravon, alex meyers for laughs. benoftheweek and jordan cunningham is pretty good too.

what else can i say abt myself? here's some facts:

1. i'm obsessive, severely mentally deranged, delusional and unhinged.

2. i have 43 personalities.

3. basically a bimbo.

4. i love love love women.

5. i have a dark/dry humor.

6. silly, goofy, quirky and cursed is how i'd describe myself.

7. your local emo girl.

8. wanna be cool girl.

9. narcissist but also a self hater.

10. not a fact but you're gonna be in love with me.

11. i'm religious.

12. just a good girl that does bad things.

13. will destroy anything i come in contact with.

14. a hopeless romantic.

15. secretly a vampire 🤫🧛🏻‍♀️.

16. i don't play by the rules.

17. i don't bite unless you want me to.

18. unbothered and chic, that's how i like it.

19. can be a stubborn brat sometimes.

20. practically a grandma. (my friend said so 🤷🏻‍♀️)

21. i always need someone to tell me they're proud of me.

22. i love exploring and trying new things, making new friends so don't be shy.

23. i'm very open minded.

24. not secretive or mysterious, just misunderstood.

25. sometimes ppl can't tell if i'm being serious or sarcastic.

26. i suffer with depression and anxiety. i have a couple of mental disorders but bpd and ocd are the most serious and active ones. i have a bad temper. i'm indecisive and pretty impatient but working on that. i'm selfish and self-centered. easily bored.

27. some ppl say i give off serial killer vibes hmm.

28. my favorite color is black, guess i didn't even have to say it.

29. comfort food is banana bread. favorite is pasta.

30. i have a huge sweet tooth, i love sweets, baked goods, all of that. dark chocolate and snickers are two ways to my heart ❤️.

31. i'm lactose intolerant, but i just hate cows milk in general 🤢 i go for oat or almond milk but i like my coffee plain, black w nothing. i used to be a coffee addict, sometimes 6-7 cups a day but i stopped. i also drink tea, chamomile, green tea and earl grey is my top three. peppermint is pretty good too.

32. i don't like milk chocolate but some are good like kitkat, snickers, reese's peanut butter cups, toblerone, twix, etc. and never ask me if i like white chocolate 🤮

33. i work at a coffee shop, i used to work at a bookstore and i miss it. idk what my plans for the future is yet. i do wanna open an orphanage. (i'm an orphan and an only child) my uncle raised me, i lived w him for 16 years. he passed away last year. i live with my grandma now.

i could also open a bakery. my friend said i could open a restaurant maybe?

34. my happy places are cemeteries, the woods, abandoned houses/places 🤗

35. my biggest fear is darkness tbh. i also have aquaphobia. i almost drowned once.

36. i dream almost every night. i used to have nightmares.

37. i love shopping. fashion, runway shows, models. some of my fave are kaia gerber, vittoria ceretti, megan roche, suki waterhouse, lily rose depp (obviously), adriana lima, taylor hill, etc.

38. i think love is confusing. i don't do relationships that often. but i'll say i do like my men feisty, a little fucked in the head and dangerous. i have a thing for old men, british guys and psychopaths. i'll tell you more about my type of guy later 💋💋

39. i'm a masochist. if you didn't already read the description. but i'm also a bit asexual.

40. i enjoy gore stuff.

41. i don't drink soda.

42. i never wear bras.

god i said so much stuff. check out my pinterest if you wanna know more about me @vrtualvamp444

i'm also active on instagram, feel free to ask me for it 💋

i have other social medias. you can find me on facebook (yeah facebook, which i don't use anymore, i had a facebook era but oh well), snapchat and discord.

i'm also a little bit addicted to tiktok.

i have spotify, if you listen to any of my playlists, i'll love you forever <3

got wattpad, not a big fan.

i don't have twitter yet.

anyway, i'll also be a tumblr girly from now on so i'll talk a lot abt myself. answer more questions.

nobody asked, i'm just bored.

#newbie #girlblogger #girlblogging #newontumblr #coquette #dollette #dollcore #bimbo #bimbodoll #factsaboutme #gettoknowme #lanadelrey #lizzygrant #lilyrosedepp #sylviaplath

[uchibito]

#UCHIBITO.     HIGHLY SELECTIVE   &   PRIVATE.   ALMOST EXCLUSIVELY HEADCANON BASED.   CANON CRITICAL.   REVIVED BY BAMBIE,   FIRST ESTABLISHED IN 2022.

