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istigatorawrites · 2 years

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Could we get a protective!Hannibal x shy/soft!wife reader. (Can’t remember the bane of the guy who got obsessed with Hannibal is called but u could use him)

I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK LITERAL MONTHS BUT I DID IT. I DID IT.

some soft murderer for you guys

______

Aperitif

(isn't he so pretty here?????)

hannibal x reader

word count: 1.7k

WARNING: literal murder, implied threesome, sweet Hannibal!

a/n: let me know if you like this type of writing or should I go back to the shorter ones!

Hannibal was always very protective of you. He made keeping you safe his mission and took it very seriously. From the beautiful Italian evening when he took you on your first dinner together. He promised you that out loud later in Florence, his hand holding yours as you stood in front of him in a white dress, both of you happier than ever. And years later when everything went wrong in Baltimore, the first thing he thought of was sending you away, so the FBI wouldn’t get their hands on you. At first you refused to leave him, reminding him what you promised him back in Florence. But he took your hand into his and swore that he’ll find you no matter what, you just have to trust him. So you did and he kept his word.

That’s how you two found yourself back in Italy under fake names, hiding from the FBI and Interpol. Florence was beautiful this time of year, almost every corner was bringing back the memories from years ago, the history of your relationship lingering between the buildings. Despite the beauty of the surroundings Hannibal couldn’t care less about them, his eyes were almost glued to you all the time. Not only because of the absolutely gorgeous dress you were wearing, that made you look just divine; color and shape bringing out all of your best features. It was indeed a view, but his gaze was fixed on you for a different reason. More out of a protective habit of his, because he needed to see you were safe, especially now with Interpol engaged in looking for him. He knew they would take you too if they ever found him and he didn’t want that to happen. You were his dearest treasure, the apple of his eye and nothing could stop him from keeping you safe. Nothing.

You clutched his arm a bit harder as your legs failed to keep you on the ground for a mere second. He was quick in trying to catch you even though you found your balance almost immediately.

“I stumbled,” you murmured a bit embarrassed of yourself. You were always a lady so it was a rare occurrence that you stumbled in heels.

“Be more careful, my darling,” he spoke, caressing your back gently.

You loved that man. Heaven and hell could collide but you wouldn’t stop loving him. It didn’t matter what he did and you were highly aware of his sins. Your twisted heart was beating for him and him only.

The banquet you reached just minutes later was full of art connoisseurs, your husband was their honor guest after his fantastic speech about Dante. You were so proud of him but you couldn’t help the anxiety creeping into you when you saw so many people. It wasn’t that bad when Hannibal was by your side, you would interact with those people, laugh delicately or just shoot some comment while sipping champagne from your glass. His presence made you feel more confident and open but it all faded when he left you alone for a few minutes, promising he’ll be back quickly.

You sat by your table, watching the bubbles in your champagne pop, too intimidated to talk to anyone. Rooms full of strangers have been your weakness since you remembered, even though you would never consider yourself an introvert. You were just… shy. You smiled to yourself when you heard a man approaching you, sure that it was your husband. Yet your smile faded when you saw a strange man standing behind you, offering you a warm smile. Being a polite lady, you smiled back, feeling a bit uneasy.

“I am deeply sorry to bother you, but I couldn’t ignore a beautiful woman like you sitting alone. May I join you?” he asked and you shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t even give you time for an answer, just sat on a free chair and smiled again. You tried to be polite, rudeness wasn’t really your character trait, it was what Hannibal loved about you. How polite you were, even in situations that were hard to remain polite. The man tried to carry a conversation with you, getting even more comfortable every minute, shooting you charming smiles and complimenting you. Nervously sipping on your champagne, you were just nodding and answering shortly but nothing could make him understand you weren’t exactly interested with whatever he was trying to achieve. You were almost on the edge of snapping and telling him to go to hell, when suddenly your body relaxed under a familiar touch on your arm.

“I see you made a lovely friend, my love” Hannibal’s voice was soft and polite as he squeezed your shoulder gently. “Do you mind introducing us?”

Before you could answer, the man already stood up, offering his hand to Hannibal. You sighed heavily leaning into your husband’s touch to soothe the nerves. Little did you know that Hannibal saw the whole situation and blood boiled inside him, seeing that this cheeky stranger had the audacity to make you feel so unsafe,

“Anthony Dimmond” the man introduced himself as your husband shook his hand maybe a bit too hard.

“Doctor Roman Fell” Hannibal gave him his fake alias and smiled politely. “And from what I see you’ve already got to know my lovely wife”

The word “wife” alone made you feel safe, he stated that you were his and the stranger should better back off before Hannibal decides to show how protective he can be.

“She’s indeed a lovely woman” Anthiny agreed and you took a sip of your champagne not to look too nervous.

“Maybe we should invite mister Dimmond for dinner, what do you think darling?” your husband asked you softly and you turned to look at him. He was so calm, his features unmoved but you could see through this facade. He was disgusted by the man and his actions and you knew too well what he does to people like this.

“I think it is a great idea” you finally spoke, grabbing Hannibal’s hand gently. “We will be honored if you would like to join us for dinner.”

With the last sentence you looked at Anthony with a polite smile. He looked like he was too stunned to even think of this situation being at least slightly suspicious. He nodded happily.

