#idk tumblr is a funny place to be followed on
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Nish @AmityPetStoreGuy 2:17
Everyone stfu, I'm a genius, I'm an innovator, I was born before my time, this is the first step in achieving world peace imo. Are you ready? You're not ready.
Nish @AmityPetStoreGuy 2:23
I'm gonna start sending all my parcels. In hamster balls. Their spherical coloured plastic will confuse & disorientate the box ghost. No one will steal my mail again. I'll have the fastest postage of any company in Amity, even Alvazon.
Nish @AmityPetStoreGuy 8:27
AHSJFHAHFISJHDUSUHDKAHFSJSK HELP
Nish @AmityPetStoreGuy 8:30
The fucking hamster ball ghost reading this over my shoulder. My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined.
Nish @AmityPetStoreGuy 8:31
HES SO SWOLE TOO AND FOR WHAT??? SO HE CAN CRUSH MY DREAMS BETWEEN HIS THIGHS?? STOP STOP IM ALREADY GAY
Nish @AmityPetStoreGuy 9:26
I have negotiated a truce with the hamster ball ghost. He's gonna work at my pet supply shop in exchange for hamster balls ayyyy. Nobody hit on him he's trying to do his job n I have dibbs.
Nish @AmityPetStoreGuy 10:06
Oh god he found the storage room behind the break room. There's so many fuckin hamster balls everywhere you guys.
Nish @AmityPetStoreGuy 10:07
Listen,, I have deliveries to make today. I'm about to change ghost town life as we know it. You'll get your fair share of balls big guy dw :)
Nish @AmityPetStoreGuy 10:39
He took all the hamster balls and left! Come back my ghost boyf blease I cannot simply write off that much stock 😭😭😭
#round 1#phandom phight 2023#round 1: tweeting like amity park residents#phight club 2023#phandom phight club 3#danny phantom#own post#this came to me at 6am because i couldnt think of anything funny not following the trio#anyway alvazon is vlad owned amazon i want everyone to picture vlad owning twitter because danny called him a bitch once#edit: me n deathcomes4u seem to have placed vlad in muskrats shoes completely independently of each other. wild.#if elon had ghost contacts he'd send them after companies that spoke against him too. bet.#almost 12 hours have passed and i still cant decide if this is funny or not#i have a backup post. but i also cant decide if thats funny either.#i feel like ive not put enough into them but going overboard just makes them worse imo. idk.#also nish is just a random oc if that wasnt clear. the name of the round made me think it was talking about generic residents#also i tried to format this like actual twitter and i learnt html coding doesnt work on tumblr posts anymore. rip
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I miss Sailor Moon!! I wish I could go back to just posting about it like I used to before lol. Maybe I'll do a rewatch of the new dub or something and just pick up where I left off
#especially if more people come back to Tumblr#my dash on my SM account is so so so dead#idk any of the current sailor moon accounts to follow there either#but screw it. perhaps we ball#part of the reason I stopped is that the fandom's general suckitude after crystal killed my desire to make just like#goofy off-the-cuff posts like I used to. where my brain could always be tuned into SM at least a little bit#like it currently is to one piece. because I have a place where I can throw those ideas and usually get people nodding along#even just like. one or two people. my brain gets the feedback response it wants to maintain thinking about it#so without that sailor moon just went back onto a back burner in my mind - something I always had but didn't actively Reflect On#I don't have the energy to make goofy comics for it or anything since like 9 people might see it#so for the amount of effort it would be better as a text post or just staying in my head bc it's not that funny or important#and actual high-effort sailor moon fanart feels like a scary commitment at the moment for some reason#narrowing my scope to just PGSM has done a lot to help actually. but it's not like I don't love the other canons & characters too#anyway. idk. I almost forgot Pluto's birthday bc I'm stressed and busy atm and looking at one of the posts I was reblogging#I got that old Spark I used to get. About how excited the series and its characters would make me. How they felt like old friends#how fun it was to contrast all their characters and personalities and preferences and tailor my fan content to those aspects#I miss my girls!!!!!!!!!!!!! ue ue ue!!!!!!#i've had ENOUGH stinky shonen boys
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OK PREFACING WITH IM SORRY IF I ALREADY SENT THIS EXACT ASK BUT MY WIFI KILLED ITSSLF AS I SENT IT SO IDK IF IT ACTUALLY WENT THROUGH. but in case it didn’t . i know youve gotten this countless times in the past because i blog stalked just in case youve mentioned something similar before but i need to know if you have any specific inspirations when you draw exaggerated expressions specifically like these two images of marcille. ive actually cried laughing over this comic and being able to communicate this type of visceral emotion is such an insane skill and ive followed your art for probably close to a decade through various fandoms so watching you develop this style has been fucking awesome and epic. like i cannot articulate how funny these are to me i just need you to understand i look at this comic to inspire me to draw now. the closest comparison i can draw to the feelings they evoke are like those mspaint reaction images and also mspaint tails i included for reference even though you probably know exactly what im talking about anyways but its actually so much harder to do that intentionally when you study art. also i lied you literally don’t even need to answer this i just had to let you know how obsessed i am over your silly comics and now ive written out a whole ass discussion post about it. im sorry if this is weird at all i think my daily prescribed amphetamines r wearing off and i know this is such a dumb specific thing to fixate on and im so sorry if its not something you want to hear about your art. ive just always seen that as an artist this type of expressive stupid silly style is something that comes after a significant amount of time and practice and study and style development despite being “simple” in theory. its just so cool to have worked with your own style so much that youre able to go “off model” from it and still maintain consistency with the rest of the piece. i said it already and im sorry this is actually rendundant now but the ability to communicate such raw emotion somehow decreases from at its height when someone is a beginner artist learning how to proportion and keep a steady line and what looks “normal” but somehow it all comes full circle because taking all that experience and using it to almost return to where you started but in a fully informed and intentional way so you can make choices to draw characters like this when the situation calls for it is just dhcidogakgoshfhw. i think i need to cut myself off or im going to talk in circles im sorry tumblr user sabertoothwalrus i just am fascinated by your style and progress and the years you’ve dedicated to art can be seen in so many places but this is just one that stands out to me specifically.
MMMMM what a fun question!!!
I'm not gonna lie, I think it's just Letting A Drawing Be Bad. I definitely think the people that struggle with this the most are people who have genuinely very pretty art styles, to the point of being kind of perfectionist about it. and to Draw Funny often means Drawing Fast and Weird. Pretty is kind of the antithesis of funny (unless being pretty is the punchline). do drawings that make yourself laugh. tracing/lining funny sketches almost always makes them less funny.
one of my favorite types of humor is when it skews more deadpan, actually. This is one of the reasons I love Adventure Time. minimal expressions and flat line delivery + absurd context is a really good combo. the key to comedy has more to do with contrast! if your drawings are allllll crazy ren & stimpy all the time, they're not funny anymore cause it's just "normal". if it's all subdued UNTIL it's extreme, and vice versa, then it's funny. The reason this comic is so funny is because of the complete lack of any expression. I feel like the one you sent of Marcille shouting "WHAT" is funnier when you know how much she tries to be dainty and feminine and delicate, how much she values her appearance, and how averse she is to "gross" or "weird" things.
something I find really annoying (and this is with comics/animation in general, not the expressions themselves) is when the joke goes on for too long. Like you'll have the joke, then the punchline, and THEN the characters reacting to the punchline??? Like the author didn't trust that their audience would find the joke funny, so they basically drew in a laugh track. But, this is distinct from a character's reaction being the punchline (like how the examples you gave from my Marcille comic are). MY POINT IS sometimes expressions aren't as funny on their own as you think, and context can affect how you feel about it!
as far as inspirations go!
my own face! even if I don't have a mirror, I like making the expressions myself so I can "feel" where the points of tension on my face are, and it gives me a sense of what to exaggerate.
my brother's art, believe it or not! we've been trying to make each other laugh with our drawings since we were kids, and he's really good at it.
ATLA has some great expressions
OK KO has been a reallyyyy good source for me lately. That show is so tailored to my sense of humor and the expressions and line deliveries feel exactly like the kinds of things I'd come up with. The tone, timing, and art style are all really close to the tv show pitch I'm working on, so when I feel like I've "strayed" too much from it (like after drawing a bunch of dungeon meshi, and my art feels tighter and... idk "manga-ier"?) I like to go and watch a couple episodes of OK KO to loosen back up
A lot of things like OG Spongebob, Calvin & Hobbes, the Simpsons, Chowder, etc etc
memes in general. if it makes you laugh, keep it in mind
and lastly, I wouldn't say I ever try to mimic funny expressions I see. Like if I watch a show for inspo, I'm not pausing it to copy specific drawings, I'm just trying to notice patterns and pay attention to what about it I find funny.
talking about being funny is really bizarre and I dunno if it makes it lose some of the magic. Ultimately it's something you can't think about too much, and just gotta go with your gut.
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HELLO HI ID LIKE TO ASK WHAT PROGRAM AND BRUSHES YOU USE CUZ IM LITTERALY EXPLODING EVERYTIME I SEE YOUR ART
actually actually... *pulls out whole stack of paper*...I have. a FEW,, a good few,, questions to ask. they are not many I swear 😇
OK SO FIRST OF ALL HOW DO YOU DRAW SO FAST???? everyday I log onto Tumblr I always see something new from you and I get very very happy. But then I start to question my own existence because not even I CAN SPEED RUN ART LIKE THAT. AND SO SPECTACULARLY TOO
Last question! how do you color and make it look so well?? just. How. I need to know. This is a CRY FOR HE-
anyway thank you for being one of my favorite artists that always feed my brain rot, pls keep making amazing art because like a little yamper I will follow behind and stay updated.
(Stands there)
Response and thoughts under cut!
First question! What art program I use!
Mostly procreate, along with a handful of brushes! (Specifically the Jing Set and some custom stuff, which is really just a circle brush with the shape changed to a square.)
Second question! How do i draw so much!
Okay so. I am. Ahhah. Unemployed,,,,? No, I do freelance illustration, but hmm. A studio job would be nice.
i graduated college last year and I’m very used to eight hour art shifts. The body sort of remembers to keep working, even though I no longer have storyboards or visdev homework to do.
Also. The hyperfixation is a deep vast tunnel I STILL have not seen the end of the light to, good golly. (I have dreams now about the kids committing shenanigan crimes. I wake up in cold sweat and write them down in a journal. It’s like being the mouthpiece to an angry god.)
So the overall gist is: I was trained to be a storyboard artist with a visdev background, and I’m using that higher education to draw funny muppets because my brain’s funny.
I also DO have a queue, and I’ve been treating this as a sort of inktober project. I am definitely going to slow down soon though! Maybe. Hopefully. Ah… (sheepishly drops my kofi here)
Third question! How do i color!
I. I, uh. I dont know man the coloring demons have a grip on my soul and i just go along for the ride. But also, if it helps, i prefer to limit my pallets to only a few colors at a time. Lighting is king, so if you can figure out if you want to focus on either on your lights or shadows, you’ll have a much easier time composing. That, and symbolic colors— idk, something hits different about art drenched in gold with a tiny hint of a man staring into the blinding horizon, or a green leafy environment with a single dot of artificial red. I also like using blue and purple for shadows, and I’m a big fan of muting colors with only one or two that pop— one of the reasons why I was so attracted to submas in the first place is because from a design aesthetic, they’re both super funny muppet men AND really cool train guys that have a limited pallet and thematic apparel.
Overall response! THANK YOU SO MUCH. This goes out to a BUNCH of people who sent me inbox queries— sorry for not responding, it’s a tad overwhelming because some of them are story questions even I don’t really know will go yet, and others are words of praise and I’m selfish and like scrolling through the inbox to look at them when I feel down. I am more of an artist who sits in the corner and sprouts like a potato rather then a branching vine who socializes, but I really do see people’s responses and they make me go :)))))
Okay ramble over. Thanks for coming to the soapbox, and good luck on creating!