RULES

o1. ROMANTIC SHIPPING WILL BE HIGHLY SELECTIVE & IS RESERVED FOR MUNS I AM COMFORTABLE WITH & THAT I HAVE TALKED TO EXTENSIVELY. EXCLUDING: INCESTOUS SHIPS, LARGE AGE GAPS, UNHEALTHY POWER DYNAMICS, TEACHER / STUDENT RELATIONSHIPS.

o2. TRIGGERS WILL BE TAGGED AS ‘ [TRIGGER] CW ‘ MOST COMMON ONES WILL OCCUR DUE TO THE NATURE OF THE MUSE. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. AS FOR ME, I ASK YOU TO TAG ANYTHING IN REGARDS TO HARRY POTTER OR JK ROWLING. I WILL NOT FOLLOW BACK ANY BLOGS WITH HP MUSES WHETHER YOU HAVE ' ANTI JKR ' IN YOUR RULES OR NOT.

o3. EVERYTHING ON THIS BLOG IS MEANT FOR MUTUALS ONLY. PLEASE REFRAIN FROM LIKING STARTER CALLS OR SENDING MEMES IF WE ARE NOT MUTUALS. REPEAT OFFENDERS WILL BE (SOFT)-BLOCKED.WILL BE DECIDED ON A CASE TO CASE BASIS. GENERAL RULE IS THAT I DO NOT MIND YOU FOLLOWING ME BUT IF I SEE ANY HEADCANONS ETC. STOLEN WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A PROBLEM.

o4. I USE SMALL TEXT, A SINGLE SPACE BETWEEN WORDS WITH SOME EXTRA AFTER PUNCTUATION, AS WELL AS LIGHT FORMATTING. IF FOR ANY REASON YOU NEED ADJUSTMENTS FOR OUR THREAD, LET ME KNOW & I WILL MAKE THEM. AESTHETICS ARE GREAT, YOU BEING ABLE TO READ WHAT I WRITE IS BETTER.

o5. STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY BLOG IF YOU ARE RACIST, A BIGOT, HOMO - TRANS - LESBOPHOBIC, BELIEVE RACISM AGAINST WHITE PEOPLE EXISTS, AGREE WITH TRANSMEDICALISTS OR CONSIDER YOURSELF APOLITICAL.

o6. I DO NOT INTERACT WITH THE FOLLOWING FANDOMS NOR DO I FOLLOW PEOPLE WHO WRITE MUSES FROM THEM: SUCCESSION. BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA. SHINGEKI NO KYOJIN. THIRTEEN REASONS WHY. TBA AS I SEE FIT

[corvidamned]

With the masquerade now almost at its end, all traces of his participation seem to have been cleanly erased.

Everything has gone away now - the shroud, the costume, the warm facade that fooled other guests. But there is one small trace that remains still: in the form of the black crown that adorned him throughout the entire festivities. 

It is set deliberately on a desk in the library, having clearly been placed for Kira to find it. The shroud that concealed his face drapes around it like a protective nest of black. The touch of it is cold and metallic - its wearer having removed it long enough ago that all the traces of his body ever touching it has dissipated. 

Was it being offered as an apology? Some attempt to compensate for the damage he'd inflicted upon her costume perhaps? Or was it an entirely different reason that Wesker lacked the ability to explain. No note is left to offer insight.

Much had happened since their tango in the gardens. She cleaned herself up, and took on a donor in the form of a new friend, and even sat down to play games with the other guests, but the scars Wesker inflicted had sunk too deep. Kira wakes abruptly in her sleeping corner, frantically feeling her face for her mask. It was gone, but the party was over and the hunt was done, so no consequence would come for her bare visage and less than spectacular uniform attire.

She rose to approach the memento on her work table. Careful hands familiar with fragile lace pulled the material high above her head to avoid any tears in the mesh. She draped it over her shoulder in half while she scanned the pride and jewel of his disguise. It was heavy to pick up, yet Kira dared to and turned it over. It was black as obsidian, with thirteen needle point spires, a fine beaded frame, and serpent reliefs below each alternating arch.