“It would be my honor if anything, Mrs Fell.”

~~~

“You really think it is a great idea, Hannibal” you stood behind your husband in the kitchen as you held a bunch of beautiful plates in your hands.

He didn’t turn to answer you, too busy with cooking the meal.

“Darling, you know I am doing this for you”

And if you weren’t so in love with him, maybe you would question that. Was he doing this for you? Or was it just an excuse to kill someone. But you wouldn’t think of it. If he said so, it had to be true. You sighed, putting the plates away and took a few steps to your husband. Wrapping your hands around his waist, you nuzzled your face into his back and he never stopped his actions, not minding you standing so close.

“Be careful with your hands, I don’t want to cut you on accident” he only remarked and you smiled softly. Always thinking about your safety.

Your guest showed up on time. Not that it surprised you, he seemed very eager to come for dinner. Poor man, if he only knew.

"You look stunning, Mrs Fell" , he complimented you before he had a chance to step into your house. "I brought some wine, I hope it's fine."

"Please, come in" you answered indifferently before closing the door after him. "My husband will be there in a minute, he's finishing the aperitif."

"I didn't expect that your husband will cook today" Dimmond seemed surprised and you could only smile at that.

"He's brilliant, you'll see."

Few moments later the three of you were sitting by the table with deliciously smelling dishes in front of you. Hannibal put a lot of effort in that, he always did. You chatted a bit, exchanging some comments and even giggles. But after some time and a few glasses of wine, Mr Dimmond became very confident. He shuffled a bit closer to you and put a hand on your knee.

"So are we gonna do this?" he asked and an unpleasant shiver ran down your spine.

Your husband only smirked to himself, knowing what's about to come.

"Do what exactly Mr Dimmond?" Hannibal raised his eyebrow not moving from his chair just yet.

"I mean-" Dimmond coughed a bit nervously, taken aback by Hannibal's question. "You're that kind of couple aren't you?"

At this moment your husband stood up and slowly, like a predator, walked over to your guest's seat. He placed one hand on the other man's shoulder, his grip strong and tight. You watched as he leaned down to Dimmond's ear and smirked coldly.

"We are a very different type of couple, Anthony" Lecter's voice sent chills all over your body, because you knew what was coming. "And you have made a mistake when you decided to bother my wife."

The man didn't have a chance to respond. You saw fear in his eyes before Hannibal made one, swift move, stabbing Mr Dimmond straight in his temple with an ice pick. There was no blood, the tool stayed in the man's head when it fell to the table. You knew he wasn't quite dead yet, the ice pick remaining in his brain worked like a cork, preventing him from bleeding out.

"It's alright now, my darling" Hannibal cooed, walking over to you and hugging you tightly to himself, his hand going straight to your hair to stroke it. "I'm sorry you had to go through this."

"You were right there with me" your answer was quiet and soft but your gaze was glues to the Dimmond's face frozen in fear. "I was safe with you."

Your husband smiled softly and kissed the top of your head lovingly.

"You always are. I will always protect you."

"I know" you lifted your face up to look at him. "We have to take the ice pick out. We can't risk him surviving."

"Be my guest then, darling" Hannibal stroked your hair to encourage you and smiled proudly. His lovely, lovely wife…

#hannibal fanfiction #hannibal fic #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal #hannibal x you #hannibal x y/n #hannibal x reader #mads mikkelsen #husband!hannibal #protective!hannibal

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bi-bard · 2 years

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Sunlight - Hannibal Lecter Imagine (Hannibal)

Title: Sunlight

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter X Reader

Word Count: 1,661 words

Warning(s): graphic depictions of torture and kidnapping, attempted murder

Summary: (Season 2, Episode 5) After Will got arrested, (Y/n) felt like they lost someone important. Just as they start getting back on their feet, the world proves that this is something you can't walk away from.

Author's Note: So. This is the same character that's in my last Hannibal imagine [Read "Bright" by clicking here!!]

Wanna take a wild guess at what happens when you throw a sunshine character into a show like Hannibal? Here's a hint: NOTHING GOOD

This imagine, like "Bright", is written in third person

-----------------------------

(Y/n) refused to see Will after he was arrested.

The two had become somewhat friends after the dinner party at Hannibal's home. Will seemed kind and determined. Plus, he seemed to appreciate the outlook from (Y/n) that wasn't focused on the darker parts of life. He had to deal with those thoughts all the time, the break was always appreciated.

(Y/n) would offer Will books that they thought he didn't own. They'd use Hannibal's kitchen for cookies or muffins, making sure to make enough to give Will a small bundle. They'd even bring extra treats for the dogs and offer to watch them if Will needed them to. Will would always refuse, but they'd always offer. They understood the stress he was under in his job.

(Y/n) was heartbroken after finding out that someone they had trusted so much could do so much harm.

Hannibal distinctly remembers the day that (Y/n) spent curled under the blankets. No talking or humming some song that he didn't know. The pure silence haunted him more than the sobs (Y/n) let out at random points during the day.

No one would ever know that the sympathy that sat in his chest was not sympathy. It was guilt. He had sworn to protect (Y/n) from his world. They didn't need to know any of the details. But he had stolen a piece of that light they were known for all in the name of protecting himself.

Hannibal had offered to get (Y/n) a meeting with Will.

A way to give his love some false form of closure.

They refused. They preferred completely cutting off the person they saw as a villain than trying to get a reason for it.

"Would there be a reason that made me somehow feel better," they'd asked him after his offer.

"I can't promise it," Hannibal had replied.

It took weeks for (Y/n) to feel safe and comfortable leaving the house.

They said that they needed to do it on their own. Hannibal agreed, but he was still by their side through the entire morning.

As (Y/n) got ready, pulling on a bright outfit that brought a small grin to Hannibal's lips, he complimented their choice. He asked about their plan, how long they were going to be gone, anything that would keep (Y/n) focused on the day they had planned for themselves. He also promised to have dinner prepared.

(Y/n) came home a few hours later, two books tucked in their arms and a small package of candy tucked in their bag. Hannibal caught a small grin as he was plating their dinner.

It brought him more comfort than (Y/n) would know. Maybe he hadn't destroyed everything with his selfish actions.

Once (Y/n) had fallen back into a semi-regular rhythm again, Hannibal felt more safe returning to his normal work schedule. He was even working with the F.B.I again. Alana was always asking about (Y/n) and offering to help. Hannibal would just insist that if (Y/n) needed help, she'd be the first on his list. Another lie.

He walked in later than he had planned one night. He called out (Y/n)'s name, hoping to hear it coming from the pair's room or the main living room.

When there was no response, scenarios raced through Hannibal's head.

He called out again. Nothing.

He didn't like not knowing.

(Y/n) was usually very good about planning their day. Once the pair had gotten together and moved in together, (Y/n) would give him some idea of what could be expected. More for his sake than theirs.

(Y/n) hadn't mentioned leaving for the day. Quite the opposite. (Y/n) had said they had the day off and was going to try to relax, get through the book that they had gotten a few days earlier.

He had a few paths that made him nervous. One: someone had gotten (Y/n) without him even having a hint that it was going to happen. Two: (Y/n) was in the middle of some kind of medical emergency and he hadn't been there to help with the situation. Three: (Y/n) left on their own for reasons unknown to him.

He spent what felt like too long scanning every inch of the home. There was no sign of (Y/n), but no sign that any of their things had been moved or disturbed.

Hannibal's only instinct was to call Jack Crawford and request his assistance. There was a theory. Something sitting in the back of his mind that made his blood turn to ice. He didn't want to believe it.

Will.

His theory was revolving around Will's involvement from behind bars at the asylum.

He didn't want to believe it. (Y/n) had never been anything other than kind and accepting of Will. It was unlike the man to target someone other than Hannibal. Unless that's what this was. An indirect attack on the doctor.

Alana had tried to comfort Hannibal when she found out about the current situation.

Hannibal didn't want comfort. He made that clear. All he wanted was to find (Y/n). He made that much clear to everyone.

As the remaining members of the team- exceptions being the arrested Will Graham and the deceased Beverly Katz- (Y/n) found themself in a dark room.

It was cold and dark. Almost slimy. Walls and floors made of stone.

(Y/n) was more confused than scared at first. It wasn't until they looked to the side and caught sight of blood dripping down their arm that panic took over. Their arms were tied out to the sides, one cut going up each forearm. Their feet were barely planted on a wooden bucket.

"You're awake."

(Y/n) looked out at the man wearing all-white. They didn't recognize the man. They wanted to. If they knew him, they could reason with him.

"Who are you," (Y/n)'s voice was far shakier than they wanted it to be.

"None of your concern," the man stepped forward, standing next to (Y/n). "You're not important. Just a message. A puzzle piece."

"What," they asked. "A message for who?"

"Will Graham is innocent," the man said simply. "The Chesapeake Ripper is still free."

(Y/n) had a million more questions.

All of them would go unanswered.

The man reached behind (Y/n)'s head and pulled out a noose that had been tied to the ceiling. (Y/n) wanted to find some way to reason with the man, but he refused to listen to any of (Y/n)'s questions and begging. Nothing would get through his mission.

The man tightened the noose around (Y/n)'s neck, giving them no mind.

Just as the man went to kick the bucket out from under (Y/n)'s feet, the door is forced open. They let out a yell as it did, attempting to shield their face as a gunshot rang out.

The man wouldn't go down easily. As he fell to the ground, he pulled the bucket out from under (Y/n). The shock at the rope cutting off their breath sent (Y/n) into complete panic.

"(Y/n)," Hannibal ran in behind Jack.

Hannibal held (Y/n) up enough to loosen the noose and pull it off of their neck. As he did that, Jack undid the ropes on (Y/n)'s wrists.

(Y/n)'s instinct was to pull their wrists to their chest. Hannibal shifted them slightly, now carrying (Y/n) out of the room.

"Hannibal," he looked down when he heard them mumble his name.

"It's going to be okay," he promised quietly. "It's all going to be okay now."

He would not leave (Y/n)'s side as they were checked out.

Now, (Y/n) sat at the dining table, waiting for Hannibal to be finished with whatever meal he was preparing. their fingers traced the skin around the stitches in their wrists.

There were still so many questions.

Why had the man chosen them? Why was he convinced Will was innocent? Who was it if it wasn't Will? Was he trying to say it was... no. (Y/n) refused to even give that possibility a second thought.

They had been with Hannibal for over a year. They had been friends for years before that. If Hannibal was a killer, (Y/n) would know. Right?

Hannibal walked into the dining room and set a bowl of soup in front of (Y/n).

They barely ate. It made Hannibal sigh as he watched them. He tried to push them gently. He knew he should be understanding, but he refused to watch (Y/n) torment themself like that.

He wanted his source of light back. He wanted to stop anything that was in the way of that light.

"He mentioned Will," (Y/n) said. They had cut Hannibal off in the middle of some sentence about just eating for his sake. "Said his full name."

"Did he only say his name," Hannibal asked.

"No," (Y/n) replied. "'Will Graham is innocent. The Chesapeake Ripper is still free.'"

There was a long silence.

"Meaning that the murders during his trial weren't done by some creative fan."

Another pause.

"I just... I don't understand why he picked me."

"The man was an orderly at the asylum," Hannibal explained. "It's possible he heard Will and I talk about you."

"You've talked to Will about me?"

"Not much," he promised. "He was worried about you. I told him you were safe."

(Y/n) nodded. That was okay.

"I know it hurts now," Hannibal continued. "But I will help you through this. No matter what it takes."

Hannibal carefully cupped (Y/n)'s forearm. He slowly leaned down and kissed the stitches on their wrist. His lips just barely brushed the skin, not risking any damage to it.

When he looked up from their arm, he caught sight of a small grin on their lips. He grinned back. There it was. That smile that was a beam of sunlight.

It was small and only seemed to last a few moments, but Hannibal would make sure he got to see it again.

He needed to be able to see it.

He would protect it at any cost.

-----------------------------

Masterlist (Includes links to All Writing Challenges)

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

#hannibal imagine #hannibal x reader #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal lecter fanfiction #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter x reader #fanfiction #imagine #x reader

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lovecrimeart · 7 months

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"It's beautiful."

On August 29, 2015, the last episode of season 3 of Hannibal, titled «The Wrath Of The Lamb», was released, and on this day this episode turns 8 years old, it's not only of the episode but of the criminal love story of our favourite characters, the so-called murder husbands, Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham.

You ask what happened to them after they fall from a cliff into the sea in their arms, I hope that in the future in the fourth season everything is fine with them and that for sure they're still alive. And also the pieces of the broken teacup are reunited together.

Continuation of the description in the comments ⬇️

Lets go back first from the

episode <Aperitif>, we remind you that in Jack

Crawford's office, Hannibal looks at Will and

falls in love with him immediately at first sight

especially with his empathy and uniqueness,

but he does not betray this special significance,

realizing that Willis close to understanding his

nature, Hannibal is forced to accuse him of four

murders, but when Will has seizures, their joint

therapy begins. The most intense and extreme

depiction of intimacy in the series; the

described "blurring" and "connection" of mind

and personality, confirmed romantic desire

unresolved sexual attraction

n season 2, their relationship becomes very

complicated, Hannibal helps Will clear his name

and get out of prison. In an attempt to

manipulate Hannibal and expose him, Will

begins a dangerous game by pretending to be

Hannibal's friend. However, Will's loyalty

becomes less clear during this game, and the

dark corners of his soul are freed with the help

of Hannibal. At the end of the second season in

the episode <Mizumono>, calls Hannibal to

warn that the FBI knows where they are that

they are being arrested, entering the kitchen, he

discovers Abigail, whom he considered her

dead, he turns around, claiming that Hannibal

had to leave, to which he replies that they could

not leave without him. At that moment,

Hannibal is devastated and badly broken after

learning about his betrayal, after a while, using

a linoleum knife to inflict a deep wound in the

upper abdomen, creating a <smile> scar, and

said that time has turned back, and that this

place was created for the world of Abigail and

Will, further says that he let him know him and

see him. That he gave Will a rare gift, and he

didnt want it, asks Will if he will refuse him in

ife, and he says no>. Then Hannibal claims

that Will would only deprive him of his freedom.

He asks Will if he believed he could change

Hannibal the way he was changed by him. Will

declares that he has already changed Hannibal.

This silences Hannibal for a moment before he

says that fate and circumstances brought them

back to this moment and that he forgives Will. He asks if Will would do the

same, then turns to Abigail and holds out

his hand. He tells Willthat he can make it

all disappear so that Will wades into a quiet

stream before cutting Abigail's neck with a

same knife. She falls to the floor next to Will,

dark Hannibal. clutching Inthe side of first the However, wound... nature due season. and to 3, searches Will complications, reveals for he

the

half of

his

changes his mind and instead decides to try to

ead a normal life, rejecting Hannibal. Hannibal

allows himself to be arrested so that Will can

find him in the future if he ever wants to return

to him. In the second half of the season, Will

tries to live with his wife and her child without

thinking about Hannibal. However, the serial

killer Tooth Fairy forces Will to work with

Hannibal, reminding him of the absolute

freedom he experienced while with him

Eventually, Will realizes the hopelessness of his

battle with himself and admits his true feelings

for Hannibal. He realizes that Hannibal is in love

with him. Then he runs off with it. Finally, Will

and Hannibal team up, whether the former likes

it or not, to kill the Red Dragon (Francis

Dolarhyde). Then we look into each other's eyes

with the phrase <See, this is all 1 ever wanted

for you, Will for both of us.> Will hugs

Hannibal: <lt's beautiful,> and when Lecter

smiles, Will throws them both off a cliff and

they fall into the ocean. And what will happen to

them next, we will see, we hope that their

criminal love stories will continue and that their

relationship will be deep and sincere, like a

spark that sparkles with fiery lights of love

Despite the fact that I don't know if season

4 will be released, but we will hope for it

and continue to hope. Everything depends

on our leader and a good person with great

enthusiasm, ambition and hope - Bryan Fuller. "The Wrath Of The Lamb!"

#thewrathofthelamb hannigram hannibal savehannibal fannibalfamilyforever hughdancy hanniballecter madsmikkelsen willgraham art

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emmalovesdilemmas · 2 years

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10 characters, 10 fandoms, 10 tags

thanks for tagging me @wolfpants, i loved reading yours! i couldn’t tell if this was for the character you love the most or the character you related to most so i kind of just went with the character who took up most of my brainspace for each of these.

1. black sails - flint

“You must know this. You're too smart not to know this. They paint the world full of shadows and then tell their children to stay close to the light. Their light. Their reasons, their judgments. Because in the darkness, there be dragons. But it isn't true. We can prove that it isn't true. In the dark, there is discovery, there is possibility, there is freedom.”

2. the terror - francis crozier

“Friend, mother, lover, all the things they say a ship is to a captain, and they miss the only thing that matters: Confessor. This ship knows everything about me, Thomas.”

3. hannibal - will graham

“At night I leave the lights on in my little house and walks across the flat fields. When I look back from a distance the house is like a boat on the sea. It's really the only time I feel safe.”

4. succession - shiv roy

“You’re in a shitstorm of conflicting interests here. You can’t trust anyone. You just have to be smart. So, listen to everyone and make an assessment. Because frankly, I want what’s best for me. But the other people? The folks who want you to get up there tomorrow, and get pulled apart? They want what’s best for them. You need to think about what’s best for you.”

5. our flag means death - jim

“I’m gonna keep this very simple. You all know me as Jim, si? So just...keep calling me Jim. Huh, nothing’s changed.”

6. infinity train - lake/mirror tulip

“I’m not Tulip! I’m not foil, I’m not reflection, I’m not a sliver, I’m not a ‘Null,’ I’m not any of the hundreds of names that everyone wants to give me! I’m my own person who is getting off this train!”

7. avatar the last airbender/the legend of korra - katara

“I know sometimes it hurts more to hope and it hurts more to care, but you have to promise me that you won't stop caring.”

8. everything, everywhere, all at once - waymond wang

“You think I'm weak don't you? All of those years ago when we first fell in love, your father would say I was too sweet for my own good. Maybe he was right. You tell me it's a cruel world, and we're all running around in circles. I know that. I've been on this earth just as many days as you. When I choose to see the good side of things, I'm not being naive. It is strategic and necessary. It's how I've learned to survive through everything. I know you see yourself as a fighter. Well, I see myself as one too. This is how I fight.”

9. schitt’s creek - david

“There are certain lies I tell myself, and if you’re any kind of friend you will let me cling to those lies.”

10. the locked tomb series - harrowhark nonagesimus

“I have tried to dismantle you, Gideon Nav! The Ninth House poisoned you, we trod you underfoot—I took you to this killing field as my slave—you refuse to die, and you pity me! Strike me down. You’ve won. I’ve lived my whole wretched life at your mercy, yours alone, and God knows I deserve to die at your hand. You are my only friend. I am undone without you.”

no pressure tagging @softlystarstruck, @corvuscrowned, @academicdisasterfic, @saintgarbanzo, @babooshkart, @epitomereally, @moonstruckwytch, @nv-md, @oknowkiss, @bluebutter-art (and anyone else who wants to) if you haven’t done this yet and want to!

#tag game

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kazzyboy · 2 years

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The Monsters vs Horror Movies

Andrew

- He acts completely calm and collected at the beginning of the movie