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SUE’S ENHYPEN FIC RECS
this obviously isn’t complete but these struck out to me a lot while i was making this list! i’ll update this or maybe make another one with additional fic recs when i find the time :)
☆ heeseung
familiar stranger — @bambisgirl
i rly liked the plot for this one. i found it funny the whole wanting him to take a picture of U, not like .. taking a pic together :( i just think that’s a rly charming point of the fic n i enjoyed following the scenario n just seeing how the both of them r reacting to the situation
we’re dating! (not really) — @jayflrt
one of my fav tropes ever. and one of my fav fics on here too! it’s just written so adorably and idk i love this so much. do u see like to the point i’m actually SPEECHLESS. just read this for a fun time n if u want to be smiling from ear to ear the whooooole time 🤭
☆ sunghoon
for the first time — @yaehao
perhaps my most favorite sunghoon fic (maybe even favorite fic in general) on tumblr. u do not understand how this story made me feel + i think it’s one of the reasons i got into writing for enhypen in the first place. it honestly expanded my passion for writing becos i wanted to be as good as op one day
12:08 pm | sticky notes — @luv4jun
this one’s a short read but it did stick out to me while i was reading it. honestly felt so realistic? everything felt vivid and real to me like it’s so sweet and it’s such a perfect read to remember before going to sleep
man of the hour — @sung5oon
i am a big actor!sunghoon enthusiast so this fed me WELL. fueled my silly little brain and i just … i love this. i love the trope and the au it’s playing in like !! i wish there was more actor!enha writings :”) i love it! definitely should read this one!
☆ jay
crushes & crashes — @restlessmaknae
this was such a good read. i remember just having the time of my life when i was reading this and just having a smile on my face the whole time :)
falling for you, i can’t keep you away — @ddeonuism
i just love hogwarts and harry potter au cos it’s the first book series i’ve ever read so anything in this alternate universe will make me scream. even more when it’s friends to lovers.
☆ jake
to all my firsts with you — @jayflrt
the silly thing is i have not read this fic yet but i KNOW it’s good. my friend recommended it to me and i enjoyed another fic written by op n love the way everything is written so i know this one’s golden too!
☆ sunoo
i’m gonna be real. i do not see much written for sunoo >:( let me know if u have a good fic rec aaaa i’d love to read more for him truly.
☆ jungwon
6:43 am — @iovnyu
this one fueled my daydreaming. u don’t understand how short and sweet this was like i could read it over and over again esp when i need a smile! will never fail to make u giggle
unrequited — @enhas-bestie
i honestly love how real this one felt. it’s the type that leaves your heart feeling heavy which is always a good feature when you’re reading angst!
lost cause — @yeongwonie
one of my most favorite jungwon fics of all time. it was written so beautifully and the flow is so easy to follow. just everything about this fic screams beauty and the plot is honestly just .. it’s so fun to read n just aaaaa. i can’t even express how much i love this fic
closer — @palajae
i read this one slowly becos i wanted to cherish every single moment and scene in the fic. this was one of the cutest things ive ever read like actual tooth-aching fluff. i remember just going back to this a lot and rereading it becos it gave me a new feeling every time i read it again.
blue birthday — @amakumos
drum roll please to my favorite jungwon fic on this app. i will never shut up about blue birthday and i will never stop coming back to this fic. the plot was something i’ve never read before and i just .. find myself rooting for everyone in the fic. it’s crazy how much i love this fic (btw this will be dethroned by kiss and cry also by yun i am gonna add it here as soon as it is released)
☆ ni-ki
sucks to be you, sleepyhead — @cloudninescenes
let’s talk about this one. the characterization and the flow of the story is so so pretty. i smiled the whole time with this one too :( i just love how riki is the teasing but down bad type. i love that trope so much. i cannot stress enough how much i enjoyed the plot too
lucky charm — @amakumos
one of my favorite — if not even my favorite ni-ki fic on here. i was giggling and laughing multiple times. honestly, you can count on yun for writing something you’ve never read before. her writing will always be my favorite. i remember talking about the original story with yun for this one so i feel #special
20th century girl — @delcakoo
guys i’m sorry but i was just giggling like a little school girl the whole time i was reading this. the characterization fits him SO much like i can imagine it so vividly and so clearly. like this is riki u are so right. and JUST!!! just read it and u will understand why i love it so much 🫶 i cannot wait to read the rest of op’s works when i have the time!
#☆ sue’s fic recs#enhypen fic rec#heeseung fic rec#sunghoon fic rec#jake fic rec#jay fic rec#sunoo fic rec#jungwon fic rec#ni-ki fic rec#fic recommendation
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Hidden in the Sands (Yandere!Naga!Kunikuzushi)
Warnings: Character Death (not reader, not kuni), Some Gore (description of a corpse), Injury (of reader), Monster AU, implied semi-cannibalism (he isn't human but close enough), some blood (mostly not reader's, a little is kuni's), biting, venom, graphic description of venom effects (used on reader non-lethally), kuni-typical insults, venom effects are made up, kuni tries to kill you (at first but doesn't follow through), reader has a semi-near-death experience, threats, kidnapping, imprisonment, nonconsensual touching (SFW ofc), general yandere themes, kunibaby is Not Nice but it's okay because he's hot, reader goes through the wringer... if you prefer soft yandere, this is probably not for you. loosely based on a rp I did with a friend.
Sorry I lied about the rook and sebek HCs. I have Sebek's pretty much done I think, but Rook remains an enigma. Might post them separately, idk.
Kuni's appearance is inspired by the desert horned viper. If the formatting seems a little weird at any point, it's because tumblr messed it up when I copy/pasted it here. Might fix it later.
6.5k words or so.
The Desert of Hadramaveth.
You haven't been here before. You thought the rest of the desert was bad, between the heat which was "enough to melt a mist flower but not really" (paraphrased from a certain fox friend) and the unforgiving terrain.
This was worse, with its near-constant sandstorms. This was the second one today, and you had only just left the Tanit camp. In other areas of the desert, you were begging for a reprieve from the sun, but here, you were almost begging for it back if it meant you didn't have to worry about getting sand in your eyes and throat. It was almost, almost enough to make you consider turning around and dropping the commission.
"Do you want to hear a dry joke?"
If it weren't for your friend here, you probably would. Unfortunately, you can't turn back now that you've gotten his hopes up. The most you can do is slump your shoulders and sigh, suffocating under the endless heat, what little you could see of the sun, and what you knew was coming next.
"Sure, I'll bite."
A large, beaming grin spread across Sanad's face, and you braced yourself.
"A desert."
"That's terrible."
"Oh, come on! It's funny and you know it!"
"Does that even count as a proper j-"
You paused, looking up at the sky. In the distance, you could see a large, beige cloud. Again?
"We need to find shelter. There's a sandstorm coming."
"Well, looks like we're in luck. Where isn't shelter?" he responded.
It was true. You and Sanad were somewhere just north of the Tanit Camps, near Wadi Al-Majuj. Ahead of the both of you was the entrance to a deep canyon, lined with ancient ruins. According to the map, it was called Pairidaeza Canyon. Behind you, there was another entrance to a different canyon, and according to your map, if you went back a ways and to the right, there'd be a third one.
"Come on, let's go! I need to look through these for my thesis!" He rushed, running ahead of you.
"Careful!" you called out. "There might be bandits down there."
He immediately slowed to a stop, sheepishly turning around to move back to his place next to you.
"On second thought, take your time. Just make sure there's nobody else in there."
You chuckle, already starting a reasonable pace down the steep slope into the canyon. "Thought so. Just a reminder, we're leaving immediately once the sandstorm ends, unless we find who or what we're looking for."
Right. What you were looking for. Recently, small groups of travelers and even large caravans were being attacked. Most of the attacks occurred between the Tanit Camp and around the Passage of Ghouls. A few supplies were usually stolen, but that wasn't the worst part.
A few days later, the rotting corpse of one of the travelers or nomads would be found, half-eaten and with a twin set of puncture marks in their throat. Any useful supplies would be missing, but oddly enough, the mora was almost never taken.
Normally, you'd assume that maybe it was just a deranged serial killer, and either the bodies were eaten by wild animals or the culprit was worse than you thought. But it was strange. What serial killer had fangs like that? And if it was a wild animal, what use would they have for supplies like bedrolls and first aid kits?
The survivors usually all said the same thing; they were caught out in the middle of a sandstorm, and all they heard was a scream or shout before one of their friends disappeared. When the body was found, some key survival supplies would be missing as well. When a caravan was attacked, some supplies (and occasionally people) would even be snatched right off the backs of the desert sumpter beasts.
Hence why you and your friend Sanad were out here to crack this strange case. Mostly you, though, since Sanad only wanted to take a gander at the desert ruins for some Akademiya thing. You'd probably have gone alone (or at least tried to, before you decided the mora wasn't worth it) but when he heard that you were going to this section of the desert, he insisted on coming for his thesis or something like that. He helped pay for the trip, and he was paying you personally, so you had no reason to refuse. He was your friend, and good company to boot, even if he was a little bit skittish.
"Well, that might be possible... but you said you didn't even know if the culprit was a person, didn't you?" he inquired, as the both of you passed the first of the ruins in the canyon.
You sighed. "Yeah, I told you all about that already."
A glimmer of excitement appeared in his eyes. "Well, I've been thinking since then, and I remembered this old desert legend! Have you heard of nagas?"
"Nagas?" you parroted.
"Yes, nagas!" He nodded his head. "They're an ancient race of ferocious half-human half-snake people that supposedly existed during the reign of King Deshret. Apparently they were equal parts revered and feared, as wise and strong beings."
You raised a somewhat skeptical brow. "I thought you didn't believe in legends?"
He laughed. "The Akademiya has declared them to be just baseless nonsense, so of course I don't think they actually exist. I just think it's very interesting, and it technically matches what we know..." He trails off, looking around in awe.
"If you want to look around, you can. Tell me if you see or hear anything."
You didn't need to tell him twice. With a rushed "thanks!" and a wave, he was practically bouncing up what probably used to be a set of stairs to a higher level within the ruins, off to your left. In the meantime, you'll look around, see if you can find anything interesting.
You looked up and around, spinning on your heels. From what you've seen of the canyon so far, it's just a straight corridor with partially collapsed stone ruins on both sides, and a fallen wooden bridge that once connected them. You can see several ways to climb up higher and explore the ancient stone buildings, including the way up that Sanad went.
You and Sanad are pretty deep into the canyon at this point, and you have to crane your head just to see the top. As you do this, you notice just how many floors there are in the ruins. Some have crumbled so much they seem almost completely inaccessible. They're so high up, you can't see anything on them from your angle at the bottom.
There's just so many places to hide. The realization makes you tense up a little. Maybe you should have gone up with him.
It's so strange though. The complicated ruins, numerous hiding places, and the nearby water would make this place an ideal camping spot for bandits and thieves. But so far, you haven't seen hide or hair of anyone else. Not even an abandoned camp.
Until somewhere in the ruins, you hear an odd sound. It's hard to make out, and it sounds so much like the normal shifting sand that you almost brush it off as a natural sound in the canyon. But you hear stone crumbling and rocks falling, and you look up, seeing something move on the side of a ledge too far above you to check. It's close enough that some of the rocks hit the ground next to you. You squint, watching the ledge, waiting for whatever it was to move again, but the sound stops. The hair on your neck stands on end–from what, you aren't sure. Sanad is even closer to the source of the sound than you are, but not far away at all. Just out of sight. Was it from him? Or someone watching him?
Or are they watching you?
You're not sure, and you'll check just in case. Sanad doesn't have anything to defend himself with except for a dagger. Without another thought, you surge up the stone steps, hand subconsciously finding its place on the pommel of your sword. When you get up there, you see him standing with a hand on his chin, studying some old glowing contraption you've never seen before.
"Did you hear that?" you ask, breathing just a little heavier than normal.
He turns to you somewhat incredulously, just as fine as ever. "Hear what? I haven't heard anything. Are you alright?"
You calm down a little bit, letting your hand fall from your sword. "I'm fine. I was just worried about you. Didn't you hear that noise? I saw something move up there." You look up at the ledge the rocks came from. You don't see any way to get up there that's safe.
The sand is starting to pour in harder through the massive gap in the canyon ceiling, and the wind is beginning to howl. You and Sanad are slowly being dusted in sand.
"You're a little on edge. Relax! A sandstorm is starting and the wind and sand probably just knocked a few rocks into the canyon or something. It happens all the time." He flashed you a reassuring smile, turning back to... whatever those were on the wall. They're shaped somewhat like bowls, and as sand pours into them, sand also pours out a hole in the side into another one of them. You're not the researcher here, so you ignore it.