Why did he leave it with her? Why did he spare her life instead of killing her in the games? Why didn't he come find her once she was sacrificed? Did he think that was the end of her stay at the party? Why was he French in the presence of all others? Was he mocking her sudden transfer prior to the Arklay Experiment… Or homaging it, telling her he longed to make his way to her so very long ago. He embodied all the aesthetics she adored. And then, like it always does, time got away from them.

Kira placed it back down for a moment, letting her racing thoughts dissolve back into silence. After a deep whistling breath, she shrouds herself in the veil, and places the crown on her head. Like magic, her uniform dissolves in shadow, and transforms into a short tulle dress with long sleeves, accompanied by lace fingerless gloves, a tight corset bodice with ribbon laces, and a pair of short pointed black boots. You've obtained the King's Maiden (black) outfit.

It felt right. And made her think. If his belongings from the Masquerade could return to him, why shouldn't hers. Crossing into the Lounge, Kira laid her hand on the nearest Red Locker and bid her winnings from their match to appear. She opened it, and on the top shelf, there lied the Shard of the King's Blade. She took it and one of her medkits to put it in, and shut the door. Determination rekindled, she moved with singular purpose, and dropped down into the lobby, sprinting off for the gate.

She had business to take care of in the Decimated Borgo.

[sunnunderthesun]

Fiction: Another Job Interview

In an overcrowded bus, Robi’s demeanour stands out. Anxiety appears to swallow him up. The fine arts graduate is on his way to take his eighth job interview that year after being rejected by uncountable employers in the last thirteen years. He gets off the bus when it stops in front of a private office building, and heads towards its open gate. As he’s about to enter the premises, he feels lightheaded because his blood sugar level starts going down.

Three well-dressed men, standing at the gate, approach him. One of them asks Robi, “Here for an interview?” A shaky Robi nods. “Well, you must pay us a thousand rupees to be able to get in,” says another. Robi rummages through his backpack, takes out a small bottle of sugar cubes and chugs the sugar down with water. “Young man, are you listening to us? Pay us the thousand rupees and we’ll be out of your way,” says the third stranger. Regaining his vigour, Robi begins to explain to the men, “You have no idea how desperately I need this job. I am stone broke and in debt to a couple of relatives who funded my medical expenses five years ago. I don’t have any siblings to help me with anything. I beg you, let me go...” But the men remain unmoved by his story. They tell him to give them the money or forget about the interview. Robi phones his friend who reluctantly sends the men money through an internet banking website. Robi is then let in for the interview. The receptionist at the office directs him upstairs to the boss’ chamber where the interview has been scheduled to take place. The boss, a lady in her early fifties who reeks of unimaginable wealth, welcomes him and asks him to close the door behind him. There is no one else present in that spacious room besides her and Robi.

“You don’t seem nervous,” says the lady with a grin.

“No. I have been through this many times before. May I sit?”

“Yes, you may.”

She then takes two minutes to examine Robi’s physical appearance as he sits there in front of her, observing an awkward silence. “I have brought some of my best works with me today. Do you want to see them?”

She only smiles which Robi takes as a yes. He places before her his weighty file of traditional paintings done by him over the years and some photographs of his sculptures.

She clumsily runs through those pictures and asks Robi, “What makes you think that I will be impressed by your drawings when I have talented digital artists producing attractive illustrations anytime I need?”

“Well… I believe digital art cannot ever replace traditional art’s aesthetic value. I think you agree with me on this because in your job advertisement you had specifically asked for traditional artists to apply. You definitely can’t find my kind of efficiency in a purely digital artist.”

“Your answer’s not too bad. For your information, I am an award-winning digital artist who just hasn’t found the inspiration to create new artwork in a while… Anyway, I was wondering how much you know about my magazine to be willing to work for it.”

“I read that this magazine was started over twenty years ago, and ... it has been quite successful so far in producing meaningful articles and pictures that a lot of people care about.”

“Three years ago, one of our former female employees posted on her social media accounts that she had faced sexism here. Were you aware of that?”

“No. I wasn’t.”

“You should have been. It is important to research into the place and people you are willing to associate yourself with. But, now that you know, what do you think of it?”

“I… I think… I don’t know about her experiences here. But, if hired, I will do my best to… to make sure that my behaviour or conduct never becomes the reason for anyone’s unhappiness in the workplace.”

“I like you. I do.”

“Thank you, ma’am! All I need is an opportunity to prove how valuable I can be to your company.”