- He’s got one hand in the popcorn, one hand in Neil’s, he’s nice and warm curled up on the couch, he’s chillin

- Until he’s not

- He’s not afraid of zombie’s. They’re predictable overall easy to overcome. Not even the jump scares get him (in zombie movies), so he makes fun of the characters with Neil and Renee

- The paranormal/physiological movies, however? No thank you, left right upside down and fucking sideways

- At one point they watch Fractured and Andrew’s left feeling a little sick at the end, which he is disturbed by because he doesn’t get disturbed. He refuses to watch it ever again

- He hates horror movies so goddamn much but they’re so fucking interesting and entertaining. Part of the time it’s funny to watch how bad the actors are and other times it’s interesting to see how it plays out and what the next move is. It’s like movie chess to him.

- Likes playing horror games more than watching movies, though, since he can do much better than most people in horror stories

- He usually likes guessing the plot, and a lot of the time he’s right.

- He isn’t really scared by much, but the second he sees a creepy, long-necked shadow figure in the corner of the screen? He’s got his nails dug into Neil’s sleeve and is trying to figure out how to crush himself into Neil’s side without making it obvious. There is absolutely popcorn tossed, at one point. Poor Nicky. He shouldn’t have chosen to sit on the floor.

- (I know Andrew probably doesn’t like touching people when he’s afraid, but I like the idea that Neil becomes enough of a safe thing for him that he feels more comfortable using him as a shield <3)

- Likes Hannibal

Neil

- Neil is, overall, unaffected. He’s seen horrors enough to last ten thousand life times, so when he sees gore on the screen, there’s something in his head that immediately notices everything incorrect about it and that there’s nothing to be afraid of

- Like with Andrew, though, jump scares, creepy figures, and psychological messing does freak him the fuck out. He’s not nearly as disturbed by Fractured as Andrew is, though. He was too busy caught up in trying to out-guess Andrew plot-wise to really think about how scary it was. He did notice Andrew’s proximity, however, and near the end when Andrew was just done with it he got up with him and made some hot chocolate.

- He can get behind hunting horror movies, like Big Foot or alien movies (which he is horrified to find out he shares that interest with Aaron).

- He doesn’t really go out of his way to watch horror movies. He doesn’t really love movies in the first place, so being paranoid is an added downfall

- He particularly hates murder movies, though, like Halloween. It doesn’t quite hit close too home, but it gets him itching to move, which he dislikes when Andrew is willingly curled against him and has his hands dug into his hoodie (he’s pouting after he gets jump scared and Neil thinks it’s the best think he’s ever seen)

- The Blair Witch is also very confusing to him. It scares him but it’s also interesting. He only believes in ghosts enough to be scared of them when it’s dark at three in the morning and he swears he can hear his father calling his name, but The Blair Witch isn’t exactly that, either. He rewatches it to see if he can figure out what it’s making him feeling

- Prefers watching Andrew play horror games

Kevin

- Kevin is uninterested in most horror movies

- At one point he asks if there’s an exy horror movie, which Andrew tells him there is because he thinks it will be funny, until he drags an unwilling Andrew and Neil into it (though it’s overall amateur internet actors with bad editing, so to say the least he’s disappointed. And a little unsettled. But mostly disappointed.)

- He loves history-based horror movies, though, such as The Conjuring. He does want to point out everything incorrect about it, but Neil gives him the bowl of popcorn and tells him to shut up already, to which Nicky offers to listen and gets groaned at by the rest of the group

- He only willingly pays attention to it if it’s historical or sometimes about cryptids, though, since he shares Neil’s dislike of being unnecessary paranoid

- Shares a liking of A Quiet Place with Neil

Nicky

- Loves horror movies, because it’s an excuse to be dramatic. It’s fun to be scared and exhilarated without being in any actual danger. It’s one of his favorite things to do

- He likes to feel the anticipation in the room. It’s fun to scream and watch everyone else freak out, too, but he only likes the fast or funny ones

- the second things get serious, he gets a little sad. It’s why he dislikes most zombie movies— he thinks there’s no coming back from something like that. It makes that little flicker of hope in his chest die down.

- He prefers cheesy old flicks meant for grabbing onto his boyfriend, thank you

- Making a fuss is fun, but you know he’s actually scared when he gets quiet. He’s got a death grip on the pillow in his lap and the popcorn has been left untouched.

- 100% believes in ghosts

- After a really scary one, he sleeps on the couch with the lights on (so he doesn’t disturb the others sleeping. Aaron falls asleep on one of the bean bags by “accident,” but Nicky knows he didn’t want (Nicky) to be alone)

- Has a special liking for anything having to do with The Purge movies and also classics like Jaws

- Lord help anyone within the vicinity of a scared Nicky. You will leave with nail prints in your thighs/arms/shoulders (unless you’re Renee, who politely gets squeezed to death.) He should get an award for being able to dig his nails through sweatpants and denim

- Probably definitely scared of the dark

Aaron

- He’s mostly focused on Katelyn in his lap (as far away from Andrew as he could comfortably get her), but the second any of the lights start flickering on the tv that’s where he’s focused

- he likes alien and murder mysteries/zombie movies most.. there’s not a lot of horror movies he won’t watch

- Zombieland is probably one of his favorites, along with the Scream movies

- He has a nitpick where he gets really irritated when anatomy is wrong tho.. lmao what a nerd

- He is the one grabbing Katelyn

- He also likes horror games, which he sometimes reluctantly (ish) plays with Andrew and Nicky (...and one time with Neil where he rage-quits after Neil ends up better than him and keeps killing him because it’s funny)

- He, however, despises hunting horror movies/movies that are in the woods like Big Foot and The Blair Witch.. they’re just so creepy..

- Likes Truth or Dare, though he refuses to admit it

Bonus - Renee

- She likes anything having to do with the sea

- Particularly likes the movie Crawl

- Has a habit of grabbing onto people’s shoes and squeezing when she’s scared (Usually Kevin, since his are usually the closest. Speaking of which, Kevin wears his shoes inside until like 10pm)

- Dislikes movies like The Purge. Can’t really get behind unrealistic ones. Sucker for realism

- Like Andrew, she likes thinking about how she would go about surviving horror movies.

- Not nearly as scared of psychological or ghostly horrors as he is

- One of the few things that scare her are things that are practically impossible to beat, like Freddy Krueger. She hates him.

#let’s play stickball they said #it’ll be fun they said #kazisatitagain #aftg #all for the game #all for the gay #meme #stickball #sports #neil josten #andrew minyard #renee walker #kevin day #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #horror movies #meet the monsters

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 15

Hannibal gives y/n an idea and y/n negotiates.

@viviace @deadman-inc-bikeshop @dovahdokren

Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence

Aftercare was Hannibal's favorite part of the evening. He loved to spend long, indulgent hours pampering his darlings. But usually, there was only one. And that was Will. And Hannibal's clawfoot bathtub, although beautiful, was not big enough for both of you at the same time. Meaning, you had to take turns.

You and Will argued back and forth about who was in more desperate need of aftercare; each advocating for the other, of course. That was Hannibal's fault, really. He should have known better than to ask you to make a decision.

Hannibal emerged from the bathroom, sleeves rolled up and arms soaked to the elbow. "Who is first?"

Before you could speak, Will shoved you forward. "She is."

Hannibal knew better than to let the argument go on, and so did you. You followed him into the bathroom, the smell of lavender bath salts filling the air.

He removed your fluffy robe and watched you step into the warm bath. The water was just hot enough to soothe the aches in your muscles. Hannibal took his seat at the end of the tub where you rested your head. You leaned back and submerged your whole body.

“You have such soft hair.” Hannibal said, pouring a bit of expensive-smelling shampoo in his palm.

“Thanks, I use fabric softener and tumble dry it on low heat.” You answered.

“You have a hard time accepting compliments, don’t you?” He probed, beginning to lather the shampoo into your hair. “Between that and the self-deprecation, I’d say you suffer from low self-esteem.”

You felt yourself melting into him. The hypnotic motions of his hands chipped away at your defenses. “Is that really that surprising?”

“For such an intelligent, sophisticated young beauty?” Hannibal chuckled. “I am surprised you don’t understand your worth.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” You offered. “The fact that a psychotic cokehead fundamentalist Christian cult leader wants me dead tells me I’m doing something right.”

“You are a force of nature, my indulgence.” Hannibal assured you, still massaging your head. “But you don’t need me to tell you that. You already know your power.”

That got you thinking. Would it be so bad to just find a hunting rifle and blow Chase Mulvaney’s head off? What was stopping you? It certainly wasn’t your conscious. All your remaining moral fiber had been ripped to shreds over the course of the last month.

“Tell me something about yourself, Hannibal.” You said, leaning back.

“What would you like to know?” He asked, retracting his hands. He cupped his hands in the water and poured some over your hair.

“Do you ever think about morality?” You said, bluntly.

The question pleasantly surprised him. “Quite a bit, actually. I like to think of myself as a student of philosophy, which deals heavily with the subject of ethics, human behavior, and yes, morality.”

“Do you believe morality is subjective?” you tilted your head.

“There’s not a doubt in my mind about it.” Hannibal smiled. “Those who think otherwise usually exemplify some of the best arguments for subjective morality.”

“Religious nuts like Chase Mulvaney.” You said. “He and millions of others believe in objective morality, but can’t even keep it consistent among themselves.”

“Darling,” Hannibal whispered. “You don’t have to wait for aftercare to talk philosophy with me. I would be happy to do so anytime.”

You spent a half hour in the bath, Hannibal stroking, kissing and cuddling you. As much as you wanted to enjoy the affection, your mind was elsewhere. Perhaps it was just a hyperfixation, or post-multiple-orgasm clarity, but the only thought in your head was that Chase Mulvaney had to die.

Your train of thought was chugging along smoothly until it was derailed by the violent buzzing of your phone against the tile floor. You leaned over the side of the tub, trying to make out the contact name from across the room.

Hannibal dried his hands on a nearby towel and picked the phone up from the ground.

“Who is it?” You asked.

“This number is logged into your phone as just a picture of a...red demon?” Hannibal answered.

“Oh, yeah.” You dropped your head. “I’ll call her back, just let it ring out.”

“Who’s the demon?” Hannibal chuckled.

You stepped out of the bathtub and reached for a towel. “Just somebody I know from work. Probably calling about covering a shift or something.”

“Would that be the same person who believed I was the devil?” Hannibal raised an eyebrow, watching you wrap the towel around yourself.

You were about to say yes, but caught yourself. “No. Just some lady I work with who always refused to share her tips with the buses. Super entitled, total pain in the ass. I’ve been looking for an excuse to tell her off.”

“Well, we can’t keep you from that, now can we.” Hannibal cupped your cheek in his hand and looked at your face admiringly. “There should be a clean nightgown for you on the bed. Please tell Will I’ll be ready for him in a couple minutes.”

“Wow, you really did think of everything.” You rocked back on your heels and swung to your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll let him know.”

He kissed you back. “Thank you, my indulgence.”

“Just one more thing.” You stopped in the threshold. “Could I please use your computer?”

“I don’t see why not.” Hannibal looked up from the quickly draining tub. “By all means, what’s mine is yours.”

You smiled and blew him a kiss before absconding into the bedroom.

The nightgown he’d laid out for you had far more ruffles and lace than you’d consider appropriate for sleepwear, but it was comfortable and fit you well.

You passed the message along to Will, but hurriedly. You were in a rush to be alone. You had some business to attend to.

You sat at Hannibal's desk, turned on his lamp and logged into your google drive on his computer. While you waited for the content to fully load, you scrolled through your contacts. When you found the demon, you pressed the green dial button.

It didn't take her long to pick up. "[F/N]! Finally, I've been trying to call you all night."

"Yeah, I know." You rolled your eyes. "Some of us have lives to live. Not that you'd know anything about that."

"No need to be snippy." She scolded. "I have an offer for you."

"If it doesn't involve a portion of ad revenue, I'm not interested." You shook your head. "I'm not settling for a flat fee while you make the real money off my experience. My goddamn trauma."

"Sounds like we woke up and chose bitchy today." She teased. "You're not even going to hear me out?"

"Freddie," you began, pulling up a document on the computer. "I happen to have a four-page, comprehensive statement of what happened that night right here. Half of it was cut out for the FBI report."

You could practically hear Freddie drooling already. "And?"

"I won't accept anything under $1200 for it." You finished. "Or 30% of all ad revenue on this article."

"That's not fair." She protested. "Best I can do is $750."

"You made ten times that off my first article." You leaned back in the chair. "Don't try to lowball me, Lounds, I can do this all night."

"Since when were you the assertive type?" She asked, deflecting the conversation.

"Remember when you told me my fifteen minutes of fame was running out and you were my only option to get my story out there?" You recalled.

"At the time, I was right." Freddie contested.

"That was before Chase went from a cokehead to a domestic terrorist." You said. "Now I actually can take it to a more reputable outlet."

"But here you are anyway." She said. "Extorting a small, woman-owned independent news site just for the hell of it. I've got bills to pay, y'know."

"With gaslighting like that, I'm sure they're astronomical." You rolled your eyes. Sighing, you propped your knees against the desk. "Look, I don't hate you, Freddie."

"I don't hate you either." She agreed. "I thought trashing each other was just our mutual love language."

"The only reason I'm considering TattleCrime at all is you." You admitted. "You're loud and unapologetic and it makes people listen to you. I need someone who can take the heat."

"Because you know that mainstream news outlets are going to cut your writing down to maintain the status quo." Freddie finished your thought.

You pursed your lips. "Exactly. You're the only one who's got the cajones to run the whole story."

"I'm flattered." She said, then paused. "If I move some things around, I can probably get you $1000."

You opened a new tab and typed some words into the search bar. You scrolled through the results, leaving Freddie without an answer.

"Hello?" She said. "[F/N]? Did I lose you?"

"How soon can you pay?" You asked.

Your phone buzzed. You had a notification from paypal. A thousand dollars from Fredrica Lounds.

"Right fucking now." She answered.

"You've got yourself a deal." You said, firmly. You typed out Freddie's email address and pushed send. "It's all yours."

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal x you #will graham x you #hannibal x will #hannibal x you x will #hannibal x reader x will #will graham x reader #will graham #the sommelier #hannigram #hannigram x you #hannigram x reader #aftercare #fluff #freddie lounds

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k-s-morgan · 4 years

Text

The Evolution of Will Graham’s Darkness

This meta is mostly written for new viewers who find themselves confused by Will as a character. I’ll incorporate some bits of analysis I’ve written before into it. Let’s start with a thesis of a sort: Will is a dark character who had this darkness from the very start, even before his encounter with Hannibal: he was terrified and disgusted with it, but after meeting Hannibal, slowly, he began to embrace himself, getting bolder and bolder in his violence.

**Before the show**

Will initially tried to get into the FBI but he didn’t pass the tests. It’s revealed in E1 of S1 when he’s ambushed by Beverly.

Beverly: Never been an F.B.I. Agent?

Will: Strict screening procedures.

Beverly: Detects instability. You’re unstable?

At the same time, Will became a police officer, working in the Homicide department. These decisions show that he's been stubbornly and rather hopelessly drawn to darkness, seeking ways to interact with it while remaining on the side of law. However, he had to leave the police, too, because he was incapable of pulling the trigger even when his life depended on it. He preferred to allow himself to get stabbed rather than to fight back and kill someone, which points to him having very serious issues with his violence. He knew that once the door in him opens, it might not close again, that if he kills or harms another person, he might be unable to stop (this is proven when he shoots Hobbs and then immediately tries to kill Stammets).

And still, Will chooses to stay close to darkness, only in safer ways. He becomes a teacher in the FBI Academy, letting himself delve into the ugliest cases from a theoretical perspective. This constant pull and struggle leave Will lonely and hostile to everyone. He avoids eye contact with people; Jack’s first impression of him was that he’s rude and arrogant (when they clashed about the name of the museum). Will is rude and haughty with his students, too – but more about it later. Alana refuses to stay alone in the room with him, thinking his instability is too fascinating and she might want to dissect it. Will has no friends; he lives in isolation with his dogs, someone who would never judge him. There are a lot of rumors about him going around, and most people don’t like him (based on Price’s and Zeller’s initial reactions as well as their later conversations on this topic). Will is lonely and pretty miserable.

The first real words we hear from Will are:

Will: Everyone has thought about killing someone.

It is very demonstrative of his personality. We also get evidence right here that Will is drawn to darkness primarily, not to the idea of saving lives (although the latter helps him feel better about his urges). He delves into the minds of killers even when he isn’t involved in the investigation. He had no other reason to explore the Marlows’ murder like he did at the start of the episode, when he was simply teaching students. It’s proof that he willingly craves contact with violent and disturbed minds — it’s not like he actually tries to solve this case for real, he just imagined himself there.

Will’s first conversation with Hannibal speaks volumes about who he is — because Hannibal senses it seconds after meeting him.

Hannibal: Do you have trouble with taste?

Will: My thoughts are often not tasty.

Hannibal: Nor mine. No effective barriers.

Will: I make forts.

This exchange has Will confess that his thoughts are often dark and that he dislikes it. To hold this darkness at bay, he literally builds forts around it, not letting it spread to other parts of his mind.

Hannibal: Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love.

Hannibal almost directly calls Will out on his struggle with his inner darkness. He’s saying that he sees it, that he knows it’s there, in Will, in his mind, and Will is very disturbed by this — because Hannibal is right. The script even explicitly backs it up:

Hannibal has just described Will Graham to a letter.

Will is immediately wary and hostile, and he ends the conversation with snappy,

Will: Please don’t psychoanalyze me. You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.

What does it mean? It’s simple: Will assumes that Hannibal is a typical psychiatrist who wants to dissect him, so he says that once it happens, Hannibal won’t like what he finds (darkness and ugliness Will carries inside).

His hostility to Hannibal lasts up until the moment when Hannibal acknowledges him as a predator and shows approval of it. This is how it happens: Hannibal tries to subtly tell him that it’s all right to be who he is, hinting that they are the same.

Hannibal: You and I are just alike. Problem free. Nothing about us to feel horrible about.

He’s obviously talking about their darkness, but Will doesn’t react, so Hannibal continues. He tells him that Jack views him as a fragile tea cup, and Will genuinely laughs, amused by this (which is also very telling). Then Hannibal says:

Hannibal: [I see you as the] mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by.

Will grows quiet after this, and then his interactions with Hannibal become much more relaxed. Will takes him to search the property and even bothers to explain how they reached their conclusions and what they are about to do. Him grumbling, “What are you smiling at?” shows a much higher level of familiarity they now share. Something in Hannibal’s words made Will open up a bit, and everything indicates that it’s the acknowledgement of his predatory nature that played its part in it.

Will kills Hobbs by shooting him 10 times. This is his first kill, one he’s been trying to avoid for so long, ever since his police work. It’s not surprising that Hobbs haunts him later because his death became a breaking point for Will. A door did open in him, and he was unable to close it again.

In E2, Will is distraught. But first, we get a glimpse into how rude and insensitive he generally is. Look at how he treats his students. He tersely thanks them for clapping and then snaps for them to stop. He devises a little malicious test for them.