You let go of some of the tension in your shoulders, letting out a held breath. "Alright, sorry for bothering you then. Just so you know, if the sandstorm gets any worse, we'll be moving deeper into the canyon to get out of the sand."
He turns back to you, somewhat pleading. "But can't I stay? I'm not the one looking for the guy, so you don't need me to come with you, right?"
You expected this, just as you expect that he'll be the one choosing to come with you after what you say next. "Yeah, you could, but if something happens I probably won't be able to hear it if I'm down there."
He freezes, grimacing a bit. "Alright, alright. Let me know when you move on."
As expected.
You chuckle at him with a lopsided smile, turning back to go down the ramp. He was probably right. It seemed like such a silly thing to panic over. Of course sand and rocks would shift and fall in the desert during a sandstorm. That's probably all you saw. You're glad you brought Sanad along and not some other stuck-up researcher who would have made fun of you for it.
When you reach the bottom again, you turn your attention to the ground. Aside from the sounds of the howling wind and pouring sand, you can hear water dripping as it coalesces into the wide but shallow puddle in front of you. That's not what interests you, though.
There's a long indentation in the sand, about as wide as you are, as if something had been dragged through. It extends further into the cave, where the ground becomes rockier and the track disappears.
You crouch down to inspect them further. Chances are, it's probably a large haul of supplies that was too big to properly carry. This place is the perfect hideout for thieves and bandits, so it would be worthwhile to investigate. If you're lucky, it might be the bandit you're looking for.
The canyon starts to darken, so much so that you now have trouble making out the edges of the track. Most of the sunlight that filtered in through the top has disappeared behind a haze. The sound of howling wind grows louder, and the hiss of pouring sand all around you is almost deafening. You've had quite enough of the sand raining on and around you, so you call out for Sanad to come back. It doesn't take him long to come rushing back down the way he came.
"We're heading deeper in to wait out the rest of it," you explain.
He sends a longing look back at where he had come from. "Alright... I see," he concedes, with a dejected slump of his shoulders.
You'll humor him. "Did you find anything interesting?"
He instantly brightens up, excited to talk about whatever he found. "Yes! It's this interesting mechanism that fills with sand. I read about it in a textbook once! It can be opened and closed, but I couldn't figure out how to. I've heard if you can fill them as they were intended to be, you can get treasure from them!"
You two begin moving deeper into the canyon, and you send him a teasing smile. "With the way you're talking, I'd almost think you're the adventurer here."
He shudders. "I could never. At least, not as a full time job. You encounter monsters all the time, don't you?"
"They're not so difficult to deal with, once you're used to seeing them."
"That is not at all reassuring!" He stops to let out a breath. "No, I just want the free mora. Trips like these are expensive."
You sigh. "Well, if you want to, we can at least take a crack at it together on the way out of here."
His eyes light up again. "That's wonderful! We can even split the rewards if we manage to solve it!"
"No more than an hour, though," you warn. "With all the sandstorms, we don't have the time to waste."
"Aww, fair enough." A moment of silence passes, and he turns back to you. "Oh, I almost forgot to ask you! Did you find anything interesting?"
You think back, and the only thing that comes to mind are the tracks.
"Well, a little bit behind us, I found these drag marks. Like someone had dragged a big bag or something, I couldn't tell what."
"Drag marks? Oh, so maybe it really is a naga after all."
You turn to him in exasperation. "Didn't you just say you didn't believe in them? Besides, why'd you even tell me about them if you don't think they exist?"
He laughs. "I'm kidding! I only told you mostly because I wanted to. But I have a more realistic theory too!"
"Really now?" You raised a skeptical brow.
He turns to you, faking a gasp in faux offense. "Why are you looking at me like that? Of course I do! I don't study at the Akademiya for nothing!"
You chuckle. "Oh, go on then. Don't keep me waiting."
"What if the culprit keeps a snake around? Think about it, at the price of a little food, they'd get an unlimited supply of p–Hey! Don't laugh at me! It's not as ridiculous as it sounds!"
Apparently you weren't as good at hiding your snickers as you thought. "No, no, I'm not laughing at you. I was just imagining it in my head. From what I heard, it would have to be a pretty big one based on the size of the puncture wounds and the distance between the fangs."
He crossed his arms, looking away. Guess he didn't quite believe you. "It's not THAT unbelievable, especially in comparison to the naga theory... Haven't you seen the street performers with the snakes in Port Ormos?"
You hold your hands out in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay, you're right, I'm sorry. But your theory doesn't explain everything–what about the half-eaten bodies part? And they almost never take mora either... besides, the street performers use nonvenomous snakes."
"I guess it would be risky, but in theory, venomous snakes can be trained too! Desert dwellers tend to be... fearless. Though..." He puts a hand to his chin in contemplation, looking down. "I'm not quite sure about that other part either. Though it's not as if cannibalism was ever off the table, there's always the chance it was just wild animals that found the body after. As for mora... maybe it's someone who never gets the chance to spend it anyway?"
"Like, a recluse or something?" you pipe up.
"Yeah, exactly! Someone who's completely self-sufficient, who doesn't need to deal with other people to survive. Makes enough sense. They probably get everything they need from the people they're attacking."
At this point, the both of you are up to your ankles in water. The canyon is fairly wide at the bottom and grows so much narrower towards the top that very little sand makes it through, so you take the liberty of brushing as much of it off of you as possible. The both of you pass the last of the stone ruins. Up ahead is just bare, mostly untouched canyon. It's damp enough to support an amount of greenery that seemed a little out of place in the desert. You can still hear the wind howl, but it's a bit quieter here.
You and Sanad pass an opening in the wall to your right, leading to a dead end with a fairly deep pool and what looked to be a crumbled stone bridge.
"Your theory is a little... out there, but some of it definitely makes a good deal of sense."
"It's an early hypothesis! We'll revise it as we find more evidence."
You roll your eyes a bit. "It's alright, I'm not judging you."
You look around again. There's plenty of dry places to stop and rest without worrying about sand, so this should be an adequate place to wait it out.
"Why don't we stop here?"
"Not yet!" Sanad points further into the cave, where it opens up some more, with a rock jutting out of the center of the room, surrounded on one side by a shallow stream of water. "I can see more ruins in there! You can stop there and I can keep looking around."
You sigh, for what felt like the hundredth time. As much as you wanted to rest, it wasn't far away at all. "Alright. But we're still going back to that mechanism immediately once the sandstorm is over."
"I know, I kn–"
From an entrance to another path to your right came a blur, barreling right at Sanad. You have barely enough time to shove him behind you and out of its way before it stops in front of you both, dark claws bared.
Now that you can get a look at it, you realize it's a scarred, shirtless man with a dark head of hair, sharp indigo eyes, and... two pale, straight horns? Looking down, he doesn't have a pair of legs, but a sand-colored snakelike tail with rough scales. Even without the rest of his tail, which was hidden behind him, he's quite literally twice your size.
A naga?
He sneers at your sword as you pull it from your sheath, showing off a long pair of fangs. "A little short, isn't it?" He hisses. "Good luck with that."
"Sanad, get back!" You cry, holding your sword out in front of you threateningly. The naga seemed more amused than anything, simply starting to circle. Watching.
While you backed up to keep the naga from getting between you and Sanad, he hurriedly ran far back the way the both of you came, staying just close enough to watch the both of you.
Without warning, the naga lunged forward, one claw-tipped hand reaching out to swipe at you. You swung your sword at his arm, but missed, just barely grazing his side. Still, it was enough to force him back. He brushed over the superficial wound with one hand, smearing what little blood came from it, taking a look.
You stand there, adrenaline pumping through your veins, unsure of what to do. His reach was almost as long as yours, even though you were the one with the sword. This has to be who you're looking for, but you're beginning to think that you should've brought more people.
When he looks back at you, that cruel sneer is still set in his face, but a glint of annoyance is now present in his eyes.
"Lucky hit. Don't count on it happening again."
He doesn't hesitate, rushing forward immediately. You swing again, but it's too early, and he barely has to slow down before he's coming at you again. He's so close now that he grabs your shoulder, claws digging in hard enough to draw blood, shoving you down. In a blind panic, you're forced to adjust your grip on your sword so that you can bring your arm back and stab into his tail.
Before you even realize what's happened, you're on the ground, wind knocked out of your lungs. The arm that had held your sword is pinned to the ground by one of his hands, the other still holding onto your shoulder. You wheeze pathetically while he leans down and slides his fangs into your throat.
Your sword had bounced off of his scales, barely even leaving a mark.
The first thing you feel in your throat is pain, followed by an overwhelming numbing sensation, only interrupted by pins and needles. He chuckles as you thrash around in his hold, your free hand trying to push him off. The sensation is spreading, from your shoulder down even to your fingertips. The only thing you can do is let out a pained groan.
The pressure, from anything, from his hands on you to your own as you push and hit him, hurts. Like everything that touches you only pushes those pins and needles deeper into your skin. It's this feeling that finally makes you go limp in his hold, giving in. It gives you the chance to look up, focus on anything but him, and see that Sanad has long since abandoned you. Lucky bastard.
You hope that he gets away, at least. Even as the half-snake thing on you pulls away to hold your face in one hand, forcing you to look at him.
"Seems your little friend didn't care for you as much as you cared for him. Don't worry. I'll do you a favor and make sure he gets what's coming to him." You manage to focus on his face, smeared with your blood and that same, ever-present sneer, but with something else behind it. Something vindictive.
You grit your teeth. It stung, even though you knew it was the only reasonable thing for Sanad to do.
It's petty, and it won't do you any favors, but you lift your arm and slap him across the face as hard as you can. The impact alone sends shocks of pain down your arm, but he barely even moves.
Instead, he laughs in your face, dark amusement flitting across his hauntingly beautiful features. "What was that? A love tap? After everything, I'm surprised you can even try." He leans in closer still, your noses almost touching.
"I'm sure you feel proud of yourself, don't you? Good job! I might just leave you for last, then."
Without another word, he dashes off to find Sanad, and all you can do is pray the snake isn't successful. After all, what's a pampered Akademiya researcher to do against a man-eating monster?
You try to stand, but a bone-deep exhaustion pulls at your limbs. You can only get halfway up before your vision starts to go dark and you collapse onto the ground in a graceless heap. The pressure still hurts, a strange buzzing sensation rising alongside the needles and numbness. All you can do to help it is curl onto your side, minimizing your contact with the ground.
You lay there for a while, drifting in and out of consciousness for who knows how long. The pain is fading slightly, but you're not sure if it only feels that way because you're getting used to it.
Maybe you're dying.
A chill goes down your spine at the thought, and you do your best to dismiss it. It isn't hard, not when your thoughts are interrupted by a terrified, blood-curdling scream cut too short to be natural.
It brings you back to your senses. You keep listening, but you can't hear any more noises over the constant sounds of the canyon. Dripping water, falling sand, and the howling wind.
If that was Sanad, then since you're already deep within the snake's den, it must be only a matter of time before he gets back...
You're pushing yourself back on your feet before you know it, another rush of adrenaline supporting you. To do what, you're not sure. If you couldn't win before, you certainly can't now. But you're already running as best you can to where you saw Sanad go, though it's more of a relatively fast half-stumble than anything else. Everything still hurts, and beneath the venom you can start to feel your muscles ache too, but if you focus on moving it isn't unbearable.
You forgot your sword. You'd turn back to get it, but even with the adrenaline your limbs feel like lead, and your sword arm is so weak you don't think you could do more than carry it anyway.
You've just reached the ruins again, and looking around at all the nooks and crannies gives you the idea to hide. As sluggish and unarmed as you are, you can't fight anyway. Maybe if you hide long enough, he'll go away. Sanad might still be alive, if you can make it to him.
You don't know how long you were laying there, but if you could hear Sanad, they couldn't have gotten far. That fact is a double-edged sword, you realize. It's been a while since you heard his scream, and if the naga was coming back then it wouldn't be long until you saw him. You don't have much time.
You stagger your way as fast as you can manage to your right. You don't see anywhere to hide down at the bottom, but there are plenty of places above. It's so much harder than walking on flat ground, but you force yourself up a wooden ramp onto a stone platform. There aren't a variety of places to hide here, either, but you don't have the energy to go up any higher.
