Fic Idea Where Will Buys A Sketchy House For Unbelievably Cheap, Only To Regret Buying It Because The

Watching Hannibal and picking up on the foreshadowing that Will was meant to die at the end

sacrificing himself for Hannibal

“he became Achilles on the field of war, he died for him there, wearing his armour”

not that Will was wearing Hannibal’s armour in TWOTL but be finally accepted himself and shed his own ‘shield’

Reading summaries for books with cannibalism is weird because all of them have this vibe, you just know someones gonna eat someone in there

"What about you? Aftershave and a haircut. That all for me?" gay sex would fix them actually.

sickens me to my stomach. how dare this guy get to live my dream.

NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.

I don't know if I'm just a freak but frank and matt's confrontation in s1e4 of born again was very......charged

That scene from GOT where daenerys eats the horse heart but its Hannibal and Will or something

Why do you think Will and Hannibal both went through scarcity but relate so differently to money? (love your blog)

Will grew up poor, but there is no indication that he suffered from literal hunger. More likely, he lived in a state of constant limitation, having enough for basic sustenance and shelter but little beyond that. His poverty was not one of extreme deprivation but of restriction, of never being able to afford more than the essentials. Later in life, however, Will gained financial security through his professional roles...his work as an FBI consultant, his teaching position, and even as an author of a book used in official training. By the time we see him in the show, he is far from poor; in fact, he has amassed significant wealth. Yet his attitude toward money is cautious, even frugal. This is a common trait in those who grow up without financial security. Money is not seen as something to be indulged in but as something to be preserved. The fear of losing it lingers, and so he is unlikely to splurge, preferring comfort over excess, stability over extravagance.

Hannibal’s trajectory, by contrast, is one of dramatic extremes. He was born into wealth, lost it in an incredibly brief yet profoundly traumatic period of scarcity, and then regained it, never to lose it again. The nature of his deprivation was far more intense than Will’s, his suffering was not just financial but existential, marked by starvation, war, and the destruction of his entire world. This kind of scarcity often breeds an obsession with indulgence rather than security. Those who experience such extreme deprivation, especially those who later come into great wealth, frequently develop compulsions toward excess, seeking to consume, possess, and experience everything available to them as a way to compensate for past lack. Hannibal, with his tastes, opulent lifestyle, and relentless pursuit of pleasure, embodies this tendency. He doesn't just enjoy luxury, he devours it, making an art form out of indulgence itself.

This contrast in their financial psychology also mirrors their deeper fears. Hannibal’s greatest fear is the loss of control, but paradoxically, he has a repressed desire to relinquish it. His indulgences, his love of fine dining, extravagant possessions, and excessive refinement, serve as an outlet for this tension, a "safe" way for him to surrender control without ever truly doing so. He allows himself to indulge because he remains the master of his own excess.

Will, on the other hand, fears losing his mind. His life is not built around control in the same way Hannibal’s is, but rather around creating an environment that minimizes risk. He does not need extravagance, he needs stability, predictability, a life free from unnecessary variables. His frugality is not just financial but existential; he seeks security, not pleasure, and constructs his world accordingly. His job then is his way of indulging in risk.

In the end, their differing relationships with wealth reflect the deeper structures of their personalities. Hannibal, ever-consuming, transforming indulgence into control, and Will, always conserving, ensuring he never steps too far into uncertainty.

What pokemon would the Hannibal characters have?

Supernova Love | spacedogs oneshot

There were four minutes and thirty-seven seconds left when a body slid next to his, just an arm’s length away. Adam focused on the ratty shoelaces of his midnight blue converses, not wanting to risk conversation. He was so close to this night being over. In three minutes he could just go home and lay down in bed, star projector on the ceiling, and a documentary playing softly in the background.

“Hey!” They yelled over the music.

Adam’s heart seized with anxiety, his chest clenching painfully, and he swallowed thickly. Maybe he could just pretend that he couldn’t hear them.

“Hey!” They yelled again, louder.