Will: It’s [Hobbs’] resignation letter. Anybody see the clue?

A few hands go into the air. Will ignores them.

Will: There isn’t one.

He looks so long-suffering with them, as if they are idiots. The fact that he asks a question, waits for people to think and raise their hands, and only then he tells them there is actually no answer is petty at best. He also admits to Jack that he doesn’t consider lessons socialization because he doesn’t have to actually talk to students, he talks at them. Not good for a teacher or even for a person who works with other people like this.

But Will has more serious problems. He keeps imagining Hobbs, and after his messy kill, Jack becomes worried about him. He makes Will go visit Hannibal for one-time evaluation. Will is naturally not fond of the idea, but he and Hannibal have a pretty personal talk. Hannibal ends it with an even more explicit hint at Will’s own darkness:

Hannibal: And Will… the mirrors in your mind can reflect the best of yourself, not the worst of someone else.

Hannibal is talking about Will’s personal brand of violence again. He’s trying to tell him that it’s fine to be a murderer in every way he can, that Will’s darkness might be the best part of him. He also gives him a fake official approval to work in the field, showing that Will can trust him. But their obligatory session ends and Will leaves — only to return after he tries to kill Stammets and misses (their talk about it was cut from the episode but is echoed in the conversation below).

Hannibal: [You are here to] prove that sprig of zest you feel is from saving Abigail, not killing her dad.

Will: I didn't feel a sprig of zest when I shot Eldon Stammets.

Hannibal: You didn't kill Eldon Stammets.

Will: I thought about it. I'm still not entirely sure that wasn't my intention when pulling the trigger.

This is a huge evidence of Will struggling with his violence. It proves that he had it before becoming actively involved with Hannibal — all Hannibal did was recognize it and coax it to come to the surface. Will has always been like this, and after finally killing a person, he found himself unable to stop because he liked the feeling too much.

Hannibal: It wasn't the act of killing Hobbs that got you down, was it? Did you really feel so bad because killing him felt so good?*

Will: I liked killing Hobbs.

Hannibal is pleased to receive the confirmation of what he sensed in Will. Seeing that Will is terrified about his own confession, he comforts him.

Hannibal: Killing must feel good to God, too. He does it all the time, and are we not created in his image?

Let’s be honest, every sane person would have run for the hills after hearing this. Hannibal literally justifies the fact that Will liked murder by drawing a parallel with God. That’s such a narcissistic, serial killer thing to do, and yet Will welcomes it with open arms. He’s happy to find someone who doesn’t think he’s a monster — he’s relieved to be able to finally discuss his darkest impulses freely. This is the reason why Will started coming back to see Hannibal on a constant basis, to Jack’s surprise.

The next huge proof of Will’s ever-present darkness is found in E5 (actually, every episode has some bits, but I’ll cover only the major ones). The Angel Maker, a killer-of-the-week, has a unique gift of being able to see if a person is good or evil. First, Hannibal tries to tell Will that he doesn’t have to self-destruct because of his darkness like he’s been doing.

Hannibal: Angel Maker will be destroyed by what’s happening inside his head. You don’t have to be.

When Angel Maker dies, Will suddenly sees himself through his eyes. And he sees a demon. He sees himself as evil. It proves that Will’s darkness is inherent since he hasn’t done anything really bad at this point. It also proves that he’s perfectly aware of who he is and the darkness he has. He has the following conversation with the imagined Angel Maker.

Angel Maker: I see what you are.

Will: What do you see?

Angel Maker: Inside. I can bring it out of you.

Will: Not all the way out.

So, Will acknowledges that his darkness is rooted so deeply inside him, it can’t even be extracted fully. It’s an inseparable part of him.

Will is shown admiring the Ripper’s murders, calling them elegant and referring to them as art. Meanwhile, he’s trying to half-heartedly flirt with Alana, but they don’t have a meaningful connection because Will can’t be happy with a person who doesn’t know him. He wants to be normal but he just isn’t. If you’re interested in my opinion about their relationship, it’s here.

Will’s next morally gray action happens when he agrees to cover murder for Hannibal and Abigail in E9. He agrees quickly and then he’s shown being fiercely devoted to it. He doesn’t seem to care that Abigail killed someone much — in fact, he basically threatens Freddie, another person who sees him for who he is, to make her write a book favorable toward Abigail.

In E13, Hannibal says what he wants from Will directly.

Hannibal: If you followed the urges you kept down for so long, cultivated them as the inspirations they are, you’d become someone other than yourself.

Will remembers this phrase (he later throws it back into Hannibal’s face), but for now, he’s too angry and bitter to listen.

Will is healthy again and he struggles with realization that Hannibal betrayed him. He starts a dark game of his own: he pretends he’s vulnerable, moving Alana to tears in the process, and asks Hannibal for help. He’s still drawn to him, but he also wants to take him down — for himself and for Abigail.

In E1, Hannibal tells Will the purpose of all their past meetings, how they were aimed at helping Will Become.

Hannibal: Our conversations, Will, were only ever about you opening your eyes to the truth of who you are.

Alana tries to hypnotize Will to help him remember what happened.

Alana: Imagine yourself in a safe and relaxing place... safe and secure here, safe to relax completely...

What does Will imagine? He sees Hannibal’s room and them sitting at the murder table together. He’s freaked out by it, but it proves how twisted his perception is: regardless of the betrayal, a part of him understands that Hannibal is the only person who’s ready to accept him, and he feels safe with him. @bloodsmile wrote a great meta about it here.

Will coldly manipulates Beverly, refusing to help her save lives unless she helps him as well. In E5, he engages in yet another manipulation. He gets Matthew Brown to try to kill Hannibal. This is the first premeditated murder attempt Will is responsible for. That is why we see him growing horns, that is why he sees a sink full of blood — his darkness starts progressing in noticeable ways. By E7, Will has figured out that Hannibal really did everything to open his eyes to the truth of who he is and that he wants to be his friend, but as he still wants revenge, he decides to honey-trap him with Jack.

In E8, Will is dealing with his complex feelings for Hannibal and explores his darkness further. He admits that Hannibal made him feel less alone and that he doesn’t hate him, no matter what; that he has no idea what he feels for him. Then Will tries to kill Ingram in cold blood as revenge for Peter. He asks him to pick up the hammer, indicating that he plans for the murder to look like self-defense. Hannibal tries to talk him out of it, but Will still pulls the trigger. It’s by a miraculous accident that Hannibal manages to stop him. This is the second conscious murder attempt by Will.

In E9, Will has a dream about Hannibal, love, and darkness.

Dream Hannibal: Must I denounce myself as a monster while you still refuse to see the one growing inside you?

Meaning: Will is fully aware of both the presence of this monster inside him and his attempts to ignore it since this is his dream.

Dream Hannibal: No one can be fully aware of another human being unless we love them. By that love we see potential in our beloved. Through that love we allow our beloved to see their potential. Expressing that love, our beloved's potential comes true.

So, a part of Will realizes that Hannibal loves him, and that he really wants him to Become, to realize all his potential.

Will is shown as feeling bitter at Hannibal for not letting him kill Ingram.

Will: I regret what I did in the stables.

Hannibal (thinking Will means murder attempt): Then you were lucky I was there.

Will: Being lucky isn't the same as making a mistake. Mistake was allowing you to stop me.

Hannibal: So it’s not pulling the trigger that you regret. It’s not pulling it effectively.

Will: That would be more accurate.

Hannibal: I want you to close your eyes, Will, and imagine a version of events you wouldn't have regretted.

Will obeys, and he sees himself murdering Ingram. It proves that every word he says to Hannibal is true — he really does regret not killing him. But there is an even creepier dialogue ahead.

Hannibal: What did you see?

Will: A missed opportunity… to feel like I felt when I killed Garret Jacob Hobbs. To feel like I felt when I thought I killed you … a quiet sense of power.

This is disturbing. It proves once again that Will isn’t just a righteous killer, he enjoys the act of murder itself, and like many serial killers, he craves the feeling of power that comes with it.

He and Hannibal talk about the intimacy of murder, how Will was hiding behind a gun when he tried to kill Hannibal back in E5. Will takes note of it. Hannibal, remembering Will’s complaint about a missed opportunity, sends Randall to him as a gift. When Randall breaks into Will’s house, Will is shown thinking and then deliberately throwing the gun away. He doesn’t want to hide this time — he attacks Randall with his bare hands. This isn’t about self-defense or justice, this is about Will trying to experience a more intimate kind of murder. He beats Randall up until he’s incapacitated and then he snaps his neck, even though there was no reason to do it. He could easily call Jack and have Randall arrested at this point (since he was barely conscious and not fighting back). This could help him in his plan to catch Hannibal. But Will isn’t particularly concerned about it, he’s more interested in realizing his darkness.

He takes the body to Hannibal. This moment got deleted, but Will actually had to stick a note to it:

A piece of paper is pinned to his chest. On it is written: "Return to Sender."

Which excellently shows Will’s dark humor. He laughs with Hannibal a little as they talk about murder right above the corpse. Then Hannibal is treating his hands, and he says:

Hannibal: Stay with me.

Will: Where else would I go?

Nowhere — because Will understands that Hannibal is the only person who can understand his darkness and accept him for who he is.

Will: I've never felt more alive than when I was killing him.

This is, once again, huge. Will is a murderer who can get dangerously high on the act. The moment when he felt most alive is the moment when he took a life from another person — and he was vicious about it. Will is very, very dark in these scenes — and it’s going to get worse.

Will mutilates the body and places it in the museum. He keeps Randall’s suit in his house as a trophy, and he keeps his butchered parts of meat in his fridge. In the following discussion, Will confirms that he enjoyed doing all that. When Hannibal suggests that Randall’s killer felt disdain for him in front of Jack, Will disagrees.

Will: He isn't mocking him. This isn't disdain. He's commemorating him.

Hannibal: This killer has no fear for the consequences of what he's done.

Will: No guilt.

Then Will retreats into his mind to talk to Randall’s corpse.

Will: Hello again.

Randall: Come closer … Can you see you?

Will: Clearer and clearer.

This proves Will’s honesty in all his discussions with Hannibal. He really is exploring his violence, not just pretending to do it, coming to the realization of what kind of monster he is.

Will: You forced me to kill you.

Randall: I didn't force you to enjoy it.

This takes place in Will’s head, so every word is genuine.

Will: I gave you what you want. This is who you are. What you feel finally matches the reality of what I see.

Randall: This is my becoming. And yours.

Will shakes his head, this is not his becoming.

Will: This is my design.

So, what do we have here? Will calls murder, mutilation, and storage of Randall’s meat his design. It’s not his Becoming, not yet, Will isn’t ready to fully embrace himself, but this is a start. He understands his design now.

In the same E10, Will attacks Freddie when she discovered his trophies. We know he didn’t kill her, but would he have done it if she hadn’t called Jack? We can only guess. Will sure took his chance to be creepy and physically violent with her. At the end of the episode, he brought Randall’s meat to Hannibal and they cooked as well as ate it together. This was not about getting Hannibal to trust him. Hannibal already did, especially after thinking Will killed Freddie, so there was simply no need for it. Bryan Fuller confirmed Jack had no idea this happened, so Will was acting on his own, out of his genuine curiosity. This is where he willingly became a cannibal.

In E11, Will dreams of burning fake Freddie and hears himself screaming. It’s easy to interpret this dream: he feels guilty for betraying Hannibal. Alana comes by and Will is being deliberately creepy again. He gives her a gun for protection, but later, it almost becomes her undoing. Will is equally creepy during the funeral. He enjoys being dark, and he feels free to act like this because technically, he has an excuse.

In E12, Will is freshly angry at Hannibal. He fantasizes about murdering Hannibal in the most violent way possible. Then he makes three deals. The first one is with Mason: they agree to kill Hannibal together. The second one is with Hannibal: they tentatively agree to target Mason together. The third one is with Jack: they agree that when Hannibal tries to kill Mason, Will is going to arrest him. Will goes with his and Mason’s plan at first. Hannibal is kidnapped and presented in front of Will just like in his fantasy. But instead of acting on it, Will chooses Hannibal and frees him, getting all Mason’s people killed in the process. Later, he watches Hannibal mutilate Mason, approach him to kill him, and snap his neck. He does nothing: he ignores his deal with Jack completely and covers for Hannibal. Yet another proof that Will is siding with Hannibal more and more, and that his initial honey-trapping plan is almost a formality at this point. At the end of the episode, Will offers Hannibal to kill Jack.

In E13, Hannibal and Will are getting ready to kill Jack while Will and Jack are getting ready to arrest Hannibal. Will doesn’t seem to know on whose side he is until the end. At the same time, he lies to Jack about where the attack is supposed to take place. He helps Hannibal burn all evidence, even though he could have easily preserved some of it to use it later. He burns the evidence related to himself as well. Will doesn’t take Hannibal’s chance to run away before dinner, but he does hesitate and wonder about it. When the final moment comes, he calls Hannibal to warn him — he chooses him above everyone. Justice for Abigail, justice for himself, the desire to save other people — none of it matters to Will now. He made his choice, he chose his side, but he did it too late. When he goes to Hannibal’s house, Alana tells him that Jack is still inside, and Will takes out his gun. He doesn’t even try to point it at Hannibal. When Hannibal accuses him of lying, Will implies that he’s wrong.

Hannibal: I gave you a rare gift… But you didn't want it.

Will isn't so definitive.

Will: Didn't I?

Because yes, Will wanted it. He was ready to accept it. But he did so too late.

Will’s thoughts are only about Hannibal and Abigail. He breaks into Hannibal’s empty house and sits there in silence. When Alana comes to find him and tries to talk to him, he coldly sends her away. He’s repairing a boat to go after Hannibal. When Jack comes to him to ask about his motivations, Will is very open — he doesn’t care about hiding any more.

Jack: Do you remember when you decided to call Hannibal?

Will: I wasn't decided when I called him. I just called him. I deliberated while the phone rang. I decided when I heard his voice.

Jack: You told him we knew.

Will: I told him to leave. Because I wanted him to run.

Jack: Why?

Will: Because he was my friend. And because I wanted to run away with him.

In Italy, Will is full of regret over his actions. He blames himself for what happened, admonishes himself for lying to Hannibal. E2 shows his state of mind perfectly – Hannibal is his everything and he admits he wants to be with him. He doesn’t care about justice at all.

Will: I do feel closer to Hannibal here. God only knows where I would be without him … He left [me] his broken heart. He misses [me]. [I] still want to go to him? Yes.

He admires the corpse twisted into a heart, touching it and then lying at the place where it was located. He intimidates Pazzi who tries to talk sense into him and indicates that he’s not here to catch Hannibal.

Will: You couldn't catch him when he was just a kid, what makes you think you're going to catch him now?

Pazzi: You.

A small, polite scoff from Will, unable to take his eyes off the small stairwell to the catacombs.

Will: What makes you think I want to catch him?

Later:

Will: You shouldn't be down here alone.

Pazzi: I’m not alone. I'm with you.

Will: You don’t know whose side I’m on.

Pazzi stares at Will, cautious.

Pazzi: What are you going to do when you find him? Your Il Mostro?

Will: I'm curious about that myself.

Pazzi: You're already dead, aren't you?

Other people realize how dark Will is, too.

Then we move toward Will’s trip to Lithuania in E3. His reverent attitude to Hannibal begins to change once he meets Chiyoh, but he admits the following:

Will: I’ve never known myself as well as I know myself when I’m with him.

Will learns that Chiyoh has been staying here for all these years because she doesn’t want to kill another person. He notes that they can’t be sure whether her prisoner really killed Mischa because Hannibal is the only person who knows the truth. Despite all this, Will sets Chiyoh up to kill or be killed, releasing her prisoner secretly. Chiyoh rightfully accuses him of it:

Chiyoh: You said Hannibal was curious if I would kill. You were curious, too.

He was, if he is honest with himself.

What Will did was cruel and violent. Hannibal just left Chiyoh be, he openly and boldly risked her life, not caring about her safety or about whether her tortured prisoner deserves this. Will stays behind to make the body into art in Hannibal’s style, in accordance with his own design from when he killed Randall. This Will is dark and confident, and very in touch with his dark side. He dreams of killing Chiyoh and keeps asking her whether she saw what a monster she was, unable to accept the idea that only he has real darkness while Chiyoh doesn’t and that murder didn’t make her feel good. He repeats to Jack that a part of him will always want to be with Hannibal. Sadly, he then sees Bedelia as his replacement, grows even bitterer, and tries to attack Hannibal with the knife.

In E7, Will bites into Cordell’s cheek and tears a piece of meat out of it. Then he looks at Hannibal to see his reaction, waiting for his pride. He shows zero reaction to the news that Jack is alive — he doesn’t care about it. He rebukes Alana and shows that he still sees himself and Hannibal as a team, referring to them as “we”.

Will: You helped Mason Verger find us.

Alana: I helped Mason find Hannibal. We followed Bâtard-Montrachet when we should have just followed you.

Will: Almost as ugly as what Mason wants to do to us is the fact that he can do it with the tacit agreement of people sworn to uphold the law.

Alana: I was trying to get to Hannibal before you. I knew you couldn't stop yourself. So I had to try.

Will: By facilitating torture and death.

Alana: I can abide the thought of Hannibal tortured, not necessarily to death. I'd say he has it coming, wouldn't you? Or maybe you wouldn't.

Alana can no longer deny Will’s twisted morals. Will tries to push Alana to a darker side, manipulating her into releasing Hannibal, by telling her almost exactly what he and Hannibal were discussing in S2.

Will: Then you have to evolve, Alana. You have to spill blood. By your own hand or someone else's.

After the escape, Hannibal says the words that define Will perfectly:

Hannibal: You delight in wickedness and then berate yourself for the delight.

This is exactly what Will does — he acts on his darkness again and again, but then he gets scared and makes two steps back. He’s not ready to fully let go of the idea of a normal life yet.

Will sends Hannibal away. When Jack arrives, Will doesn’t even bother to pretend he tried to arrest him — he just says that Hannibal is gone. Jack clearly has zero trust in him at this point since he sends people to break into Will’s house without asking his permission. Will has completely discredited himself, proving himself as someone dark and twisted.

But Hannibal gives himself up and 3 years pass. After the epic Europe failure and his new insecurities, Will tries to retreat again. He decides to try being normal one more time, despite his previous failures at suppressing his darkness and his feelings for Hannibal. So he marries Molly, and it goes as well as expected. Their relationship is shown as weak from the start. The first time we see them, they are apart: Molly and Walter have gone fishing, which is what Will loves and dreamed of sharing with Abigail, yet he stays behind. He didn't let go of the past. He subtly manipulates Jack into talking Molly into urging him to come join the investigation — he deliberately leaves them alone under a weak excuse, knowing very well what Jack is about to do. Will is bored with his normal life and he misses Hannibal, even if he isn’t ready to fully admit it yet.

His treatment of Molly deserves a separate mention: this is the woman he lies to through his teeth, the woman whose “I love you” he doesn’t bother to return and who he doesn’t want to interact with the second she raises the topic he finds personally uncomfortable, someone he leaves her at the first opportunity. He never told her the truth about himself. The way Molly tries to joke about him having a criminal mind proves that she knows nothing of Will's dark struggles, and the way Will immediately shuts down demonstrates their incompatibility and his unwillingness to be honest and open with her.

On the very first day, Will demands to see Hannibal, lying about having to restore his mindset. We know it’s a lie because we’ve just seen him reconstruct Francis’ murder perfectly. He just wanted to see him because he missed him, and both Hannibal and later Bedelia call him out on it.

E9:

Hannibal: You just came here to look at me. Came to get the old scent again. Why don't you just smell yourself?

E10:

Bedelia: Have you been to see him?

Will: Yes.

Bedelia: Haven't learned anything, have you? Or did you just miss him that much?

This is what Hannibal says about Will’s marriage — and another reference to his darkness:

Hannibal: How did you choose yours? Readymade wife and child to serve your needs. A stepson or daughter – (off his look) – a stepson absolves you of any biological blame. You know better than to breed. Can’t pass on those terrible traits you fear the most.

This is very accurate and Will doesn’t bother to deny it. He’s more concerned about stalking Bedelia and asking her about her relationship with Hannibal than anything else. He makes zero efforts to preserve his family, which shows how irrelevant they are to him. This makes him a very cold and cruel person. Also, the way he acts with Bedelia is very different from how he acts with others. With her, he can be himself. He’s dark, relatively confident, and dangerous — which is likely why he keeps coming back to her. With others, he still puts on a rather meek mask.

There is quite a solid idea that a part of Will knew Hannibal might target Molly and Walter and send Francis after them (it’s up to interpretation, though). Hannibal gives Will very clear hints.

Will: Tell me who [the killer] is.

Hannibal: I don’t know who he is. When you close your eyes, Will... is that your family you see?

[Will scoffs at this.]

Will: Do you know who they are?

Hannibal: Yes.

Will: And you're willing to let them die.

Hannibal: They're not my family, Will. And I'm not letting them die. You are.

These are huge hints, and since Will is supposed to be an excellent profiler — more than that, a profiler who understands Hannibal intimately, it’s strange that he didn’t even suspect anything. Maybe a part of him subconsciously wanted proof that Hannibal is in love with him — since he goes to Bedelia with his question right after the attack. Maybe he wanted reassurance that the passion is still there. Maybe he even wanted an excuse to abandon Molly and Walter (and he does it very easily an episode later).

Ultimately, Will seems genuinely infuriated by the attack, but it’s possible that “the enemy inside him” secretly hoped for such outcome. He spends about a minute being truly angry at Hannibal — then he becomes concerned that he’s competing with Francis for Hannibal’s attention, which underlines the irrelevance of his family to him once more. When talking to Walter, Will doesn’t try to hug him or actually comfort him. They are like strangers, and Will shows resentment about having to explain some facts about himself to Walter later.

Will: He read about me in a Freddie Lounds article. I had to justify myself to an eleven year old.

Not “to my son”, but an indifferent and impersonal “11 year old��. Another reminder that Will is a cold person.

This attack made Will realize Hannibal is in love with him, and it finally started the process of his Becoming. Will is shown as full of resentment toward Jack and Alana. He callously sets up Chilton, an innocent person, for torture and death in E12. He explicitly says that he did it deliberately and doesn’t regret it.

Will: Damn if I'll feel … The divine punishment of the sinner mirrors the sin being punished. Chilton languished unrecognized until Hannibal the Cannibal. He wanted the world to know his face.

Bedelia: Now he doesn't have one.

At first, Will makes a half-hearted attempt at denial.

Will: I put my hand on his shoulder for authenticity.

Bedelia: To establish he really told you those insults about the Dragon? Or had you wanted to put Dr. Chilton at risk? Just a little?

Will: I wonder.

Bedelia: Do you really have to wonder?

Will: No.

Bedelia: You were curious what would happen, that's apparent. Is this what you expected?

Will sounds very ironic.

Will: I can't say I'm surprised.

Bedelia: Then you may as well have struck the match. That's participation. Hannibal Lecter does indeed have agency in the world. He has you.

Considering the timing, Chilton looks like Will’s courtship gift to Hannibal. This is the second time Will harms an innocent person, which makes him far darker than a righteous killer should be. And why? Just because. His darkness is really evolving.

When Will visits Chilton with Jack, he openly lies to him (Jack) and tells him Hannibal is responsible for what happened.

In E13, Will stages another deadly game. He plots with Francis to break Hannibal free — the immediacy of his plan makes it look like Will has already been thinking about it before. He lies to Jack and Alana. He hides the fact that Francis is alive from them, and when they discover it by themselves, he offers a plan: to use Hannibal as a bait and stage his escape. Jack begins to plan everything. If Will had actually followed this plan, it would have gotten Hannibal and Francis killed. But Will doesn’t care about justice — he wants Hannibal free and he doesn’t give a damn about the consequences. He shares his true intentions with Bedelia and threatens her.

Will: I don't intend Hannibal to be caught a second time.

Bedelia studies Will. Sensing where he might be going. Hoping she is wrong. A flicker of alarm plays in her eyes.

Bedelia: Can't live with him. Can't live without him. Is that what this is?

Will: I guess… this is my Becoming . I'd pack my bags if I were you, Bedelia. Meat's back on the menu … Ready or not… here he comes.

This is a crucial moment because while in S2, Will called Randall’s murder his design, now he’s finally Becoming. It’s the climax of everything. He leaks info about Hannibal’s transfer to Francis (who, if you recall, has attacked Will’s wife and her son). He gets many officers murdered by proxy; he sets up Jack and destroys him professionally again; he endangers Alana and her family as well as Molly and Walter. Without showing even an ounce of regret toward the dead officers, Will climbs out of the car. We don’t get to see it, but this is what he does according to the script:

Will takes the gun off the dead cop.

Still with no care, he watches how Hannibal throws another body out of the car and offers Will to take a seat. Will looks long-suffering and fond, even though he has just gotten about 5 people killed. He goes with Hannibal.

In the cliff house, he admits he’s not sure if he can “save” himself by killing Hannibal.

Will: I don't know if I can save myself. And maybe that's just fine.

He intends to try, though, but when Francis attacks, Will naturally chooses Hannibal because he can’t see him killed. He reaches for his gun and the fight begins. Seeing Francis strangling Hannibal, Will pulls out the knife from his body and rushes to protect him. He and Hannibal kill Francis together, and Will plunges the knife into him with obvious relish. Then he admires the way the blood looks on his hand.

Will: It really does look black in the moonlight.

This is proof of how Will remembers everything Hannibal has ever said to him. He reaches out to embrace Hannibal, finally allowing himself this weakness, finally accepting that this is who he is and that there is no way back.

Hannibal: See? This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us.

Will: It’s beautiful.

These words have a tremendous worth. Hannibal’s dream for them, the one he has been hoping for since early S1, has just become realized, and Will found it beautiful. The script confirms it additionally:

A moment as Will considers the brutal pack hunting he shared with Hannibal Lecter. He genuinely feels it is beautiful.

Upon this realization, Will gives the fate the last chance to stop himself and Hannibal, knowing that if they live, they’ll unleash their mutual darkness on the world. He pushes them off the cliff that has been confirmed to have no rocks by Hannibal, giving them a chance to survive. And they do — and they stay together and hunt. Will threatened Bedelia with being eaten and he kept his promise. The deleted epilogue to the series shows him and Hannibal in perfect harmony with each other.

Note that this is far from the only moments and details of Will’s long Becoming. There are many more, but if I addressed them, this meta would be even longer. However, here’s a quick analysis of Will’s softer sides — because they also aren’t as simple as it might seem at first. Will seems to sympathize only with people he can relate to personally, who remind him of himself in some way, and most often, they are murderers. He’s bitter about not being able to save killer-children in E4 because like them, he struggles with understanding what family means; he feels close to Georgia because he also thinks he’s losing his mind and no one can understand him; he’s gentle with Peter because he sees him as his fragile mirror; he’s soft with Reba because like Bryan said, they are both people in love with serial killers. With everyone else, Will is indifferent or cold. These traits were less visible in S1, but after he started to Become, they began to come to the surface. His softer sides still have a degree of selfishness to them.

So, Will has always had darkness in him. He has always been a rather cold person despite his genuine struggles, confusion, and the desire to be normal. Hannibal changed his life, helping him embrace himself and find unconditional love and acceptance. Will’s journey was very long, it had many setbacks, but in the end, he made it. They both did, and now they are free to enjoy their new life together.

Tagging some old fans who might be interested! @typicalher @hannibalized @bloodsmile @victorineb @he-s-dead-jim

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #becoming

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michiieewrites · 4 years

Text

Dabi - So big, so small, so tearfuly

A/N: This fic is inspired by an ask that @league-of-villians-headcanons received a week or so ago. THIS IS THE ASK I REFER TO. Anyways, after looking up that song, I cried like a little baby and thus, this story was born. But holy damn! I did NOT expect for this fic to reach over 3.1k+ words. Enjoy, my loves!

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Well, it happened. Waiting in the waiting room with his quirk-cancelling handcuffs. Sitting on Dabi’s left side is Mr. Compress, also with those special ‘bracelets’ made for villains. Even here at the police station the tall showman is still wearing his mask and top hat. They’re both a little torn up, though. Just like all of them, to be honest.

Who knows how that crusty trash rat they call a leader is looking now. Maybe he’s just as banged up as Spinner. The scaly man was currently in the interrogation room with two officers. Most of their members were dragged away by different officers. Toga is still waiting with them. For multiple safety precautions they had restrained her like Hannibal Lector, including the muzzle. Still, that didn’t stop the girl from trying to break free from them.

Didn’t matter, though. Dabi knows that the gig is up. The heroes had all whooped their asses in this last fight. Showing the world that the ‘good guys’ would always win in the end. ‘Cause that’s what always happens, right? The bad guys lose and the good guys win. Because they’re the good guys. And Dabi was one of the bad guys.

He had to lose. That’s what bad guys do, they lose the fight. Good guys like his dad, they win. Good guys like his dad give people hope. Good guys like his dad were there to help control the chaos. Good guys like his dad are praised by the public for protecting them from bad guys like himself. Good guys like his dad always strife for perfection. Good guys like his dad would destroy their own families to save the public people. Good guys like his dad would do anything to keep the public people safe. Good guys, just like his dad.

So that’s what Dabi’s dad did. He protected the public from harm. He strived for protection, he destroyed his own family. Even if it meant nearly killing his eldest son for a second time. All because his dad is a good guy, right?

‘Should’ve burned that shitbag alive when I had the chance,’ Dabi thought to himself. ‘Instead of burning my own damn self. Just burn that fucker to a crisp.’

But no amount of ‘should have’s’ were gonna change the current situation.

Dabi tried to go up against his old man, the great flame hero Endeavor and got burned. Not that it would matter anyway. He himself did a pretty good job of that in the past. By letting his emotions get the better of him. Trying to impress Enji so he would leave his youngest brother alone. So his little brother would have a chance of a somewhat normal childhood. So that maybe, his father would be proud of him for once.

But Dabi couldn’t have been more wrong. Because of his mother’s genes his body wasn’t able to keep up his flames for a long period of time. Not long enough for Enji to matter, anyway.

The moment he pushed young Touya aside, right into the wall was the moment Touya died. His anger and hurt no longer kept under a lid.

Dabi doesn’t remember much from that moment of his past life. He knows the sky of their garden became engulfed by his blue flames. The heat unbearable and scorching away his skin, inch by inch. He looked as his father tried to reach him, only to be pushed back by the sea of blue. There are nights where Dabi can still hear his mother scream for him to stop before he could hurt himself. Echoes of her pleading for her child’s safety.

And yet here he sits, incarcerated and forgotten by his family. Well, not entirely. He had waited for the perfect moment to reveal himself to his past family again, this time as Dabi. He had to wait for years before the timing was right. But the pure look of terror on his old man’s face was worth every single day he had waited.

‘And by then you already had my chest beneath your boot, just like poor little Shouto once was,’ he snickered to himself.

Luckily for him, Shouto was only a couple of feet away from them. For it was to save Shouto that Enji had attacked Dabi. Fighting together, the two Todoroki heroes went up against the flame quirked villain. With his years of experience it was Endeavor who overpowered Dabi. And as he contained him, Dabi had looked up at him and said:

“What a way to welcome back your dead son, father.”

He had seen the way everything clicked in Endeavor’s head. Every little piece of the puzzle fell into it’s place. The weight of his sins intensifying by the second. He knew Shouto was putting the pieces together for himself too. The boy may look dense, but he certainly isn’t stupid.

But before either of them could come to their senses and ask any questions, the fight was over and Dabi was taken away. Only to be kept waiting here in this shithole of a waiting room, guarded by others, heroes and-

“Ma’am, I have to ask you to-“

“No, get out of my way, now!”

Muffled voices sounded from the other side of the door to Dabi’s right. He turned his head, interested in hearing more of the commotion. Multiple hurried footsteps are coming closer.

“Todoroki-san, you are not allowed-“ the officer outside says.

“I don’t care, I need to see him.”

Todoroki-san? He clearly hears, what he assumes is an officer refer to a female voice. But what business would a female Todoroki have at the station?

The door bursts open and a group of five people come flooding in the waiting room. The guards standing around the remaining League of Villains-members put their attention on the newly entered people. All the heads turn in their direction. His fellow villains are also startled by the commotion. Dabi’s world freezes.

He knows these people. Well, four of them, at least. Or used to know, to be precise. They were the ghosts of his past. The people he tried to desperately to forget. The people who once loved him. But why the fuck are they here? Why the fuck would they be here to look at his sorry ass?

A woman, the oldest of the two females, pushes the officer that tries to stop her out of her way. Her pewter grey eyes are overflowing with tears as she rushes over to Dabi’s recoiling form. She throws her arms around him and pulls him tightly against herself. She sinks to her knees and pulls him along down with her. Her chin rests on his shoulder as her cries grow louder by the second.

“It’s you! It’s really you, Touya. Oh my boy, it’s really you!”

Touya. She called him ‘Touya’. His old name rings in his ears. Too shocked to look at the other worried faces of his siblings, his cerulean blue eyes slowly glance over the woman holding him. The woman who has held him so many times before in his past. The woman who carried him for nine whole months with her every second of the day. The woman who blew all his scary nightmares away with a kiss on his head at night when he was a child.. The woman who had mourned for years after her husband told her their first born son had passed away.

His mother Rei is finally holding her son after all these years.

“Wh-what are you do-doing here?” he manages to get out. His breathing becoming rapid and shallow. Hyperventilation setting in as Rei refuses to let go of him.

“Shouto told me, he told me how you fought with him,” she cries, “He told me how you-… how your… he told me you were alive!”

Her tears are slowly wetting his entire shoulder. Her hands tremble as they desperately hold onto his soot covered coat. Her entire body shocking with her sobbing.

Then he finally looks back at the others. The guards are trying to hold back a tall, young man with the same show white hair and pewter grey eyes as their mother. The young man doesn’t budge a single step, a furious look on his face. Behind him a young woman, no younger than a year or two than Dabi himself. Her hair white like melting icebergs with some lava colored tips and her charcoal grey eyes. Scared, but determined she tells the officers that they all have the right to see their brother. He knows they are Fuyumi and Natsuo, the younger sister and brother Enji never bothered to care for.

A familiar mop of half white-half read hair is a little farther behind them. Shouto looks down at the floor and Dabi can’t tell if it’s because he’s angry, or hurt, or ashamed. Hell, it could be all three.

But none of the other people in the room mattered. He tunes out the questions of his comrades, the arguing of his family and the guards, the fast and heavy beating of his own heart. All he can hear now are the strangled cries of his mother.

Softly, so softly only Rei can hear, he asks: “How did he figure it out?”

Sniffing through her words, Rei says: “After they took you away, Shouto confronted your father. He demanded to tell him the truth. Eventually he told him everything; how the fire department didn’t find your body in the ashes of the fire. How he lied to all of us, saying you were too badly burned to see. How he always wondered if your ashes were among those of the garden or if you got away.”

Her grip loosened slightly. She leaned back and took a good look at him. His terrified eyes looking back into her own. He’s terrified that this is all just another nightmare. That the warmth of his mother’s embrace will be ripped away again any second.

Her hand comes up to his face. Gently wiping away one his falling tears. Tears? He doesn’t even realize they are rolling down his cheeks. Despite both their quirks, the feeling of her fingers tracing over his scarred skin are hotter than any of his flames ever felt. He can almost feel the love and sorrow in her touch. A love only a mother can give to her son.

Never in all these years he spent apart from his family would he ever dare dream of seeing her again. Because he knew what happened after his supposed ‘death’. He knew that Rei finally broke over all the neglect and abuse their family had to endure at Enji’s hands. Their family was ripped apart, torn to shreds. Even if they did stitch all those pieces back together, he had accepted the fact that he would never be a part of the Todoroki-family again.

But here they were; the members of his past family he used to love so much. They were standing here in front of him. Demanding they get to see him, Dabi or Touya, that didn’t matter. They were standing up against all these guards and officers just to see him.

His hands try to reach out and hold his mother the way she is holding him. To feel her presence in his hands again. But he’s reminded of the cuffs around his wrists. He tugs at them, trying to break out of them. But these wretched things are keeping his hands locked together. His struggles become more desperate. He just wants to hold Rei.

He whips his head to one of the guards and yells at them. “Get these fucking cuffs off of me!”

“No way, villain,” the guard curtly replies.

“JUST LET ME HOLD MY MOTHER, DAMMNIT!”

Hands cover his own and he looks back at Rei. “Ssh, ssh… It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere,” she gently coos at him.

Slowly, she lifts his hands over her head, so that he can hold her now. His body stiffens once again. This really had to be a dream, right? There was no way in Hell he’s able to hold his mother again. It couldn’t be. As far they all knew, he was dead. Todoroki Touya was dead. Dabi was just another villain. And no one would ever know the secrets he keeps locked in his heart. He knows that giving in now would mean that dream would come to an abrupt end. He didn’t want it to end.

But the look in Rei’s eyes is real and so is the rest of her. Realizing this, he immediately clings onto her. A little clumsy, but he’ll take it for now. Even if it’s just for this moment, all he wants to do is to close his eyes and his mother embracing him back. And so she does.

The air is getting hotter. Heavy footsteps are coming closer. Natsuo’s voice calling out: “What do you think you’re doing here?!”

Both Rei and Dabi are looking to see who Natsuo was talking to. The feeling of a sweet reunion quickly slips away and is replaced by a building rage. But before Dabi can make a move towards Endeavor, who’s stepping into the room, he’s held back. Back by the arms of his mother.

The tension is cold. Rei’s staring daggers at the father of her children. Natsuo moves in front of his younger siblings, also held back by Fuyumi. Shouto stands in front of Enji to block his path. Endeavor, with all his power, dares to give Rei a sympathetic look. He tries to speak before one of the guards cut him off.

“All right, that’s enough! All of you people! Out!” They move closer to the stand off between Enji and Shouto.

“Rei, listen to the guards,” Enji calmly says, “this is out of our hands. They need to handle this from now on. There is nothing we can do-“

“HOW DARE YOU! HE’S OUR SON!” Rei yells back.

Her words hit a nerve. Enji extends his hand towards his wife.

SMACK!

She smacks his hand away. A sharp intake of breath from Fuyumi follows. The scene before her eyes; her mother holding their older brother, shielding him from their father. The fury rising in Rei’s eyes hold a force so strong it scares her. Not even Enji made her feel this scared before.