You hear the water below you being disturbed, in a way too constant to be footsteps, and you quickly duck forward to avoid being seen. You don't dare look, instead opting to slowly move towards a large stone statue to your right, as quietly as possible. With one look back to make sure he hadn't come up to check, you hide behind the stone dais that the statue rested on.
You take a breather, listening for any more sounds. You can't hear the water being disturbed anymore, but the thought of moving alone is both terrifying and exhausting. If you wait too long and he finds you gone, he'll probably come back to look for you. On the other hand, if you leave too early and he hears you...
With this in mind, you rest a few minutes more. The wind is slowing down, and there's less sand in the air than there was when you and Sanad first came through, so the sandstorm has likely stopped. At least the naga won't have that going for him too, once you and Sanad leave.
You'd stay longer, but the anxiety eats at you. It's only a matter of time until the naga comes back, and you don't know what condition Sanad is in.
You get up on shaking legs, your body begging you to sit back down and rest more. You know better, so you force yourself forward, looking over the ledge to make sure he isn't nearby.
You stumble back down the wooden ramp, turning to continue down the path to the exit. You have to stick to the sides of the path, where the sand is highest, just to make sure nobody can hear the sounds of splashing water.
Sanad can't be too far off now. Maybe he'll be in the same state you are, and you both can return to the Tanit camp and get help. You still have your pack on you, but the only thing that might be useful soon is the small first aid kit and the knife.
You really hope you won't need the knife.
Just in case, you pull it out of your pack and put in in your pocket. You're out of the water now, but you've come to a steep hill. The only way out is up. You hope you can make it.
You grit your teeth, sweat dripping down the side of your face as you force yourself up the incline. Onward and upward, you think bitterly. The overused phrase "ad astra abyssosque" parroted endlessly by everyone else at the Adventurer's Guild comes to mind. You never thought you'd make it to the stars or abyss to begin with, but you didn't think your journey would end so soon, either.
Your muscles burn with exhaustion, and you think you can feel the numbness slowly spreading further into your legs. Still, you continue upwards, at a much slower pace, even as you almost collapse a few times.
You come up to a point where the hill flattens out for a short distance. You're panting from the exertion, and you almost breathe a sigh of relief until you see what's in front of you.
"Sanad!"
Before you know it, you've staggered forward to collapse at his side. He's lying face-down on the ground in a small pool of his own blood.
You turn him over, tears pricking at your eyes, praying his condition wasn't as bad as it seemed. His head lolled to the side, face pale and eyes empty, unmoving. The blood, on the ground and splattered all over the front of his Akademiya robes, still dripped from the massive tear in his neck. It looked like a set of claws had dug into his skin and tore off the front of his throat.
Your breath hitches, and you fall backwards, dropping his body. Tears well up in your eyes. Why hadn't he done the same to you? Why did he do so much worse to-
"So, so loyal. Like a dog running to protect its master. You're adorable, really, even if you're a little late."
You freeze, only turning your head to look over your shoulder at him. He's slowly approaching, a condescending smirk on his lips. Half-dried blood covers one of his hands.
"There's no need to mourn. He was pathetic. Did you know that he only cared enough to fight when it was his life on the line?" He looked distant for a moment, before looking at you with something almost soft in his eyes. It disappeared so fast, you'd almost think you had imagined it, the condescending smirk and mock pity sliding to cover his face once more. "You poor thing. You're better off without him. No need to thank me."
You blink away the tears, an idea coming to mind. You couldn't overpower or outrun him, so there's only one possible option for you. "You're a... you're a lying bastard! What else was he going to do?" You yelled at him, pushing yourself up on unsteady legs to face him, backing over your friend's body.
"Humans are untrustworthy," he croons, following after you. His eyes don't leave you even once. He's sizing you up, and with nothing more than a moment of contemplation, his smirk widens and a victorious glint appears in his narrowed eyes. "He was using you. Once you were no longer useful to him, he discarded you. It's pretty naive to think he left you with any other thought in mind."
You don't dignify that with a response, continuing to back up. One of your hands almost moves down to your pocket, where your knife is hidden, but you stop it before he sees.
Your heel hits the sharp incline behind you, where the hill keeps going, and you fall backwards and hit the ground. A derisive snort comes from the snake.
"I've decided what I'm going to do with you. It's much better than what I did to your friend, here. You should thank me, really." He towers over you, leaning down to your level, setting a hand down on the ground next to you. Your hand twitches for your knife.
He watches you for a moment, a quiet, breathy laugh leaving his lips at your frozen state. All you do is stare at him, shaking from the adrenaline. Finally, his other hand comes up to rest on the nape of your neck, pushing you closer to him. You can feel the sticky blood on his fingers.
His eyes glimmer with excitement, and he continues while your hand slowly drifts to your pocket. "You're just helpless. I think I'm going to keep you with me, like a little p-"
You thrust your knife at him, landing a hit on his side while he lurches away. Your blood runs cold. It should have been buried hilt-deep, but instead all you've done is leave a bleeding gash. It's not quite superficial, but it won't stop him, and you know you won't be able to land another.
His lips curl in a snarl as you scramble backwards up the hill. You turn, and start running, but adrenaline can only carry you so far. You feel almost like you're in a nightmare, fully conscious and trying to run but unable to move at any pace that could possibly save you.
It only takes a moment for a large hand to wrap around your ankle, dragging you underneath him. Your face hits the ground and your hands scrabble for purchase, but the dirt and sand only give way beneath your fingers. His other hand finds the wrist with the knife, squeezing tightly enough that you can feel the pain, even underneath the lingering numb, buzzing sensation. You can't feel your hand well enough to keep holding onto the knife. The pins and needles return, and tears prick at your eyes.
He knocks the knife far away from you and flips you over to look at him, dark eyes still burning with anger. "You're alive only because I let you live. Did you really think trying that was smart? Did you finally get it all out of your system, or do you want to try again?"
You try to speak, but the words get caught on the lump in your throat. A hand slams on the ground next to you, and you shrink in on yourself.
"Well?" A glimmer of satisfaction appeared in his eyes, even as his lip curled in a mixture of amusement and contempt. "I'm waiting."
It's all you can do to croak out a few apologies and look away, unable to stand his stare.
A deep chuckle resonates from his chest, and his other face grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him again. "Good enough," he croons. "Looks like it won't be so bad for you, then."
"What? What won't?" you whimper. His hand lets go of your face, drifting down to encircle your neck. Your hands instinctively wrap around his wrist, silently begging him not to squeeze.
That little mocking smile on his face widens. His hand tightens a little, and you panic for a second, but it doesn't go any further. Instead, his eyes grow distant, thinking.
They brighten up again, an idea coming to mind. He laughs quietly to himself, pulling his other hand off the ground and trailing it down your leg. "You can call me... Kunikuzushi. I think I know what I'm going to do with you now."
"Please don't hurt me," you plead, vision blurring with tears. He doesn't even look at you, instead watching his hand as he grabs your calf and pulls it up. "It's a little late for that," he hums, adjusting his grip to hold onto your ankle instead. His fingers are long enough to wrap fully around it and then some.
"I can't watch you all the time, and I need to buy myself enough time to get something to restrain you with... besides, you deserve this anyhow."
You were about to ask him what he meant by that, but with a distressing amount of ease, he twisted your ankle to the side hard enough that you could hear the pop. The pins and needles returned to that area full-force, the buzzing and numbing sensations right behind it. It didn't hurt that much, though. You could feel an ache beneath it all, but it didn't hurt as much as it should have. You were sure you could still walk on it.
Until you looked down, where it was still in his hand, twisted so far to the side that you weren't sure it would ever be the same again. It doesn't hurt that much, but your shoulders still shake and you still start to cry.
"There, there," he murmurs, dropping your ankle to stroke your hair. He leans down lower, a smile a little too sharp to be soft on his lips. "You'll be okay. I wouldn't get a pet if I couldn't take care of it."
You try to push him away. You know you need to do something about your ankle, but he only presses closer, resting more of his weight on you so thay you can't see it anymore. "It's a bit too late for that now, don't you think?" he whispers, leaning in to press his lips against yours, too eager and with too much teeth. You flail a bit, trying to push him off, but he only chuckles into the kiss, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. An arm wraps around your waist, pushing you closer.
It feels like an eternity, but soon he's sweeping you up and slinging you over his shoulder. He turns around to go back down into the canyon, and you watch Sanad's corpse disappear over the hill.
This time, you can feel him rumble with the force of his laugh.
"I'm going to have so much fun with you."
#scaramouche#yandere scaramouche#kunikuzushi#yandere kunikuzushi#scaramouche x reader#genshin impact#yandere scaramouche x reader#yandere kunikuzushi x reader#yandere#I'm not sorry I disappeared again I was having a good time#not fully proofread. I'll get around to it another time when I reconsume my own content bc it was made with my desires in mind#the entire time I was writing this I had the words “he's so babygirl” running through my head on repeat#kuni: *tortures the reader insert*#me: yes!!! My Babygirl!!!#it's 5 am and I haven't slept yet sorry I couldn't stop thinking about him#naga scara
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SORRY TUMBLR PEOPLE
I HAVE BROUGHT GOODS
FEED
FOR YOU HAVE A FEAST NOW
I think
Okay but in all seriousness, i have completed two references and also made more concept designs for some others, heh-
So for now, we look to the references, because up first. The man himself.
Tatiana Darling? Wally Qwartz? Idk. But I can say thay he is hot stu-[BOOING CHORUS]
Up next, Neon Frank and his bot boys!
I will say that the bots do likely have 'human' forms, but I didn't feel too bothered at the time to worry about it, besides, Frank's in the spotlight, who really cares? (Some may and I'm looking at you with understanding eyes)
And now, for the last finished piece I have
Sweethearts, the both of them🥺🥺
Oh how sweet they always are with one another
(Frank threatens to launch himseld into space to follow after Eddie when the protagonist launch him into space... And speaking of the protagonists.. Let's just say [the] (Vinyl) Neighborhood isn't quite the same without You ;) wink wink)
And now for a few concepts!
DJ Howdy Pillar! Just a local radio show host looking to get local bands' voices heard even if they're all starting out small!
Since there is no actual shop in game, and the fact DJ Zam is an actually pretty prominent NPC (plus funny canon voice for Howdy), who else but Howdy for Zam's place? Welcome to Howdy MD people! :)
Now?
Let me just say that B.B. Beagle and Tatiana Darling (still dunno) are still very much good friends, even despite the large age gap. To Wally, it feels like.. It feels like he knows Barnaby, but on a deeper level, like they were old friends somehow, and they were reunited.. His jokes make him laugh as if the man knew exactly what made him tick.
Weird...
Though, dogs are trult man's best friend
And one more design (which is definitely very subject to change [to make look softer and more accurate to a youngling])
Poppy!
Now, I still have yet to truly figure out what is going on, but I will say Poppy is definitely very much the youngest in this AU, and unlike in most other places, she is not the mother figure, she is loved ever so gently by the rest (shown by the way Frank loathes your name for having destroyed her piano. The way it tears are the heart strings of onlookers to see her precious instrument shatter, the shards scattered wildly upon the floor of the stage.
How cruel of you. She's only 9..
Bonus obligatory Howdy Bean based off of Cofi's lil beans🥺🥺 I had to, it was legally required by law or else I'd be sniped on sight
But anyhow, I suppose this concludes the update. I'm not entirely sure if I can even explain more or if I even have more of an idea to explain, but if there are any questions, by all means send in an Ask and I'll try to answer them all without giving too much away until I can truly get things going. ;)))
See you :0!
And sorry again for no update in forever.😭😭😭
#welcome home#welcome home au#no straight roads#no straight roads au#nsr#nsr au#wally darling#welcome home wally#barnaby b beagle#welcome home eddie#eddie dear#frank frankly#welcome home frank#nsr neon j#nsr tatiana#nsr djss#nsr yinu#welcome home howdy#howdy pillar#wtf other tags do I put/lh#anyways enjoy :)#also if you can guess what's up with the mystery protagonists#bravo for you and good eye on word play :))))))#original art
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this broken design, ch5
summary: “Dr. Lecter?” You blink a few times, convinced that you’re dreaming. The man’s gleaming eyes and concerned expression seem a bit too realistic to be conjured by your sleeping mind, though. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look worried. You quickly decide that you don’t like it.