“Mr. Robi De, why don’t we go through the details of the responsibilities I’d like you to have here?”

“Oh… you have no idea how much I have been looking forward to this!” Robi's eyes glisten with surprise and delight.

For the next two hours, the boss slowly explains to him the duties of an illustrator in her company and enlightens him on its history.

Half an hour before lunch break, she tells a hopeful Robi, “I doubt you will be able to perform all these tasks and become an indispensable employee. You need to come to me after you have gained more work experiences elsewhere.”

“No, ma’am, you have to believe in me... Just give me a chance to show you how much…”

“Look, young man, you have only worked as a freelance artist so far. You have no idea how things are done in a big workplace like ours. I cannot let anything … anything go wrong here. How much do you know about the corporate culture anyway?”

“This position I have applied for is supposed to be an entry-level one requiring minimum work experience… Did you… did you expect a newbie to know it all?”

“This room has only one door through which we enter and exit, and it’s right behind you. Thank you for being here. I hope you succeed someday.”

"Why did you waste so much of my time just to tell me all about this damned place? Why didn’t you reject me earlier? I could have gone home to my sick old parents who need me often! I have left them alone with a new caregiver to come here for this interview, and now after tricking me into keeping you company for three hours, you’re telling me I am not needed here!”

The lady exhibits a calm indifference during Robi’s rampage before heading out for lunch. Robi remains in her room for over an hour until she returns.

“I don’t pay people for keeping me company,” she says upon seeing the resolute man standing at her desk fifteen minutes past the lunch break.

“How much more do you need? Do I have to bribe you for this job?” asks a desperate Robi, fighting his frustrations.

The lady sits down in her chair quietly, sips water from her bottle, and gently wipes her lips with a handkerchief. “What do you mean?” she asks carelessly.

“Weren’t the men who made me shell out a thousand bucks earlier yours?”

“I have no idea about what you’re saying, young man. Listen, you need to leave before you get yourself into trouble.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do?” Robi, furious, inches closer to her.

“The chief minister’s nephew is a dear friend of mine. All I need to tell him is that you tried to rape me in my own office because I refused to hire you.”

Upon hearing those words, Robi instantly breaks into a cold sweat and his heart rate rises. He can’t utter another word. Struggling to breathe, Robi grabs his phone from his pocket to dial some number in vain. The boss, still comfortable in her cushioned chair, watches him drop unconscious on the carpet in front of her.

Then she thoughtfully opens Microsoft Paint on her iPad. Using only her fingers, she attempts to draw the still man to perfection.

Copyright ©️ Briksha 2021

[dead-city-warm-sun]

Cold sheets, twilight streets

a one shot attempt at comedy and commentary, written in WhatsApp and not proofread

Set in the near future, somewhat cyberpunk ig

I hope you… enjoy isn’t the right word, I hope this makes you feel something, even if that something is confusion <3

———————————

twilight, the streets are twilight, they say. It's supposed to be silent, be slow! but just a few months back there were people with their wearables and bots jogging along each sidewalk, swearing at vehicles, zoned out in their lenses... so what happened? it's really simple; trends.

like tidal microplastics, they come and go with the seasons- the 'tubers rave about the benefits of outdoor walking, get off the treadmill! don't just use an imitation world, take! the! goggles! off!, #real_world_walkers! full social media shitstorm, and then the streets are flooded! like rats after poison, celebrity socials after cancellation, the people flee their houses and embrace the outdoors! go, my brave followers, put those feet on the sidewalk! see your city without obscura, without all those pesky AR overlays. (you can download my custom overlays from my carrd! see like me!)

so for a few months you can see a person's happiness, their eyes, their nose, not just those cute avatars or custom models. like old movies. the wrinkles, the actual eyelashes, not just an anime overlay. walkers.

and then, comes "walkgate".

it sounds like an incident, a true imitation of... whatever "watergate" was, those decades back. but no, it's just the roast channels.

oh, the dudebros, with their fancy mic setups and brick background, super manly fursona, speaking like a purebred podcaster- every lukewarm, lightly misogynistic statement spoken as if it is the culmination of all of society's knowledge, that this unimpressive man who has some vaguely controversial opinions is the true wisdom giver.