“Don’t you dare touch our children again!” Rei screams out. “Keep your hands off of Touya! Haven’t you hurt us enough?! Our family is torn to shreds by your hands, Enji! MY CHILDREN TAKEN FROM ME BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU DID TO ME!”

Shouto carefully tries to calm his mother down. “Mom, please. Try to calm down.”

“No! For too long I’ve let him destroy our family, let him hurt you! He-…. Because of him…. HE MADE US BELIEVE TOUYA WAS DEAD! DEAD! HE TOLD ME WE HAD LOST OUR CHILD!”

She can’t stop. Not anymore. After all these years Rei couldn’t hold back all the pain Enji had caused her. The pain he inflicted on their children. The way his behavior broke her. It had made her hurt her youngest son too. The neglect by his hands had made it impossible for her to see her children properly grow up.

Calmer now, she continues: “Of all the things you have done to us, I don’t know which one is the worst. But I do know one thing. And that’s that you can’t keep me from my children any longer. You will no longer stand in the way of my children’s future.”

The hate she directs to Enji… It was clear to him that she didn’t want him around any of them. Maybe just for now. Maybe forever. In trying to face his past, he accepts this outcome.

His shoulders sag and he turns around to walk out of the door.

“Everyone, you need to get out-“

“I will not leave my son,” Rei interrupts the guard.

They look at her and the young man she’s holding close. They sigh and tell her that only she is allowed to stay here. All the others still need to leave the waiting room. Toga and Mr. Compress will be taken to their interrogation rooms. One guard will stand outside of the door. For now, they respect her wish to be alone with Dabi.

When the door is shut close, they both look at each other. Unsure of what to say next. The loving look Rei gives Dabi makes him feel all different kinds of emotions.

Ashamed, for becoming a villain. Vulnerable, ‘cause he feels like she can see right into his soul. Angry at himself, for not coming to visit her in the mental hospital sooner. Relieved, for only a mother can see past all the shit he’s done in his life and still love him.

“I’m sorry, I guess… For not showing up these past years,” he says as he looks down to the ground.

“Don’t be. I understand,” she says.

Her hands cup his face and pull him up to look at her face. A sad smile decorates her lips. Fresh tears forming in her eyes.

“All that matters right now is that you’re back. I missed you so much, my sweet boy. So much, you can’t even imagine.”

But he could. In his dreams he would see her, with all his siblings. Even Enji would be there, only in Dabi’s dreams he was the loving and kind father every child wants and needs. In his dreams they were a happy family. He has longed for that family for as long as he can remember. He still does. Somewhere deep inside of him there’s a part that wants nothing more than to erase all that has happened and just start all over.

He missed Rei just as much as she missed him.

Throwing his face in the crook of her neck, he lets out a forceful and loud cry. “I-I missed you t-too, mom! I missed all of you! I’m so sorry for everything, mom! Please, believe me!”

Her hands comes up to softly pet his hair. Making reassuring sounds to calm down her crying child. His body now completely on the floor with hers. Gently rocking him back and forth.

“I believe you, I do.”

“Please don’t hate me! Please, I’m so sorry! Mom… please don’t leave…”

“I’m not going anywhere. You may be all grown up now, a handsome and strong man. But you’ll always be my sweet little boy, Touya. I’ll never leave you again.”

Her words are a binding promise. A vow to Dabi, a vow for him to regain the name Todoroki Touya. Filled with love and protection. Never would she hurt her children again, any of them. Rei will fight for her family. Starting with the crying man in her arms.

They stay right there. In this world that felt too big for them, they felt so small. A small space for a mother and son to hold each other close.

She’ll always be there for her family.

Tagged: @reinawritesbnha / @mrsreina @thots4daze / @kzombi3 @aizawascumslut @hipster-merchant-of-death @strawbirb @ravenfeet222

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dasphinxone · 3 years

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Book of Nile: Ancient Rome/Gladiator AU Prologue

When you’ve spent WAY too much time outlining and creating timelines for your fic and all you have is a damn prologue...which is an exposition dump.

Rome. It was all anyone seemed to talk about anymore.

From kingdom to republic and now empire. The people of Palatine Hill grew greedy with each new conquest. It was as though every city or kingdom they fought on their borders ended their days razed to the ground. The people sold into slavery, its earth salted. Within a few decades, the Romans would return to replace it with a new town. “Founded” by some distant ruler locked away in its decadent capital city, their emperors could care less for most everything else outside of the palace walls.

Nile Freeman, Princess of the Kingdom of the Crimson Mountains within the Belezma Range of the Aurès Mountains, swore it would never happen to her people. Not so long as she drew breath. Her homeland was called crimson due its red clay. Along with how her tribes would make their lands run red with the blood of any invaders who dared trespass.

Rome won the Second Punic War over 300 years ago. It gained them a foothold in North Africa bordering the eastern side of the Mediterranean Sea. All while General Hannibal proudly drank his poison rather than fall into the hands of the enemy. In the aftermath, the remaining nomadic tribes of the Crimson Mountains to the west of the newly acquired Roman lands swore an oath to unite under the Freeman banner. If only to avoid Hannibal’s fate befalling them all. “Strength In Numbers, Strength With My Sisters and Brothers” it was said of them.

The third and final Punic War brought about the total destruction of Carthage a half-century later. Located only three hundred miles west of the tribes’ base, refuges from Rome’s savagery poured in. Roughly half of them voluntarily joined the Freeman tribes. The rest refused. Their distrust of power and hatred of the Romans had them going at it alone. Squeezed between Roman military outposts and the united tribes, they harassed both entities.

Rome’s influence cut deeper with each generation until the tribes could no longer safely outmaneuver them. Nile’s great-grandfather therefore agreed to ally with them. But only if they kept their mutual enemies of the renegade tribes in check. In exchange, trade with Rome would be open and free. Along with the Romans dwelling no further than their military outposts.

The tribes rapidly modernized their weapons and arms from Roman iron brought in from the Hispania provinces. They eagerly adapted them to their legendary calvaries. In turn, the Romans gained the luxuries of fruits and the life-giving crop harvest of wheat, barley and oat grain. The less nomadic tribes grew them in the terraced valleys, wide basins and surrounding fertile plains of the mountains. They were then shipped to the Italian peninsula on grand barges. Flooding the Kingdom’s treasury with immense gold and silver, The Freeman tribes shaped their territory into the most powerful in the region.

By the time Nile was born, her people enjoyed long lives of peace and prosperity. Their culture flourished. Trade caravans constantly crisscrossed the kingdom with little fear of bandits due to their well-guarded paths and safe taverns and inns. Save skirmishes with the renegade tribes or deserter Roman soldiers, they had few worries. The Roman legion never left their outposts, as promised.

All was right with the world. Well, until it wasn’t.

Nile always trusted her instincts. In her near 16 years of existence, she’d learned to sniff out when life was about to disrupt its usual patterns.

Her mother, the queen, always proved the more practical of her parents. She insisted her daughter’s uncanny senses were the result of her education. Learning to predict the strike of a sword, the stab of a dagger or the thrust of the spear facilitated the concept of anticipation. Becoming one with the bow imparted fortitude in the face of chaos. Riding a horse granted patience for manipulating things with minds of their own that could be led. Her tutors further stimulated the mind with their lessons in history, languages, mathematics, astronomy and writing. The temple clerics instructed her in how to pray to and celebrate the guardians of the gods. Not for herself but for the fates of her people.

Her father, the king, preferred to think with his heart. So he called his daughter’s intuition her sacred blessing. His lessons in battle strategy he’d taught her from the time she was old enough to sit freely upon his knee honed it as well.

It certainly explained her dread before he left for his last battle.

Nile found herself unable to keep any of her meals down. Nightmares of his blood spilling on the sands constantly plagued her. Her headaches had her downing wine and herbs to dull her throbbing brain. So she spent all of her waking hours with him whenever possible. Acting as his secretary to go through his correspondence in his study until the candles burned low. Cleaning his armor and weapons. Supervising his aides in supplying the troops heading out with him with the best provisions.

Yet he still died fighting against the enemy tribes harassing their Roman allies at their military outpost in Timgad. Cut down just a season ago, less than 50 miles southwest of the kingdom.

As firstborn, Nile was granted the right of Queen. The first Queen of the Crimson Mountains due to birth rather than marriage since the end of the Roman Republic over a hundred years ago. Except Rome was now an imperial power. Drunk on its supposed supremacy, everyone knew the Romans had little regard for female rulers. Combined with their increasingly grating demands of the Kingdom with each passing generation, a solution would have to be swiftly found.

Nile was therefore named regent in the days after her father’s death. That in turn enabled the throne to pass to her baby brother, Tumsilt. She would remain so until he came of age at 16. While only nine years old, the child king would at least be male and respected by the Romans. If not for her parents preparing her for the possibility a few years before her father's untimely death, Nile would have been livid at losing her direct rule. But her people’s survival superseded their traditions of absolute primogeniture. She also loved her brother with all of her heart. So rather than Queen, she would here forth be known as "Lalla" or Lady Nile.

The Roman emperor sent condolences on the loss of her father. After that, they heard no more from him.

Perhaps the tribes would be left alone. Perhaps Nile’s life would carry on, her coming days with little in the way of conflict or sorrow.

A pity how wrong she was.

#book of nile #nile freeman #nile the old guard #booker #sebastien le livre #booker x nile #nile x booker #booker/nile #nile/booker #fanfiction #wip #wip wednesday #fanfic #potential fanfiction #the old guard #tog #tog fanfic

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fangwhoria · 3 years

Text

tagged by my beloved lyle @kissingcannibals

1. what do you prefer to be called name-wise?

Jane <333 full name Jane Doe Cannibalghost

2. when is your birthday?

09/16/2002 yes im a virgo yes thats why im sexier than you

3. where do you live?

yall want my SSN too? im living in los angeles rn

4. three things you are doing right now?

well i just woke up so i am sitting in bed, listening to talking heads, and procrastinating getting ready for work

5. four fandoms that have peaked your interest?

well im pretty much permanently stuck in hannibal land rn but ive been venturing into the saw movies lately, as well the the ccu (cronenberg cinematic universe). is true crime a fandom? i hope not but yeah i am the white girl who listens to true crime that penelope scott warned you about <3 i dont think the blair witch project has a fandom but if she has many fans i am one of them. if she has 3 fans i am one of them. if she has 1 fan i am that fan. if she has no fans then i am gone from this world

6. how has the pandemic been treating you?

the first like 11 months were my joker arc i got so much worse but then i went to college because my school was really safe with covid procedures in the fall so it was safe to go in the spring and now im like. fine

7. a song you can’t stop listening to right now?

(nothing but) flowers by the talking heads

8. recommend a movie:

pg: psycho goreman if you like practical effects, extremely 80s aesthetics without being nostalgia porn, and evil little girls <3 (an actually good movie rec: sympathy for lady vengeance)

9. how old are you?

18 ;)

10. school, university, occupation, other?

im in college but im on summer vacation rn so im working part time at an amusement park

11. do you prefer heat or cold?

COLD please i hate heat i hate it i cant wait to move permanently to the PNW

12. name one fact others may not know about you:

this blog started as a v*ltron blog please do not tell anyone i was 14

13. are you shy?

i used to be but then i stopped giving a shit about everything

14. preferred pronouns?

just boring old she/her please

15. biggest pet peeves?

people tlaking during movies/tv shows but only when ive decided its not okay for them to talk. also when im showing a movie or smth to someone but theyre on their phone

16. what is your favourite “dere” type?

i dont know what that means and i refuse to use google

17. rate your life from 1-10:

on the whole? like a 7

18. what’s your main blog?

this one!

19. list your sideblogs and what they’re used for:

i think my writing sideblog is still up but i dont use it anymore because i actually hate talking publicly about my writing cuz it makes me feel like an idiot <3 i dont have any other sideblogs

20. is there something people need to know about you before becoming friends?

i dont shut the fuck up ever

i dont know which of my beloved mutuals have already been tagged so if you see this and want to do it just do it and say i tagged you!!

#from the mouth of jane #tag games

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cookinguptales · 5 years

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You know, I wasn’t going to write about this, but I just got the most insulting message about all this — so screw it, here I go:

I talk a lot about accessibility problems in daily life, but not typically about the unmitigated hell that is air travel. I have been insulted, touched without my permission, accused of faking, asked intrusive medical questions, gotten homophobic lectures from attendants I couldn’t get away from, been instructed to walk multiple times — and two of my personal wheelchairs have been broken.

All that said, the worst service I have received in my life has been from American Airlines. They consistently screw me over. They “forget” to preboard me. They “forget” to bring me a wheelchair. Heck, once I requested a bathroom break and I came out to find my wheelchair assistant gone. I had to sit there in the Cincinnati airport alone, frantically TWEETING AT THE AIRPORT, until a gate attendant took pity on me and took me down to baggage herself.

But if you really want to know how bad flying with them is, let me describe my experience flying with them a week and a half ago for a work trip. (In other words, I was not allowed to choose my airline.)

I arrived at the Philadelphia airport. I asked for assistance several times and was told to sit down in a waiting area and someone would be by shortly. I sat there for 45 minutes, at which point the person who told me that came by and it became immediately apparent that they’d forgotten about me. 20 minutes later, I finally got my wheelchair. In the end, I almost missed my plane.

The attendant, when he came, did not introduce himself or really talk to me at all. When we got to security, he refused to touch my belongings (attendants need to put our belongings on the conveyor because, y’know, we can’t get up there) and demanded I get up and do it myself, something I’ve literally never encountered before. In the end, he wheeled me over to the belt and made me strain to put my things on it because he was acting like my belongings were diseased.

When he rolled me up to the scanners, he did not ask me about my ability to walk, just demanded I get up. I requested a non-metal cane (because my own had been put on the belt) and he got very huffy about it, but another TSA agent heard me and gave it to me. After I finally got through the scanner, he did not bring the wheelchair over to me so I could sit in it, and I was forced to walk across the room to him. Yeah, it hurt.

I was handed off to like… six different attendants throughout the course of my trip to the terminal. At one point, I was forced to walk to get onto a shuttle bus. The wheelchair was not loaded on with me. When we arrived, there was no wheelchair waiting. I was told to wait on the bus — but then the driver started pulling away with me trapped on the bus. The driver was behind glass so I had to literally bang on the windows of the bus so someone would notice and stop the bus. Instead of bringing the wheelchair to me, I was expected to climb off the bus, walk inside, and get a new one. Wow, accessibility.

I finally had to demand a bathroom break because no one asked me if I needed to eat/drink/pee and I’d had to hold it for two hours at this point. I was told to walk to the bathroom. After I refused, more huffing, but someone got a wheelchair to walk me over.

FINALLY, TIME TO BOARD! Psych, I got outside, was told it was a tarmac boarding (something that had not been told to me ahead of time) and that if I’d wanted assistance, I should have preordered an aisle chair, something that’s typically only necessary to request if you’ll need a wheelchair onboard. I have never had to request one and, again, didn’t know it was a tarmac boarding, so I didn’t request it. I was repeatedly asked if I could walk “at all” and if I was sure I couldn’t just walk up. At this point, I was so frustrated that I literally started to cry. In public. They finally took me up.

Note: this was the ramp I’d been expected to walk up. As I was hobbling through the section too thin for the wheelchair, the woman grabbed my cane to “guide” me. I almost fell down.

When I got to Cincinnati, my tweets had apparently been heard. The manager of Prospect, the company AA uses for wheelchair assistance, was waiting for me. He was very nice! He gave me his card! The attendant told me to ask for him by name! I was not happy, but somewhat pacified.

I get to CVG three days later to go home. There is no wheelchair desk at check-in. I see another woman in a wheelchair, so I ask where she got it. Her daughter “found it”, and the woman had already missed her flight because she hadn’t been able to find assistance in time. I talked to two other women who just started walking despite the pain they were in.

I finally figure out where to request a wheelchair. A dedicated desk? No. A passing employee? No. I was supposed to stand in the check-in line. I got upset, so someone at another airline suggested I just cut the line. That was what I had to do, and I felt like a dick.

This line, in fact:

Waited, waited. Finally got a wheelchair. It was not the man I’d been told to request. Whatever. He was nicer than the man at PHL, but I still had to go through a genital pat-down at TSA. (As in, “please spread your legs wider for me”.) Yeah, that happens almost every time when you’re disabled. Fun times. Once I showed signs of being upset and they made me do it twice, without any kind of support to hold me up. Note: I am a sexual abuse survivor.

Finally get to the gate and the attendant leaves. I am in full view of the agent desk. It starts getting close to boarding and no attendant in sight, despite me specifically telling them I’d need help boarding. I got another passenger to go up to them and ask them for help. I was told an attendant would be coming soon. It came time to board, and I was left across the room. I literally started shouting across the room for help. The gate agent looked me in the eye and told me that she wasn’t ignoring me, that I’d be preboarded. SPOILERS: I wasn’t preboarded.

This meant that when I finally got down to the entrance of the plane, I had two options. I could go wait in the line that forms in the aisle while people are putting their baggage up. This is very painful for me, so instead I waited at the door for the people in front of me to sit down. A large line formed behind me because they still kept calling groups to board and again, I felt like a dick. I got to cry in public again.

Boarding in CVG, I didn’t have to do a tarmac boarding, but I still had to disembark that way in PHL. This time, the flight attendants called ahead to make sure I’d have an aisle chair. Those are super fun, by the way, you’re strapped in like Hannibal Lecter and wheeled backwards. :’)

I demanded a bathroom break once we got off. Note: I say “demanded” because no one ever freaking asked because god forbid they treat you like a human. You’re usually expected to just sit there at the gate for a while until a new attendant can take you to baggage, but I’ve taken to asking if they can leave me over by the bathroom instead because I’ve almost wet myself. (I often cannot get to the toilet on the plane.) So anyway, I was taken to a companion restroom. The door didn’t close all the way. Yeah, it was completely broken. This wasn’t a stall. It was a COMPANION RESTROOM WITH A DOOR. If the door doesn’t close, the entire terminal can see in. Instead of taking me to another stall, the attendant just “stood guard” outside the door. So that was super-fun and not nerve-wracking at all.

The attendant then proceeded to get lost in the airport and didn’t believe me when I told her the right way to go. It’s not like I’ve ever flown out of my own home city before or anything, wow.

Now, this was worse than usual. I often have problems with all airlines (Delta was the one that kept smashing up wheelchairs, shoutout) but American is just By Far the worst. I usually fly Southwest because I’ve had far fewer problems with them at PHL (and I don’t have to pay extra for a seat that’s accessible for my needs) but sometimes AA is the only airline that’ll take you where you need to go.

I make this post for two reasons. Number one, I have to fly American again in about a week (again, I did not choose this) and I’m almost sick with worry. I was so stressed out and pained after the last trip that I came home, took very strong painkillers, and collapsed for like a day.