“Hannibal, please,” the doctor responds nonchalantly. You stare at him in utter confusion. Just what is happening right now? You thought you were dreaming, but this feels a bit too vivid. “What are you doing out here?”
read from the beginning here! [this won’t make much sense, otherwise]
[ao3 version]
notes: I privated my ao3 account so that only registered users can see it... since all the ai stuff has been going on and I'd rather be safe than sorry.... I'm not sure how many ppl follow with the series here on Tumblr, but I figured I'd post it here too, in case any of you don’t have an ao3 account... [I posted this a bit ago on ao3, so apologies for the tardiness]
the gif above is so funny. the lil head tilt is killing me, idk.
warnings: panic attack, self harm (digging nails into skin), franklyn having zero boundaries
You’re in Hannibal’s home again. You really need to have more self-preservation—you’re practically a gift-wrapped murder victim here. Although, he hasn’t killed you yet. Maybe you’ll be fine. Perhaps you aren’t as rude as you thought you were. The thought amuses you.
Inexplicably, as you’re speaking with Hannibal, he asks you to accompany him to the opera. The request is so unexpected that it takes you several moments to realize you heard him correctly. Hannibal stares at you expectantly and you take a deep breath.
“You realize I don’t know the first thing about opera,” you remark apprehensively. “Surely there are far better choices than me.” Doesn’t he have acquaintances that are more suited for this type of outing? You’re certain you would look extremely out of place amidst the typical visitors. Surely, Hannibal knows that he will put his reputation at risk by bringing you along. You try to convey those sentiments in the eye contact you’re currently maintaining with the man, but he doesn’t seem dissuaded in the slightest.
“You are my friend and I want to spend time with you,” Hannibal states easily. You envy his ability to be so straightforward with his thoughts and feelings. “Is that really so strange?”
“I suppose not,” you frown. Fond of breaking doctor-patient boundaries, are we, Dr. Lecter? You dispel the thought. Admittedly, from the first moment you interacted with Hannibal, you knew he would be more than a psychiatrist. You’re happy to consider him a close friend now.
“Are you amenable?” Hannibal then asks, just before you can zone out and lose focus.
“When is it?” You ask, despite knowing that you don’t have much going on this week anyway.
“Tomorrow night,” Hannibal answers. You raise an eyebrow.
“Rather late notice,” you say, if only to make him sweat a bit. Of course, Hannibal’s perfectly crafted mask remains in place. “Did your date cancel on you?” Hannibal’s eyebrows furrow and he crosses his arms over his chest. You decide to take pity on him and stop messing around.
“I’m just kidding,” you interject with a grin. It’s kind of fun to see how much you can push Hannibal around. You get the feeling that no one really questions him. It’s amusing to see him scramble for an explanation, even though the effort is perfectly rehearsed. “I think I’m free; I’d love to go. You just may have to deal with my complete ignorance when it comes to opera music.”
“I think I’ll survive,” Hannibal smiles. Is he playing along? You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Admittedly, you weren’t expecting that. It’s nice to know that Hannibal can take a joke.
“Anyway, thank you for inviting me into your home again; I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Of course not,” Hannibal says with a shake of his head, as if the very thought is ludicrous.
“I invited you.” Hannibal then excuses himself for a moment and you take the opportunity to look around his kitchen. You suppress the extremely compelling urge to look through his drawers—you know what you’ll find and you’re certain you don’t want to see it. Instead, you let your eyes rove over the polished cabinets and clean counters. Just before you can lose interest, your gaze falls on the rolodex. Interest peaking, you decide to walk towards it.
It appears the rolodex holds business cards of people Hannibal has met. You idly flip through the rolodex, needing something to occupy your restless hands. A few of the names are (unsurprisingly) ones you recognize. It takes you a few moments of observation to realize just what purpose this rolodex serves. It appears this is a list of potential murder victims. Flipping through the various business cards, you don’t see a common denominator. “Whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude,” Hannibal had told you once. On second thought, these business cards are probably people that Hannibal has determined to be rude. You go through the names with renewed interest. A few of them are rather fancy. One even looks remarkably close to yours. You move to the next one before a breath catches in your chest and you find yourself returning to the one that caught your eye.
The business card is extremely similar to yours—same color and font. You squint at it, heart racing in your chest as you look at the name written on it. It must be another government agent, surely. You all have similar, standard-issue business cards. You just hope it isn’t any of your acquaintances. You’re expecting to see anyone from Jack Crawford to Alana Bloom. You close your eyes for a moment, before finally giving in and reading the name. It’s… It’s your name.
You stare at the card in disbelief. Where did Hannibal get your business card? It has your name, phone number, email address… It even has your office location at headquarters. You swallow past the trepidation building in your core. You can’t quite stop the choked laugh that escapes your lips. You let your guard down. You had foolishly hoped that maybe, just maybe, things would be different. You let your guard down and, now, your name rests amidst the names of current and future Ripper victims.
“Is everything alright?” The timing could not be worse. Hannibal walks in as you’re looking at the rolodex and you quickly turn around, trying to shield it from his view. You’re not sure what expression is on your face, but it must be suitably harrowed, because his face twists in concern—mock concern, your mind supplies. “You look rather shaken.”
“Yes, of course,” you answer. It takes every ounce of practice you’ve accumulated to keep the fear from your voice. You sound slightly flat, but you’re convinced that you’ve mostly concealed your true feelings. “Apologies, Dr. Lecter. I think I’d better get going.”
You can tell that Hannibal is suspicious, but you don’t give him the chance to ask you about it—instead deigning to murmur a quick goodbye and walk out to your car. You’re infinitely grateful that you had the foresight to drive yourself. You’re not sure that you would’ve had the energy to maintain your composure in Hannibal’s company.
You wait until you’re a sufficient distance from Hannibal’s home to sag in your seat and sigh heavily. You’d been growing too big of an ego. Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper. The two of you are friends and you foolishly assumed that your friendship gave you immunity. Clearly, that isn’t the case. You need to remember yourself, remember that the composed dinner host you often sit across from is a practiced killer. One false move and you’re dead. Once you get home, you spend the remainder of the evening in an anxious and paranoid haze. It takes you a while to fall asleep that night and, when you do, the Ripper follows you into your dreams.
The next morning, you receive a text from Hannibal—which includes the details of the opera and what time he plans to pick you up. It takes you several moments to ground yourself in reality and remember that Hannibal isn’t aware of your knowledge that he’s the Ripper. Once you collect your composure, you insist that you can drive yourself—but he waves off the suggestion and maintains that he’ll drive. Admittedly, now that you’re thinking about it, you don’t have the slightest clue what to wear. You’ve never really been to an opera performance before, and you can only imagine what the people in attendance will be wearing. You have no idea where to begin searching for an outfit. Your closet isn’t exactly the best.
Eventually, you swallow your pride and text Hannibal. He knows you’re not sophisticated, you think to yourself. Asking him for help isn’t that embarrassing. In fact, you’d rather ask and lose a bit of dignity than try to puzzle it out on your own [and fail miserably.] Hannibal is quick to respond—almost as if he had been expecting the question—and says that he’ll bring clothes for you. You immediately have several objections to that, but they fall on determined ears. You regret asking, now.
A few hours later, there’s a quiet knock on your door. You open the door to find Hannibal waiting on your doorstep, folded clothing in hand. You shake your head in exasperation and let him in. “Thank you,” you say, taking the clothes he’s extending out to you. You still feel the need to try to argue one more time. “I could’ve found something on my own.”
Hannibal looks you up and down, in a manner that makes you feel extremely self conscious. You aren’t exactly wearing the fanciest clothing right now, but that’s only because you knew you’d be changing. “Doubtful,” Hannibal remarks. You glare at him, only to find his lips twisted in that slightly amused smirk. You roll your eyes.
“I’m going to change,” You then realize that this is the first time that Hannibal has been in your home. He’s driven you many times, but he’s never gotten out of the car before. “Feel free to explore, I guess.” You’re struck with the sudden mundane feeling of shame, as you recognize how much less luxurious your home is. Hannibal doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he starts to walk around and look at things. Meanwhile, you head to the bathroom.
Once you place the clothes on the bathroom counter, you’re once again realizing that you’re out of your depth. The outfit he’s given you is extremely lavish: an extravagant suit with dress pants. Upon further examination, you realize that he even gave you an undershirt. You push aside all the strange, conflicting feelings you have about sharing clothes with your psychiatrist. Unsurprisingly, the clothes smell very strongly of Hannibal’s cologne. It takes all of your resistance not to cough once you put them on. You’re not very fond of fragrances to begin with, since they often give you headaches. But, you know you have no right to complain. It was extremely generous of Hannibal to lend you clothing, and you don’t plan to disrespect the gesture by complaining about his cologne. You put on the rest of the clothing and assess yourself in the mirror. You look rather good, you have to admit. Of course, it’s all due to Hannibal’s clothing. You take a moment to brush your teeth again before walking back out into the main area of the house, where Hannibal seems to be looking at your decorations with a keen eye. He turns around upon hearing you enter and, for a long moment, the two of you stare at each other in silence.
Inexplicably, Hannibal breaks the distance between you and reaches out. Your heart is racing in your chest but you manage to remain still. He fiddles with your collar for a moment before stepping back, apparently satisfied with his work. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.
“Better?” You ask sardonically.
“Much,” Hannibal remarks. “Shall we?” He holds out an arm and you scoff. Hannibal freezes and you do, too. Shit. You hadn’t meant to scoff aloud. You compensate by putting your hand on his arm and he sends you a smile that is almost… fond. You immediately disregard that notion.
The drive to the opera house is enjoyable. Hannibal is one of the few people that you feel comfortable enough to share silence with. You don’t feel the need to constantly fill the air and, so, you spend most of the ride staring out the window and looking at the trees. Before long, Hannibal is pulling into a parking space and the two of you are ascending the stairs leading to the opera house. The building is rather grand, with beautiful towering pillars and elegant statues decorating the path to the entrance. When you enter, you’re unsurprised to see Hannibal’s mask slide neatly into place.
Evidently, Hannibal has been here before, because he navigates the opera house with practiced ease. There are several people that greet him upon his entrance, and he smiles and sends them a courteous wave. You idly wonder if he truly likes any of these people, or if he merely tolerates them. As you continue to walk in, you’re brutally aware of the gazes searing into your back. You’re sure that Hannibal will be the talk of the town soon enough—you get the feeling he never brings people to these kinds of events. Indeed, he seems the type to want to appreciate art in solitude. You debate asking him once more if he’s okay with being seen with you here. Within a few moments, you’re finally in the area where the performance is scheduled to occur. Hannibal leads you to your seats—which are in one of the balconies—and you can’t suppress your thoughts any longer. Thankfully, it seems no one else has found their seats in your section just yet.
“You realize how this looks, right?” You finally ask. Hannibal sends a curious glance at you and you refuse to acknowledge how handsome he looks right now. You avert your eyes for a moment, instead watching as the people below file into their seats. “Everyone thinks that I’m… you know.” Hannibal continues to stare at you with a blank expression. Damn it, is he really going to make you explain it? You try to push past your embarrassment and remain professional. “I think they’re under the impression that we’re… dating.”
“The thought makes you uncomfortable,” Hannibal states, crossing one leg over the other. That must be why he chose these seats—he probably needs the legroom. The people below are milling about, talking with one another. You’re grateful that these seats are isolated from everyone else—there’s no expectation for you to talk to anyone.
“No, it doesn’t,” you clarify, wondering how he justified that leap in logic. “Besides, if anyone’s reputation is going to be at risk, it’ll be yours.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Hannibal says, something akin to amusement on his face. You’re not sure what he’s finding so amusing—you don’t think your statement was far-fetched or unreasonable. From the moment you walked in, you noticed quite a few people staring at Hannibal and you. They seemed to be making their own conclusions about the two of you; you just wanted to warn him. “I am not worried about my reputation.”
“You think your reputation won’t be affected?” You squint at him, trying to watch for a reaction. “...Or you just don’t care?” Your companion is silent for a moment.
“I was under the impression that I was the psychiatrist here,” Hannibal then remarks lightly. He sends you a look and you feel a momentary inkling of shame.
