woofle_99
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Abigail is a near exact copy of her father. Garrett Jacob Hobbs with two X-chromosomes. Same high forehead, same dark brown hair, same blue eyes, same pale complexion, same gangling figure. When they walk around town together people notice remark upon it, smiling. Having a daddy-daughter day? Having fun with your dad?
Her father goes proud every time, stands a little taller, his hand upon her back. It pleases him beyond all measure—to have a daughter who is so obviously his.
Who is so obviously him.
Bookmarked by woofle_99
12 Sep 2025
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Sometimes, he’s faced with the disturbing notion that Hannibal has turned him into an elaborate mouth-piece: he senses it, Hannibal pouring from his mouth like the irrevocable spill of ink from a tipped over jar, like gouts of thick blood from a slashed artery, like God has marked him, chosen him for a prophet, beams of light vomiting out of his burning throat.
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Or, Will dreams of Hannibal’s fingers inside his mouth and can’t think of much else.
Bookmarked by woofle_99
12 Sep 2025
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Two birds, released from their cages by sleight of hand. Magnanimously so, in Will’s case; pure calculation, in Miriam’s. She had been discarded. Hannibal had wound her up without bothering to watch her go. Miriam had been conditioned to pull a trigger, and beyond that, Hannibal held no curiosity whatsoever.
Two cages. One with grimy walls, a hard bed, and the oppressive, ever-present awareness of his own transformation. One with comfort, fragrant flowers, soothing music, and the sweet lull of oblivion. And that voice – Hannibal’s voice - winding through both cages, at turns haunting and irresistible.
Will can't seem to let go of what happened to Miriam Lass. Hannibal offers to help with the reconstruction.
Bookmarked by woofle_99
08 Sep 2025
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Summary
An ongoing series where two touch-starved men figure out how to take care of each other in ways that no military field guide ever covered. Thankfully, when you already trust a person with your life, letting them see you at your most vulnerable isn't nearly as hard as it sounds.
Non-sexual intimacy, physical touch, a little angst, and a lot of comfort.
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Bookmarked by woofle_99
05 Sep 2025
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His eyes flicker once, up to Will’s. The candle catches in the glassy wetness of them. For a moment, Will imagines him without skin. Or with too much of it. Something in the symmetry of his face is too perfect to be true.
“I’ll dress it now,” Lecter says, and his voice has shifted lower, as if speaking through something thick.
He doesn’t move right away, staying there, knelt in the hush between breath and decision, hands warm on Will’s leg, as though still waiting for permission.
As though, in some old, quiet language, he is praying.
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There is a monster aboard the Terror. Will Graham may be the only one to see it.Bookmarked by woofle_99
05 Sep 2025