The other reason is that AA finally got back to me about my complaints from last week. They accused me of not asking for assistance ahead of time (I did; I even talked face-to-face with a manager to order accommodations) and snottily told me that I could have asked the gate agent for assistance. So number one, they only answered one of the MANY issues I had. Number two, they implied it was all my fault — despite me doing everything I was supposed to do. Number three, despite the many broken accessible areas, despite the poor treatment by employees, they still hold firm to this “you need to order things ahead of time or you’re screwed” line.

So I ask you. What if you don’t know those policies? What if you’re a child or a first-time flyer? What if you have a short-term injury and aren’t used to this? What if, like that woman in the wheelchair who missed her flight, you’re elderly and ESL and deeply confused?

The pain I am put through, the embarrassment and dehumanization and physical strain, is awful when I fly. To be blamed for it is worse. But the worst knowledge of all is that I am privileged. I am white. I am young enough to know how to complain on social media. I know my rights. I know to leave several hours in case I am mistreated. Like that old woman, like the women I saw walking to their gates, there are so many people who are not in that position. They will be victimized.

A manager approached me at CVG to apologize as I landed. No one will apologize to those women. They will be victimized. It’s not right how disabled people are treated at airports, and frankly, it’s not legal. But they know that our voices are not listened to and so they know that they can get away with it. Do you know how AA found me from my angry tweets? All they had to do was look at the DM history. I’ve sent them so many complaints over the years. They haven’t changed. They don’t care.

And as much as my body hurts after experiences like that, my heart hurts more. I’m so tired of people not caring.

I know this is a long post, but they messed so many things up that it had to be long to list them all. Please feel free to share this post -- or even better, let American Airlines know what you think about it. God knows they didn’t listen to me.

#this is a long post but they did a lot of things wrong!!!#ableism #disability #air travel #american airlines #long post #please this one is really important to me

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rayne-storm · 3 years

Text

AUgust 5 - Science Fiction

Cooking With Crewmates - Hannigram & Among Us

This is some violent self-indulgent garbage, and also by far the longest thing I've written for AUgust so far, and I've had to edit this intro to fit the Tumbl's block limit. Contains violence and gore inherent in the fandoms. Possibly extraordinarily ooc. No beta, we die like men.

William Graham had not always wanted to do space things. In fact, if you had asked him ten years earlier if he would ever want to do anything on a space station, he would have flipped you off and run the other direction. He hated being cramped up. He hated not having control of his immediate situation. He would never describe himself as "works well with others" in any capacity.

Yet there he was.

In a fucking tin can in space. With a horrible murderer loose.

Fuck.

And all he could do was grumble as he went about his day, desperately trying to repair a rapidly failing piece of garbage, trying to avoid air vents and being followed anywhere.

His antisocial tendencies had never come so in handy.

There was one member of the team, however, that seemed determined to undermine his self-imposed Exile. The ship's cook and doctor (everyone tried to do double-duty where they could) Hannibal Lecter seemed hellbent on following him everywhere, and it would have been cute if it weren't so frustrating.

The other man wore bright red, with (of all damn things) a chef's hat on top of his helmet. He stood out, in every way possible. Admittedly, Will's little clip-on dog ears weren't the most subtle of accessories, but at least he was a solid color and could blend into shadows if he so wished. Like a ninja. Not like a fire engine.

But it was sweet, kind of, how insistent the older man was that he be with Will so often. He seemed to get his tasks done quickly, and his cooking really was delicious. It was enough, almost, to make Will forget there was a gruesome murderer on the loose.

Almost.

The first time he saw a dead body was back on Earth. He had, for a time, worked with the FBI's Behavior Analysis Unit. He had a sort of "superpower" to be able to get into people's heads, hyper-empathy they called it. He could still remember that first case. It didn't haunt him like it used to, but it was there, the first in a file-folder in his mind that he kept locked tight until he had space to process the things inside.

The things he had seen on this ship were leagues beyond the worst cases on Earth. These bodies weren't just dismembered, they were ripped apart, like they had encountered some kind of… well, creature. Whatever had done the things he was seeing wasn't human. It simply wasn't possible.

He had to reevaluate a lot of personal beliefs very quickly.

The crew eventually came to the conclusion that whatever was doing this to their members was hiding Among Them. They decided on the moniker of "imposter" for the thing.

Now to figure out who it was.

Will had his suspicions. Of everyone, unfortunately. But suspicion kept him alive on Earth, it would work alright here too. Especially as there were fewer and fewer people left.

Will imagined how it would go, if he were face to face with whatever had been destroying their Crewmates. He never came out alive. Best-case was he would airlock it and shoot it into space. Like they had done to several people already (he had refused to participate).

Curiously, Hannibal had also refused to vote, or participate in the discussion. Will wondered if it had anything to do with the Hippocratic Oath, or just personal morals. The strange thing was that the doctor didn't get nearly as much protest against his refusal to participate in these death sentences as Will did. Something about the man radiated this calm, cool authority that Will guessed people just accepted.

Whatever the case, he supposed it didn't hurt that the man was seemingly always on his side.

"They condemn you because they do not understand," Doctor Lecter had murmured to him one evening as another crewmate was launched into the cold void of space.

"Don't understand what?"

"You feel their pain as if you were the one out there, freezing and choking."

Will looked down, shaking his head. He knew that in the empty vacuum of space, ship walls between them, he couldn't really hear the screams, but he felt his ears ring all the same.

"Who are we to play God?"

"I think God must be laughing at this. He kills all the time, and are we not created in His image?"

Will felt a shudder ripple through him. Whether fear or something else entirely he wasn't certain.

He knew he was in trouble, falling way too hard for this mysterious doctor chef. It was ridiculous, frankly, to have even remotely romantic feelings for a fire-hydrant in a chef's hat, but here he was. He wondered numbly if Hannibal had any sort of reciprocity, feeling something for the little edgelord wolf boy Will was dressed up as.

He didn't have to wonder long.

He was in his private quarters after a long day of doing medical scans and fixing wires (reminding him so much of his former hobby of tying his own fly-fishing lures), and was halfway out of his suit when there was a knock at the door.

He debated putting the bulky gear back on, but chose against it, instead walking to the door and opening the little peephole.

It was… an extremely handsome man, in a tweed suit of all things. Will realized immediately who it was when he saw the gorgeous dish of food the man was carrying.

"Doctor Lecter?"

"Please, just Hannibal. We are friends, are we not?"

Will couldn't help but smile. Yes, somehow, despite everything, they were friends. Possibly more?

Will opened the door, stepping back, and he realized that they had never actually seen each other before, without the privacy afforded to them by their suits.

Hannibal was so much more than a red space man with (again) a comical hat. He was slender, and older than Will had initially anticipated. His hair was combed back neatly, and his gorgeous cheekbones looked like they could cut glass. His eyes were just as lovely, and Will realized he was staring only as he became aware Hannibal was as well.

Will wondered what the other man thought of him beneath the wolf ears. He knew he was scruffy and unkempt, far more so now in front of this immaculately groomed man. But Hannibal was looking at him like he was something… beautiful. He felt himself blushing.

Hannibal caught himself and smiled, glancing down as he stepped inside the room. He set the food down on the little table in the room, and Will shut the door behind him.

Hannibal took some cutlery from an inside jacket pocket, setting it down on either side of the dish.

"I didn't see you at dinner tonight, and I thought it might be kind to bring you some food myself."

Will smiled sheepishly and nodded. "Thank you. That is very considerate. It looks and smells amazing."

He sat carefully, wary that he still had his suspenders that attached his suit bottoms to him. He was rather mismatched. But Hannibal didn't seem to care.

He sniffed the meal experimentally, it was some type of meats and noodles in a thick dark sauce.

"What culinary delight have you served me tonight, doc- Hannibal?"

Will caught the little grin that the other man tried to stifle at the mention of his name.

"Teriyaki udon. With blackened chicken."

Will nodded.

"Will you partake as well, or..?"

"Oh, no, I ate earlier. Please, feel free."

Will nodded again, taking a cautious bite.

It was amazing, like everything the man cooked.

He couldn't suppress a small groan of delight, and he didn't mess the slight shiver that seemed to run down Hannibal's body. Interesting…

He devoured the meal, though he did try to at least remember his table manners. He felt embarrassed, honestly, but Hannibal looked so damn happy.

"I am so glad you like it," Hannibal murmured with a smile, packing the container and cutlery away.

"And, I must say, you are… exquisite. If we survive this ordeal, would… could…" he paused, glancing down, and Will felt jitters.

"I would, yes," he answered.

Hannibal blushed - blushed! - and smiled.

"That… makes me extraordinarily happy. Thank you, Will, I… I am so glad I have met you."

Will smiled and nodded. "I am too."

Hannibal ducked his head and waved as he stepped back out into the ship.

Will couldn't help smiling as he watched the man walk away.

This became their routine. A break from the monotony of every day, both the anxiety and the boredom. Will felt himself growing ever more attached to his companion, and found that he no longer disliked the doctor's seeming constant desire to be nearby as Will worked. In fact, Will would sometimes speed through his other tasks just to be able to meet Hannibal in Medbay as Hannibal finished his work.

Their evenings were spent together usually with Will eating something amazing Hannibal prepared, the other abstaining due to having eaten already. That was fine. They were together, talking about everything and nothing, confiding secrets. Will told Hannibal about his panic attacks, about how he couldn't work on Earth at the BAU because he felt himself becoming some kind of monster.

Hannibal in turn revealed his own tragic childhood, and confided that the Imposter (and subsequent hunts and ejection) made him uneasy enough to keep a knife on his personal at all times. His left rear pocket, he said, "in case something happens."

They tried to avoid that sort of talk, though. It just led to somber silences.

Mostly, Will enjoyed talking about folklore and food. Two universals of humanity. Hannibal had rich tapestries of experience in both, and Will was content to listen to his companion speak for hours on end, well into the night.

Will wondered, sometimes, when Hannibal walked back to his own quarters, what would happen if Will asked him to stay. To just… be with him, through the night. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He wondered what would happen if they survived this. What would happen if it came down to just themselves and the monster hiding in the ship.

Will knew, without a doubt now, he would die for Hannibal.

It didn't matter if that wasn't reciprocal.

One evening, they were down to six, and Will and Hannibal were having dinner (Will was eating, Hannibal talking). There was a knock at the door and Hannibal frowned as he stood to see who it was. He didn't make it to the door when it was forced open and their three remaining Crewmates were there, running in and seizing Will.

"It's you!" Pink screamed.

Will looked around, confused and terrified as hands grabbed at him, dragging him literally kicking and screaming from his own room.

"What?! What's- hey! Stop-!"

The crew didn't pause as they dragged him out, one staying by to keep Hannibal from following.

"We always knew you were a creepy little freak, but damn, Graham, I can't believe we've been so blind."

"It's not me! What the fuck?!"

"It has to be you. You and the Doc were the only two missing when we found the body, and we all know it's not him."

Will tried to process everything happening. He counted, there were only three people surrounding him and Hannibal, who was still shouting (he had never seen the man so upset, so animated), and it clicked.

It was Hannibal.

All this time, the man he was falling for was the monster he was afraid of.

He felt like the realization should have hit harder, should have hurt more, but…

Well it didn't really change much, now.

Hannibal was still the only one who had shown him a shred of decency. Hannibal listened to him, consoled him, cooked for him… cared for him.

Will felt everything move in slow motion. He met Hannibal's eyes. He saw the fear there, of what he couldn't be certain.

He felt a wave of calm come over him. All of this proof, and the crew still had not put it together (he, at least, had been blinded by affection and antisocial tendencies). Hannibal would almost certainly win this morbid game.

He didn't expect Hannibal to go full monster.

His jaw unhinged like a snake's, and his nails became claws, and there was just a pile of meat where the crewman holding him back once had been.

Everything stopped. The pair holding him let go and Will fell to the floor with a sharp cry, the air leaving his lungs all at once. He tried to catch his breath as Hannibal turned to the Crewmates. Will saw how terribly inhuman he seemed, even without the snake-jaw and claws, in the cold light in his eyes, the hard line of his mouth, the fury that Will could tell was bubbling just beneath the surface.

"You!!"

Will wheezed a chuckle. It was so obvious now to him. How Hannibal had almost always just "eaten," how he had so much knowledge about so many things, how he seemed to finish his tasks so quickly. He had attached himself to Will, who protested the ejections, who never noticed whether Hannibal could complete their tasks or not…

Will had to wonder if any of it was real. If he fell in love with a monster incapable of returning his feelings. It had felt real, had felt mutual, he knew he had seen affection in the man's eyes as they talked.

Maybe Hannibal could fake it. But it had been real enough for Will, realer than the simpering cowards who were rapidly backing away, cowering behind Will. As he got to his feet, one shoved him back down, towards Hannibal. Hannibal glanced down at him, worry briefly passing through his gaze as he continued to walk towards the pair of fools.

Will panted, slowly working his way back up to his feet, leaning against a wall. Hannibal stalked towards his prey, and Will was surprised at his own feelings of vicious satisfaction.

They deserved this. They deserved to suffer for all the lives they'd taken in their squabbling.

Hannibal reached towards the pair, a thick black… something… stretching from his hand and wrapping it around the pink crewmate. It squeezed, and with a sickening crunch, that crewmate was no more.

Will staggered towards the action, and saw the remaining figure pulling their gun up, aiming at Hannibal, still busy mutilating the pink body.

Time slowed down for Will. He ran, as fast as he could, reaching for Hannibal.

Back right pocket.

He felt the knife in Hannibal's pocket, gripping it as he felt himself fall, then what his brain could only describe as a chair leg punching through his chest. He gripped the knife as he lay on the ground, and while Hannibal had his attention torn between the crewmate and himself, Will threw the knife.

He hoped that his sense of aim was at least passible and as he felt himself starting to black out, all he could think was that he had been right.

He would die for Hannibal.

He hadn't expected to wake up, later. He gasped and sat up, hands reaching blindly, frantically, into nothing. A burst of pain in his chest forced him back down, and he nearly blacked out again.

He looked around, body slick with sweat as he panicked, looking around to figure out where he was, mind trying to figure out what had happened.

He felt a gentle pressure by his feet, and a warm hand pressed to his forehead.

"Welcome back, Will."

That was Hannibal's voice. Quiet, sure. Perhaps it was his own confusion, but Will could have sworn there was something… different. Perhaps a bit of a warble that inferred something beyond the man's usual brand of steady confidence.

It didn't matter.

"I… you… you're okay?"

Hannibal came into view, the same composed man in the tweed suit.

"I am. You very nearly weren't, my silly, foolish, brace Will…" he murmured, sitting down by Will's side.

Will looked down, his chest was covered in bandages, a couple little tubes running from them. So he really had been shot.

"Why did you do that? Why did you put yourself in the way?" Hannibal sounded nearly… angry.

"Because I couldn't lose you," Will croaked.

Hannibal's hand stroked Will's hair, soothing, tender, nothing one might expect from a creature that had done so much damage.

"Even though you knew what I was?"

"You were the lesser evil in my eyes."

"And what now? Will you try to flee as soon as you are well? Will you kill me yourself?"

Will chuckled softly, leaning into the warm hand.

"Seems a bit pointless. I'd starve to death without your cooking."

Hannibal managed a smile, though it was very nearly a grimace, and Will realized with some amusement (and some sadness) that there were tears in the man's eyes.

"Hey now, I'm the one with a hole in my body, no crying," Will chided gently, his own hand reaching out to wipe the tears away.

"I am sorry. I never intended to… get so attached."

Will hummed in agreement. He hadn't either. But that's what they got for being lonely fools, he supposed.

"Just to clarify," Will started, carefully adjusting, "did you feed me my Crewmates?"

That would be… problematic, to say the least, but he would understand.

"I… yes."

"To get rid of evidence?"

"Partially. Partially to… initiate you."

Into what? Was there some kind of monster cult? Hannibal saw his confusion and continued.

"I… wondered, perhaps, if you would… ever consider becoming… more. Than you are. Becoming the purest form of yourself."

"Becoming like you, you mean," Will interpreted, and Hannibal nodded.

"I confess, it gave me great excitement to think about."

Will could imagine. Hannibal must have been even more alone than Will felt, with no one truly understanding anything about him.

"Why not finish it?"

"I would need your consent. I could, in theory, turn you, but…"

Hannibal looked down.

"I would rather you kill me than resent me for turning you against your will. I knew you would likely starve yourself in protest. I… I could not watch you do that."

It was the most vulnerable Will thought he had ever seen Hannibal. There was something deeply endearing about it.

"Well, now what, then? Will you turn me now? If I consent?"

Hannibal looked up at him, tears even greater than they had been.

"You would want to become such a thing?"

"I think I would. If it means I can be with you. If you'll have me."

Will scarcely had time to blink when Hannibal's lips were on his own, and those tender arms were cradling him to the monstrous man's chest.

For such a powerful creature, Hannibal seemed so delicate and fragile now. Will carefully returned the embrace, mewling into the kiss.

He'd never felt like this before. He felt… known. Perceived, all that he was. He loved it.

"Are there many like us?" He murmured as Hannibal pulled away to rest their foreheads together.

"No, there is no one like us."

Will chuckled softly.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I can't say I do, please enlighten me."

"Now you're teasing me."

"I would never," Hannibal purred softly.

"Right, right. I mean, are there more, I guess, imposters? What are we called?"

"Probably. I never cared to know any before. All I need, all I desire, is here, with you."

Will laughed, shaking his head.

"You're lucky you're so charming."

"I am. I'm lucky you appreciate my special brand of charm."

Will hummed in agreement, leaning up for another kiss. He could easily see himself getting addicted to this. It seemed Hannibal could to, because the man was straddling his hips.

"Easy, now, I'm grievously injured, remember? You have to play nice with me," Will teased.

"Of course, of course. Just getting comfortable" Hannibal retorted.

"That so? Well alright, I suppose I can't be mad at that, then."

Hannibal smiled, genuinely, pressing gentle kisses to Will's forehead.

"Don't worry. I'm a patient man. I've waited this long for you, I can manage a few more weeks. Just be patient with me as well. This… is all new."

Will nodded, yawning and adjusting himself again. He felt exhaustion tug at his mind, and though he tried, he couldn't resist just resting his eyes.

"It's alright, my Will. Sleep. You have time to Become something amazing."

#rayne writes #my writing #violence #gore #among us #hannibal #hannigram #not sfw #au gust 2021

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dwellordream · 3 years

Text

“…The Roman Republic spent its first two and a half centuries (or so) expanding fitfully through peninsular Italy (that is, Italy south of the Po River Valley, not including Sicily). This isn’t the place for a full discussion of the slow process of expanding Roman control (which wouldn’t be entirely completed until 272 with the surrender of Tarentum). The consensus position on the process is that it was one in which Rome exploited local rivalries to champion one side or the other making an ally of the one by intervening and the other by defeating and subjecting them…