“Sorry,” you grimace. Hannibal’s lips quirk at the sides—a sign that he isn’t truly upset about your sudden psychoanalysis. You feel the need to justify your reaction regardless. “It’s easy to slip into the criminal profiling mindset sometimes,”
You spend the next several minutes having lighthearted conversation. It’s rather nice. The theater slowly begins to fill up until, finally, the lights dim and someone appears on the stage. To your surprise, the performance is rather enjoyable. You must be rather horrible at hiding your preconceptions, because Hannibal sends you a knowing look after the first song. You pretend not to notice the smugness radiating off the man, and instead focus on the singer. They’re quite talented, unsurprisingly. You’re not quite sure how much the tickets were, but judging from your surroundings, you’d guess they were rather expensive.
You take advantage of the brief intermission in the middle of the program to use the facilities. Once you’re finished, you move to go back into the theatre. However, there’s suddenly a hand grabbing your shoulder and you’re forcefully guided into a deserted hallway. You chance a glance over your shoulder, only to find a far too familiar patient of Dr. Lecter’s: Franklyn Froideveaux.
“Franklyn,” you remark, feeling extremely apprehensive once you recognize him. The man is wearing a three-piece suit again, but this time it’s eerily similar to something Hannibal might wear. You frown at the thought. Franklyn’s obsession with Dr. Lecter is really rather creepy. If Hannibal weren’t such a capable killer, perhaps you’d be worried for him.
“I saw you with Dr. Lecter,” Franklyn states matter-of-factly. He crowds you against the wall and you have to lean back against it to avoid touching him. The look in the man’s eyes is unnerving. It sends a shiver down your spine. There’s nothing in his irises except madness.
“Yes,” you respond, once you realize that Franklyn is awaiting an answer. You don’t tell him that Hannibal invited you, but he seems to come to that conclusion on his own.
“What did he do?” Franklyn asks. “Did he hold the car door open for you? What cologne does he wear? I have a few ideas but I can’t decide between them.” You feel your head begin to ache at his persistent badgering. You’re deeply unsettled by him.
“What’s it like being friends with Dr. Lecter?” He continues. Franklyn doesn’t even give you a chance to respond, as he continues rattling off questions. “Is he a good friend? Do you two spend time together?”
“Um-” You try to say, only for Franklyn to stop mid-tirade. His eyes quickly lock on the suit you’re wearing and you grit your teeth. This is easily one of the most uncomfortable interactions you’ve ever had, and it isn’t even over yet. You flinch as he puts a hand on your shoulder.
“That’s Dr. Lecter’s clothing,” Franklyn remarks, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. His fingers dig into your shoulder and you wince. His grip is beginning to hurt; you think you may have bruises later. “You’re wearing his clothing.”
“No, I’m not,” you try to argue.
“Yes, you are,” Franklyn asserts, not indicating that he’s hearing you or even seeing you. His eyes are glazed and it almost seems as if he’s looking directly through you. “He lent you his clothes. Why? What does he see in you?”
Ouch. That hurts for a microsecond, before you then realize that Franklyn’s opinion bears absolutely no relevance to your life. You want to speak on those thoughts, but there’s a crazed look in the man’s eyes and you decide to stay silent. Franklyn seems to take your silence as an argument itself, though, because his hand tightens on your shoulder rather painfully. You try to shove him off, but the man’s grip is unyielding.
A familiar voice calls your name from further down the hallway. You squint, only to find Hannibal walking towards the two of you. There’s an inexplicable expression on his face, and you can’t even begin to dissect it.
“Hannibal,” you breathe, unable to hide the relief you feel at his presence. Franklyn finally releases his grip on you and you reach a hand up to massage your shoulder. The man’s attention is off of you now, thankfully.
“I presumed you to be lost, but I see that notion is incorrect,” Hannibal says, his gaze flitting about your face as if looking for any sign of distress. He then looks at Franklyn, disinterest and boredom evident in his expression. Of course, Franklyn doesn’t care to notice it. He sees what he wants to see, you think to yourself. “What is going on here? Franklyn?”
Franklyn looks to you expectantly, as if waiting for you to lie for him. You instead remain silent. You know that, right now, telling the truth will unnecessarily escalate the situation. Besides, your exhaustion is starting to catch up with you and you can’t find the energy to continue the conversation.
“We were just having a friendly conversation.” Franklyn answers. Hannibal looks to you for confirmation and you avert your eyes. Meanwhile, Franklyn seems to be falling over himself in an attempt to secure Hannibal’s attention. “Dr. Lecter, it’s so nice to see you here,” Franklyn says, his voice a far cry from the manic lunacy from before. The sudden change is rather dizzying. This man is suffocating to be around. “You know, I thought this might be your kind of place. I was just speaking to your friend here…”
You place a hand on your temple, beginning to get a migraine from the sheer burst of emotions surrounding Franklyn. Your skills in criminal profiling typically allow you to get a sense of other people’s feelings. At worst, you can get a trace of what they feel. Right now, however, you feel every emotion Franklyn is exuding, and it’s enough to make your vision grainy and fuzzy. He continues prattling on, but all you can sense is the horrible flood of obsession, jealousy, and a visceral desire so palpable that it makes you nauseous.
You put a hand to the wall behind you, feeling the need to brace yourself against something. Everything in the background falls to a dull buzzing rhythm—Franklyn’s giddy conversation with Hannibal, the muted sound of the performance that you can hear through the walls. You close your eyes and beg for the torture to stop. Maybe Franklyn will take pity on you and walk away. Maybe Hannibal will lose his patience and walk away, too—you wouldn’t be surprised.
Suddenly, there’s a hand on your forearm. You vaguely register—through swirling vision—Hannibal leading you further down the abandoned hallway until he stops and pushes you into an armchair. Despite the overwhelming emotionality that Franklyn practically assaulted you with, you manage to scrounge up a rather large amount of guilt.
“Sorry,” you choke out to Hannibal. Your breathing is still a bit rough and your clothes feel incredibly constricting. You roll up the sleeves of your jacket—well, Hannibal’s jacket—and try to stammer out the rest of your apology. “Feel free to go back inside; I just need a moment.”
You place a hand over your aching temple and another on the arm of the chair. Selfishly, you think that you could use Hannibal’s support, but you don’t want to occupy his attention when the performance is still happening. You close your eyes and try to pretend that your ears aren’t buzzing. You wait to hear his footsteps as he retreats; you wait to hear an acquiescence. A few seconds pass. Instead, there’s a hand on your shoulder.
“Dr. Lecter,” you choke out, your eyes beginning to burn. You wipe at them furiously, despite knowing that the effort is futile. “Go back inside.”
“No,” Hannibal says. You can’t see the expression on his face through your blurred vision—you just pray that it isn’t annoyance or irritation.
“I’ll be fine,” you maintain through gritted teeth. You think you hear Hannibal sigh at that, but it could easily be your imagination. The man looks down at you before pressing a cool hand to your forehead. Despite knowing that he’ll withdraw his hand in a few moments, you can’t help but lean into the touch.
“I’m sure,” Hannibal remarks, pulling you up to your feet and steadying you as your balance wavers. He places your hand on his arm and the two of you walk back in the direction you came. To your surprise, when you reach the door to the theater, Hannibal pivots and leads you towards the exit. You shake your head in disbelief as humiliation, shame, and guilt battle for prominence in your chest. Before long, Hannibal has led the two of you into his car. The moment you’re in his car, you bury your head in your hands.
Everything in your vision feels harsher and sharper. You begin to dig your nails into your palms unconsciously, hoping for some means to establish yourself in reality. You don’t realize you’re doing it until Hannibal reaches out and pries your hands apart. Your hands are trembling ever so slightly and you ball them into fists.
You’re not sure how much time you spend trying to regain your composure in the passenger seat of Hannibal’s car. Dignity is a foreign concept. You’re sure the embarrassment will catch up to you later—perhaps when you’re home and have some time to think.
At some point, Hannibal begins driving. Thankfully, the roads aren’t bumpy and the ride is rather smooth. He’s entirely silent and you feel the beginnings of remorse prickling along your skin. Hannibal never asked you to explain your interaction with Franklyn, but you feel that he deserves to know what happened.
“You realize Franklyn’s in love with you, right?” You blurt out, before quickly turning your head to look out the window and avoid Hannibal’s gaze. Truthfully, you had hoped to lead into that a little bit more. Somehow, that statement was what came from your lips.
“Yes.” Hannibal responds, his eyes still locked on the road. You take the afforded opportunity to look at him, confident in the notion that you aren’t being observed right back. Hannibal seems… entirely unruffled. Then again, he always looks unbothered. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to notice when something bothers him.
“He asked me what cologne you wear,” you decide to start with. You describe how you had tried to make your way back to the theater, only to be stopped by Hannibal’s patient and led off into a secluded hallway. “Franklyn knew that I was wearing your clothes; he also wanted to know what it’s like to be friends with you.”
“What did you say?” Hannibal asks, his attention still focused on the road.
“Nothing; he didn’t let me get a word in edgewise,” you admit. You run a finger along the smooth fabric of your shirt sleeve. Unbeknownst to you, the sleeve had started to roll up on its own; you take a moment to fix that before continuing to speak. “He’s so… suffocating.”
“It seemed his presence was harming you,” Hannibal remarks bluntly. You nod in agreement. At first, the interaction was merely uncomfortable. However, once Hannibal appeared, Franklyn’s emotions hit you with full force.
“I could feel everything,” you break off for a moment. “The love, the obsession, the jealousy, the envy… It was overwhelming. That man is the darkest person I’ve ever met.”
“He isn’t a killer,” Hannibal points out. That’s true—you’ve seen your fair share of killers, with minds so dark that you couldn’t hope to find an escape. Even so, those criminals were… straightforward. Franklyn, on the other hand, is a paradox.
“I know,” you acknowledge. “Franklyn is extremely neurotic, though—arguably the worst I’ve ever seen. It’s stifling. He has debilitating control issues and a crippling urge to prove himself. He’s often a victim of his own envy and jealousy. His self-concept is… I can’t even begin to describe it.” Yet, there’s a thinly-veiled hunger in Hannibal’s eyes—he wants to hear what you have to say. You inhale slowly. Again, you feel as if you owe him for absolutely ruining his night. Besides, you’re sure that he already knows all this information anyway. Franklyn is his patient, after all.
“Franklyn is sort of… a shapeshifter, for lack of a better term. He’ll adjust and change himself to fit the situation best. When he’s in love, he’s dangerously obsessed. His unconventional actions are reassuring to him, though, because they give him a modicum of control—a control that he cannot possess over anything else.” You have a lot more that you could divulge on the matter, but you decide to stop there. Again, you’re convinced that Hannibal already knows all of that.
“I see why you��re Jack’s best profiler,” Hannibal says, finally looking away from the road to look at you. His eyes are glittering in the darkness. You roll your eyes at the unnecessary compliment, too tired to start an argument. To your surprise, when you look out the window, you realize that he’s driving down your street. That car ride had passed rather fast and within a few seconds, Hannibal is pulling into your driveway.
“We’re here,” you announce unnecessarily, grabbing the door handle and stepping out of the vehicle. To your surprise, Hannibal also gets out of the car. You squint at him in confusion, but he doesn’t seem to notice. You’re not quite sure what he’s playing at, but you’re too exhausted to figure it out. Instead of inquiring about his sudden interest in following you inside, you simply allow him to do so before closing the door behind him.
“Do you want your clothes back now?” You ask, unable to come up with any other explanation for his presence in your home. It’s not that you mind his intrusion—not at all, actually—but you’d feel more comfortable for a legitimate reason for his presence.
“If that’s acceptable,” Hannibal answers, breaking you out of your thoughts. His eyes are fixed on something on one of your bookshelves. You shake your head at his strange fascination with your living room decorations.
“Sure, I’ll go change; mind waiting here?” He assures you that he doesn’t mind waiting. You shut the door behind you in the bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment. There are dark circles under your eyes and you look a little frazzled. Otherwise, you don’t look bad. Amazingly, you managed not to ruin Hannibal’s clothing—a feat you’re rather proud of yourself for. You settle for changing into a simple long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants. As you change, you neatly fold Hannibal’s clothing into a pile. Once you’re done, you glance at your reflection one more time. You take a half-step backwards but, before you move to leave, your eyes catch on something below your collar. You squint and lean closer to the mirror, convinced that you’re seeing things. Somehow, though, you’re not. After a moment’s hesitation, you pull your shirt collar to the side, only to find harsh marks on your collarbone and shoulder. They’re almost in the shape of a handprint and it doesn’t take much detective work to realize who they’re from—Franklyn.