they rush in, children on candy, activist on social cause (that they barely care about), and demean the poor walkers till their soles are obliterated more than they already are. because walkers go all in. they buy the latest, most hi-tech gear, download the most popping playlists, walk till their stylish (trendy) shien shoes inevitably break, scramble like squirrels on seeds, searching, seeking, finding- pinterest inspo! because if you are filmed with anything less than latest trend, you should order a grave (use code "hailbezos" for 50% off your next sustainable death package purchase!) because your bones are rotting and you are on death's doorstep. you cannot be old, it is sin as rotten as cringe.

and then they walk, and they walk, and they barely meet the thirty-day #real_world_walkers challenge-

because it's hard, isn't it? experiencing the world without romantic sentiments, aesthetic filters, having to really look and observe at what's happening around you. because it's always different that the fyp leads you to believe.

some walk till they die. they don't, of course- medicine has improved a shit ton, but that's good news. and that person will walk till they die because they want to. and a fyp pruned by a mind on the edge will have nothing but hands eager to push. and a walk outside, in this crowded city, yes there's suffering, the stuff that plasters in the ideas set by algorithms, and then there's an old, closed pharmacy (sign up for dunzo and you get three FREE deliveries of any drugs of your choosing!), called "drug house", and it's just so whimsical and joyful that this person is startled. one, because it's a fucking drug house, and two, because how can there be any pure joyousness in the world when my insta is filled with sad edits and one, two, five, ten, thirteen reasons why?

did it lie? did my artificially generated "for me" page lie?

and then some walk to prove the haters wrong. their "for me" page is pure optimism! concentrated microdoses of "the world is perfect! be happy with what you have!" cutesy canva posters about negativity and immoral evils that wish to corrupt the children, oh no, this rated-R movie had a... scene, in it, i showed it to my three year old, this is unacceptable! they will walk and show the world how absolutely positive they it is! and they stumble across the abandoned drug house (pharmacy, a legal pharmacy) and they. are. enraged.

holy fucking shit! (actually, they wouldn't swear, because that goes against the word of our lord and holy saviour, shannon_03, who loves each and every one of her 135k followers. they would probably clutch their 3D printed pearls and gasp in shock, screenshotting their bio-lense view, before posting to their instant-short-reel-status about the moral degradation of the world we live in today.)

this type of thing is unacceptable! but they look around and there are more and more signs of this type of moral decay, and more and more people who just don't give a fuck. and maybe then they think that perhaps, this type of thing doesn't matter at all.

so who, then, are those people who speak with (to) me, agreeing (warping) with my opinions?

are they lying? is my carefully curated view of the world... fake?

but how does that matter, the internet has spoken! the overwhelming popularity of the roasting, toasting, trashing of these walkers has flooded the pages of everyone who is anyone!

a girl with 50 filters to cover her 100 insecurities, hoping to one day pay off her student loans she got for a degree she can't use (but is that the story? or is she lying? or is the callout video you skipped three seconds in the liar?) is twerking at the camera (did she want to? or is that what everyone is doing, what everyone must do for a chance at fame? is it fame? maybe, but it might be money) as a text overlay with the most annoying, deep-fakey AI generated voice (is it annoying? or has everyone parroted it over and over until the only truth that exists is that?) reads the following text:

Only Hot Girls Do THIS!

-walk at home! (none of that musty crunchy real life stuff!)

-keep the goggles on! (cutest world is the truest world!)

-use ONLY an avatar! (perfection is fake!)

-buy these skincare products! (because if perfection is fake, the only option is to paste over the self till there is no truth remaining.)

-follow ME! (does it mean anything?)

and then everyone is being piped fresh, steaming opinion about how walking is cringe, and how only walkers are old, and how walkers should be piled on, it's for their own good!

you don't want to be cringe, do you?

and then the streets are empty, and walking dead, and the shoes you bought go back in the closet until you trash them next season, when walking comes back, because those shoes? they are trendy now, but they will, forever from now, be old.

so like the microplastic-laden tide, it recedes, because the oceans may be more plastic than water but the tides remain, they come out and go in. and walking comes out, and goes in, over and over, until death.

but for now, the streets are twilight.

[dempseyimagines]

13 reasons why aesthetics, jessica davis 

“we deserve some fucking happiness.”

[daddyrossbutler]

@fmljustlex

[savvyinpink]

JEFF ATKINS //  13 REASONS WHY