Reluctantly, Adam turned, his head heavy on his his neck, and looked. It was the guy from earlier with the silly shirt. He was taller up close and more intimidating than the little doggies let on. He had nice eyes though, sharp cheekbones, and a soft jawline. And he was sucking on another cigarette. The tip of it glowed in the dim room and a puff of smoke followed a moment later, the teen taking a moment to chew on the flavor.

“Hello…” Adam said. His nose wrinkled at the smell of cigarette smoke wafting his way. The guy smelled like he had already smoked a pack of them.

“You good?” He asked. “You’ve been here a while. You sick or some shit?”

Adam swallowed and replied, “No, I’m not. Just, uhm, overwhelmed.” He knew that he was half-shouting just so he could be heard over the music, but it sounded quiet to his own ears.

“Mm,” The guy acknowledged. His bony fingers plucked the cigarette from his lips and offered it to Adam.

Adam vehemently shook his head and the guy paused like he just realized something, then shrugged and took another drag.

Adam watched his cheeks sink in with the motion, strangely enraptured by the sight of it. The guy made eye contact with him for a second as he inhaled and Adam quickly looked away, it felt like a burn. When he exhaled, he turned the other way and Adam blinked in surprise.

”You gonna drink that?” He asked, gesturing to the drink in Adam’s hand.

”Uhm, no. I don’t drink,” Adam said timidly. He forgot he was even holding the cup.

”What?” The guy asked, leaning closer to hear him.

”Uh- I-I said I don’t drink!” Adam repeated louder. The smell of cigarettes become stronger and his head spun from it. The strangers face was startlingly close for a moment and he felt like he could barely breathe.

“What?!” They guy exclaimed, reeling back. “You don’t smoke or drink? The fuck’re you doing here then?” A few ashes fell off the tip of his cigarette.

Adam’s face felt hot, irrationally embarrassed about not participating in casual substance use. “I’m here for my friend!” He explained.

”Oh yeah? Where is he?”

She, Adam wanted to correct, but it felt pointless.

“Uhm I don’t know.”

”So, he just left you here?”

”I guess.”

The other teen’s upper lift lifted into a little snarl, something that Adam didn’t see a lot of people do. Then, he muttered something, but Adam was never good at reading lips.

”What?” Adam asked.

The guy waved it off, taking another drag from his cigarette. It was too short to keep sucking on, so he dropped it and snuffed it out under his leather boot, then picked it up and stuffed it in his pocket. Adam wondered how many were in there.

From his angle, he watched the other teen’s shaggy ashen-blonde hair flop from its gelled style and when he stood back up, a few strands had fallen over his forehead. It looked better this way, he thought, but the guy ran a hand through his hair to smooth it back. Adam could see the sweat on his neck glistening beneath the strobe lights.

“Wanna get out of here?” He asked.

With you? Adam wanted to say, but he nodded regardless because he really, really did want to leave. He would rather leave with a stranger than stay a moment longer.

Shirt Guy—Adam was calling him that in his head now—walked past him and through the doors. He trailed behind him like a shadow, face-to-face with little dachshunds. The outside air was blissfully cool and he took a deep breath of fresh air, savoring it as his lungs expanded. They walked down the steps descending into the roundabout in front of the mansion and sat next to each other on the last one.

“So, what do you do if you’re not drinking or smoking?” Shirt Guy asked. His voice sounded different when it was quiet and he had an accent that Adam somehow didn’t notice until now. He was just too overwhelmed before to register it.

“Uhm, I read or go to the park. I go to the museum too…when I can,” Adam said. He wondered why Shirt Guy was even talking to him, he didn't think he was interesting enough.

Shirt Guy grinned wolfishly and said, “So, you’re a nerd.”

Adam’s lips pursed in displeasure. “I guess,” He shrugged. “What do, uh, what do you do?”

”I fix cars.”

”Oh,” Adam said. “Cool.”

Shirt Guy snorted like he knew that Adam didn’t actually care and that was a little embarrassing.

“You like milkshakes?”

“...Milkshakes?”

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Read the rest on Ao3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64567516