That realization is not very welcome, and you decide not to think about it right now. Remembering that Hannibal is waiting on you, you grab the folded pile of clothes and walk back out to the living room. Unsurprisingly, Hannibal is looking around with a scrutinizing gaze. You walk up to him and hold out the clothes, but his back is turned. You eventually just decide to place them on the entryway table—he’ll have to see them on the way out.
“Thank you for inviting me, it was very fun,” you smile. Hannibal turns around, seemingly just noticing your presence. Just what is he looking for in your humble living room? He certainly won’t find anything of value. Furthermore, your decoration skills are nowhere near his. You can’t find a reasonable explanation for his behavior and, eventually, you have to give up on trying to rationalize it.
“I’m glad you found the night enjoyable,” he answers diplomatically. You raise an eyebrow at the stiff response. Perhaps your little… episode… had annoyed him more than you initially thought. Another apology certainly wouldn’t hurt.
“I hope I didn’t ruin your experience too much,” you wince, sheepishly shoving your hands in your pockets. Hannibal shakes his head, before taking a step closer to you.
“On the contrary, I found the performance more enjoyable with your company,” he asserts. Hannibal still looks as handsome as he did when he first appeared on your doorstep this evening—not a hair out of place. You swallow hard, before roughly shoving the thought aside—now is not the time. “I apologize for Franklyn.” Your eyebrows furrow. Why is he apologizing?
“You can’t control his actions,” you say, waving his concern off. “No harm done.” At that, Hannibal’s expression darkens. He takes another step closer, until the two of you are standing face to face. For a while, there is nothing but tense, uncomfortable silence.
“I disagree,” Hannibal says darkly, his hand resting lightly on your collarbone. Before you can protest, he’s gently pushing away the collar of your shirt to look at your shoulder. He frowns and you realize that he’s looking at the marks Franklyn left behind. If you had thought his prior expression to be dark, the look on his face now is nothing short of murderous. You feel your breath stalling in your chest, as you ground yourself in the realization that you’re standing in front of a killer with absolutely nothing to protect you. Hannibal moves to cup your cheek with a tenderness you thought him to be incapable of. His touch makes your skin feel licked with flames. Each breath you take feels labored and harsh. You swear you see Hannibal’s gaze fall to your lips for a brief moment, but you put it down to your imagination. It’s kind of late and you’re tired—you’re probably just seeing things. For a long moment, neither of you move or speak.
“Good night,” Hannibal says, a strangely determined expression on his face. His gaze keeps moving to your collarbone and you idly wish you had concealed the marks better. His hand falls from your face and he stares at you for a long moment, as if regretting your parting. You make sure to remind him of the pile of folded clothes, which he takes into his arms before turning around to leave.
“Good night, Hannibal,” you respond, opening the door for him. You watch as he enters his car and drives away. Despite the knowledge that he’s already out of sight, you feel the urge to wait a few more minutes before looking away. Finally, you close the front door and fall back against it, your mind reeling.
chapter six
#defectivevillain#Hannibal Lecter x reader#Hannibal Lecter x male reader#hannibal x reader#hannibal x male reader#hannibal x gn reader#Hannibal Lecter x gn reader#hannibal lecter#hannibal nbc
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Re your RB cursed second seat post, just wanted to add a few things and make a couple of corrections because this stuff really does add to the uh... flavour
First, while I know it's not entirely relevant, the whole Racing Point driver swap was SO MUCH more dramatic because Lance Stroll and Esteban Ocon are like. Besties. Like BFF friends forever since childhood. Poor son of mechanic and rolling in cash son of billionaire true friendship story. Esteban was fired in favour of his best friend, by his BEST FRIEND'S DAD. PEAK drama. They're still besties, bee tee dubs, because Esteban only makes enemies with his teammates.
F1 Invisible Moustache Twirling Supervillain Christian Horner also has a history of 'we're fully supportive [x driver] to be the best they can be and have no intention of changing our driver line up' and then oops, sorry. We lied. Like... five minutes later. Happened to Gasly, happened to Albon, and the former is currently where we're at with Checo. Christian has admitted that they were too hasty with Albon but oh dear how sad too bad boy's thriving now oopsie doopsie.
Also not forgetting that while Daniel was twiddling his thumbs waiting for his metacarpal to heal, Liam Lawson, the AT and RB reserve, got the highest placing position for the Alpha Tauri team this season (up until Mexico, anyway) while driving in Daniel's seat, and also threw himself into the RB second driver conversation.
And a couple of minor corrections:
DR didn't just leave RB because of the unreliability, it was more about being pushed aside for Golden Child Max Verstappen (affectionate, maybe slightly derogatory), which of course he knows all about because DR did the same thing to Vettel back in 2014. Who also had experience in that field because you could argue the cursed seat actually started with Mark Webber vs Seb Vettel back in like... 2010
Honda has been in F1 before. They sold to Brawn GP for the princely sum of one euro symbolic cash when they were going under, because Ross Brawn knew they'd built a MEGA car and couldn't bear to see them not run it for the 2009 season. Brawn GP won that year, it was Jenson Button's one and only championship win.
F1 drivers can't really go back to F2. If you've won it before, you can't compete again, but it's a feeder series so there's no way some ex-f1 driver is ever gonna be in F2 (or any of the lower formulas) because it's specifically for young talent. IDK maybe you meant Formula E? They also often go to WEC or IndyCar. Even rallying.
RB didn't give Checo another car at Suzuka he went out in the same car after they fixed it up enough for it to drive around one lap. Worth noting he was like 32 laps behind by this point (IDR the exact number but it was LORGE). spare cars haven't been a thing in F1 since 2008
Finally, the Fernando and Charles rumours are so fucking funny ain't no way either of them are gonna go to RB only to be a second to Max. I can see Carlos doing it though, trying for the grand return a-la DR. He's just Like ThatTM (affectionate, again also slightly derogatory). They've also been hardcore courting Lando Norris, who's way too smart and aware of his mental health to put himself into that depression spiral.
ANYWAY this isn't intended to be a big GOTCHA i just wanted to, as I said, add some extra flavour because F1 is so much more insane than anyone who doesn't follow it can POSSIBLY comprehend. Thanks for the post, I love seeing people explain the bonkers bullshittery.
yes yes thank you for pointing out all my mistakes and all that i j ew i was going to be getting Peer Reviewed (again, tumblr deleted my damn post so the first version was more accurate but i was pissed and i was also 1am so…) but yes. i am also new here in terms of the f1 drama. but yes it’s totally positively bonkers do you guys See now why fandom people are attracted to it???
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in the books they say that harry used to do umas bidding and carlos especially says that he remembers that, i think he said smth like “i bet harrys with her, he’s always following her around” i don’t really remember the exact words but i don’t have the physical book anymore so I can’t check :( i wish they had a flash back or smth and i feel like it would really funny like harry snatching stuff and his excuse would be “it’s for uma” and since everyone’s scared of ursula they’ll let it slide. or if carlos is speaking from experience like he stole one of cruellas furs and carlos was the one who got punished (I can’t imagine how she would punish him since her furs are her babies) and id also like to see little uma and little harry just hanging out or like their interactions. actually that just made me realize that there are probably fanfics in that prompt so ik what im gonna be doing after i submit this lol. that brings me to another point i don’t remember if this is stated in the books but the desendants wiki says that there each others oldest friends on the isle. im not sure if that means uma doesn’t consider mal as a friend anymore or that drumroll….. harry came first (dun dun dunnnn) idk if it’s only me but I just noticed this lol (im slow :( ) and that could mean that harry and uma were friends while she was friends with mal. i can see this going in a couple different ways, but the most likely one is that uma didn’t consider harry and a friend but more like some kid following her around that did stuff for her. like a hentchman (is that how you spell it??) anyway, I could ramble on about this all day but I think this is a good place to stop.
(this is what happens when I don’t open tumblr or ao3 for wayyyy too long)
p.s i hope ur feeling better after ur wisdom tooth surgery!
I can totally picture baby Harry walking up to a store and grabbing a bunch of stuff, being like "It's for Uma" with the biggest smile on his face. I mean that's a great reason to steal in my opinion, Harry's too. Harry has been getting gifts and trinkets for Uma since they were little and that's adorable.
I would also like to see baby Harry and Uma walking around in Cruella's fur coats. Not caring how dirty they're getting or how they're dragging on the ground and getting messed up.
Also, yes, I do think Harry came before Mal. It just makes sense because in the books it says that Mal and Uma lived on opposite sides of the isle. Whereas Harry and Uma lived down the street from each other. It seems more logical that Harry and Uma would've known each other first.
Personally I hc that little Mal and Harry hated each other because they were both seeking attention from Uma and didn't like when she gave attention to the other. Maybe it's just me but I don't really think Uma ever saw Harry and Gil as "henchmen." I don't think Mal thought that way about her friends either, not really. Maybe that's just what they would say because "friends" are frowned upon on the isle. I doubt Uma ever thought of Harry as just some kid, it doesn't really seem like her.
#thank you for the ask#ramble away#and thanks for being concerned about my wisdom teeth#i am feeling slightly better but I think it's going to take a while#disneys descendants#uma descendants#harry hook#mal descendants#huma
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hi 🫡
. yes that is me embarrassing the shit outta myself (I actually sent that to a handful of girls)
i. for those of you who may not know, i'm maya. i'm 18, i'm typically a masculine presenting lesbian and I happen to be a she/her. I also am unfortunately asexual
• everyone meat riding rn about why I read and write so much smut as an asexual, I would love for you to know that I'm fighting a losing battle with hypersexuality! that is all I will be sharing on that matter thank you. •
ii. I'm proficient at finding people's instas whether they wanna be found or not!! if this relates to you, you may want to hmu.
iii. um I'm single if that wasn't clear from the kicker.
iv. I have severe Audhd and I have OCD but I don't really count that because you can't really tell it's there. I'm a POTS and scoliosis survivor
(can u tell idk what the hell I'm doing)
v. I will drop my socials if you so want them but I would prefer u DM me cuz I don't need my public insta in tumblr comments tbh (I have insta, tiktok, discord, snap, so on so forth)
vi. I'm still in high school LMAOOO pls I'm not less than eighteen guys don't worry but I aspire to be in the military but I'm taking a gap year
vii. I've been writing since like third grade but over quarantine my parents kinda banished me to our basement and I was doing a lot of things I shouldn't have been doing but now I'm sorta good at writing !!
viii. fics are kinda a side gig, I do write real shit here and there but there's genuinely no point so idk why I do it
ix. I'm what people like to call a whore except I don't fuck around I just talk to like nine people at once (hop off my dick rn)
x. I'm hilariously funny if you ever wanna strike up a conversation
xi. I'm down for ANY conversations. you wanna talk about what kinks some random bitch has based on their appearance? let's talk about it. wanna tell me about the sex you had last night? I'll go get a snack. I don't get triggered by really anything so if u need an outlet, I'm right here bb
xii. I actually have a massive gyatt
xiii. I can curl a lot of lbs and um I can bench some too and I guess do leg stuff (gym girlies rise)
xiv. I'm Jewish but not like Jewish my fam just is, I am probably one of the furthest things from religion and I don't hugely support organized religion (my fav way to describe it is being Jew-ish)
xv. I am a leftist through and through (pro choice, pro science, pro gays, Black lives matter, stop Asian hate, in case you needed clarification on that one) and I avoid knowingly being friends with Republicans at all costs
xvi. I am pro Palestine, nothing anyone will say or do could change my stance on that one.
xvii. I have a cat + dog
xviii. I don't get cold like ever cuz I ski in like 10° weather all winter
xix. I have Duolingo and if u wanna beef it out w a quest then I am definitely down for that because I will beat you (I'm learning Hawaiian and Hebrew)
xx. I'm fluent in German and speak it at home w the fam and I know some Spanish + French
xxi. juice boxes > anything
xxii. some more pics of me will follow whenever I stfu
xxiii. I stand at a whopping six feet tall but I swear I have short person energy
xxv. in my personal opinion I have huge dick energy but you're welcome to put me in my place (I'm a switch and I'll cook for you)
xxiv. if your snap score is more that 300k we can't be friends I'm sorry (mine is 100k suck my c o c k)
xxvi. best position is doggy but I can be persuaded into something different
xxvii. CUNT
xxviii. uhhhh I'm from the East Coast of America so l operate in EST time
anyway it was nice getting to talk about myself for a long time 🫡 feel free to make numerous comments about my life in the comments
anyway y'all here are some for faceless pics that are guaranteed to make u cream (see, hilarious)
sayonara sistas
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Idk about you but I got a little tumblr friend list.