…The simple (and perhaps now increasingly dated) way I explain this to my students is that Rome follows the Goku Model of Imperialism: I beat you, therefore we are now friends. Defeated communities in Italy (the system is different outside of Italy) are made to join Rome’s alliance network as socii (‘allies’), do not have tribute imposed on them, but must supply their soldiers to fight with Rome when Rome is at war, which is always.

It actually doesn’t matter for us how this expansion was accomplished; rather we’re interested in the sort of order the Romans set up when they did expand. The basic blueprint for how Rome interacted with the Italians may have emerged as early as 493 with the Foedus Cassianum, a peace treaty which ended a war between Rome and Latin League (an alliance of ethnically Latin cities in Latium). To simplify quite a lot, the Roman ‘deal’ with the communities of Italy which one by one came under Roman power went as follows:

All subject communities in Italy became socii (‘allies’). This was true if Rome actually intervened to help you as your ally, or if Rome intervened against you and conquered your community.

The socii retained substantial internal autonomy (they kept their own laws, religions, language and customs), but could have no foreign policy except their alliance with Rome.

Whenever Rome went to war, the socii were required to send soldiers to assist Rome’s armies; the number of socii in Rome’s armies ranged from around half to perhaps as much as two thirds at some points (though the socii outnumbered the Romans in Italy about 3-to-1 in 225, so the Romans made more strenuous manpower demands on themselves than their allies).

Rome didn’t impose tribute on the socii, though the socii bore the cost of raising and paying their detachments of troops in war (except for food, which the Romans paid for, Plb. 6.39.14).

Rome goes to war every year.

No, seriously. Every. Year. From 509 to 31BC, the only exception was 241-235. That’s it. Six years of peace in 478 years of republic. The socii do not seem to have minded very much; they seem to have generally been as bellicose as the Romans and anyway…

The spoils of Roman victory were split between Rome and the socii. Consequently, as one scholar memorably put it, the Roman alliance was akin to, “a criminal operation which compensates its victims by enrolling them in the gang and inviting them to share to proceeds of future robberies” (T. Cornell, The Beginnings of Rome (1995)). The alliance system included a ladder of potential relationships with Rome which the Romans might offer to loyal allies.

Now this isn’t a place for a long discussion of the Roman alliance system in Italy (that place is in the book I am writing), so I want us to focus more narrowly on the bolded points here and how they add up to significant changes in who counted as ‘Roman’ over time. But I should note here that while I am calling this a Roman ‘alliance system’ (because the Romans call these fellows socii, allies) this was by no means an equal arrangement: Rome declared the wars, commanded the armies and set the quotas for military service. The ‘allies’ were thus allies in name only, but in practice subjects; nevertheless the Roman insistence on calling them allies and retaining the polite fiction that they were junior partners rather than subject communities, by doing things like sharing the loot and glory of victory, was a major contributor to Roman success (as we’ll see).

First, the Roman alliance system was split into what were essentially tiers of status. At the top were Roman citizens optimo iure (‘full rights,’ literally ‘with the best right’) often referred to on a community basis as civitas cum suffragio (‘citizenship with the vote’). These were folks with the full benefits of Roman citizenship and the innermost core of the Roman polity, who could vote and (in theory, though for people of modest means, only in theory) run for office.

Next were citizens non optimo iure, often referred to as having civitas sine suffragio (citizenship without the vote); they had all of the rights of Roman citizens except for political participation in Rome. This was almost always because they lived in communities well outside the city of Rome with their own local government (where they could vote); we’ll talk about how you get those communities in a second. That said, citizens without the vote still had the right to hold property in Roman territory and conduct business with the full protection of a Roman citizen (ius commercii) and the right to contract legal marriages with Roman citizens (ius conubii discussed above). They could do everything except for vote or run for offices in Rome itself.

Next down on the list were socii (allies) of Latin status (note this is a legal status and is entirely disconnected from Latin ethnicity; by the end of this post, Rome is going to be block-granting Latin status to Gauls in Cisalpine Gaul, for instance). Allies of Latin status got the benefits of the ius commercii, as well as the ability to move from one community with Latin status to another without losing their status. Unlike the citizens without the vote, they didn’t automatically get the right to contract legal marriages with Roman citizens, but in some cases the Romans granted that right to either individuals or entire communities (scholars differ on exactly how frequently those with Latin status would have conubium with Roman citizens; the traditional view is that this was a standard perk of Latin status, but see Roselaar, op. cit.). That said, the advantages of this status were considerable – particularly the ability to conduct business under Roman law rather than what the Romans called the ‘ius gentium‘ (‘law of peoples’) which governed relations with foreigners (peregrini in Roman legal terms) and were less favorable (although free foreigners in Rome had somewhat better protections, on the whole, than free foreigners – like metics – in a Greek polis).

Finally, you had the socii who lacked these bells and whistles. That said, because their communities were allies of Rome in Italy (this system is not exported overseas), they were immune to tribute, Roman magistrates couldn’t make war on them and Roman armies would protect them in war – so they were still better off than a community that was purely of peregrini (or a community within one of Rome’s provinces; Italy was not a province, to be clear).

The key to this system is that socii who stayed loyal to Rome and dutifully supplied troops could be ‘upgraded’ for their service, though in at least some cases, we know that socii opted not to accept Roman citizenship but instead chose to keep their status as their own community (the famous example of this were the allied soldiers of Praenesti, who refused Roman citizenship in 211, Liv. 23.20.2). Consequently, whole communities might inch closer to becoming Romans as a consequence of long service as Rome’s ‘allies’ (most of whom, we must stress, were at one point or another, Rome’s Italian enemies who had been defeated and incorporated into Rome’s Italian alliance system).

But I mentioned spoils and everyone loves loot. When Rome beat you, in the moment after you lost, but before the Goku Model of Imperialism kicked in and you became friends, the Romans took your stuff. This might mean they very literally sacked your town and carried off objects of value, but it also – and for us more importantly – meant that the Romans seized land. That land would be added to the ager Romanus (the body of land in Italy held by Rome directly rather than belonging to one of Rome’s allies). But of course that land might be very far away from Rome which posed a problem – Rome was, after all, effectively a city-state; the whole point of having the socii-system is that Rome lacked both the means and the desire to directly govern far away communities. But the Romans didn’t want this land to stay vacant – they need the land to be full of farmers liable for conscription into Rome’s armies (there was a minimum property requirement for military service because you needed to be able to buy your own weapons so they had to be freeholding farmers, not enslaved workers). By the by, you can actually understand most of Rome’s decisions inside Italy if you just assume that the main objective of Roman aristocrats is to get bigger armies so they can win bigger battles and so burnish their political credentials back in Rome – that, and not general altruism (of which the Romans had fairly little), was the reason for Rome’s relatively generous alliance system.

The solution was for Rome to essentially plant little Mini-Me versions of itself on that newly taken land. This had some major advantages: first, it put farmers on that land who would be liable for conscription (typically placing them in carefully measured farming plots through a process known as centuriation), either as socii or as Roman citizens (typically without the vote). Second, it planted a loyal community in recently conquered territory which could act as a position of Roman control; notably, no Latin colony of this sort rebelled against Rome during the Second Punic War when Hannibal tried to get as many of the socii to cast off the Romans as he could.

What is important for what we are doing here is to note that the socii seem to have been permitted to contribute to the initial groups settling in these colonies and that these colonies were much more tightly tied to Rome, often having conubium – that right of intermarriage again – with Roman citizens. The consequence of this is that, by the late third century (when Rome is going to fight Carthage) the ager Romanus – the territory of Rome itself – comprises a big chunk of central Italy (as seen in the map below) but the people who lived there as Roman citizens (with and without the vote) were not simply descendants of that initial Roman citizen body, but also a mix of people descended from communities of socii throughout Italy.”

- Bret Devereaux, “Citizens and Allies.”

#who were the romans #roman #ancient #bret devereaux #history

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slashyrogue · 4 years

Text

Will wasn’t raised to be an heir.

His father’s death had catapulted him into a life he had no love for in his teens when he was taken in by his alpha mother who had left his father for an omega with money she thought more suitable.

Their mating hadn’t resulted in a single heir and he was adopted by his new father but refused to take the name Chilton. He let them have everything else, dictating his life, and he was already set to marry some omega stranger in a few months when he first set eyes on Hannibal Lecter.

He had little love for other alphas in the upper circle, their annoying attitudes and thoughtlessness made it hard for him not to want to rip their throats out with his teeth. Luckily it’s not exactly applauded to mate with your own gender or Will would do just that.

But even from their first meeting Hannibal is different from other alphas.

They judge the whole room together, basking in each other’s company, and exchange cell phone numbers before parting for the night with obvious attraction brewing between them.

Weeks go by filled with obvious flirting that grows more intense even as Will is fitted for his wedding tux and forced to spend time meeting with his fiance, Alana. Thankfully their meetings are short, and he more often than not ignores her completely.

When their texts turn into phone calls and calls turn into meetings he knows it’s wrong but the longing he feels around Hannibal is hard to resist.

They finally give into temptation, devouring each other like animals, and both resist the urge to give each other mating bites.

Even before the sun is up Will knows Hannibal will be gone.

It’s not exactly illegal, but Hannibal’s obligations mean more to him than Will’s do. He’d never expect him to cause his family such upset that breaking his arranged mating would bring.

Then the unthinkable happens.

Alana is found dead in her bed, as is Hannibal’s omega fiance Bedelia.

Murdered, obviously, and the whole upper society is shook up with the horror of it all.

Who could do such a thing?

And why, oh why, when Hannibal’s parents find him another match does Will not care that he can see just by looking into his eyes that it’s going to happen again?

#not failed twitter attempts #hannigram au #alpha beta omega #alpha x alpha

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 1

Ding dong fannibals I’m back on my bullshit :)

I discovered that I cannot for the life of me be concise so this one might come in a couple parts. I don't anticipate it's gonna go as long as Cult Girl but we'll see. Y/n is an introverted waitress at a fancy restaurant with a crush on a mysterious regular. An encounter with a dangerous criminal pulls her into his world.

Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence; implied drug use; religiously-motivated violence.

In some ways, waitressing was the perfect job for an introvert. Customers didn’t see you as a person, they saw you as an NPC. As long as that was the case, you weren’t expected to engage with them beyond the script: you take their order, bring them the food and they, hopefully, leave a tip. To ensure that, you perfected the art of fake happiness. You were there to make money, not friends.

Well, there was an exception to every rule. Yours was the sommelier.

The sommelier was a regular at the restaurant, but never ordered a meal. He mostly just sat at the bar, drank expensive wine, and watched the people come and go for hours at a time. Among the waitstaff, he was a bit of a local cryptid. Waitresses whispered about the handsome gentleman with an unidentifiable accent and deep pockets. About how lucky you had to be to score a bartending shift on one of the nights he showed up. It got to the point where bartending shifts were swapped like currency, because every woman on staff wanted the chance to meet the sommelier.

One of the more religious line chefs liked to remind you all that the devil would come as everything you could ever desire. He was fully convinced that the sommelier was Satan incarnate, and he wasn’t completely off the mark. Standing at six feet tall with features sharp enough to cut diamonds, the sommelier wouldn’t look out of place in a vampire thriller. He always dressed in dark suits. Your coworkers hypothesized this was so the bloodstains wouldn’t show. Despite the chef’s well-intended (if not condescending) warnings, even the threat of eternal damnation couldn’t scare you off.

As much as you liked to believe you were above stupid workplace gossip, you knew you weren’t. You were never the most socially adept person, but this gave you something to connect over. It’s how you discovered that you and the other waitresses were all in the same boat; broke, lonely and in desperate need of some excitement. And if that came in the form of a wine-loving vampire taking a liking to your restaurant, there were certainly worse ways to go.

Unfortunately, not even the chance at encountering the sommelier could make you look forward to working Easter Sunday. Your manager had you working from noon to midnight that day. As employers went, he wasn’t much of a tyrant. He offered you time and a half and even let you switch from waiting tables to bartending halfway through the shift. He, too, knew how coveted the bartending shifts were. And you weren’t in any position to refuse, either. You quite enjoyed having a roof over your head and food in your stomach.

That didn’t make up for the fact that most of the other twenty-something employees had left for the holiday, and you were one of the few stragglers left available. Easter was the most dreaded workday of the year, because the infamous after-church crowd quadrupled in size and lasted all day. They came in double-digit parties, had no concept of birth control and tipped in prayer. Too many times had you reached for what looked like a generous cash tip, only to find that it was a church pamphlet disguised as a fifty.

You clocked in at noon exactly, after waiting for the second hand to pass the twelve just to be sure.

“[F/N]!” Your coworker, Charissa, grabbed your attention before you could walk away. “I heard you’re at the bar this evening. Congratulations.”

“He’s not going to show up, Charissa.” You rolled your eyes. You decided to go into this shift expecting the absolute worst, that way you wouldn’t be setting yourself up for disappointment. “It’s Easter.”

“You don’t know that.” Charissa nudged you in the side.

You grinned. “Why would a vampire come to dinner on the one day everyone is gonna be wearing a cross?”

“Oh, shit, I didn’t think of that.” Charissa gasped. “Well, good luck anyway.”

The first wave of customers filing through the door and filling the restaurant with noise pushed all optimism out of your head. Sighing, you approached a person that Charissa had already seated.

“Hi, my name is [F/N], I’ll be your server today.” You greeted the first customer in your block. “Can I get you something to drink today?”

The man couldn’t have been a day over twenty-five, if that. He was still lively in a way that meant he hadn’t experienced the drain that was a minimum wage job. He was wearing a shirt that said ‘on fire for Christ’ under a flannel with no buttons. One look and you knew he wasn’t going to tip.

The man flashed a row of eerily white teeth. “I thought you said you would bring the wine?”

You momentarily thought you’d already taken his drink order and shook your head. “I’m sorry, did I--”

“Ah, I see your confusion.” The man shrugged and forced a laugh. “You’re waitressing this week, you and I are going on a date next week. My mistake.”

Great. You thought. It hasn't even been five minutes and I'm already being gaslit.

Any interaction that forced you to go off-script was bad, but this was a particularly irritating diversion. “Would you like to see a wine list?”

“I’m Chase.” He said. “It’s nice to meet you, [F/N].”

“Have you decided on a drink?” You repeated, trying not to grit your teeth too obviously.

"I'll have a glass of your finest coke, please." He faked an English accent, poorly.

"We only carry Pepsi products." You said, dreading how this joker would react to such a minor inconvenience.

He threw his head back and made a face like he had just taken a bullet to the chest. "No, it's gotta be coke! It's coke or nothing!"

"Did you want something else, then?" You tried to hurry him along. "The bartender makes a very nice mimosa-"

He smacked the table as if he had some urgent question. "McDonald's or Chick-Fil-A? There is a right answer, so choose wisely."

"...uh," You mumbled, just praying that he would order a drink already. There wasn't even a Chick-fil-A in the area. "I like McDonald's."

Again, he acted like he was shot in the chest. "Oh, you're down zero to two!"

"If you need a few minutes to select a drink," You said. "I can come back-"

He grabbed your arm and forced a laugh. "I'm just kidding around with you, [F/N]. Pepsi is fine."

You scribbled the order down on your notepad, mostly just to pry your wrist from his grip. You wanted to go into the bathroom and scrub yourself down, but perhaps it was just easier to chop the whole arm off. That way you could get worker's compensation, too.

The tables were filling up and you had spent far too long coaxing a drink order out of this youth pastor creep. You had actual families to wait on. The shift was off to a horrible start.

You made him wait for as long as you could get away with. You took drink orders from three full booths before returning to the youth pastor. Because you knew he was raring to corner you again.

You planted the pop in front of him, the glass already wet with condensation. "Have you decided on a meal?"

"I was just looking over this menu and something caught my eye." He began, looking at the holiday menu your manager had printed off. "This rack of lamb, it's a special, right?"

"Right." You nodded. "It's a pretty large meal, though, so I'd recommend sharing it-"

"No, y'see.." he cut you off. "Jesus was the lamb of god. He died on the cross for your sins. And, look!"

He pointed to the menu. "It says it's a 'praying hands' lamb!"

"Oh!" You forced yet another smile. "I can see the confusion. That just refers to how the rack is arranged."

"I think it's a sign from god." He said.

You demonstrated the shape of the dish with your fingers. "See, the rib bones are long and the racks are Frenched, so the dish takes the shape of a pair of, well, praying hands."

"I'll take it." He nodded furiously.

He took a sharp breath in through his nose and you started to seriously wonder if his definition of "coke or nothing" had a double meaning. It formulated in your head as a joke, but it became more and more of a serious inquiry by the minute.

You leaned in just slightly to get a closer look at his face. Some details you hadn't noticed before were beginning to come into focus. His eyes were vacant and glassy. A small but noticeable stream of blood trickled from his nostril.

"Sir?" You said in a clear, projected voice. "Is there someone I could call for you?"

He turned his head. "Jesus died for your sins."

You looked around the room for any sign of your manager, a supervisor or anyone with a shred of authority. "This man needs help!"

In your haste to call attention to the situation, you didn't see him pick up his steak knife.

"You want to know what Jesus felt when you pierced him?" He muttered, just loud enough for your ears alone.

You felt the serrated knife puncture your skin before you had time to process his words. The pain shot through your body, making you freeze in place.

A chorus of screams filled the restaurant. Blood was pouring from the open wound in a quantity you didn't think possible. Underneath, the knife went straight through your hand and into the table.

The man gripped the handle and gave it a twist, a look of horrifying pleasure on his face. At this point, several people had stepped in to restrain him. He was tall and athletic and could easily overpower many of the other customers, which he did. He found another steak knife and began to cut throats while chanting an incomprehensible prayer.

An older woman claiming to be a doctor rushed to your side. She made a makeshift tourniquet from a napkin and a butter knife. Everything after that was a blur. You struggled to stay conscious as the woman tried to guide the knife from the table while keeping it embedded in your hand.

Soon enough, police and ambulances arrived on the scene. The woman placed you in the care of one of the many EMTs, then rushed away to assist the others.

"I'm just doing what Jesus says!" The youth pastor shouted, before gouging his knife into another man's throat. "Spreading his love!"

The officers notably didn't open fire and made an attempt to de-escalate. Maybe that was how the youth pastor was able to escape.

#hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #tw religion #tw christianity #long form #tw customer service #tw blood #tw violence

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