This is not about loyal followers. This is about people I either talked to A LOT or RECENTLY.
This is mutuals and people I’ve talked to multiple times or just feel like belongs on the list.
@rfswitchart : I feel like you are just friendly to everyone. lol, and we talk. Would bite my enemies.
@biw4sher : we chatted a lot when I was active on Wattpad lmao.
@feathersnflowers : it was funny actually, they said they loved my work but I loved theirs, to me it was amazing that they’d ever follow me, and to them vice versa 😂 oh yeah and their art is super cute.
@fynn-arcana : will forever be bonded through the 1k messages I sent them … boop boop…
@willowsz-plants : just talk sometimes, really like their vibes.
@captainmera : mainly just me appreciating them….. and their work…… 😅
@dontbeupsettihavesumspaghetti : you turn up sometimes :3
@myfriendscallmeasimp : yeah we’ve talked :3
@rebeccaartsy : I love their art sm ✨✨
@synxxie : bestie. No more needs to be said.
There’s someone missing and I cant place my finger on it…. Did their account change?.
#friends#tumblr friends#lol#hewo Synxxie I knows you looked at the tags :3#idk these people were the friendly ones#obviously I like moringmark and turquoisespace35 but they don’t talk back to you#because they busy#rawr
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Hello tumblr user that I don’t know
May i please suggest Zhongli and the orange heart emoji? xoxoxoxoxox
~tulip anon (i cant get to my emojisss)
"ten-twenty"
tartigglez 100 follower event!
・❥・hello dear tumblr user who i also don't know! i hope this is satisfactory
・❥・zhongli x gn!reader
・❥・0.5k
・❥・zhongli is sick (poor babie), food (soup for sick!li), zhongli doesn't understand mortal sickness, modern au, (idk why i'm warning for this but some people are grossed out by it) li blows his nose at one point
zhongli x 🧡
as an archon, sickness did not apply to zhongli. it was a problem that he never faced. so when his mortal form came down with a case of the cold, it was quite literally the most dramatic he had been with you in a very long time.
it was actually quite funny, hearing his voice go all nasally and having such a graceful and uptight man laying on your sofa as you made soup for him. of course, he didn’t find it very funny when you giggled at him.
“dear~ please stop laughing, i feel so… what’s the thing you say? ippy?”
you couldn’t control your laughter, “icky, zhong. icky.” of course you wouldn’t laugh at him if something was seriously wrong, but right now he was just a little under the weather, and would be walking around liyue like nothing had happened in a couple of days time.
“i finally understand what you mean when you say that. it’s not nice”
“i know its not nice dear, here.” you brought a bowl of the soup over to him, as well as a box of tissues. giving him a moment to sit up, you got the thermometer off the coffee table and checked his temperature again, and to your surprise it actually wasn’t too badly out of range. then you handed him the box of tissues so he could blow his nose.
“so, what is it i do again? just, exhale into it?” gosh he was clueless, how adorable. then again, how could you blame him? it's not like archons are built the same as humans, nor do they have the same bodily functions or needs, it's just a change for him, that’s all.
“yes, but hard, so you can get all the icky out”
“i can’t help but feel like you’re using that word wrong”
you looked at him with mock insult, mouth wide as you placed your hand on your chest. “well excuse me, master of linguistics!”
“haha~ i jest my dear”
after eating the bowl of soup, and making yet another pathetic attempt at blowing his nose, zhongli asked you to come back into the living room, inviting you to sit beside him, which you humbly declined, much to his dismay. opting to sit on the armchair opposite him instead
“dear, why won’t you sit near me?”
“‘li, you do realise… how sickness spreads… right?”
“uhm… yes”
“tell me how”
“well, when mortals…”
“when mortals…?” you gazed at him, raising an eyebrow.
“fine, it is in fact… a gap in my knowledge. but, i did read somewhere, that a true loves kiss cures all ails”
“archons, ‘li. you do know those books are fiction right?” you giggled at him again, laughing at his cluelessness. for someone who has spent his whole existence protecting mortals, he doesn’t seem to know much about their actual workings.
“uhm… well… you should try it anyway! kiss me better!”
let's just say, the day ended with a very long winded biology lesson about the transmission of viruses....
© tartigglez, 2023. do not copy, translate or repost
#cael is talking to 🌷 anon :0#genshin x reader#zhongli#zhongli x reader#genshin impact#zhongli x you#zhongli fluff#tartigglez 100 follower event
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Writeblr intro
Hallooo..
not sure if I'm doing this right... tbh, idek what to put on here. Anyhow, I've been writing for about two years now (YAY!!). I mostly write poetry although as I write this most of my posts are short stories of the fantasy variety. I like reading swoon-worthy romances so if you write anything that makes me blush and kick my feet like the teenage girl I am, I will follow you and maybe stalk all your posts. If you are the grammar police I must warn you that you will be forced to arrest me after reading my posts (I'M WORKING ON IT, not really tho).
I've been on Tumblr for idk how long but I keep ghosting the app (Life and whatnot) I'm craving community, especially with fellow authors, maybe ones with more writing experience (I am a newbiiieee). Guys... I swear I won't ghost again 🤭.
And here are all my labels for all my lovely people:
She/Her
WOC
Queer (bi or pan idek man this sexuality shit aint for the weak of heart)
Retired Stoner (Moved to a place where I can't smoke)
Raging bitch (Moved to a place where I can't smoke)
Capricorn Sun, Sagittarius Moon, Capricorn Rising (Raging Bitch)
Not actually a raging bitch, just think it's funny (Please like me)
ADHD (Prone to run on sentences and overusing parentheses)
Chronically misunderstood (Capricorn)
Very Annoying (Sagittarius Moon)
Certifiably Woo-Woo (Hence the astrology references)
Not Funny (I think I'm hilarious and spent 5 minutes straight laughing at this little section)
Current WIPS
To The Stranger Who Stumbles ~ A collection of poetry written during a time of my life when I was experiencing some intense change and coming to terms with certain childhood events that were... not so fun.
Genre: Poetry
Word Count: 5953
Stage: Beta Reading (message me if ur interested)
The Mad ~ Mildred the Mad and her crew of dangerous and mythical women are charged with kidnapping and delivering the Seelie Prince to the Unseelie kingdom. But with every plan comes complications, some in the form of brooding king's guards.
Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Action
Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Found Family
Current Word Count: 4434
Stage: ROUGH DRAFT and planning
P.S. My messages are open! Let's connect!
Published Works
The Hidden (w)Hole of a Heart ~ Literally my whole heart shat out onto paper. But seriously tho it's available on Amazon now and I would appreciate any support. In actuality, it's a story about a young woman (Yours Truly) coming to terms with her deeply feeling nature and Depression. The poems describe the heaviness of emptiness and the overwhelmingness of intense emotions.
Excerpts:
Haunted House
Feelings stick to my walls like ghosts,
How is an exorcism performed on a memory?
How do I let them pass through me?
An Apology to The Crone
Pressing my tiny fleshy palms to my ears,
I refused to hear the wisdom of the crone.
Her voice was scratchy with use,
As she warned me of my journey.
I’d close my eyes with every disaster.
The niggling feeling would whisper a wrong,
And I’d pray to God my feet were swift,
So, they could carry me away.
I’d refuse to harden,
Reasoning that beauty is only found in the soft.
I waited to be taken by my knight.
I never cared that the gleam in her armor was an illusion.
I stand unprepared for the cruel world.
Preserved in my maidenhood.
Having grown tired of disobedience,
The crone has abandoned me.
Only now do I see the clarity of your wisdom,
I will forever be sorry.
A Terrible High
on occasion
there are quiet moments
where minds begin to fill blanks
when small things grow
rock to boulder
smashing me against the ground
flat
nothing
2D
I’m nonexistent.
If I were nonexistent
the boulder would simply blow through
and I’d be nothing.
And I’d be okay.
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lmao sorry for the confusion
There's this poll on twitter, the tumblr sexyman poll, y'know the jizz. It's in pair now, and Bill is paired with Wheatley. I am asking about your hc on how Fordsy and Bill reaction to this. Idk i just think it's funny if they were to be aware of this fiasco.
Ohhhh, okay! I'm not on Twitter lol, had no idea.
Bill thinks it's great. People are calling him sexy, as they should. He is entirely confident in the fact that he's going to win. Loves the publicity and attention, loves how his most devoted followers get so mad when people vote incorrectly, loves the drama. He definitely brags about it.
Ford on the other hand is mostly confused. To him, Bill is neither sexy nor a man. Attractive, sure, but sexy? And Bill doesn't have a human-relevant gender in the first place, he's a triangle and identifies as such! The whole thing is ridiculous and makes no sense. He still votes for Bill.
#ask#thank you for clarification lol#bill also votes for himself and if he starts falling behind makes a bunch of new accounts to “correct” the number of votes#he gets soooo mad if/when he loses and promptly becomes depressed#nobody likes him. hes not sexy. he lost to [person who won]. how much more of a loser could he possibly be.#ford has to comfort him
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it would be so funny if demigods from camp half blood had tumblr during the lightning thief lol
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🦉owlbugs Follow
Not to little sisterpost on main but guess who's little sister led our team to win capture the flag :D
#sisterposting #proud big sibling noises #yeah she used the new camper as bait but it was a brilliant move tbh
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🦉owlbugs🔁summerlov1ng
💐summerlov1ng Follow
actually DNI if you defend or associate with the new kid (percy? I think thats his name) for what he did to clarisse + like as a child of the big three he shouldn't even exist, idk why everyone seems so ok with that. not defending what clarisse did, but he destroyed the toilets and broke her spear which was wayyyy out of line.
🦉owlbugs Follow
what
#why do people on campblr have the most insane takes known to the gods sometimes #sometimes demigods don't know what they can do yet it's chill it's fine #you can't tell people to not interact because you don't like another camper lmao
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🍓wheatgermofficial🔁cabin4-heritageposts
🍓wheatgermofficial Follow
Monsters love me for my transgender swag and niche knowledge on wheat and various grains
👤totallynotamonster Follow
come to the woods unarmed at night
🍓wheatgermofficial Follow
hmmm
👤totallynotamonster Follow
there will be wheat and perhaps various grains
🍓wheatgermofficial Follow
wheat and perhaps various grains you say 👀yippee!
🏞️camphalfblood-heritageposts Follow
Campblr heritage post (demeter edition)
🪴cabin4-heritageposts Follow
Cabin 4 heritage post
🍓wheatgermofficial Follow
who made this account and why
#there are only like 14 of us in cabin 4 #and only like 5 on tumblr who did this lmao
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🐎is-the-pegasus-video-cute Follow
Pegasus admin intro post! I'm James, from the Aphrodite cabin, and I help take care of the pegasi at camp. On this blog I rate pegasus videos and talk about pegasus care. I am not a professional ‼️I just have some experience with pegasi and enjoy educating demigods about them.
Rating system:
Cute
This pegasus appears to be well cared for, isn't showing distress, and is being interacted with in an appropriate way!
Wild
This is a wild pegasus doing what wild pegasi do, no concerns here
Unclear
Based on the video, I couldn't make a determination either way
Not cute
The pegasus is distressed, in an unsafe situation, not cared for properly, or isn't being interacted with properly. It might be being ridden unsafely, placed in a stable without enough room to stretch its wings, etc.
#not pegasus
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🎉underwhelmingrayofsunshine🔁forging-pvp
🎉underwhelmingrayofsunshine Follow
can i do some straight up jorking it in my capture the flag armor,,, time sensitive question btw
🔨forging-pvp Follow
no. curse of Hephaestus!!!!!!! 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🔨
🎉underwhelmingrayofsunshine Follow
ow
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unclaimed-failgirl🔁
🌌unclaimed-failgirl Follow
can my demigod parent claim me so I can get out of the hermes cabin please i am so tired of having the wet sweaty socks someone hung on their bunk in my face all night
🌌unclaimed-failgirl
this is not implying anything about hermes kids btw. this is implying things specifically about Travis Stoll, whos bunk is right next to my sleeping bag
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